8mm to the Left: If Hitler Died in 1923

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

On the 9th of November, 1923, a stray bullet strikes and kills Adolf Hitler during the failed NSDAP Beer Hall Putsch. With the would-be Führer dead on the streets of Munich, the fate of Germany and the world as a whole shifts dramatically…
​

A Crumbling Right​

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"The necessity of hindsight when studying the history of Europe in the 20th century, and in particular that of Germany, cannot be understated. Even now, almost a century after the Treaties of Versailles, Saint-Germain, and Sèvres, we continue to learn more about the decisions and chances which paved the way for the events soon to divide Europe once more…"
- The Road to Armageddon, 2010 (Dr. Frederik von Franken, Professor of Germanic History at the University of Stettin)

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The Great War is considered by many historians to be the single most decisive moment in the history of the world. Though the effects of the war were immense, breaking centuries-old empires and reshaping whole continents along lines drawn by men on the other side of the world, its aftereffects are even moreso. Both winners and losers would be forever changed and of the eight Great Powers which signed the infamous treaties a century ago, it is telling that only two still exist as they did in 1918.

Among the myriad of political ideologies which birthed themselves into the world amidst the death throes of the Great War, few are as iconic as that of Fascism. Though based upon theories postulated by various philosophers and politicians as early as the Springtime of Nations in 1848, it wasn't until the rise of Benito Mussolini, first as Prime Minister and then self-defined Duce (Leader) of Italy, that such ideas would see practical implementation. Under the rule of Fascism, Italy would see extensive industrialisation, military buildup, and increasingly hostile rhetoric towards her neighbours. Of foremost importance was the absolute devotion to the state by all citizens, followed by ideals of Italian superiority and the necessity of expansion into new lands in the Balkans and Africa to suit the growing Italian population. Corporatism, Catholicism, and Combat were the metaphorical "Three C's" of daily life in Mussolini's Italy; a life which, for the most part, far exceeded the quality experienced before the rise of Fascism.

This did not stop the frustration at the so-called “Vittoria Mutilata” (Mutilated victory) at the end of the Great War, when Italy, through the intervention of US President Woodrow Wilson, was denied her claims to Dalmatia following the Great War. Her allies in France and Britain, the very powers which had recognized and promised these lands in exchange for the men lost in the fires of war, were quick to toss Italy under the bus, all while expanding their own bloated empires in the Levant and Arabia. Now, Fascist Italy had decided to chart a new path under her own power, and hungry eyes looked across the Adriatic towards Yugoslavia and Greece, and South and West towards British Malta and the French Alps and Corsica.

Territory promised to Italy for their entrance into the Great War. Following the Treaty of Saint-Germain which ended the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Italy would receive only the Istrian Peninsula (top) and none of Dalmatia (right).
(https://www.ereticamente.net/2017/02/il-balletto-dei-trattati-michele-rallo.html)

Lands claimed by Italian irredentists following the Great War. Beyond those lands claimed during the Great War, their vision now included French Corsica (purple), British Malta (red), as well as alpine regions in France and neutral Switzerland.
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irredentismus)

On the far end of the spectrum lay Communism, embodied most prominently by the Soviet Union on the easternmost edge of Europe, headed by the enigmatic figure of Joseph Stalin. Communism, or Stalinism as many name the Soviet ideology of this era, stood in parallel defiance to Fascism, denouncing practices such as Colonialism, Corporatism, and even religion itself as methods to oppress the working classes of the world. The Soviet Union was the largest contiguous nation in the world, rich in resources such as coal, iron, and of course oil; however, many argued that it was the sheer size of its population which made the Soviet Union so frightening. The collapse of the Russian Empire had seen many lands ripped from its dying corpse, including both strategic territories such as the Baltics and Bessarabia, as well as regions of Russian or Russian-adjacent (the ethnic uniqueness of Ukranians and Belorussians was still a point of debate in this era) settlement seized by the Second Polish Republic. As such, while officially denying ethno-centric policies, Moscow harboured a definite hunger for expansion into these regions. The advent of Communism in a largely rural nation had provided distinct challenges and, despite nearly a decade having passed since the end of the Russian Civil War, economic development was still lagging behind the likes of Germany, Japan, or Britain. None of these problems were enough to tarnish the adoration held by Communists the world over, all of whom dreamed of Marx’s proposed “world revolution”, aided in secret by donations from Stalin himself.

Vladimir Lenin, Father of the Russian Revolution, speaks before a crowd in the early days of the Russian Revolution. His actions would lead to the deaths of millions, both directly and indirectly.
(https://www.telesurenglish.net/anal...ional-Liberation-Struggles-20171023-0012.html)

Italian Fascism and Stalinist Communism were far from the only ideologies in the world, nor the only of the Authoritarian slant. The young Parliamentary Democracy in Japan would be strangled in its crib by the rising forces of Shōwa Statism. By the 1930’s Japan was dominated by a form of autocratic rule oft-confused with Fascism for its brutality and nationalism, teaching citizens a slavish devotion to the Emperor and the superiority of the Japanese over their Asian brethren. Much like Italy, Japan resented perceived betrayals at the peace talks following the Great War. Not only had Japanese attempts to enshrine racial equality (at least of the Japanese to Europeans) been rebuffed by the victorious powers, they continued to deny Japan their goals in mainland China, only barely accepting the Japanese annexation of Korea. They had allowed the return of the formerly German-controlled city of Qingdao to China much like how, a decade and a half earlier, they had refused Japanese attempts to annex the Port Arthur concession from the Russian Empire. It had become abundantly clear to the men in the Japanese government that no amount of industrialisation or trade would make the likes of Britain or France see them as equals.

No, Japan needed an empire as vast and insurmountable as that of the British. Under Emperor Shōwa, or Hirohito to the West, Japan had embarked on increasingly-aggressive rhetoric with their neighbours, and high-ranking officials in both the army and navy had begun developing independent ideas for expansion into mainland Asia and the Pacific, respectively. This had been facilitated by the conquest of German colonies in Micronesia and Chinese Manchuria and now Japanese culture was split; to the north lay the vast lands of Russian Siberia, swallowed by Japan during the Russian Civil War only to be forced from their grasp by perfidious America. To the south lay the incalculable wealth of the Dutch East Indies and British Malaysia, not to mention American colonies in the Philippines, Guam, and Hawaii which would expand Japanese naval range across the whole of the Pacific. Debate did not range on whether a war would be fought; rather, against whom?

Japanese expansion from the home islands, including puppet territories in mainland China.
(https://grudichistory.weebly.com/uploads/4/9/4/3/49437683/grudic_japan_1.2.pdf)

Countries like Hungary, Bulgaria, and Poland also flirted with non-democratic rule, though, at least by the early 1930’s, none had made the true descent into Authoritarianism. Both Hungary and Bulgaria were defeated powers stripped of ancestral lands and hungering to take down old enemies in the Balkans. Poland, meanwhile, had gained extensive lands populated by non-Poles, creating questions on ethnicity and policy which would define both its relationships with its minorities as well as its ability to reassert its status as a major power after more than a century of division. Even France and Britain, bastions of stability in the post-war world, were wracked with inner turmoil, the cost of the war and advent of the Great Depression bringing to light uncomfortable questions about class, race, and governance. Unrest was beginning to stir in their vast colonial empires and ideas of race and independence, though nascent, were growing.

Germany was certainly no exception. As the unofficial leader of the Central Powers Alliance and its strongest member, Germany was burdened with particularly harsh terms by the victorious Entente. Loss of land and reparations were coupled with military restrictions and loss of patents to cripple the former giant into a shadow of itself, its neighbours strengthened at German expense to keep Berlin from once more tugging on the reigns of Europe. In the East, historically- and ethnically-German lands had been handed out to Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Lithuania. To the south sat noble Austria, her attempts at union with Germany stifled and her government drifting slowly into the Italian sphere. To the West, the heartland of German industry and commerce, the Rhineland, had been occupied by French and Belgian troops as reparation payments were squeezed from every source possible.

Despite the masterstrokes of diplomacy penned by figures like Gustav Stresemann, beginning the period of détente improving relations with France and setting the Republic down the path of stability, anti-Democratic groups such as the Freikorps, far-right militants seeking to topple the Republic, fought every step of the way. Numerous attempts were made on the young democracy’s life. In 1920 the Kapp Putsch, led by several high-ranking military leaders and industrialists from the days of the empire, attempted to topple the system with a Conservative Revolution. Soon after, the little-known “Beer Hall Putsch” was undertaken by the NSDAP in 1923, an emulation of Mussolini’s March on Rome, which left multiple party members dead, including rising star Adolf Hitler. Last, but certainly not least, were the assassinations of well-known politicians such as Walter Rathenau and Matthias Erzberger. Despite all of this, the fledgling republic survived, albeit limping, until 1930.
That is where the true difficulties began to emerge.

Europe in 1930
(https://www.amazon.de/Whitneygraham-Europe-Political-Politisch-drucken/dp/B083V7VFZT)

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Unter den Linden, Berlin, October 1928

“The old man’s made up his mind. He won’t be running again.”

A frustrated exhale was his response as Oskar von Hindenburg, son of the President and most powerful man in all of Germany, sank into the worn armchair. He immediately began digging into his pocket for a cigarette but a fresh Camel was held out before he had even touched his lighter. He accepted it, and the light which accompanied it, with a grateful nod.

“So where does that leave us?” queried Kurt von Schleicher. His own cigarette was burned nearly down to the nub, the air of the room, already smokey, particularly heavy around the other man.

Oskar gave himself a minute to take a good draw and then slowly exhale a cloud of nicotine-laced smoke. “Father is old. He wants to retire. He was retired before he got swept up into the world of politicking. The Presidency never suited him and he knows it.”

“Yes, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Von Schleicher muttered, grinding the cigarette butt out in a nearby crystal ashtray. “The moment he’s gone there’ll be no one else to hold back the Reds. We’ve already got one of them in the Chancellorship; if we lose the Presidency, that’s it for Germany. They’ll sell us out to France and Britain just to save their precious Republic.” He spat the word like a curse. “We will never see Danzig again!”

The Presidency of the German Reich was a position of untold, and by the measurements of some unfair, power. The displacement of the Kaiser had not seen a complete alteration of the old imperial system but rather a redistribution of its power, with a President replacing the Kaiser and greater power ceded to the Reichstag. Under President von Hindenburg, it had not been hard to collect much of that power back–the problem, in the minds of many, was his unwillingness to do more with it. A true dictatorship was within reach if von Hindenburg would only take the steps, cried many! But he was an old man, and not a fool. He could not lead Germany down that path. It would have to be another.

“Though I hesitate to say this, I wonder if the departure of my father might prove more of a boon to our cause. After all, he has spent his tenure remaining largely on the sidelines. I remain uncertain if the choice to allow a Socialist Chancellor will truly break their support base as was planned.” He said the last part in a softer voice, leaning in towards von Schleicher. While they were currently alone in the Smoking Room, the urge to whisper while discussing such sensitive matters was natural.

Der Deutsche Herrenklub (The German Gentleman’s Club) was the safest location that either of them could think of to discuss such matters. It catered to the rich and powerful of German society, men whose wealth and influence could bend the ears of royalty. This was certainly not the first discussion to be held here amidst furtive glances, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“What better options are there? The Zentrum is barely holding together and the DNVP’s showing in May shelled out any hope we had.”

The DNVP, short for Deutschnationale Volkspartei (German National People’s Party), had been the hope of von Schleicher, President von Hindenburg, and all those who opposed the current parliamentary democracy under which Germany had chafed since the fall of the Kaiserreich. In 1924 its success in earning 21% of the German vote had promised hope for a future dominance of the Reichstag; however, in May of 1928 disaster had struck when the DNVP’s popularity had dropped to a mere 14% of the vote.

“We are still the second-biggest party behind the SPD. Given some work–”

“From whom?” demanded von Schleicher loudly, the smoke gusting back from the force of his voice. “That fool Hugenberg? He will run the party straight into the ground! The Reds are gaining and the Right is crumbling!”

Following the crushing drop in popularity experienced by the DNVP in the last few months, party leaders had appointed Alfred Hugenberg to the position of Party Chairman. It was no secret that Hugenberg had won for his wealth rather than for any other redeeming qualities; indeed, his wealth was his only redeeming quality, as in all other things he was crass, boorish, and lacked any filter between emotion and speech. His extreme hard-line Conservatism appealed to the men who felt that the Right was not doing enough to neuter the system and who felt that harsh, even extreme action had to be taken lest democracy become impossible to dislodge.

He slouched back in his chair, brows furrowed. “No, we need a new face for the Right. Someone not affiliated with party politics, like how your father won.”

“Choosing a prominent military leader from the war may not go over well with our neighbours,” Oskar warned.

Von Schleicher’s scowl deepened but he did not deny the truth in the words, as much as he hated orientating German policy to the whims of the French and British. Oskar’s father had already been a risky choice, not just for his history in the war but for his association with the Ludendorff dictatorship which had seized absolute control over the German Empire for the latter stages of the war, a period remembered without much fondness by the people. “No one from the Western Front, maybe, but perhaps someone from the East or a former member of the Kaiserliche Marine.”

Oskar knew immediately where his friend was going and shook his head. “Admiral von Tirpitz is loyal to the DNVP. Plus he refused to take on a greater role under my father. He seems to prefer remaining a simple representative.”

“Talk to him anyway. Maybe it’ll mean more coming from you.” Von Schleicher didn’t have high hopes, though. Even if von Tirpitz were to accept, he wouldn’t be the sort of leader that Germany needed. The only candidate von Schleicher could think of was… well, himself, but he knew that he had no chance as it currently stood.

“Very well. If not, perhaps he can point us in the right direction.”

“I dearly hope so. Germany needs a strong leader. Without one, she will wither and die.”

Kurt von Schleicher, close advisor to President von Hindenburg and a vocal opponent of the Weimar Democracy
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurt_von_Schleicher)

Oskar von Hindenburg (right) seated beside his father, President Paul von Hindenburg (left)
(https://ghdi.ghi-dc.org/sub_image.cfm?image_id=4364&language=german)

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Bremen, November 1928

The moment that General der Infanterie Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck heard the name of the visitor calling, he knew what this would be about: Politics. The Lion of Africa had half a mind to send the man away on that basis alone, and it was only his respect for the von Hindenburg name (as well as the sort of unhealthy curiosity which had seen him agree to leading troops in East Africa) which kept him from doing so.

“What do you want?” he asked the moment the man crossed the threshold. Even if he hadn’t been introduced with his name, von Lettow-Vorbeck imagined he’d have known his name regardless, for Oskar von Hindenburg was the spitting image of his father.

In keeping with the difference in their ranks, Oskar first took the time to remove his hat and salute to his superior. “General von Lettow-Vorbeck, it is an honour–”

“What do you want?” the old general repeated. He could see that he had thrown the other man for a proverbial loop and was glad of it. People were more honest when they lacked sure footing.

Oskar’s eyes flicked to the nearby Sitting Room, clearly wishing to discuss this in a more relaxed atmosphere, not in the front hall of von Lettow-Vorbeck’s townhouse. With a sigh the older man gave in, leading the younger von Hindenburg over and calling for drinks from his housekeeper.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck restrained himself until refreshments had arrived before speaking. “I have the greatest respect for your father, but I will not join his cabinet.”

This earned him a curious look. “Did my father ask you to do so before?”

“There have been overtures.” von Lettow-Vorbeck waved a hand dismissively. “I am not a politician. Politics interests me only insofar as my singular vote.”

“So you would describe yourself as… content with the system governing Germany?”

That was a question which the man had mulled over himself many-a-night, and to which he still had no answer. “It is the system we have,” he said instead.

A gleam emerged in Oskar’s eyes at the words. He, it seemed, was a politician. “And if you could change it?”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s eyes narrowed. “The empire is gone. I try not to live in the past.”

“So what about the future? A new empire, a better Reich, even grander than the old one.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck smirked into his glass. “I know when I am being sold to. Skip to the question.”

“Very well. Do you want to be President?”

The question was a surprise, though he recovered quickly. “No.”

“You would have the power to change Germany for the better! Do away with the Republic!”

“Would I? Is that not the thing which this convoluted voting system was designed to prevent? Your father did not succeed.”

“My father valued his oath to the Republic more than his oath to the German people.”

“Your father is a good and honourable man. I would strive to be the same in his place.”

“There is a higher noble calling than that to which any man can swear. The oath to his blood and nation. You defended our land against all odds and came out victorious. You can do it again!”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck couldn’t resist a slight chuckle. “You would make a fine politician.” He set down his beer and watched the dark liquid settle, fine bubbles popping in the foam. “Why me? There are assuredly a thousand younger, more passionate men who would jump at the chance.”

“Your name was recommended to me, actually.”

“Oh? By whom?”

“Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz.”

That drew a truly surprised reaction from the old general. He knew the admiral, of course–they had run in the same circles before the war and both participated in the DNVP now–but hadn’t expected to have made much of an impression, especially not enough of one to earn such a recommendation. “Did he explain his reasoning?”

Oskar shook his head.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck sat back and wondered silently to himself. He knew himself to be a popular figure with the people. Humility aside, he had done the impossible in East Africa and had been the only general to successfully invade British territory during the war. He and von Hindenburg had much in common in that aspect. But von Lettow-Vorbeck had sided with Kapp during his attempted putsch, a mistake he could readily admit, and had withdrawn since then. He had no desire for power, of that he was sure. And yet… “Surely I am not your only candidate?”

“No,” Oskar replied readily, and von Lettow-Vorbeck appreciated the honesty. The hunt for a candidate would be a gruelling work sifting out the savvy from the egotistical. Many on the Right held far too much in common with that Hugenberg fellow who had taken over the DNVP party to which von Lettow-Vorbeck himself subscribed. Just as there were members of the SPD with whom von Lettow-Vorbeck would gladly share a drink, there were men within the DNVP whom he’d just as gladly see tossed out into the wilderness of Tanganyika.

“I will consider it,” he said at last. Not a confirmation, not a dismissal. He would have to speak with his wife, as well as with others from the old days. A decision this immense could not be made lightly.

“That is all I ask,” Oskar replied with a genuine smile.

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Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck (pictured on horseback) parading through Berlin at the closure of the Great War, one of the few victory parades to occur.
(https://wkgeschichte.weser-kurier.de/zum-tee-beim-general/)

The German Empire in Africa at the dawn of 1914. Within the first stage of the war all German colonies would fall under occupation except for German East Africa, where Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck held back the British assault for nearly four years with little more than trained African Ashkari troops and the supplies he managed to raid.
(https://www.dw.com/de/hitlers-afrika-pläne/a-17887502)

At the outbreak of the Great War, Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck was a general serving in German Africa. Under him served not just colonial troops outsourced from the German mainland, but also the Askari, highly-trained and capable African soldiers loyal to the Kaiser and the Empire. For four years, with only a force of roughly 14,000 men, General von Lettow-Vorbeck and his Askari would hold back a combination of British, Indian, Portuguese, and Belgian troops totalling roughly 300,000, and would even succeed in invading British holdings in Kenya to claim supplies when their own ran out (cut off as they were from Berlin by the Royal Navy). His fluency in Swahili and willingness to promote even non-Europeans to positions of authority earned him the eternal respect of the East African troops, and even years after the war and a change to British rule, the Lion of Africa would hold a renowned place in their hearts.

Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck was a man whom few would have chosen outright for a position of authority and power, yet simultaneously the sort of man who, upon his name being uttered, would be immediately categorised as a capable leader and given tactician. No official information exists as to why it was his name which Admiral von Tirpitz chose when compared to the many other prestigious war heroes, and it is likely to have simply been a stroke of coincidence, or perhaps, as some claim, the touch of divine intervention.

With the rising strength of the Socialists and Communists, President von Hindenburg’s faith in the German Right had, by all accounts, begun to wane. Dreams of a restored empire or a powerful dictatorship had come and gone and concessions were increasingly demanded for the popular Left-leaning SPD, the Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (Social Democratic Party of Germany). In the memoirs of his son, published in the late 1950’s, it is revealed that von Hindenburg’s unwillingness to return as president a second time was due to his belief that a second term would see him forced to pit his Conservative conscience against the demands of the German people. His choice to not return was made in favour of a far worse choice, in his view, which would break either his soul or his nation.

Historians and novelists have long questioned how things might have differed if President von Hindenburg had undertaken a second term, or perhaps if a unifying figure had emerged to unite the extremes of the political landscape. Some argue that Germany would have gone the way of Italy, a fascist dictatorship promising redemption for a trodden-upon nation; others point at the ever-rising Socialist and Communist sympathies and predict a German-Soviet alliance reshaping Europe in their own image. Though neither came to pass, it is undeniable that in those last years of the 1920’s Germany teetered at the edge of a knife. And though the Weimar Republic would fall, Germany would not fall with it.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck is a name which German schoolchildren today learn alongside the likes of Otto von Bismarck and Friedrich the Great, but in 1928 “The Lion of Africa” was merely a retired former general with a successful legacy and a pithy nickname. Even after receiving a confirmation of his willingness to run for president, von Lettow-Vorbeck would be merely the fourth option in a list of nearly a dozen candidates including generals, admirals, politicians, and even a member of the former imperial family.
Within two years, his name would be the only one left.

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Author’s Note: I have had this idea in the back of my mind for a long while and decided to finally put it out there.
In essence this story isn’t about a world without the Nazis (as they do technically still exist, albeit vastly reduced and a bit different from how they were IRL), but, rather, a world where the unifying force in German politics did not come from one of the political extremes like Communism or Fascism. Additionally, this story touches on something which I have often wondered–without the presence of Nazi Germany or an otherwise stable and threatening Germany, how would the rest of Europe–especially countries like Italy, Poland, Hungary, or France–developed and interacted?
All comments, questions, and discussions are welcome. Give me your ideas. Please be polite to everyone!
Big thanks to @Garrison and @Augenis for their help as well as everyone who took place in my poll @here. Special shout out to Frederik and Peter.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"The Weimar Republic was always a stepping-stone to something greater. After the fall of the Empire, Germany was a nation in flux, trying to find its feet. It did, eventually, but it was not an easy struggle, and it did not leave us unscarred." - Chancellor of Germany Helmut Kohl (Fatherland Day Parade, Weimar, 1988)​

Enslavement or Death​

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Men of Germany, Stand Up Against the Tyranny of the Young Plan!

Loyal men of Germany, hear the suffering of Volk and Fatherland! Our traitorous government, the same cowardly forces which in 1918 ensured our defeat with a vicious stab-in-the-back, have once again conspired to oppress and chain the people of the Reich!

The Young Plan is not the economic salvation that is promised! It is a trick, a deception by the Jews and Communists who seek to further restrain the might of our great nation! This plan will see your sons and grandsons shackled to debt, our mighty industry throttled, our very spirit enslaved!

There can be no compromise with the forces of France and Britain while Versailles remains! The combined might of the most powerful empires in the world could not defeat our mighty army, so instead they use trickery and deception to deny us our rightful place in the sun!

Refuse the Young Plan and deny Versailles! Join the DNVP and vote!​

DNVP poster circa 1922
(https://www.marchivum.de/de/blog/stadtgeschichte-134)

“Have you seen this nonsense?” von Lettow-Vorbeck waved the pamphlet in the air. “This was pushed through my mailbox yesterday morning. Who does that fool Hugenberg think he is?”

Von Tirpitz nodded, tugging at his bushy beard. “I received one as well. Hugenberg fancies himself something of a national revolutionist, I think.”

Following the revelation of von Tirpitz’s recommendation, von Lettow-Vorbeck had made an effort to build ties with the older man, hoping to both better understand the reasoning for his actions as well as a simple curiousity about the admiral, given their rare interactions in the days of the old empire. To his pleasant surprise, von Lettow-Vorbeck had found that the two of them shared a great deal in common, both ideologically as well as practically, despite the twenty-year age gap. It was those shared interests which had brought them together for breakfast this fine morning. While both were full members of the DNVP, von Tirpitz even taking up various representative roles for the party in the Reichstag, both had become increasingly disillusioned with its leader, Alfred Hugenberg, who had taken control following the party’s abysmal performance in the 1928 elections. Hugenberg was brash, tactless, loud-mouthed, and had seemingly no respect for the traditions which he claimed to be so important. Most offensive of all was simply how foolish the man was. Even true monarchists like von Lettow-Vorbeck himself understood the realities of the German Reich. Never again would a lone Kaiser dictate the future of the entire nation, that was abundantly clear. But rather than offer compromise, a constitutional monarchy or something similar, Hugenberg had doubled-down, demanding the return of none other than Kaiser Wilhelm II and a reclamation of the lands from Alsace-Lorraine to Memel. Von Lettow-Vorbeck wished to say that he was surprised at the man’s audacity but that would be a lie.

“Do you believe he will succeed?” the Lion of Africa queried.

Von Tirpitz scoffed. “Certainly not. It is a pity that this plan was left to the hands of one so ill-suited for leadership. On paper it is not a terrible idea.”

The date was stamped onto the back of the page: 22 of December. A referendum to forcibly undo the Young Plan and set Germany on a path of direct opposition to Versailles. Not inherently a terrible idea, if one were to ask von Lettow-Vorbeck, but poorly-planned. Such flagrant action stood against the cornerstone of Bismarckian politics which had been drilled into his head while growing up, warning him to never rock the boat unless he had first made friends with the waves. Hugenberg would lose, and his loss might very well shatter the DNVP. A shameful loss, really.

“Will you stay with the party?”

“What other option is there? My Protestant forefathers would weep were I to join the Catholic Zentrum.”

“Perhaps von Hindenburg’s example is best. All this muck with parties has fractured the Right and let fools like Hugenberg grab more power than he should be capable of.” It was an idea which von Lettow-Vorbeck had been considering for a while. He had grown increasingly disillusioned with the DNVP and a clean break at this point would ensure his separation from the scandal which this ridiculous referendum would inevitably amount to. Of course, it was a bold assumption to plan for a Presidency when he had only spoken with his “sponsors” a handful of times, but even beyond that… he was tired. He had spoken with his wife about the possibility of leaving Germany if the candidacy fell through. Perhaps moving to Great Britain, or even returning to his old stomping grounds in East Africa. If he could convince his wife, that was.

“Following in the steps of Bismarck,” von Tirpitz said with a laugh. “One wonders what Germany will look like once all us old Prussians are gone.”

“There will be Prussians as long as there are Germans. There is no Germany without Prussia.”

Von Tirpitz leaned forward. “Promise me one thing?”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Don’t let the SPD touch my navy.”

They both laughed.

---

Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck was no politician, but he was a tactician, and, at least in his personal opinion, the latter was a far more useful skill than the former. Even more valuably, he understood how people worked, their dreams and ambitions, far better than many of the men who sat in the Reichstag and made the grand decisions. He might not have been of working-class background, but he was no out-of-touch noble, either, and he already knew that topics such as the Polish Corridor and the reconquest of the African colonies were as irrelevant as conquest of the Moon if the German people did not have jobs and full bellies.

Though he made no intentional changes to his life in the weeks and months following the conversation with Oskar von Hindenburg and new openness to political involvement, aware that it was merely an expression of interest and not a promise, von Lettow-Vorbeck nevertheless became more aware of the political atmosphere of the Reich and found himself reading political papers which only the year before would have been passed over without a thought. He found himself learning more about the topics up for debate and could confidently say that he knew more about the status of farmers in north-west Germany than he ever had before. Not that that was saying much.

It was through this greater political awareness that he first heard of a series of talks taking place in mid-1929 on the status of the reparations demanded of Germany by the Treaty of Versailles. Back in 1924 the Dawes Plan had reduced the size of German reparations and extended their payment to allow the German economy to recover and begin producing enough viable currency to actually pay. Now, led by an American named Owen Young, a plan was being drawn up for further reconstruction of the debt, reducing and extending the payment to allow greater breathing room for the German economy. It was being hailed as the salvation of the German economy, albeit still a bitter bill given its proof that the Weimar system had been failing to correct its own problems.

Well, by some. Quite a few, especially those within the Right, were wholly opposed to the so-called “Young Plan”, seeing it as an affirmation of German guilt in the Great War and a millstone to punish sons and grandsons decades after. To men like Hugenberg, cooperation with the likes of France and Britain would only be possible following a complete abandonment of the reparations, the return of Alsace-Lorraine and their colonies, and an assumption of guilt by the victorious Entente powers, regardless of how ludicrously unrealistic such an expectation was.

This was just at the most extreme end of the spectrum, of course. For the majority it seemed that this deal was the salvation of Germany. Everyone from rural farmers to mega-industrialists supported a freer economy in which to sell their goods, and despite two generations of bad blood with the French, greater cooperation and larger markets didn’t sound half-bad.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck personally had no great care for the subject one way or another. He had no love for the French, but also knew that Germany did not exist in a vacuum, and that, while she might one day regain her status as a premier world power, it would take many years and a great deal of concessions to her former foes before Berlin once more guided the fate of Europe. No, the Young Plan was, at worst, a stumbling block, and not a particularly large one at that.

And yet…

Von Lettow-Vorbeck put down his copy of the Berliner Börsenzeitung and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw with one hand. The Young Plan was scheduled to be signed in roughly four months, at the start of 1930. Hugenberg and the DNVP had already made it abundantly clear that they would be opposing the signing of the document at every step of the way, and the protests and general unlawfulness had only increased as the conference drew to a close. Von Lettow-Vorbeck had yet to end his party status and still received Hugenberg’s bulletins in the mail, and the stirrings of his plan were already there. By hook or by crook, he and his posse were going to try and kill the Young Plan before it could even begin. They would fail, of course, but this failure could be an opportunity.

“Martha,” he spoke aloud, drawing the attention of his wife, currently observing their three young children through the large window of the sitting room. Their youngest, Ursula, was taking a nap upstairs, and her elder siblings had been sent outside to play for being too rowdy and nearly waking their sister. “Have you by any chance heard anything from your friends in regards to this economic treaty that is going to be signed soon?”

Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck was fourteen years younger than her husband but many years his superior in shrewdity, as he often said. She had taken to being the wife of a prominent military figure like a fish to water, and in the years since had built herself a healthy network of prestigious friends. The fact that she had maintained this network even while spending much of the year in a city like Bremen said all that was needed about her social skills. “The Young Plan?” she clarified, crossing to the couch opposite him. “I’d wager that many-a-husband is spending his night on the couch because of it.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Fights like you wouldn’t imagine,” Martha explained as she began working her hair out of the long braid she wore for sleeping. “Franz von Richter broke Uwe zu Eltz’s nose just for calling the plan a good idea. According to my sister in Stettin, some towns in Pomerania are so pro-DNVP that they have banned all newspapers which call it anything other than a heinous betrayal.” She grabbed a brush from the short table and began brushing out the knots in her hair. “According to several sources, the Krupps had to take a sudden trip to Westerland when one of their factories was burned down by Hugenberg stooges.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t read about that in the paper,” he said, surprised. The Krupps were one of, if not the richest and most powerful industrialists in all of Germany.

His wife shot him a teasing grin. “You never asked.”

“How long have you been waiting for me to bring this up with you?” he queried with a sigh.

“Oh, a week or two. I knew you’d get there in the end, darling, you always do.” He couldn’t see her face because of the angle of her brushing but he knew she was grinning at his expense.

He rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “I’m sure you have an opinion on the matter.”

“Oh, that would be positively unladylike of me,” Martha declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Women know nothing about these matters, don’t you know? For example, there is no way that a woman could deduce that the Krupps supporting the Young Plan means that all the other major industrialists will as well, even if just to keep them happy. Nor could a woman possibly understand the mind of a hard-working citizen who sees this as a chance to begin selling his goods once more, albeit to the French."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck bowed to his wife in agreement. "Indeed, such a thing would be impossible from a woman." He didn’t bother to hide the twist of his lips at the joke. “And surely a woman would have nothing to say on the best way to approach such a matter, no?”

“Obviously not.” An exaggerated sniff. “Clearly only a man could think of something as obvious as publicly supporting the current regime, knowing that, when this attempt inevitably fails, he would appear all-the-more trustworthy.”

He pushed himself to his feet and gave a theatrical bow. “Then I salute your womanhood, Your Ladyship.”

His wife nodded primly. “As you should.” She held a prim expression for roughly five more seconds before her expression cracked and a grin leapt to her features. “I’ll make a politician of you yet, husband of mine.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck let out the laughter he’d been holding in during the display, pulling Martha to her feet to embrace her closely. “If there was any justice in the world, it would be you who becomes President.”

“Alas, the world, or at least Germany, is not yet ready for a woman’s rule,” she declared sarcastically. “Victoria conquered half the world and she was only part-German; imagine what I could do with it.”

He laughed and spun her off her feet, digging a hand into her freshly-brushed her and kissing her deeply.

The smack he got for mussing her hair was entirely worth it.

Paul and Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck
(https://wkgeschichte.weser-kurier.de/zum-tee-beim-general/)

---

As predicted by dozens of politicians, the 1929 referendum on dissolving the Young Plan (referred to officially as the Freedom Act) was an unmitigated disaster for the DNVP. While they earned overwhelming popularity with the voters which showed up, those voters were a scant 11% of the eligible population, nowhere near the threshold required to force such a law through.

As with many such debates, the role of von Lettow-Vorbeck in stifling this referendum is exaggerated by historians affiliated with his actions post-1929. The simple truth is that the Young Plan, a restructuring of Germany's Great War reparations to alleviate the stress of the economy, was popular with the common folk. It promised greater foreign aid, a lessening of the debt chokehold, and greater economic freedom for the nation as a whole. In classic human fashion it somewhat ignored the effect on future generations, though it is also up for debate whether the continuation of the lessened reparations until 1988 (as the Plan called for) was ever believed to be realistic or enforceable. It was mainly just the extremists and landed nobility in the East who supported Hugenberg’s ploy, and far from all; for many, the chance to reignite their export market and rebuild their assets in the Rhineland was worth a bit of reshuffling.

However, it is also undeniable that Lettow-Vorbeck did play a role in the events surrounding it. His history with the DNVP was one of the points inspiring reluctance in his candidacy from Oskar von Hindenburg and his conspirators, and breaking from the party was always a prerequisite, so, a week before the referendum was held, von Lettow-Vorbeck decided to turn the oncoming failure into a personal boon.

Alfred Hugenberg was one of the most significant media tycoons of the 1920’s and it was this backing which had kept the increasingly-underfunded DNVP in the black. He furiously pushed his monarchist, pan-Germanist, authoritarian view via newspapers and magazines and relied heavily on the participation of important names from the Great War to paint himself as the curator of the legacy of the German Right. He had approached von Lettow-Vorbeck once or twice already in the interest of greater reader interest, to no avail, but it had left its mark on the veteran and a growing understanding of this new world created by the medium of “Mass Media” and how that medium was becoming a driving force in politics. To that end he reached out to one of Hugenberg’s largest competitors, the Frankfurter Zeitung out of Frankfurt, and offered an interview. The newspaper was decidedly liberal for his tastes, but von Lettow-Vorbeck also knew that it was well-read by moderates from both sides of the aisle. It wasn’t difficult for the war hero to arrange a meeting.

The ensuing interview was titled “Hero of the Great War Defends Republic”, a telling sign of the article’s contents. It wasn’t technically anti-Hugenberg, which is how the publisher avoided a libel lawsuit, but it was no secret as to what it referred, with phrases such as “radicals subverting the German state” and “a betrayal of the men who died in the Great War”. In another subversion of modern perception, the interview was far from a world-shaking exposition akin to the Savoy Affair which toppled the British government in the 1970’s.

Modern loyalists of von Lettow-Vorbeck’s policies claim that this interview single-handedly stopped the rise of Hugenberg and the transformation of Germany into a Fascist state, despite evidence to the contrary being abundant. It was well-read, certainly, but with a readership skewing towards the intellectual and liberal, the words of a colonial general did not hold the weight which they would’ve in a Conservative paper. (Of course, publication in a Conservative paper would have been impossible regardless given Hugenberg’s stranglehold on media in the Weimar Republic, hence the choice to publish in a Frankfurt newspaper at all.) Interviews with readers conducted years later reveal that many readers had either skimmed the article without retaining its contents or had seen through the words to the politicking brewing underneath and had dismissed it on principle.

None of that is to say that the fallout of the article was not dramatic. The article was released two days before the vote and would become Hugenberg’s obsession in the years after, pinning the entirety of the vote’s failure on the betrayal of a party member. Von Lettow-Vorbeck, for his part, defended this act with his official departure from the DNVP submitted the day before the article publishing, thereby, at least on paper, absolving him from the rules forbidding party members from giving interviews to media not connected to the party. It was a grey area which would be debated by publishing lawyers for several years, but which is not relevant to the events which followed.

This betrayal, real or imagined, would create a rift between Hugenberg and von Lettow-Vorbeck which would persist until the end of Hugenberg’s life, and which would have a profound impact on the DNVP and Far-Rightism in Germany as a whole.

The DNVP had always been dominated by two factions-–the Junkers and the Far-Right. Though there was some overlap, these two sides generally had different goals and methods. The Junker faction (named for the Junkers, the landed nobility in Prussia and the East) was composed of the super-rich, the nobility, and the East-Elbian landowners whose political ideology favoured greater Capitalism and anti-Communism, restoration of the Kaiser and other nobility, lower government oversight, and of course greater political power ceded to landowners relative to the workers. The Far-Right were not necessarily monarchists; rather, they favoured a system akin to that in Italy, wherein a powerful and forceful leader led a society based around cultural and national superiority with a focus on industrial development and territorial expansionism. A monarch was acceptable as a symbol of culture and history, but true power was to be reserved in the hands of one who would wield it effectively. Both of these groups agreed with the necessity of the Republic falling, but disagreed on the system which would follow it.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s opposition to the DNVP would lead Hugenberg to skew deeper into the Far-Right and broaden the rift between the two sides of the party, eventually culminating in the 1930 splitting-off of the new KCVP, or Konservative Christliche Volkspartei (Conservative Christian People’s Party), taking with it the majority of the Junker-class as well as many of those who simply disapproved of the Zentrum for one reason or another. The KCVP would continue many of the pre-Hugenberg policies of the DNVP and would coalesce around the figures of von Hindenburg and later von Lettow-Vorbeck as protectors of “classical Conservatism”. Though the party would be largely side-lined by the major parties for the next few years, the KCVP would eventually find its niche, in large part due to its continuous support for von Lettow-Vorbeck.

In the short-term, von Lettow-Vorbeck had earned an enemy, and the long following years would see the DNVP evolve into an ever-more-extreme opponent of von Hindenburg and later von Lettow-Vorbeck himself. Following Hugenberg’s resignation in 1936, his successor would officially drop support for monarchism and begin advocating for a dictatorship along Italian lines.

In the long-term, 1930 would become the year when von Lettow-Vorbeck would enter the public consciousness as a potential replacement for the ageing von Hindenburg. It also backed President von Hindenburg’s Kamarilla (a Spanish term for the small group of advisors surrounding a ruler, in this case referring to the group of men surrounding President von Hindenburg), in particular Oskar von Hindenburg and Kurt von Schleicher, the initial advocates of von Lettow-Vorbeck, into somewhat of a corner. Up until this point, the group had sought to keep their options open, and in fact were in the process of tapping either the Zentrum member Franz von Papen or even one of their own for the role. It is strongly assumed by most that, had the publication not occurred, the Kamarilla would have put forth one of their own as von Hidenburg’s successor. It is likewise assumed with near-unanimity that such an attempt would have doomed their ploy for power before it had even begun.

With the benefit of hindsight, Germans the world over would build a mythos which redefined every turn of von Lettow-Vorbeck’s road into a grand conquest towards a future goal, but it was the little events, the surprises and spontaneous decisions, which decided his path. In another lifetime he could have settled for general, world traveller, or gifted polyglot. Instead, he would settle for nothing less than Saviour of the German People.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"The years of my father’s Presidency are mostly reduced to a blur in my memory, a growing inaction and itch for change which he failed to capitalise on. He was a great man, and a phenomenal general, but I cannot deny that Father should never have been President.” - Excerpt from the memoirs of Oskar von Hindenburg, 1942

Berlin Battle Royale​

---

As the world turned ever-closer to 1932 and the German Presidential Elections, so too did the upper echelons of power within German society begin readying themselves for the struggle which was to come. News broke in Autumn of 1931 of President von Hindenburg’s refusal to retake the position of President and a mad scramble erupted as the various parties began assembling candidates and lobbying funds.

It was apparent to everyone that the name of the game would be Economics. Following the collapse of the American Stock Market, Germany’s economy had crumpled like aluminium foil against a cannonball. The gravest effect was the retraction of American loans and the ensuing tariffs which were raised between the two nations. The loss of America's consumer market, one of the largest purchasers of German goods, cut industrial production in the Reich by over 40%. Chancellor Brüning had tackled this crisis with extreme austerity measures, even acquiring a temporary moratorium on Versailles reparation payments by the sympathetic Americans, but it had nevertheless caused a massive spike in unemployment and poverty. His popularity was so low that he affected change only by emergency decrees signed off by President von Hindenburg, and there was little to no chance that he would survive the federal election scheduled for later in 1932. This was a unique chance for opposition parties to seize control of both the Chancellorship and Presidency.

The strongest contender for the Presidency on party basis alone was the SPD. The past few years had seen tremendous growth in support for the Left, especially following the failures of Hugenberg and his ilk, and uncertainty had given way to confidence, confidence enough that, in late September of 1931, the SPD put forth their candidate for the German Presidency: Paul Löbe.

Löbe was an ideal candidate to direct Germany away from the Prussian Conservatism of von Hindenburg’s reign. A Prussian himself, Löbe would be an easy win for SPD-dominated Prussia, the dominant state within Germany. His only real weakness was his lack of participation in the Great War (owing to lung disease which rendered him unfit for service) but it was far from insurmountable. His platform promised an end to the most extreme of Brüning’s austerity measures (though not removing them altogether), less unemployment, and a reduction of poverty through social spending.

Following the SPD were the Zentrum and the Communist KPD, nearly neck-and-neck for second place roughly 30 seats behind. While the former had not yet committed to a candidate, the diversity of its party making such a decision quite difficult, the KPD had quickly offered up Ernst Thälmann, party leader, as their candidate, to the surprise of no one. Though the KPD held significant support within the German people, Thälmann himself was a more contentious figure. His fiercely pro-Stalin views, as well as his support for much of the violence between Right- and Left-wing militants in the streets, cost his party some of their support. Despite this, his high visibility and open backing from Moscow kept him from being dislodged by any opponents within the party.

Beyond these initial three there were no parties capable of providing a credible candidate. None of the regional parties bothered offering up a candidate and the only other legitimate contender, the DNVP, had no other option than its leader and chief financier Alfred Hugenberg himself, whose chances of becoming President were frequently compared to that of a snowball’s survival in Hell even when factoring in the votes of the only other party to support his level of extremism, the Nationalsozialistische Freiheitsbewegung (National Socialist Freedom Movement), or NSFB, led by Gregor Strasser. The NSFB was a fringe group amongst fringe groups and had little to no voice outside of the most virulent nationalists in East Prussia and the rump Posen-West-Prussian state.(1)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck stood as an outsider from this system. In keeping with the methods used by von Hindenburg, he had been announced as a candidate without the backing of a political party in hopes that it would keep him from being dragged into the muck which they continued to fling at one-another.

Not that this stopped his enemies from trying, of course. The earliest and most virulent attacks came not from the SPD or Communists, but from the DNVP, his old party. Hugenberg’s loathing for von Lettow-Vorbeck grew to new heights when he realised that the man had been preparing for a presidential run back when he threw the Freedom Act under the bus. Hugenberg shouted to the four winds that von Lettow-Vorbeck was a traitorous coward to the principles of the Right, though the effect was minimal, if not self-damaging, when in the next few months several major party members would abandon ship for the new KCVP (which openly supported von Lettow-Vorbeck).

That isn’t to say that he didn’t come under all manner of fire from the Left, because he most assuredly did. Ernst Thälmann and the Communists were quick to brand him as an enemy of the proletariat, using his well-publicised role in suppressing various uprisings during the 1918 German Revolution as well as his history as a colonial general. An easy target for both the Communists and the SPD, and really anyone who opposed him, was his role in the failed Kapp Putsch in 1920. Many saw him–not entirely unjustly–as an unwavering monarchist with no love or loyalty to the Republic. Much as had been done when von Hindenburg ran, papers across the Reich warned that a von Lettow-Vorbeck victory would lead to the return of Kaiser Wilhelm II and an invasion from their hostile neighbours.

The Kamarilla, von Hindenburg’s collection of advisors and, according to some, puppetmasters, had expected and planned for this. Franz von Papen used his influence within the Zentrum (of which he was a prominent member) to set von Lettow-Vorbeck up with several radio speeches in the Rhineland, one of the most densely-populated but also most distrustful regions. Several copies of these speeches survive, including the most famous one as transcribed below, given on November 8, 1931 and broadcast from the city of Düsseldorf:

“To the men and women of Germany. To the soldiers and veterans, the businessmen, the farmers, the craftsmen. To the educated and skilled whose livelihoods have been stolen from them. And the housewives.

The Fatherland sits at the moment of its greatest change, perhaps greater even than on the day of our victory in Sedan when the French wave broke against the rock of German unity and strength. I call on you, the German folk, to remember the unity which our fathers and grandfathers exhibited on that day. Germany once again sits disunited and surrounded by hostile forces. Even within our borders there remains the threat of the traitors who stabbed us in the back, fat and happy while loyal citizens go hungry. Only together can we unite ourselves and bring a complete and lasting unity to all Germans near and far.

I do not come to you as a soldier or a servant of the throne. My war is over and the throne has crumbled. I come to you as a man who loves his nation and whose heart breaks at the sight of what it has been driven to and who would give anything to alleviate its pain.

Stand with me, people of Germany. One people, one voice, one Reich!”

This speech, and the others like it, was not without criticism, as can be expected. Many noted his reluctance to refer to the Republic and instead his preference for words like Reich, Fatherland, or nation. Likewise, he never gave assurances or even claims to have broken from his monarchist beliefs, and in fact seemed to reinforce them. Yet it was enough. The listeners were enthralled by his calls for unity and heartfelt pleas and found his message far more moving than the oft-rote memoranda touted by all major political parties. In a stroke of political brilliance later attributed to his wife, his young son was brought in for one such interview where he loudly and proudly declared that, if Germany asked nicely, it could “share his father”, earning laughs up and down the Rhine and the instant adoration of half a million loving parents. (The nickname “Father of Modern Germany”, despite only being endowed on von Lettow-Vorbeck decades later, is often attributed to this statement.)

Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck and his son Arnd, 1931
(https://wkgeschichte.weser-kurier.de/zum-tee-beim-general/)

However, despite this upsurge in popularity, it was not all sunshine and roses for von Lettow-Vorbeck and his goals. The German people had spent the past two years under the control of a Conservative Chancellor and President and many were dubious of whether or not von Lettow-Vorbeck would improve the situation. One problem in particular stood out:

Chancellor Heinrich Brüning.
___________________________________________

“Down with Brüning! Jobs for Germans! Brüning verordnet Not!(2)”

These cries had become frustratingly commonplace in the last few weeks and German Chancellor Heinrich Brüning rubbed his forehead in vexation as one of his personal guards quickly shoved the loudmouthed Saxon man away from the car, allowing the Chancellor to exit. A small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk in front of Wilhelmstraße 23, the former Schwerin Palace and now the residence of the German President, and upon seeing the target of their enmity the crowd began booing and chanting for his downfall. Surrounded on all sides by guards, Brüning quickly made his way into the building and did not risk relaxing until the doors had closed behind him and there was reinforced oak between himself and the angry masses.

“Bad day, Chancellor?” asked Therese Miller, the front-desk secretary, with a sympathetic smile.

Brüning scoffed. “Compared to some of the past few days this crowd was positively joyful! I would take them over the miners in Breslau any day.” He shuddered in memory of his recent visit to the Lower Silesian regional capital. He had never expected coal to leave such a bruise!

Theresa laughed, doubtlessly insincerely, but it was of no matter. Brüning gave a curt nod to the guards lining the room before heading for the stairs leading up to the formal imperial office. Though he’d visited the site dozens of times, he could never help himself from slowing his pace ever-so-slightly to observe the various paintings lining the wall as he passed. While much of the former royal art collection had been returned to the von Hohenzollern family, there remained here a wide selection of paintings, both originals and duplicates, depicting famous men from throughout the history of Prussia. Frederich the Great, the Great Elector, Kaisers Wilhelm I and Friedrich III, even a painting of Her Majesty Queen Victoria alongside her grandson Wilhelm II which could only be a recreation, as Brüning could not fathom such a priceless treasure being left behind upon the sale of the building.

“Disgraceful,” he thought to himself, remembering the German Revolution which had toppled the monarchy. He had never approved of the notion and the state of the Republic had not endeared him further to it. A weakened monarch he could have perhaps supported (especially after some of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s follies), or the reformation of the Reichstag along the lines of the British Parliament, but full removal of the ruling family? It was an insult to the great work that generations of von Hohenzollerns had undertaken to unite Prussia and later Germany, and indeed the loyalty which Brüning felt was owed to all dynasties whose kingdoms had provided the basis for the nations of the modern day.

Such topics had been discussed at length with President von Hindenburg both before and after Brüning was appointed to the Chancellorship. Behind closed doors Brüning had broached the possibility of a von Hohenzollern restoration, abolishing the Presidency and consolidating greater power in the Chancellorship, but President von Hindenburg had shot it down–not out of a desire to control the power of the Presidency, but because of his oath to uphold the principles of the Republic and his honour refusing to allow such a defiance of duty. It was a noble sentiment, if quite misplaced in Brüning’s opinion. Such talk had been rendered moot by the collapse of the American Stock Market, anyhow, as Germany needed the sort of stability which a sudden shift in government–especially one which might bring them into an unwinnable conflict with hostile neighbours–would not contribute to.

Brüning drew to a halt before the door to the Presidential Office and rapped thrice on the door. Several seconds passed before a gruff “Kommen Sie herein” came and he stepped inside. It was a small-ish space compared to some of the newer buildings on the Wilhelmstraße, and decorated in the royal form. The space was dominated by two seating spaces, a formal dining table with several matching stiff-backed chairs and another, slightly cosier arrangement of leather armchairs gathered around a squat fireplace. A bookshelf sat at the back of the room and the decor favoured the final monarchist era under Wilhelm II; Brüning could only guess that such choices had been brought in or recovered from storage by von Hindenburg himself, as Brüning could scarcely imagine the first president and staunch democrat, Friedrich Ebert, to have kept such memorabilia about.

President Paul von Hindenburg sat at the formal dining table, small piles of papers neatly stacked around him and several wells of ink ready for usage. There was a neatness and a crispness to everything which Brüning, despite not being Prussian (at least not of the East-Elbian variety), could appreciate. Von Hindenburg himself was a powerful giant of a man, built like a soldier and carrying himself like one, even while seated retaining his perfect posture. Despite this, the weight of age could be seen, not only in the lines on his face, but also in the slowness of his hands and the occasional squinting of his eyes.

The Presidential Office, formerly belonging to the King of Prussia and German Kaiser
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reichspräsidentenpalais)

President Paul von Hindenburg, Second President of Germany
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_von_Hindenburg#1925_election)

Brüning came to a stop a few paces away from the table and assumed the traditional position of an infantryman, clicking his heels and standing ramrod-straight. While he, as Chancellor, was supposed to be von Hindenburg’s equal, years of military experience did not simply go away and his own immense respect for the man and his role in the war won out.

President von Hindenburg’s choice of seating arrangement played a pivotal role setting the mood for discussions. Talks in the leather armchairs were informal, often casual, while sitting across from him at the formal table carried with it a heavy seriousness. To Brüning’s relief, the former was the case, as von Hindenburg finally laid down his pen, rose, and beckoned the Chancellor over to the leather chairs. A brief call down to the maid and they each had a small glass of beer–a Danziger, Brüning noticed with some distaste, far too thick for his preference.

Von Hindenburg had downed his before Brüning had managed more than half of the syrupy brew. He chuckled slightly at the sight of the Chancellor’s ill-concealed grimace. “Would you prefer a Kölsch?”

It was supposed to be a joke, Cologne’s signature beer was widely-derided east of the Rhineland, but in that moment Brüning would have chosen a cold Kölsch over a Danziger. “Do I have a choice?” he quipped, but put it down anyway, now seeing that this was just the President indulging in a bit of humour at Brüning’s expense. He wondered if the man’s grandchildren had stopped by; they always seemed to get him in a playful mood.

“Anything to support the good Germans of West Prussia,” replied the old man, looking to the mantle where an enormous map of the old German Empire was displayed. Von Hindenburg’s own place of birth, Posen, was one of the many territories stripped from the Reich in the wake of the Great War, though by its inhabitants, not the invading powers. No, it was Poland, a state whose rebirth was a product of German generosity as they pushed back the Russians, which had swept in to seize the territory, aided by partisans in the state itself. It was a betrayal which the German people had not forgotten, made no less egregious by the other regions now under Polish occupation: West Prussia, Upper Silesia, and of course the Free City of Danzig, a nominal Polish puppet. All good Germans knew that these lands were as German as Hannover or the Rhineland and that it was only a matter of time until they were retaken, by hook or by crook.

All good Germans, anyway.

“The SPD have chosen their candidate to succeed you,” said Brüning, drawing the focus back to politics. “Paul Löbe.”

Von Hindenburg’s brows drew together in thought.

“He tried to organise a border resolution with the Poles in 1927,” Brüning prompted, “but they refused to accommodate.”

The President sniffed, lip curling in distaste. “The only acceptable resolution is their complete acquiescence,” he declared.

This was a point which had initially divided Brüning and von Hindenburg and which made von Hindenburg less palatable to many members of the Zentrum. The President was a fierce defender of Conservatism, but oftentimes his fanatic devotion to the ideals of the Kaiserreich made him blind to practicality. On some level, Brüning could understand the unwillingness to compromise, especially when the city of the man’s birth lay deep within the new Polish state and had seen much of its German population flee or be expelled. On the other hand, many, including Brüning himself, felt that a certain level of pragmatism should take precedence. Claiming the German-speaking Danzig or the strategically-valuable West Prussia was one thing; demanding the return of a large, undoubtedly hostile, Polish-majority region based solely on historical claims was another. It was a similar split to the question of Poland itself, with some seeking an equal partnership, others a puppet buffer state, and some whose hatred of Poland was so great that they would rather see Germany expanded to the Vistula and share a border with the Soviet Union than accept a single kilometre of free Poland.

A similar debate emerged in discussion of a restored Kaiser. Brüning could see, in time, the formation of a constitutional monarchy akin to that in Britain, perhaps under one of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s children or grandchildren. Von Hindenburg, however, would accept nothing less than the restoration of Kaiser Wilhelm II himself, regardless of the international and domestic upheaval that this would cause as neither the ex-Entente powers nor the German people themselves would ever again tolerate the man in a position of power. Von Hindenburg was tactical, intelligent, and patient, but at times his rampant Prussian patriotism was simply too strong for his own good.

“If it is any consolation, he also serves as the chairman of the Austro-German People’s League,” Brüning added, half as a joke and half out of legitimate curiousity to the man’s reaction.

Another sniff, smaller this time, showing von Hindenburg’s thoughts on the idea of German union with Austria. “Catholics,” was all he said.

Brüning, a Catholic from Westphalia, refrained from commenting, though the thought “Damn Prussian stubbornness” might have crossed his mind. He himself had put great effort towards that goal, even coming close to establishing a customs union between Germany and Austria which would have paved the way for union, before the vile French stuck their long noses into it. “So does that mean that you approve of your son’s pick?” he brought up hesitantly.

Von Hindenburg drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, peering into the embers of the fire. "General von Lettow-Vorbeck is a capable leader," he said at last. "I would not see another unbloodied politician dictating the fate of Germany. While I find his tactics to be… unconventional, he has the qualities of a leader." Von Hindenburg was not the most trustworthy of public media. His own campaign had seen one single radio speech and to this day the only thing most Germans could say about him was that he had a moustache.

“Will he be willing to continue on the path we have set?” This was Brüning’s biggest concern. The Great Depression, as it was being called, had struck the fragile growth of the new German economy with the force of a meteor. What little progress had been made since the Dawes Plan had been nearly undone and Germany was floundering, and without a steady hand like Brüning had been using, it could all come crashing back down. In a twisted way, the extremists like Hugenberg had gotten their wish, as the collapse of the American economy made the Young Plan’s implementation impossible. He wondered what they thought of this.

Von Hindenburg shot Brüning a narrow-eyed gaze. “You have run too rampant with your restrictions,” he warned. “The people despise you. I am not convinced that your path is one which should be continued upon.”

“I have only ever done what is best for Germany! That some Communists starve is not my concern!”

Von Hindenburg’s fist slammed down on the arm of his chair. “You risk the support of the Right!”

Brüning had to pause and take a deep breath before he said something which would have cost him his office. “I do only what needs to be done,” he forced out with a voice trembling from frustration. “Better to tighten our belts for a few years than see future generations slave to the greed of the French.”

The President and Chancellor stared each other down for a long few moments. “I wash my hands of this,” von Hindenburg declared at last, looking away.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No more.” Von Hindenburg shook his head, suddenly looking incredibly old. “I never wanted this power. I was not born for it and I can not continue.”

“What are you saying?”

“I disagree with your methods. I fear that you will force the people to turn to the Reds for hatred of you. Thus… I will no longer authorise Emergency Decrees.”

Brüning jerked back in shock. “You would remove me?” he demanded.

“No. I leave that to General von Lettow-Vorbeck. If the fates are kind, he will become Germany’s President, and you may chart a path together or apart. Either way… I am done.”

Fists clenched and positively trembling with rage, Chancellor Brüning rose to his feet. “Very well, Herr Präsident,” he ground out through gritted teeth. With a curt, disrespectful nod that the old man didn’t even notice, Brüning whirled on his heel and stormed out, one word burning in his mind.

Coward.

______________________________________


It was telling, as well as a bit concerning, how much of his campaigning took place in the Rhineland, von Lettow-Vorbeck found himself thinking as he made his way down the crooked side-streets of the Cologne Old Town. The Rhineland had always been a problem for Prussian officials–they had a strong cultural identity and a deep-rooted Catholicism, both of which chafed under the rule of their Eastern Protestant cousins. Various attempts at winning loyalty, such as the completion of the Cologne Cathedral (left unfinished for hundreds of years preceding Prussian rule) or the construction of the Hohenzollern Bridge, had failed to properly endear the regime to the locals, many of whom still pined for the days of being a Free City unbeholden to anyone. Now, despite the removal of the Prussian King, they remained a problem, hating the liberal-dominated Prussian government perhaps even more than they once hated the King and Kaiser.

The twin spires of the Cologne Cathedral were visible above the gabled roofs and it was there that von Lettow-Vorbeck headed. The clock in a nearby window told him that he still had fifteen minutes until thirteen, meaning that he would be comfortably but not unprofessionally early.

He went up the steps and crossed to the side entrance. A few eyes followed his form, likely recognising him from the increasingly-frequent photos in national papers, but without his trademark hat he was difficult to identify, which he banked on. Despite this he knew that he looked like a soldier. Once the mannerisms of the Prussian military were drilled into you, they were not easily forgotten.

Upon entering the cathedral the background noise of the busy city fell away, the enormous wooden doors creating a seal between him and the world beyond. He passed through the heavy red curtain insulating the interior from the winter cold and paused for a moment to take in the sight, breath escaping him. Even a dyed-in-the-wool Protestant could not help but marvel at the grandeur and beauty which typified the cathedral, the beauty and detail in every metre of hand-carved sandstone and beautiful stained glass.

Cologne Cathedral Interior
(https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/cologne-cathedral-nave-germany.html?sortBy=relevant)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck took a seat in one of the wings off to the side, as he had been directed to do, and waited. He was not alone but the other visitors kept to themselves, mostly women and elderly who did not have to work and had the time to attend the noon mass. He let himself relax, breathing in the smell of incense as he waited for his appointment to arrive.

And waited.

…and waited.

The general was not an impatient man but he put immense value in punctuality, as all good Prussians did. The ringing of the hour came and went but he remained alone even five minutes after it had passed. He had grown bored of trying to name the various royal houses whose crests decorated the stained glass and was nearly ready to depart when a figure appeared beside him.

“General von Lettow-Vorbeck,” greeted Father Ludwig Kaas, sliding into the pew and taking a seat beside him.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck nodded, not letting his annoyance at the lateness show. Rhinelanders, he thought derisively. “Father Kaas.”

“I apologise for the delay, I was performing my post-service routine and lost track of the time.” Kaas smiled genially in the way that religious folk did. When speaking to him like this it was strange to remember that he was simultaneously the head of one of the most powerful Conservative parties in all of Germany, the Zentrum. “I should have remembered that I was meeting with a military man, not a local layman.”

There was an insult veiled there which von Lettow-Vorbeck did not have the energy nor will to suss out. “Retired military,” he corrected. “No amount of Prussian strictness could break my sons of their untidiness.”

Kaas gave a toothy smile. Von Lettow-Vorbeck wondered if the man was capable of smiling in a convincing way. “Children are little miracles. But that is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

“Very well.” He resituated himself. “The Zentrum has yet to provide a candidate for the next election cycle. Your party is the strongest outside of the SPD and could very well win the Presidency if you so desired, but are refraining from doing so. What do you want?”

This was why von Lettow-Vorbeck had insisted on coming himself instead of allowing one of the others, such as Franz von Papen, to come in his place. Von Papen was a Catholic Zentrum man himself and would have deferred to Kaas’s authority. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was neither a Zentrum member nor did he have any intrinsic respect for the priestly office beyond that which simple courtesy demanded. Perhaps such directness would offend Kaas, but at least this way there would be nothing lost in communication.
Plus, on a solely personal level, von Lettow-Vorbeck did not want to give up too much power to the Kamarilla. They had already handled much of the lobbying effort for him and, aside from von Schleicher, he did not entirely trust them…

Father Kaas smoothed down the front of his robe, snapping von Lettow-Vorbeck back to attention. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well. As you undoubtedly know, our party is as diverse as Germany herself. Catholic Poles, Bavarians, Rhinelanders, even quite a few Protestants whose distaste for the more extreme parties overrides their distaste for the Vatican.” His lips quirked in amusement and von Lettow-Vorbeck noted it as the first real emotion he’d seen. “To choose one of these would risk alienating the other groups. It could be done, but why bother when God has already presented a fitting candidate?” He nodded at the general.

“Why would such a diverse party support me?”

“Because you can give us all what we want. Because you can at last break the hold that the godless socialists hold over us all.” Kaas’s face twisted as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “You have heard the plans which Löbe touts as his party’s goals?”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck took a moment to grasp the significance of what the old man meant. Kaas wasn’t speaking about the various worker protections, industrial limitation quotas, or plans to weaken the power of the President which were the SPD standard. No, he was talking about goals unique to Löbe. “The Prussian Experiment,” he realised, and everything became clearer.

Das Preußische Experiment, as coined by Löbe himself, was a damning bit of political jargon that von Schleicher had warned was an indication of how cocky the SPD had become with their majority. For almost a decade Prussia had sat as a democratic bulwark within the Reich, opposing attempts at takeover from the various Conservative factions by grace of the Grand Democratic Coalition which governed it. In many ways Prussia’s sheer size relative to the other states worked in the SPD’s favour, with many of the regional or religious parties drowned out by the number of their opponents. This had brought a level of stability to Prussia which no one could deny, but now Löbe and his ally Otto Braun, the Minister President of Prussia, were planning to take it a step further. “The Prussian Experiment has proven a success beyond what words can convey,” Löbe had been heard saying in one radio interview. “The time has come for Prussia to once again lead its little brothers into the future! Prussia’s success will be exported and will become the basis for a stable, unified, democratic Reich!”

The Weimar Republic and constituent states, the Free State of Prussia in blue.
(https://www.zeitklicks.de/weimarer-republik/politik/typisch-weimar/die-laender-der-republik)

There was obviously more to it than this, but the core principle was enough to get the job done. Left-leaning politicians in the lesser states were in awe and keen to jump on board the Prussian train; for the Conservatives, regional leaders, and religious, this bordered on an act of war.

“What will come next?” Kaas demanded, hands twisting furiously into the fabric of his robes. “The abolishment of the Free States? Secularism in our schools!?” He crossed himself quickly, muttering a short prayer. “This ‘experiment’ proves what I have always said: The good people of the Rhineland have no place within Prussia.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck had been warned by the Kamarilla of this being the obvious demand but had been hesitant to believe it. Yet here it was being presented to him. “You wish to break Prussia?” The loyalist in him was tempted to demand a duel of honour for even suggesting it.

“Not break, surely not,” Kaas was quick to clarify, seeing the no-doubt thunderous expression on the old general’s face. “Merely… a limitation. The removal of the Rhineland from Prussia would benefit all involved. My people would achieve the representation and self-governance long denied them and the leaders in Berlin would no longer have to spend precious government funding asserting control over a city far, far older than theirs.”(3)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck forced himself to not react from emotion and to consider the pragmatism of the thing first. Kaas was not demanding a true Rhenish Republic independent from the Reich as had been attempted in the early days of the Republic, he merely desired regional self-governance. Not an unjust request, if von Lettow-Vorbeck was being honest with himself, but the request nevertheless rankled. Prussia was the rightful land of the von Hohenzollern family, the Rhineland earned with blood and steel against the might of Napoleon himself, and to break that sacred holy endowment could be seen as an affront to the work of God himself.

The urge struck him to call upon the exiled Kaiser Wilhelm II in the Netherlands to ask for his permission for such an allowance, much as President von Hindenburg had once done before running for President. Despite his personal failings, the man was and remained the God-ordained monarch of Prussia and thus the liege of Lettow-Vorbeck himself. The general still retained hope for a future restoration of the imperial family and he struggled to imagine facing them when he had traded away their lands as political favours.

And yet…

And yet what other option was there? Without the support of the Zentrum, von Lettow-Vorbeck had no chance. The SPD would continue to grow and assert itself over Germany until they or the Communists at last transformed her into a red state like Russia. Once that point had been reached, the soul of Germany would die and even the remotest chance of a Kaiser upon the throne would be dead. Was it not better, then, to gamble with limited risk while he still held cards to play?

There had been a story passed down to him through the various networks of the imperial army back in the days of the Great War. It claimed that the Italians, already allied to the Central Powers, had double-crossed them and dared to demand lands from Austria-Hungary as payment for upholding its treaty obligations. Kaiser Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary had, of course, refused this request, and the Italians had turned on them as Italians were wont to do. All had cheered this at first… but as the war turned on Austria, they found themselves wondering… would it not have been better to give freely a pittance to spare the loss of everything?

Von Lettow-Vorbeck supposed that he must feel very much like the old Austrian Kaiser in that moment, sitting in a Catholic church and contemplating what he was willing to sacrifice for his nation. He had already given much, fought a losing battle and seen his comrades and friends in East Africa ripped away from him. There were things he would not sacrifice, deals which he would not sign, but this… this was not one of them.

“Very well,” declared the general. “If I become President, I swear on my honour that you will have your Freistaat Rheinlands.”

Father Kaas blinked, seemingly surprised by the brevity of this decision, and then a full, real smile split his weathered face. “At long last,” he declared, kissing the crucifix around his neck and bowing to the tabernacle. “Germany has the leader she needs.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck dearly hoped that the man spoke the truth.

_______________________________________

1. - This was the temporary name of the Nazis following Hitler’s arrest, until he returned and reformed it into the NSDAP. With his death, the temporary name sticks. I don’t see the party fizzling out completely without Hitler but I imagine it being the least-palatable of all the Rightist parties to the average voter.
2. - Brüning verordnet Not (Brüning decrees hardship/emergency), a common slogan opposing the emergency decrees used by Brüning and von Hindenburg to bypass the Reichstag and enact laws directly.
3. - The author lives in Cologne and can testify that a rather stunning amount of people base their superiority and dislike for cities like Berlin on the fact that Cologne is much older.

I am sick today and had time to finish the chapter I was working on, meaning that I was able to post this one (as I am trying to stay 3 to 4 chapters ahead at all times). Normal chapter updates will be every week or two, but it will vary and of course may change as time progresses and the chapters likely grow longer.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Imagine… imagine a dinner party. A really big one. Crystal dishes, dozens of fancy foods… but instead of proper adults, everyone is three years old and really needs a nap. It would be utter chaos! And now you are the one who has to get them to sit down and eat their peas. That was what being a politician during the Republic was like. Does anyone miss it? Some masochists, probably, but certainly not me.” - Karl Hepp, former leader of the Christian-National Peasants' and Farmers' Party, Berlin, 1945

Wunderland​

---

On December 5th, 1931, at 8:37 A.M., the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow exploded under the force of several hundred kilos of dynamite. This destruction was total, reducing the decades-old Orthodox structure to rubble in less than a half-hour. The ancient reliefs were spared, taken away to a nearby monastery for safekeeping, but the golden dome was seized by the state and melted down for funds and the rubble cleared away to make room for the planned Palace of the Soviets.

Christ the Saviour Cathedral, Moscow
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipe...ow_archive_img07_Christ_Saviour_Cathedral.jpg)

Destruction of Christ the Saviour Cathedral, Moscow
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Christ_saviour_explosion.jpg)

To many Muscovites as well as citizens of the Soviet Union as a whole, the complete obliteration of this significant holy site by the Communist government—as well as the ensuing construction of the Palace of the Soviets—was a microcosm of the relationship between the Soviet Union and the Russian Empire which preceded it. For all that the leaders of the Soviet Union decried the tyranny of the Tsarist regime and the Orthodox church which supported it, more than a few cynics drew comparisons between the Cathedral which previously stood there and the new Soviet Palace which was to take its place. Имена могут меняются, но лица всё та же (The names may change but the faces remain the same) would be a phrase frequently whispered in back-alleys and closed parlours of Moscow in the coming months.

The centuries-old devotion to the church of Constantinople had not been as easily smothered as the Soviets would have liked, though its strength was admittedly greatly diminished. The Russian people had not abandoned their faith, they were simply… tired. Tired of the war and chaos which had wracked their country, tired of the starvation and the poverty and the sons who never came home. The oppression of their faith was seen by many as a small price to pay for assurance, and for those who still resisted the secularism? Well, they would soon find a man standing at their door with an invitation which could not be refused.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was not the impenetrable fortress which many envisioned it as. Money, people, and of course information traveled in and out, albeit with greater difficulty than other states. As such, it was not long before news of the cathedral’s destruction reached the outside world. It certainly wasn't hurt by how proudly Stalin boasted of his triumph over "the superstitions of old".

The Orthodox nations of Greece, Bulgaria, Romania, and Yugoslavia (at least the Serbian part) were quick to decry this act as a monstrous offense against God, briefly united in their anger at this attack. Holy leaders of the Russian Church the world over wept at what was being done to their once-devout nation and within the Vatican even Pope Pius XI would offer mass for the souls of the Russian people and hope that “one day, Our Father will lead them back out of the darkness”.

Despite the general outrage among these varied communities, the news wouldn’t even grace the ears of most world leaders. “The Soviets being the Soviets” was how the average citizen in France or America would have described it, a brief shake of the head and then a continuation of their day. It was, after all, just one cathedral in a far-off nation.

Germany would be the outlier.

---

"Russia was a great nation, once," spoke Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, his loud, clear voice echoing around the chamber of the Berliner Sportpalast (Berlin Athletic Arena) to touch every onlooker. "They fought to defend Christendom and to spread the civilising message of Europe to the far reaches of Asia. Even in war they fought with honour and there was never any doubt that the Russian Empire was an equal member of the Great Brotherhood of Nations." He paused, casting his eyes across the crowd. "And what has become of it? Betrayed from within by dissidents and criminals. The royal family imprisoned and murdered. The faith and freedom of the masses strangled by the Communist plague!"

Across the room a roar of collective outrage sounded, deafeningly loud in the space. Von Lettow-Vorbeck cast a glance behind him to his wife and the men of the Kamarilla. Von Schleicher gave him a nod, lips upturned at the reaction which the words had garnered.

"Germany was spared such a fate only by the slimmest of margins," von Lettow-Vorbeck continued once the noise had subsided. "The men of the Freikorps and the military worked together with the Republican government to halt the red tide in Bavaria and others, but were unable to fully defeat it before their hands were tied by the victorious Entente. Ernst Thälmann and his brethren in the KPD would see us become a godless dystopia as well; no, worse! He would see us become little more than a puppet to Moscow! How long, then, until the Cathedral of Cologne is in flames? The Cathedral of Berlin torn down for a statue of Marx? Our great heritage snuffed out by the tide of internationalism?” He paused to take a breath.

This time the room was deathly silent, the crowd watching him with mute fascination.

“The time for infighting is over,” he declared at last. “In 1871 the German people were unified politically, but the process was left incomplete. It is time for us to finish what Otto von Bismark and Kaiser Wilhelm I began. One people, one voice, one Reich!”

He raised his fist in the air as he spoke those words, the words which had become his rallying cry. His heart lifted in exhilaration as, across the hall, men and women lifted their fists into the air and repeated the mantra, the words thundering out with the force to shake the building.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck stepped down from the podium, the intense energy which had filled him now vanishing and leaving him winded. He crossed to the chairs where the others sat and Martha rose to embrace him. “Well-done,” she whispered into his ear. “Let’s see Löbe top that.”

He chuckled into her hair before pulling away. He turned, expecting to see von Schleicher, but the man was at the other end of the stage talking with some of the supporters while the crowd slowly filtered out of the building. In his place stood Franz von Papen, and von Lettow-Vorbeck felt a stirring of annoyance as the man stepped closer.

Franz von Papen
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_von_Papen)

Franz von Papen was a member of soon-to-be former President von Hindenburg’s Kamarilla and a close personal friend of von Schleicher, having been brought into von Hindenburg’s government on the man’s recommendation. As a prominent member of the Zentrum party he had a wealth of connections and influence amongst the Catholics and Conservatives; it had only been through his politicking that von Lettow-Vorbeck had been able to arrange the meeting with Ludwig Kaas and earn the backing of the majority of that party.

Despite this as well as his general usefulness, von Lettow-Vorbeck could not bring himself to like the man very much. There was just something about him which the old general found… irritating. He would never say this to his face, of course, and von Schleicher respected him far too much to address it, but still…

“Masterfully done, Herr General,” von Papen said with a smile. “That speech was a work of art.”

“Only thanks to your help,” von Lettow-Vorbeck replied with a nod of thanks.

Von Papen waved a hand in dismissal. “A few ideas, nothing more.” He cast his gaze to the receding crowd. “The people here are desperate for someone to save them. All one must know is the right buttons to push. Don’t you agree, Otto?”

After Oskar von Hindenburg (who had not been able to make it to the rally), Otto Meissner was the fourth and final member of the Kamarilla. A quiet, withdrawn man, Meissner was easily overlooked by the noble and ostentatious members of the Berlin elite. Wrongly so, as many would soon learn, because his unassuming appearance and diminished stature hid a brilliant bureaucratic mind capable of juggling the enormous burden which was the job of State Secretary.

Otto Meissner
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Meissner)

“It was very well-done, but this is Berlin, not Saxony,” Otto replied. “Winning a stadium of loyalists in the capital won’t do us much good if we lost Prussia.”

Von Papen raised an eyebrow. “Otto, you worry too much. Father Kaas has assured me that the deputies across the Rhineland know where their loyalties lie.”

Otto harrumphed and rapped his cane against the floor. “Too much time has been spent on the damn Rhineland! If we cannot break their hold on Prussia it won’t matter how many Rhinelanders we have!”

A soft clearing of the throat drew the group’s attention. Von Schleicher had returned, a man in tow. “I believe we might have some help in that,” he said, nodded to his companion. “This is Hermann Göring.”

Hermann Göring, 1930
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermann_Göring)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not at first recognise the name, it was in fact his wife Martha who jolted his memory when, surprised, she asked, "The pilot?" and it clicked in his memory. Herman Göring had been awarded a Pour Le Merite for his service in the Great War and had become so venerated as a pilot that, after the Red Baron was killed in action, Göring had been given command over the man's personal squadron. This man was a legend among German veterans second only to the likes of von Hindenburg and von Lettow-Vorbeck himself.

"It is an honour to meet you," greeted Lettow-Vorbeck said as he shook the man's hand. The grip he received was strong and firm, much like the man himself. Despite it having been over a decade since active combat, Göring did not seem to have lost his soldier's physique.(1)

"The honour is mine, to meet the only man to successfully invade the British Empire," returned Göring. "When I heard news of your speech I could not resist coming to hear what you had to say. I must say, you have not disappointed." He released von Lettow-Vorbeck’s hand. "Your speech was inspirational."

"Weren't you wanted by the Bavarian police?" Meissner broke in, eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "You partook in the NSDAP rally in 1923."

"I received amnesty a few years ago thanks to President von Hindenburg," Göring replied smoothly, shooting Meissner a dismissive look.

"But still," Meissner began, "a former criminal–"

"Like those of us who supported the Kapp Putsch?" Von Lettow-Vorbeck stared the man down. "How is Commander Göring any different?" He stressed the man's military rank.

Meissner flushed and took a step back and out of the conversation.

"I have not heard anyone speak with that much passion and conviction in a long time," Göring continued as though the interruption had never occurred. "I had begun to fear that the fire which lit the Prussians of old had gone out."

"We may be old but we are not yet gone," von Lettow-Vorbeck joked, earning a smile in response. "I was uncertain at first myself, I must admit, but I could no longer stand by and bear the suffering of the Fatherland.”

“Especially not when the same ilk who betrayed it now hold power,” von Papen added.

“I still remember the day that I heard.” Göring’s gaze grew clouded and dark. “My men and I destroyed dozens of German planes rather than let our enemies claim them.”

“Germany’s time will come again,” von Schleicher said, “General von Lettow-Vorbeck is the only man I trust to make it happen. If we let the Reds succeed, Germany will remain little more than a puppet state forever.”

“And what of the others who oppose the Red flood? The DNVP and the NSFB do not trust you. Why is that?”

“Alfred Hugenberg and I have never seen eye-to-eye,” von Lettow-Vorbeck replied truthfully. “I find his methods crass and ungentlemanly; unbecoming of a German. Many of our goals align, but I have chosen to build upon the foundation which exists. He sees fit to tear it all down.”

“And the NAZIs?”(2)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck felt his mouth twist in distaste. From behind Göring, von Schleicher shot him a quick look which carried a subtle warning. “Frustrated men without an outlet,” von Lettow-Vorbeck settled on at last. “Their patriotism is admirable, but I cannot condone the methods to which they stoop, nor the methods they call for.”
“They border uncomfortably close to Socialism at times,” von Schleicher joined from behind Göring. “Strasser–”

“Strasser,” Göring snarled, cutting them off, “is a traitor to the ideals that the party was founded on.” An ugly, sour expression took over his face for a brief moment before it vanished. “The party used to be different, before… but alas, it is what it is, and I no longer found myself at home there. The DNVP intrigued me, but, like you, I find Hugenberg to be appalling and unfit for leadership.”

“And so you came scouting for another option,” finished von Papen.

Göring nodded. “You inspire me, Herr General. If you would accept it, I would like to aid you in your goals.” He stuck out a hand.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not hesitate for a second. “Lietenant Göring, it would be a pleasure.”

---

The connections and opportunities which the addition of Hermann Göring brought to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s circle, and later his own ministry, cannot be understated. More than simply a war hero and celebrity, Göring sat in the middle of a complex web of political and economic connections acquired both during his time in the military as well as in his later years and time abroad. The first and arguably most valuable of his achievements was the netting of several large industrialists, notably Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach (of the Krupp manufacturing and industrial empire), IG Farben (the largest pharmaceutical company in the world), and even securing the personal contribution of Dr. Albert Vögler (CEO of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke, the world's second-largest steel firm). All of these individuals had one thing in common: Deep pockets and a vested interest in halting the spread of Socialism. It would not take long for them to be swayed to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s side and by early 1932 his party was positively swimming in funds, only made sweeter by the fact that such backing was now being denied to Hugenberg.

Industrialists were not the only ones to be aggressively courted by von Lettow-Vorbeck and Göring. Not long after financial backing had been secured the duo would turn their sights on a shared interest: The Stahlhelm.

Flag of the Stahlhelm
(https://www.nuw-versand.de/en/interior-decorations/flags/fahne-stahlhelm-bund-der-frontsoldaten)

The Stahlhelm (German for “steel helmet”) began as a veteran’s organisation founded in 1918 following the end of the Great War. From the group’s inception it was composed predominantly of revanchist, nationalistic, and monarchistic elements loyal to the fallen Empire and the deposed von Hohenzollern monarchy. Already thousands strong by 1920, its numbers would surge following the dissolution of the Freikorps, another right-wing paramilitary organisation which had opposed the Republic in its early days only to be dissolved following participation in the failed Kapp Putsch.

Up until this point the Stahlhelm had refused to officially take a side in the upcoming election. Though historically a supporter of the DNVP even in its more radical moments, the rise of von Lettow-Vorbeck as a candidate had given many pause. Given the groups overwhelming composition of veterans of the Great War, the idea of joining together in opposition to such a revered war hero—especially one whose political ideology seemed so close to their own—chafed at many members and more than a few scuffles had broken out over the rightful leader of a new Germany.

It was therefore with some trepidation that Stahlhelm leader Franz Seldte and his deputy Theodor Duesterberg met with the Lion of Africa in his home in Bremen one chilly day in late January, 1932. By all accounts the duo had steeled themselves for General der Infanterie Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, a man oft-described as “very difficult to refuse”.

They would be vastly underprepared.

---

Göring was sitting on the edge of the large oaken table, one foot dangling off the ground, wine glass in hand as he regaled them with one of his tales of valour from the skies over the Western Front. Today it was a story about the time the Red Baron took down a dozen planes with as many shots. True or not, it was a grand tale.

Franz Seldte swirled his own wine gently, eyes sliding over the others at the table as he tried to work out the game here. To his right sat none other than President von Hindenburg’s son, Oskar, both thoroughly enraptured in the tale. To his left was Kurt von Schleicher, Franz von Papen, and Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck. The Lion of Africa himself was at the head of the table beside his wife, and though a flit of his gaze betrayed his notice of Seldte's own, he kept his focus on Göring, laughing at the appropriate moments.

Strange. Very strange.

Directly across from the table was Theodor Duesterberg, Seldte's deputy and, at times, rival. Like the younger von Hindenburg, he was wholly enraptured in the tale, eyes gleaming with the hero-worship which had not faded since they had stepped out of their car. Duesterberg, it was apparent, would not be much help today. As expected.

The story was finally wrapping up and all present clapped as Göring gave a silly little bow and returned to his own seat. The informality of the get-together, the little anecdotes here and there… it felt like a dinner party, not a political meeting. Was this part of their plan? Woo him with drinks and tales of the good old days? It might work on Duesterberg but it wouldn't on him.

"How about you, Seldte?" Von Schleicher's voice cut through his pondering. "Do you have any stories from the War?"

"I could tell you about the time I lost my arm," he replied dryly, rolling his shoulder to make the wooden replacement at his side twitch.

The customary awkward silence fell as the others tried to decide if it was a joke or not. All but Göring, who waited not a moment before bursting out with laughter. "Ah, and here I thought some Jew nicked it off of you one night in a bar!"

This drew laughs from everyone except for Duesterberg, who scowled and declared, "It is no joking matter. If we don't take them seriously, they'll do to us what they did to Russia!"

This was as good of a segue as Seldte could find to bring the focus back to the reason they had been invited here. "You have to understand, General," he directed at von Lettow-Vorbeck himself, "that I have the utmost respect for you and would welcome your leadership of our nation, truly. However, not all among the Stahlhelm feel the same."

"What do they offer up as an alternative?" Von Papen demanded with a scowl. "Hugenberg will never win."

"They are afraid that he will be another President von Hindenburg. Impotent." Göring raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"

Oskar von Hindenburg made to rise in defence of his father but a sharp gesture from von Schleicher stopped him.

Duesterberg spoke this time. "We believe in you," he stressed, "but many feel that Hugenberg has a more trustworthy legacy of opposition. They are fools, of course."

Duesterberg you coward, Seldte cursed silently. You were one of the ones backing Hugenberg unconditionally! Now one look from your heroes and you roll over like a dog! "Until you are actually in power, you cannot guarantee us that it will be any different than before. Regardless of my own personal opinions on you or Hugenberg, I cannot in good conscience risk the fracturing of the Stahlhelm so carelessly."

Von Schleicher and von Papen shared a look. "That is always the problem, isn't it?" the former mused, "the fracturing of our would-be allies. They have no unifying leader."

For a moment Göring looked out the window, expression wistful. Then he snapped back. "Bollocks."

All preset started slightly at the curse, with von Lettow-Vorbeck turning to scowl at the man. "Herr Göring!"

"Forgive me, Lady von Lettow-Vorbeck," Göring bowed in brief apology to the Lady of the House before turning back, "but I meant what I said. We provide you a solution, a leader, one who has already earned the trust and support of millions of Germans, and you would place your own petty fears above the betterment of the German race? What kind of German are you?"

All eyes turned to Seldte. “A practical one,” was his reply. “The Freikorps were rash in their support of Kapp and it saw them crushed; I cannot risk that happening again. I am not sure we would survive it.”

“Those who sit on the sidelines of history should not be surprised when it passes them by,” Martha spoke softly. “If you cannot find a cause worth fighting for, what, indeed, is the point of the Stahlhelm at all?”

“Well-said, my dear.” Von Lettow-Vorbeck wrapped a hand around his wife’s. He then turned to the Stahlhelm duo. “I was a member of the Freikorps. It was what cost me my commission in the Reichswehr. Despite that, I would do it again, indeed a hundred times over, just as I would have fought in East Africa for an eternity before I let my Kaiser down. I know what I fight for. Do you?”

---

For the modern reader it may be difficult to understand what a coup de main the acquisition of these three separate groups–first the Zentrum under Ludwig Kaas, then the coalition of major industrial conglomerates, and lastly the powerful paramilitary Stahlhelm–was for von Lettow-Vorbeck and his associates. In the span of two months he had gone from a reasonably-popular figurehead to a true force to be reckoned with and all of Germany was sitting up and taking notice.

In early February, roughly a month before the election, Ludwig Kaas made a public statement supporting von Lettow-Vorbeck’s presidency, citing him as “Germany’s only salvation from the Godless Socialists” and claiming that the SPD had abandoned Germany as a whole in favour of Prussia. He spoke of how Prussia was no longer a democratic bulwark and had become a bludgeon with which the Reds planned to beat the rest of Germany into submission. The cry “Bürde, nicht Bollwerk!” (Burden, not bulwark!) would become a common rallying cry against Löbe and the SPD as a whole in the Rhineland and outside of Prussia.

As the pressure grew, more political parties began coalescing around von Lettow-Vorbeck, some due to the influence of partisan groups, others who simply knew which way the wind was blowing. The Hannoverian and Bavarian parties were both drawn in by his pro-regional rhetoric and though he had flatly refused to consider a Hannoverian breakaway akin to the Rhenish one, he had nevertheless promised greater regional autonomy. The feudal-esque nature of the old Kaiserreich was firmly dead, he said, but Germany’s strength came from the tapestry of German-ness rather than from any one corner. It was a pretty bit of rhetoric that most agree he did not truly believe in (once a Prussian, always a Prussian) but it certainly won him friends in the south despite his Protestantism.

Despite all of this popularity and influence, von Lettow-Vorbeck’s victory was far from assured. The parliamentary system which governed Weimar Germany demanded a true majority (51%) to achieve total victory and, if that was not possible, a plurality. Despite the backing of the Zentrum as well as various smaller parties, the undisputed ruler of public trust was the SPD. The Communists and Zentrum were neck-and-neck, all other parties trailing a significant amount behind.

A tally conducted at the beginning of March, less than two weeks before the election, guaranteed von Lettow-Vorbeck roughly 35% of the popular vote, roughly equivalent to his support in the Reichstag. It was certainly respectable, yet it still was not enough for what they wanted, as it still fell well into what had been deemed the “risky sphere”.

The crux of the problem were the Communists, the third-largest party in the Reichstag and the one most hostile to everything that they were trying to achieve. Under Ernst Thälmann, the KPD had taken a stand against what they called “Social Fascism”, in essence urging their voters to oppose both the Centre- and Right-leaning parties as well as the SPD. However, the possibility remained that, in the event of a possible von Lettow-Vorbeck victory, they would throw their weight behind Paul Löbe and net the SPD victory, especially since many of their voters were not hard-line Communists like those in the Reichstag. Far better would be a firm majority win, but this did not seem possible, especially when the DNVP continued to support Hugenberg and no other.

March 13th rolled around at long last and von Lettow-Vorbeck sat with the other members of the Gentlemen’s Club waiting on the results, though undoubtedly very little sitting was done. In a surprise turn of events during the last hours Gregor Strasser, leader of the NSFB and previously uncertain about von Lettow-Vorbeck’s trustworthiness, threw his weight behind the general, citing him as a superior option to even the possibility of a Red president. It was not much but the East Prussian and Pomeranian votes it garnered certainly did not hurt. The same could not be said for Hugenberg who refused to change his stance in the final moments. When the results at last came back they were predictable, if not frustrating, with Löbe achieving a comfortable 41% and von Lettow-Vorbeck falling behind with 38%.

Without the minimum 50% to achieve majority, no candidate came out on top and runoff elections were scheduled for the 10th of April, just under a month later. In these runoffs the candidate with the plurality of votes would achieve victory and it was already clear that, without a significant change, it was unlikely that Löbe could be stopped.

Unluckily for him, significant change was exactly what was coming.

---

A solitary brick sailed through the air, crashing through the window of the Dresden Bank with a loud crash. Moments later a flurry of other assorted heavy objects joined it, shattering it completely and sending the bank director ducking under his oaken desk to avoid falling class.

“Down with the Capitalist dogs!” cried the brick-thrower on the street below, receiving an answering cheer from the crowd around him. A wave of men and women surged forward, forcing their way past the guards and into the bank proper, stealing anything not nailed down and breaking anything which was. The same event was mirrored across the city, as well as in nearby Leipzig, with banks being torn open, shops ransacked, and citizens fleeing for their lives.

Saxony was aflame. And it was not the only one. In Düsseldorf and Duisburg Communist riots battled the Prussian police and even in Frankfurt protesters had blocked off the city centre as they demanded the removal of the Chancellor and President to make way for Communist representatives. Though it was not a proper united attempt on the government, it certainly felt like one.

In far-off Berlin Chancellor Brüning paced the length of his office as he debated the best option to deal with this insurrection. His sources had already confirmed that this had been triggered by Ernst Thälmann. This wave of violence was supposed to win him support through fear and show the people the weakness of the current government, especially in Prussia where their federal police were supposed to handle matters such as this. And it was working, at least partially—it had been 4 days and the Minister-President of Prussia Otto Braun had yet to put down the riots, only to keep them from spreading. If something was not done soon it would begin taking a serious toll on the economy (Saxony and the Northern Rhineland were two of Germany’s most industrialised regions) and that could trigger the absolute worst case scenario: French intervention. If that were to happen he would drive home, take his service weapon from the third drawer of his writing desk, and end it all then and there.

No, he would not let this break him.

A knock on the door came and he whirled. “What is it?” he demanded, hoping for good news.

His secretary poked her head in timidly. “You have a visitor, sire.”

“Unless they have an army behind them, I am not interested!” He turned away.

Behind him the door creaked open. Brüning whirled, ready to yell at whichever poor soul had the misfortune to be standing there, but the words died in his throat. Von Lettow-Vorbeck–no, General von Lettow-Vorbeck stood before him in full military dress, trademark hat in hand, and gave him his famous jaunty smile.

“As it happens, Herr Kanzler, I might just have that army.”

---

At daybreak on March 23 the Saxon Protestors awoke to a very unpleasant surprise. This surprise was several thousand Stahlhelm members strong and led by a man on horseback in the dress of an African colonial officer.

The Communists stood no chance.

The “Liberation of Dresden”, sometimes referred to as the “Dresden Massacre”, had a very significant effect on the German psyche in Spring 1932, less for the event itself than for what it symbolised.

First and perhaps most important was the galvanising of the Conservative establishment under von Lettow-Vorbeck. Before this day many had seen him as a compromiser unwilling to take a hard stand against the Communists, or at the very least one too willing to grant them free reign, largely due to associating him with von Hindenburg who had done the same. Many of those same detractors were members of the Stahlhelm; it is hard to call someone “Communist-friendly” when you have witnessed him crushing a Red uprising on horseback like some kind of medieval crusader, and they would return home raving of the noble Prussian elegance they had witnessed that day, “Like something from 1871”.

Second was the collapse of the unified Communist cause within Germany, struck as it was by two-fold attacks both external and internal. Chancellor Brüning had long desired the eradication of the Communists but had been forbidden from doing so by the mechanisms of the Constitution. This act of aggression gave him the excuse he needed and even President von Hindenburg broke his refusal of new Emergency Acts to sign off on the “Maroon Law”, officially banning the KPD across the Reich. Stahlhelm groups were posted in all major cities and while this banning did see protests and riots in many major cities, they were quickly suppressed. They couldn’t have known it, but such a choice was not even necessary–in the wake of the riots the KPD suffered a series of internal haemorrhages between Stalinist and anti-Stalinist forces. Many within the party would, in later years, come to see Thälmann’s refusal to support the SPD (in keeping with Stalinist rhetoric which portrayed Socialists as the greatest danger to Communism) as the reason for its failure to win the Presidency and in the coming years the exiled and underground German Communist community would align far more with the Opposition than the KPD.

Lastly was the emergence of a greater spirit of national interventionism. Had things been left to the Prussian police, many would say, Germany might have fallen to Communism! (This was a wild exaggeration, and in fact the Prussian police contributed at least as much as the Stahlhelm, but the lie was useful to leaders at the time.) Von Lettow-Vorbeck was both a breath of fresh air and a return to an increasingly-idealised stability associated with the days before the war. No longer did people remember the Kaiser sending troops against peaceful protesters in Alsace or the Rhineland; now they painted the Empire as a beacon of stability and progress envied by all around it, and the phenomenon of (oftentimes undeserving) nostalgia towards the German Empire and especially the Kingdom of Prussia, shorthanded to "Preußtalgie" (a fusion of the German words for Prussia, "Preußen", and nostalgia, "Nostalgie"), would rise to become a significant cultural force.

The runoff elections became the zeitgeist of the era. The banning of the Communists completely shifted the balance of power in the Reichstag and many voters jumped ship from that side altogether. The majority of KPD party leaders were arrested in the aftermath and the few that remained were not yet willing to break from the anti-SPD tradition ingrained in them, keeping them from throwing their weight behind Löbe. The fear of Communist influence within their own party further wore away at the internal harmony of the SPD and the trust of the voters and it was with heavy hearts that Otto Wells and the other party leaders watched the votes roll in. With Communism in Germany now cut-off at the knees, the Stahlhelm surging in support, and the SPD having been unable to affect any of it, the people's choice was clear.

On April 11th it was declared. With a close but still very solid lead, the Centre-Right coalition had won. Germany had a new president and his name was Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck.

---

1. I decided to go with the idea that Hitler was hit by the bullet meant for Göring, and as a result Göring survived unscathed and without a morphine addiction.
2. Like IRL, the term “NAZI” exists as a shorthand for the NSFB as it did for the NSDAP. However, I will try and avoid using it except in specific circumstances to differentiate it from our historical bias.

I did not like the scene with the Communists and the Stahlhelm and wanted to actually depict the suppressing of the riots but all my attempts to expand that turned out horribly, and since it was the only thing keeping me from considering this chapter "complete", I have decided to give it a few weeks and return to touch up the scene then.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"There is no great undertaking which does not require an absolute sacrifice of self and an understanding of the total loss which can occur through its failure. Marriage requires an abandonment of absolute independence. Parenthood is a decades-long commitment to a financial and emotional drain. Both of these were challenges I undertook with pleasure, and they prepared me like nothing else for the bitter work which awaited me in the years to come as President of Germany." - Excerpt from the autobiography of Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, 1956​

The Quiet Presidency​

---

"No rest for the wicked," the old saying goes, and this was doubly true for the new President of the German Reich. If he had hoped for a period of rest following his assumption of power, President von Lettow-Vorbeck would be sorely mistaken, as the hard work was only beginning.

1932 was always going to be a major year in Germany regardless which man held the reins, what with the Prussian election and immediately afterwards the Lausanne Conference to look forward to and the questions on the Treaty of Versailles which it carried with.

Fears of British or French opposition to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s Presidency turned out to be as unfounded as the rumours which swirled in 1925 when von Hindenburg rose to power. "The attitude of His Majesty's Government will be exactly the same as toward any newly named executive of a sovereign and independent State," newspapers in London declared, and that was all that was heard on the matter.

Congratulations were received from a number of other states. Missives from the Dutch, Austrians, Danes, and various other friendly powers were expected, but pleasant surprises came in the form of personal visits and gifts from the Bulgarian and Romanian governments, both of whose interest had been stirred by von Lettow-Vorbeck’s vocally anti-Communist, pro-Orthodox rhetoric in recent months, though time would tell if awakening German interests would align with one or both of theirs.

Within Germany the reaction was understandably more mixed. While government-run papers of the time spun this victory as a triumph of the German will, regional and party papers from the era tell a different story, either hesitantly optimistic at an obvious compromise or expressing outright concern at the willingness von Lettow-Vorbeck had possessed to crush a parliamentary opponent with the aid of dangerous paramilitaries. As one might expect, this divide was geographical; the Rhineland, Southern, and far-Eastern regions expressed positivity while the Central and Northern tended towards worry or outright protest against his handling of the KPD.

President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s victory in the 1932 Presidential Elections, coming off the backs of both the harsh KPD crackdown and the rise of the Stahlhelm as a force for political intervention, sent shockwaves rippling through the German political scene unseen since the early years of the Republic. In what seemed like the act of a few moments prior norms and systems had been washed away, a decade of rote politicking and lobbying falling secondary to what many considered a more oppressive and Authoritarian alternative.

The SPD was hit hardest by this shockwave. In the months leading up to the election, they had grown content with their comfortable majority, and the reshaping of the system against their favour would come as a great surprise and leave them off-balance for more than a month afterwards. A large part of their political capital was spent attempting to win the remainder of the Communist voting bloc to their side, something which would prove to be only moderately successful as this attempt brought to light many of the internal divides within the party. For many within the SPD, the Communists were seen as dangerous extremists equal to Hugenberg and the NSFB and working with them was anathema. Many moderates and more Left-leaning leaders were sympathetic to the plight of the Communist cause, but not enough to try and undo what Chancellor Brüning had done for fear of their own party splintering.

In the same breath, the Communist cause in Germany was in turmoil. With the arrest or expulsion of prominent leaders, the voting bloc floundered, German citizens no longer knowing where to turn. In what may be surprising to some, a significant minority of the once-Communists would make their way to parties like the KCVP or Zentrum; not out of loyalty to Conservative ideals, but rather an interest in fermenting more aggressive change and seeing cooperation with such parties as the most promising way to do so. A similar minority within the party would find new homes among parties of a less-extreme Leftist slant, including the Sozialistische Arbeiterpartei Deutschlands (Socialist Workers' Party of Germany), which had managed to avoid banning by playing up their “Socialist” elements as opposed to their “Communist” ones. Despite this, the vast majority would soon find themselves under the umbrella of the SPD, drastically increasing their voting bloc but also increasing the struggle between extremes that the party battled with.

The question of the German Communist Party would be the first one tackled by von Lettow-Vorbeck, reaffirming his predecessor's ban and expanding it to the Opposition Party as well. This was paired with an arrest warrant for Ernst Thälmann as well as many of the party leaders in the KPD; while the majority would soon be rounded up and sentenced to life in prison, Thälmann would escape with the help of sympathisers and make his way to the safe bosom of Moscow.

In this step President von Lettow-Vorbeck and Chancellor Brüning worked as a team, united in their mutual distrust of Communism and desire to minimise the power of the SPD and the other Leftist parties. But before the dust had even settled on the election, forces were conspiring to undermine the new government. No amount of speeches and hand-shaking could change the abyssal unpopularity of Brüning among the people of Germany and it was a matter of when, not if, he was stripped of his office.

Many politicians criticised the Weimar Constitution for drawing too much inspiration from the Prussian Constitution which formed the basis of the German Empire and the election of the Chancellorship was a fine example of that. Unlike in other systems where political leaders were chosen by popular vote either directly or via electorates, Weimar Germany had kept a system of appointment akin to how the Prussian King and German Kaiser would select a party leader and request the formation of a government under them, only with the President standing in for the Kaiser. During the formation of the German Republic it had been assumed that the President would take parliamentary majorities and coalitions into account but no legislature had been set down to confirm that. What this meant in practical terms was that the President could potentially select anyone he chose as Chancellor. Brüning’s Chancellorship had been a fine example of this, with von Hindenburg choosing a candidate from a minority party over the actual electorate majority due to political bias. Now, opposite an angry and uncooperative SPD, the question arose as to whether von Lettow-Vorbeck would attempt the same.

---

“You have to remove him. It is simply the only option.” Kurt von Schleicher turned away from the large painting of the sunrise over Zanzibar to look upon the new President. “I am not saying that it is a choice with which I personally agree, but it is the only one.”

President von Lettow-Vorbeck sighed, the sound of his pen scratching away loudly in the office. Von Schleicher had visited the Office of the President several times before its handover to von Lettow-Vorbeck and there was not much change. Both men favoured the Wilhelmine style, only a few desk portraits of the von Hindenburg grandchildren swapped out for von Lettow-Vorbeck’s family, and of course his collection of paintings from the colonies.

“It was in large part thanks to the contributions of the Zentrum that I was able to win the vote,” von Lettow-Vorbeck pointed out, placing down the pen and sliding the letter into a waiting envelope. “How would they take it were I to remove one of their own so soon after they boosted me into power?”

Von Schleicher scowled at the reminder of the Zentrum’s hold over the Reichstag. He, like von Hindenburg, had never been comfortable with the predominance of the Catholics, but they had proven the only non-Liberal party capable of keeping themselves in one piece and were therefore an invaluable ally, though von Schleicher had his eye on the new KCVP and their future potential. “Have you spoken with Kaas on the matter?”

“Father Kaas has expressed nothing but support for Chancellor Brüning. He told me that he has already planned to hand over party leadership to him should he find himself without a job, which means that any plan of doing so will only cause us further problems in the long-run, and we are in no position to rock the boat.”

Von Schleicher drummed his fingers on the side of his thigh. “I suppose offering von Papen as a counter is out.” Kaas had never made secret his distaste for von Papen, considering him too loyal to the gears of power over his Catholic brethren.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck shook his head. “From the way Father Kaas spoke of him, I half-expected him to demand the man’s removal from government altogether.”

“Plagegeist.”

A reprimanding look was sent his way as the President moved on to the next pile of documents. “I don’t know why you find his inclusion so abhorrent. Our policies align and he was a considerable aid in our crusade against the Communists.”

“His policies are not the issue, the problem is his inability to handle the Depression and the supreme loathing held for him which will soon trickle down into the rest of your government.”

The writing hand paused and the pen was lowered to the desk. "Do you believe that you could have done better?"

The question was not accusatory in tone but von Schleicher nevertheless tensed at it. “I think that he relied too much on the slow wheels of Capitalism,” he said after a moment of thought. “He should have taken direct action like Mussolini did in Italy. Create new jobs and projects to stimulate the economy. Ally the large business owners and remove those who refuse to comply.”

“You would emulate the Fascists?”

Von Schleicher still could not tell if he was being set up, for von Lettow-Vorbeck kept his face perfectly blank. “Industrialisation was a British conception, yet it was us who came to master it. I am not a Fascist—Mussolini strays too close to Socialism and thinks himself immune to its poison—but that does not mean I am incapable of learning from his successes and failings.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck rubbed his chin, eyes defocusing for several seconds as he thought. “You make an interesting point,” he finally declared, returning to his work.

Von Schleicher could not shake the feeling that a great predator had passed overhead and he had only noticed in the moments after.

---

In keeping with German law, the next federal election in order to determine the balance of the Reichstag was scheduled to take place in 1934, four years after the preceding one in 1930 which had brought Brüning to power. However, there was some debate over this due to the irregularities, given that the previous election had been a result of a premature Reichstag dissolution by Brüning himself. Many, led mainly by the SPD but also including some of the smaller parties like the BVP, were pushing for the election to take place this year on the basis of it having been four years since the 1928 elections which were, in the eyes of many, more democratic. The fact that the banning of the KPD had drastically upset the voting bloc was certainly of importance, too.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck was caught in a quandary, his first of the many which this sort of power came with. On the one hand, the current Reichstag was far more to his favour than any ensuing one was guaranteed to be. The combined forces of his allies were roughly equal to the SPD and there was a fair chance of him pushing through some desired legislation if he kept the status quo for two more years, especially with Brüning’s help. On the other hand, Brüning was profoundly unpopular with the German people and even with many of the other party members within the Zentrum. Keeping Brüning had a high chance of damaging von Lettow-Vorbeck’s credibility or, worse, of undermining the coalition which had brought him to power. In the end he chose to favour the 1934 interpretation until such time as he was forced to make a choice, but in truth there was no right answer.

And the SPD knew this, too.

April 24th had been the date of the Prussian state election, almost two weeks to the day from von Lettow-Vorbeck claiming the Presidency. Paranoia had been strong about the new President interfering but all had been quiet from the Wilhelmsstraße and the election day had come and gone without a hitch. The SPD retained their comfortable majority—it grew, in fact, with many former KPD votes coming their way—but a weather eye was kept on the Zentrum votes pouring in from the Rhineland and Upper Silesia, not to mention the DNVP and NSFB's control of Pomerania, East Prussia, and the Grenzmark (the remainder of Posen and West Prussia which had been fused in 1922).

Otto Braun, initially considering a retirement from the Minister-Presidency of Prussia, had been all but forced to remain following the new, more Right-wing slant growing like a shadow within the German government. The fear within the party was that a new candidate would be unable to win the people’s trust and cost them control of Prussia and so Braun, well-liked within the largest state of the Reich, could not possibly say no.

This was indicative of the unintentional three-way power struggle inherent in the governance of the Weimar Republic. While on paper the Chancellor and President were the undisputed heads of governance and state, the simple fact of Prussia’s size relative to the other Free States of the Reich meant that the power of the Minister-President of Prussia was comparable to either of the former. Adding to this was the SPD’s years-long investment in Prussia, enforcing and enshrining democratic (and Left-leaning) ideals within the populace.

Once their position in Prussia had been reaffirmed, the SPD kicked off Summer of 1932 with a series of offensives against the new President, and they certainly had enough material to do so. The shock of the Communist crackdown had given way to a growing public discomfort with the aggressive stance taken by the government, worse in regions to have experienced that crackdown firsthand and oftentimes inflamed by anti-von-Lettow-Vorbeck politicians. The industrial regions in Prussia and Saxony certainly saw the worst of it, but several of the smaller Free States, including both Mecklenburgs and the Hanseatic Cities, would suffer such intense protests that it would risk collapse of their regional governments, to which the Stahlhelm would respond with equal, or even disproportionately greater force.

---

Thirteen-year-old Helmut Schmidt watched through the curtains as the wave of people passed by his home in Hamburg, many of them carrying torches, signs, or red flags with stars or hammers on them. The vast majority were just marching and chanting but he saw several young men throwing bottles at nearby buildings and screaming things he couldn’t make out through the class.

“Helmut!” his mother Ludovica called out, voice quivering, “Get back from the window!”

Scowling, the boy complied, drawing the curtains closed and going back to sit with his mother and little brother Wolfgang on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace. Wolfgang was playing with cards and trying to get their mother to join, though she kept shooting glances at the door and wasn’t paying much attention, frustrating the boy.

“Mama!” Wolfgang exclaimed in frustration when their mother let her hand lower and unintentionally showed him her cards.

Ludovica shushed him quickly. “Keep quiet, both of you!” she reminded them in a whisper. “We are going to sit here until they are gone.”

“When will that be? I want pasta,” moaned Wolfgang, flopping onto his back. “Why can’t you cook now?”

“Because they would see the smoke, idiot!” Helmut chastised the other boy. It was a sign of how distracted their mother was that she did not make him apologise.

“Are they the bad guys?” Wolfgang asked. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide with worry. “Is Papa gonna be alright?”

Helmut made a gesture with his hands reminding his brother to keep it down. “Papa will be fine. These guys don’t hurt normal people, they’re not bad. They just go after bad bosses.”

“Then… why are we hiding from them?”

“We aren’t hiding from them, we are just… hiding,” Helmut finished a bit lamely, suddenly realising that he wasn’t actually sure why they were hiding. His father always said that the workers would protect each other, didn’t he? Didn’t that make worker families protected too? Mama couldn’t work, she was a woman! He shot a glance at Ludovica, wanting to ask her now himself but unsure how to not look stupid in front of his brother. “We are hiding in case the real bad guys show up,” he settled on finally, feeling quite proud of himself.

“Who are the real bad guys? Will they hurt Papa?”

“No one will hurt Papa!” Their mother all but yelled, making them jump. She shot them both harsh glances and took a breath. “Papa will be home later and everything will be fine. These people are just… a bit confused. That’s all. They aren’t going to hurt us. They aren’t. They are just… marching. That’s right.”

Helmut had a bad feeling in his stomach and he didn’t like it. Wolfgang, though, looked appeased, and began gathering up the cards again to try playing another round. “I’m going to the toilet,” Helmut declared. His mother didn’t even look up.

Helmut was not going to the toilet. After going up the stairs he walked past the bathroom and to the window overlooking the front lawn, directly above the one a floor below. The crowd looked much bigger from here, and very red. It didn’t seem nice, but it didn’t seem terribly dangerous, either. He didn’t entirely understand some of their banners and posters (Who were Lenin and Marx?) but his father had a book with pictures and words like that so he trusted that they weren’t too bad.

He pressed his cheek against the window so that he could see further down the street and realised that something was going on in the distance. Further up the street the crowd had stopped moving forward, and now was shifting and writhing like some giant animal. He couldn’t see or hear it very well, so he slid the window open and stuck his head out, the warm wind blowing his hair to and fro.

Yelling. Someone was yelling. A lot of people were yelling, and there were loud bangs like gunshots going off… but it couldn’t be that, not on their street, not in Hamburg. The crowd was backing up now, people coming back towards his house and the entire procession seemed to be inverting to go in the opposite direction, and in the distance a wave of grey was parting through the red…

Helmut slid out onto the windowsill and grabbed hold of the drainpipe, shimmying down it like whenever he snuck out to go see his friend Udo. He crouched down once he hit the damp dirt, checking to see that the ground-floor curtains were still drawn—they were—before watching the crowd rushing by just a few paces away. The cries were getting louder, the faces of the people more panicked, and suddenly Helmut felt that coming down here had been a very very bad idea.

“Helmut! Helmet, what are you doing!?”

The boy shot to his feet, eyes wide. “Papa?”

“Helmut!”

The crowd parted for a moment and he saw his father’s bulky figure coming through the crowd, his brown work uniform blending in perfectly with the workers around him.

“Get back inside!” the man roared, fighting to get to the door as the crown turned to anarchy.

With a series of explosions the red-and-brown crowd split down the middle and a wave of men in grey military uniforms surged forward, guns in their hands and many of them on horseback. They were attacking the march like ants onto a carcass, smashing the butts of their rifles into anyone running past and even shooting—shooting!—when people tried to fight back. It was nothing like the dramatic, beautiful combat Helmut pictured in his schoolbooks and he realised that he was screaming as one woman tripped and was soon trampled under the fleeing horde.

“Death to the Communists!” roared one grey-clad man as he passed close enough for Helmut to see the wild look in his eyes. The thirteen-year-old just stood there, frozen, looking for the face of his father now lost in the increasingly-grey flood.

Helmut didn’t know how long he stood there watching the chaos unfold, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute until the fighting had progressed further down the street as the protesters fled. In its wake the street was ravaged, bits of flags, burnt-out torches, bottles, and all manner of debris littering the street.

And bodies. Bodies of all shapes and sizes, most of them dressed in worker-brown, their bodies bruised and misshapen from the hundreds of feet running over them. Helmut’s eyes quickly locked on one of them, instantly recognising the wide shoulders and curly brown hair. The figure was not moving.

“Papa?”

---

It wasn't long before the nature of the Stahlhelm began working against von Lettow-Vorbeck and the reputation of stability and order which he had been carefully cultivating. Violent overreaction during a series of peaceful protests in Hamburg and Schleswig-Holstein was muzzled only thanks to generous bribes and it did not stop the gossip from spreading. While the intimidation wrought by them as a paramilitary group was not without its perks, rule through fear was neither this president's style nor preference, and the leverage that it gave the SPD to use against him pushed the President to begin a series of reforms which he had initially planned to hold off until 1933 or later.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck's plans had a great deal to do with the army, diminished and restricted though it might have been. The Treaty of Versailles had seen the German Army restricted to a meagre 100,000 men and their movements limited by the Rhine, effectively neutering them if war were to be declared. While von Lettow-Vorbeck was conscious of the shifting winds which blew ever-more in Germany’s favour, turning the British and Americans against the reparations and subjugation of their former foe, he was also not so foolhardy as to simply dismiss the Treaty outright. No, he had a better idea.

The Stahlhelm had proved instrumental in von Lettow-Vorbeck’s acquisition of power and would be the first ones to reap the rewards of it. A decree in late April (the first to come out of the new government) would see the Stahlhelm officially elevated to the status of national police within the Reich, granting them legal backing and a not-insignificant flow of funds. This act was protested by Braun but largely supported outside of Prussia; until this point, all police had been regional, answering to their cities or Free States and not to the central government. The failure of the SPD in efficiently culling the KPD riots had opened the door for von Lettow-Vorbeck to change this and he would not miss his chance. As a government organisation, von Lettow-Vorbeck now had the power to force changes within the Stalhelm, which he undertook immediately. Uniforms were distributed, salaries were organised, and certifications and training became a necessity for full membership. This saw a marked increase in professionalism, albeit at the cost of a third of the participants who did not make the cut (including many of those drunk on power and wreaking havoc in the cities). The reorganisation process was lengthy, delayed so as to not hinder the far more important economic recovery, but by Summer 1933 it would come into full effect and Germany would have a national police force hundreds of thousands of men strong and answerable to the central government alone.

The various opposition parties in the Reichstag were aware of this but, with the Presidency and Chancellorship currently aligned in their goals, there was little that they could do. Despite this, von Lettow-Vorbeck did not push for more radical change from the beginning. His plan, according to later sources, focused on a solidification of his power followed by a slow increase of pressure upon the regime until it was reshapen or simply broke. Concessions were acceptable, and even preferred in the interest of the German middle class, but what exactly he had in mind as concessions, and what as goals, remains unknown.

---

The light of the candles bathed von Lettow-Vorbeck's office in a warm, flickering glow. The house was wired, of course, but he found the natural light of a flame more natural and relaxing, harkening him back to long nights planning strategies to use against the British.

Was this really that much different? Perhaps not. Both times he had been planning a strategy for combat, both times facing down an enemy who could not be tackled directly, but had to be whittled away through a war of attrition. Though the political battlefield was not one to which he was well-accustomed, but he was learning… by jove, he was learning…

The President of Germany set down his pen and rubbed his eyes before shooting a glance at the clock. Well past midnight. Again. With a heavy sign he refocused on the documents in front of him, a chronicle of thoughts which he could not keep in the office for fear of it falling into the wrong hands.

A gentle knock came at the door and let out another sigh, shooting a tired smile at the figure now entering. "I'm sorry, my dear."

"Sorry usually means that you won't do it again, and this is the seventh time." Despite her words, Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck's eyes were soft with understanding. "What is it this time?"

"Take a look." He pushed his chair back and offered it to her.

Martha took a seat, raking her eyes over the torrent of seeming nonsense. "Rhenish separatism, educational secularism, the return of the monarchy…" It didn't take her long to connect the dots. "Which of them are on the list?"

"Some of them. All of them. I am honestly unsure." He pulled over another chair and sank into it beside his wife. "I feel that I am beginning to understand why von Hindenburg chose not to retake the mantle of President.”

Martha turned, placing her hands on either side of his face. “If you chose to abandon all of this today, I would not think less of you.”

He felt himself smile. “Does that sound like something I would do?”

“No, not at all. But there is a first time for everything. Like this.” She dropped her hands and picked up one of the papers he’d been working on. “You would really keep the unions?”

“I am not wholly inflexible, my dear.” He wrinkled his nose slightly as he plucked it from her fingers. “I do not see unionisation as… utterly unpalatable. The old union federation proved a powerful force in keeping them in-line. I would rather they be given limited freedom under our control than form independently and run rampant. I will not recreate Bismarck’s mistakes and underestimate them.”

Martha's expression shared the same distaste as his but she nodded in agreement. “The illusion of freedom is far more effective than active oppression. It works on children; it will work on everyone else.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck smiled, pleased that she saw what he intended. “There are many moderates who choose the SPD for a lack of better options. If I can peel some of the workers away, that will cost them much.”

“It will cost you the Junkers, though,” she reminded him, grabbing another sheet. “How will you deal with them?"

"Their demands are comparatively simple. They want tariffs on goods, financial aid from the government, and political privileges."

"And you are prepared to give them?"

"The demands are simple, not reasonable. No," he shook his head, "they will have to be won over in other ways. I am working on it." He gestured to the papers. "It is an ongoing affair. I've already failed to secure the Rhineland. My next step needs to be a successful one."

"Paul, you cannot win them all over," she said, placing the sheets down.

"Of course, my dear. But I can try. That way, when I crush the dissenters, the others will know that I first approached with an open hand and will be more keen to listen the first time."

Martha smiled. "I do believe you are becoming a proper politician, my love."

"Oh, please don't say that," he all but whined, face twisting sourly. But then he smiled when she stood and wrapped her arms around him.

"Enough planning for the night. You need sleep."

"Very well, my dear. Just for you."

---

The period of Weimar History during the first few months of President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s rule is commonly referred to as the Quiet Presidency. This name derives from the apparent inaction and relative “silence” of the administration to the general public, especially in comparison to how vocal and ever-present von Lettow-Vorbeck had been during his campaign. It is generally understood to have been a time of gathering allies, both by von Lettow-Vorbeck's government as well as against it, and an anxious anticipation for a conflict many believed to be on the horizon of 1933.

Of course, “quiet” does not mean “inactive”. Under pressure from the new President, Brüning would soon incorporate the members of the Kamarilla into his Cabinet, including von Schleicher as the Minister for Defence and Göring as the Minister of the Interior. After much deliberation the position of Vice-Chancellor was handed to von Papen, though sources agree that this was seen by the man as a slight rather than a privilege, given the relatively powerless nature of the Vice-Chancellorship. It was, however, reflective of his relative political anonymity.

The failure of the new regime to secure von Lettow-Vorbeck’s promise to Kaas would inspire the President to begin building bridges between Berlin and the various regions outside of Prussia, already foreseeing the potential conflict which could emerge between himself and the leading parties. Göring would prove instrumental in this, becoming known as the most active Minister of the Interior in German history; arranging visits between Minister-Presidents of smaller states and the President; establishing a new newspaper, the Reichsblatt, ostensibly a mouthpiece for the government but in reality for Göring himself; and of course the most infamous creation of the regime and the man himself, the VoSiSt.

The Volkssicherheitsstab (People’s Security Staff, often shortened to VoSiSt) was in many ways a successor to the Sicherheitspolizei (Security Police) first employed by the Weimar Republic to keep order in the months following the Great War. However, while the Sicherheitspolizei had existed to tackle threats as they emerged, Göring’s VoSiSt would formulate a new goal: Solving problems before they became actual threats. VoSiSt would begin as a small collection of agents answering only to Göring himself but, within just two years, would have expanded into an organisation eclipsing the Ministry of the Interior itself. Prominent jobs of VoSiSt agents would include digging up dirt on SPD politicians (frequently exploiting or fabricating connections to Communist organisations abroad), collection of blackmail, and identifying potential “social and political dissidents” who might one day prove a threat to the stability of the Reich.

Just like Göring, von Schleicher would also begin expanding his power and reach. In conjunction with Brüning as well as Günther Gereke, the head of the public works sector, he would set the groundwork for an expansive public works program to help bring jobs back into the German economy. Most prominent were the plans for a high-speed road network, the future world-famous “Autobahn”, but also railroads, schools, and other public use buildings. Though expensive and arguably unaffordable for the government, it was not without a point: Leading economists at the time believed that a surge in jobs would help trigger a surge in consumer good sales and, in time, shock some life into the economy as a whole. It was a risky venture and used funds which, frankly, the government did not have, but time would tell if it would succeed. Not irrelevant to the nature of these public works programs is that many of them targeted more rural and underdeveloped regions in Pomerania and East Prussia along the Polish border, both in hopes of increasing the quality of life in the area and, in the event of conflict with Poland, allowing for faster deployment and logistics to the front.

Slowly but surely, the cogs of the new government were beginning to turn, and a wave of change and new-ness was rising like a new dawn over the German Reich. No one knew what these changes would become, and many did not like it, but it was undeniable that things were going to be very different from now on.

---

Author's Note: I am not very happy with this chapter but I was reaching the point of constant rewrites and simply had to post it to get out of my own head.

The public works program oft-attributed to Hitler was begun by von Schleicher shortly before the Nazis took power, and I see von Schleicher having the same idea and von Lettow-Vorbeck being supportive. One difference is that a great focus in investment will go into the Eastern regions, which, while not benefiting the economy as much in the next few years, will help bring some of the underdeveloped Eastern regions to a higher standard.

If anyone can find a better name for the new secret police, let me know. "Vosist" isn't as pithy as "Gestapo" and won't be as extreme, but it WILL be a powerful and, often, frustrating and dubiously-moral force to deal with. But it will be a while still before it becomes anything major.

This chapter also represented my attempt to curb SS-ism before the Stahlhelm grew too violent or out-of-control, and, in the way that military men have always done, I see von Lettow-Vorbeck solving this by incorporating it into the preexisting structure. It won't solve all the issues but paramilitarism is going to be on the sharp decline from here on out.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"...and so it was with an earth-shattering roar that the guns of Europe began their song of destruction and death, plunging the civilised world into its second such conflict in a generation. At its head sat the tyrant Hauptmann Ernst Thälmann, leader of the German Volksreich, the most feared man on the continent. It would not be long before the boots of German Communists would march on the great cities of the world; Paris, Rome, Warsaw. From the ashes of the Old World, the terrifying New System would rise…" - Excerpt from the alternate history novel 'On a Warm Day in 1929: The Rise of Communist Germany', published 1972

We All Fall Down​

---

The wind blowing in from the North Sea was a cool, refreshing thing in contrast to the warm, stale air of the Berlin evening. The lanterns lining the cobblestone streets were beginning to flicker on, the noise of the gas whooshing in a comfort to those who had spent their lifetimes around it.

Sir Horace Rumbold, British Ambassador to the German Republic, sipped his tea and listened to the sounds of people walking past outside the ivy-covered gates of his townhouse. He liked Berlin, truly; it might not match London for size, but it had a grandeur and a quiet dignity to it which never ceased to make him feel at home.

Across the table, President von Lettow-Vorbeck sipped his own drink, a strong black coffee imported from Ethiopia. Apparently the man had developed an affinity for the beverage during his time in Africa. Disgusting stuff, Rumbold thought with a hidden grimace. “I passed on your request to the Prime Minister,” the British diplomat spoke up, breaking the gentle silence. “No answer yet, but I remain hopeful.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s lined face creased into a smile. “That would be appreciated,” he answered in accented English. It had been one of the main topics of the very first meeting that the two of them had held: The request of the former General to allow his old troops, the East African Askari, to migrate to Germany.

“I have not been to Tanganyika myself, but I have heard the stories from others,” Rumbold continued. “Most were stunned by Dar es Salaam upon arrival. They said that it was like entering Algeria, almost European. The same cannot be said for many of our own colonies.”

The President nodded slowly. “We did not have many colonies, so we worked hard on those we did. I wish we had done more, especially in Cameroon, but alas…”

The gentle probing went politely ignored. Regardless of Rumbold’s personal preference for the new German government over the old, it would take a great deal before Parliament would even consider selling (never giving, heavens no!) one of their colonies to Berlin. After all, after the Great War that the Germans had begun, it had been their right! “And how are you liking your new Reichspolizei?” he queried, hiding his smile behind the teacup. Two could play the probing game.

London was not blind to the workings of Germany, though they often sought to appear otherwise. The formation of the paramilitary group into the new state police was impossible to hide, after all, and while it obeyed the letter of Versailles, it was a clear attempt to circumvent it. Upon mentioning it to Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald, he was told to turn a blind eye. “The Germans have waited 15 years to pull such a trick. Frankly, we should be grateful that they waited this long.” After all, instability in Central Europe was the last thing that any of them wanted, and the new regime seemed to be a largely stabilising force if nothing else.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck made no attempt to hide his own grin, though he said nothing. It was something of a game they played, pretending to ignore the layers of political intrigue which simmered beneath the surface. The web of alliances which had governed Europe for the past decade were beginning to shift, forces of stability like France giving way to rising powers in Italy and Poland. Spain remained a spot of turmoil, and disputes between the Balkan nations remained a powder keg as Bismarck had once foreseen. It was Germany which sat in the middle of this web and it was her choices which grew increasingly defining. Britain had not yet decided upon the side she wanted to stand on, and only time would tell. But personally, Ambassador Rumbold hoped that Germany and Britain could at last stand together.

---

“President Lettow-Vorbeck is a complex man, sharply intelligent and often frustratingly direct in that manner so typical of Germans… Despite disagreements in policy between His Majesty’s Government and that of the Reichstag, I truly believe that Lettow-Vorbeck will be a force for stability in Germany, though I question the effect it will have on Europe… Questions will need to be answered soon regarding British policy on German claims. Lettow-Vorbeck desires a reclamation of what was lost, and though his touch may be soft, it remains in focus that such goals may bring rise to conflict with the Empire or our strategic interests on the Continent…”
-Report on President von Lettow-Vorbeck by British Ambassador Sir Horace Rumbold (August, 1932) (1)

---

Prior to the Great War which had seen Germany’s overseas holdings ripped from her grasp, the eyes of Berlin had been fixed squarely on Central Africa, dreams of unifying their disconnected colonies into a hegemonic bloc––Mittelafrika, a force to rival British India—contributing heavily to policy during the Great War. The Treaty of Versailles had put an end to this dream, forcing Germany to focus on Europe proper, but this would be a blessing in disguise; in the wake of the war both old and new nations were looking for friends and Berlin was more than happy to stretch out a hand.

For the moment union with Austria was an impossibility, both the conditions of Versailles as well as a lack of German military and economic strength to support such a bold action preventing it. Brüning had taken steps towards Anschluss with a customs union between the two in 1931, an attempt to mitigate the blow of the Great Depression as well as set the stage for full union, but had been halted by the French. Though pro-German sentiment remained high, political uncertainty and financial problems had forced the Austrians to abandon German exclusivity and search out new markets to their South and East.

The question of German claims in the West—Alsace-Lorraine in France and Eupen-Malmedy in Belgium—had been solved with Gustav Stresemann’s signing of the Locarno Pact in 1925 which had fixed the Western border as inviolable. Despite being unpopular with many Germans, the Pact had given rise to favourable trade agreements and had helped Germany absolve her image as an international pariah, and adjacent to the Pact had been negotiations with France which laid the groundwork for a potential “revision” of the German border in the East, namely against Poland.

Former German lands in France and Belgium
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:German_territorial_losses_1919_and_1945.svg)

After a century of partition between the powers of Prussia, Russia, and Austria, the reborn Polish state in the form of the Second Polish Republic had a singular goal: Assert its right to exist against those who thought otherwise. A successful revolt against the German Empire had brought Greater Poland (Provinz Posen to the Germans) back to the fold, followed soon after by a war against the Soviets which extended their border deep into the former Russian Empire. Combined with smaller wars, border skirmishes, and uprisings against Lithuania, Czechoslovakia, and the German Republic, Poland eventually settled on 388,634 square kilometres of firmly, freely, Poland. It was a far cry from the vast Commonwealth which had dominated Eastern Europe two centuries earlier and it became a question of national importance in the coming years on how to tackle their new statehood. The lands ripped from their neighbours were not uniformly Polish, and held a minority, if not majority, of non-Polish citizens, many of whom were not happy to be part of an independent Poland. Fear of internal collapse or external invasion saw an increasing militarisation until, by 1930, Poland held an army comparable to that in mainland France, and far above that of the demilitarised Germany. German claims on Western Poland had dominated discussion between the two nations since its inception and since 1925 had resulted in an undeclared customs war wherein Germany blocked investment and trade with the young state in hopes of forcing a resolution. Though groups on both sides retained hope of cooperation against shared threats, incompatible views on such a relationship kept Poland and Germany locked in a state of bitter rivalry which was not due to change anytime soon.

Second Polish Republic with German claims, 1932
(https://www.reddit.com/media?url=https://i.redd.it/5pus8m8svzy71.jpg)

All of this is to say that the inheritance of the Presidency by von Lettow-Vorbeck came with a significant amount of baggage associated. Germany was certainly not without friends, especially among her smaller neighbours, but unfriendly and suspicious regimes dominated her direct vicinity. These neighbours did not look optimistically upon the rise of another Nationalist to the upper echelons of German power and German strategic interests in the area did not make it easier.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s views on foreign policy in 1932 are difficult to define, overshadowed as they are by actions taken in the years soon to follow. What is known is that he had two long-term goals: Assert German economic independence and reclaim lands ripped from Germany’s grasp. The difference between von Lettow-Vorbeck and his more extremist detractors in the Reichstag was that he saw the former as a prerequisite to the latter rather than a parallel goal. In simpler terms, von Lettow-Vorbeck felt that Germany could not begin an aggressive foreign policy until she had been fully freed from the shackles of Versailles and the Great Depression.

This was, surprisingly, a point which he shared with more liberal supporters of the Weimar Republic as a whole. Though advocates of peaceful solutions and greater international cooperation with their former enemies of France and Britain, few outside of the most pacifistic branches of the SPD accepted the 1918 borders as set. Politicians like Gustav Stresemann had spent years building a relationship between Paris and Berlin with a goal of one day forcing a revision of the Polish border, and no one took seriously the notion of a perpetually-independant Austria. It had been the politicians of 1925, after all, who had begun the customs war against the Second Polish Republic, which the 1932 regime simply continued. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was not an anomaly forcing a complete one-eighty of the direction, he simply took what had been prepared for him and steered it slightly more to the Right.

Steps in this direction were being taken from the day of his arrival at the Wilhelmstraße, begun under his predecessor and reaching their peak in July of 1932 with the Lausanne Conference. Under the influence of the Americans, the Hoover Moratorium of 1931 had placed a one-year hold on reparation payments owed to Germany under the Treaty of Versailles, in particular to the nations of Belgium and France upon whose soil the majority of the fighting on the Western Front had taken place. The Lausanne Conference had been intended as a negotiation about the scope and scale to which reparations would resume, but it quickly became apparent to all that Germany simply did not have the money to send. Under British pressure, and understanding that an economically-crippled Germany would only be bad for Europe as a whole in the long-run, the French and Belgians were forced to back down. Germany would make a one-time bond payment of three million Marks, after the cashing of which their debt would be effectively erased. A “Gentlemen’s Agreement” was made which stipulated that these changes would only be ratified following American willingness to renegotiate the debts owed by the ex-Entente. America, as it turned out, was very unwilling to see the debts renegotiated, but by this point it was too late and the system had collapsed, leaving Germany at last free from the reparations.

The propaganda boon of this victory cannot be understated and it was exactly what von Lettow-Vorbeck and his government needed after the increasing discontent being stirred up in Prussia by the SPD. There was not a soul within the Reich’s borders who had found the payments fair and their abandonment—credited disproportionately to von Lettow-Vorbeck despite really having had very little to do with it—saw public support for him skyrocket.

Chancellor Heinrich Brüning would become an unfortunate casualty of this. Directing the victory towards the new President had the unavoidable consequence of placing greater scrutiny and criticism on the previous regime which had been unable to achieve this despite years of work in that direction. (It was not common knowledge how deeply the Young and Dawes Plans had built to this moment, and opponents of Brüning would contribute to its suppression.) Von Hindenburg was largely spared due to his retirement and so Brüning, as the most prominent figure of the Great Depression’s government, became the scapegoat. Rumours would swirl about embezzlement and corruption and, though they were untrue, they would trigger a domino effect and a series of investigations which would bring down Brüning’s entire government.

---

President von Lettow-Vorbeck looked at Chancellor Heinrich Brüning across steepled hands, feeling very much like he had when he had caught his son skipping class. That same feeling of frustration, of disappointment, of being let down by one in whom you had great expectations.

On the desk in front of him were half a dozen newspapers from across the political spectrum. Most were using the same picture and all had the same title: Osthilfeskandal! (Eastern Aid Scandal!).

It had been a very rude awakening for the von Lettow-Vorbeck family when one of the presidential aides woke them up just past the crack of dawn with frantic knocking on the front door. Any anger which the President had towards the man had swiftly evaporated upon reading the headline and the story under it. No one knew where it had begun, but by midday the story had reached all major corners of the Reich.

The story had revealed that, during the advent of the Great Depression, the Weimar government had approved the diverting of large sums of money into ex-nobility Junker estates in the Eastern regions of Germany, in particular East Prussia (whose economy had been badly hurt by its separation from the core German lands). This usage of funds would have raised eyebrows regardless but it had been further revealed that these funds had been frequently, if not overwhelmingly misused, spent on vacations and luxury goods rather than on the land or the workers. Most galling of the whole affair was the former President von Hindenburg’s part. It had been discovered that a cabal of industrialists had purchased the deeply indebted von Hindenburg ancestral estate and proceeded to "gift" it back to the President to curry favours, even registering it in his son Oskar's name to avoid the estate taxes.

Embezzlement, misuse of government funds, bribery… and the affair was only just beginning. Everyone from the previous government was being scrutinised. Oskar von Hindenburg had gone on sudden leave to his family's properties to avoid the media swarm and the former President had sequestered himself behind gated walls. Chancellor Brüning was not guilty of receiving funds but the length of his term made it clear that he was at the very least aware of their movement and had done nothing to prevent it.
"You understand why I did it," Brüning said finally, breaking the fragile silence. "You would have done the same."

"It does not matter what I would have done, it matters what you did," von Lettow-Vorbeck stressed. "And now I am the one who is left dealing with the consequences. My secretary has been receiving irate calls all day. The Junkers are beyond furious and are demanding explanations. How did this happen? Were you not careful?"

"Of course I was careful," Brüning snapped harshly, "but I was dealing with a situation beyond anyone's capacity. I did what I felt was necessary, but I had nothing to do with the von Hindenburg estate fiasco."

"Do you not see that, whether you were or weren't, it no longer matters? Von Hindenburg has retired and you are all that remains of that government."
"It began before I even became Chancellor!"

"And you became part of it by your failure to prevent the misuse of the funding."

Brüning fell back in his chair, face twisting in a scowl. "You are going to make me take the fall for this, aren't you?" It was a statement rather than a question.

"I am. I have no other choice."

"It solves your problems rather nicely, though." The scowl turned to a bitter smile. "I know your friends—" He spat the word. "—wanted me replaced. Now you can remove me and look like a hero for doing it."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck glared at the Chancellor. "Do you think so little of me to believe that I enjoy this?"

Brüning deflated a little. "Perhaps not. But this scandal will ruin any future I had hoped for. The Zentrum will never accept me as their leader now, the public backlash would be enormous."

"If it is any consolation, I will do my best to minimise the fallout on your end. Former Chancellor Müller is a preferable option to me, as the policy was begun under his tenure and he is no longer alive to defend himself." The general ran a hand over his mouth, gaze darkening. The idea of slandering a dead man was… dishonourable, to say the least, but he had done far more dishonourable things during the Great War for far smaller benefit. He consoled himself with the knowledge that, while slated to endure more of the blame than was perhaps appropriate, Müller was certainly not innocent, given that the policy began during his time as Chancellor.

"The Junkers will seek compensation for the humiliation," Brüning warned, a fact which had already occurred to von Lettow-Vorbeck. "They will seek greater influence as repayment."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck ground his teeth in frustration. He had a deeply-ingrained respect for the noble class of men whose ancestors had settled the wild lands of the Baltic coast, but that respect was being surely tested by this series of events. Paul von Hindenburg had already refused to take the President's calls and there were stories making the rounds of ex-nobles gathering in their estates to plot the overthrow of the government. Stuff of nonsense, but telling as to the public mood and trust in the Junkers. The Junkers wanted greater influence as well as a return of their steady flow of funds; the people wanted a limitation on Junker influence and a restriction on the funding. The two ideas were simply irreconcilable.

If this affair was showing him anything, it was that he had grossly overestimated the willingness of the entrenched elites to put aside their petty squabbles in order to create a better, grander Germany for all, and a traitorous little part of him had a sudden flash of sympathy for the Left-wing fanatics who called for property seizure and redistribution of the estates. The Junkers had already proved resistant to von Schleicher's infrastructural plans in the East and now, with this scandal in their back pocket, there was an actual risk of them opposing the President whom they had helped boost into power.

Despite his growing frustration with their recalcitrance, von Lettow-Vorbeck was not willing to alienate them. They were to provide the foundation of the system he wanted to build, they simply did not know it yet, and their sway over the East helped keep the Reds at bay. He needed their aid in restoring Prussia to its proper glory and to do that he would have to make some concessions.

Though he was loath to even consider it, he could perhaps turn to Germany's old foes for inspiration. German debts had been handled by way of a bank designed for the needs of collecting and distributing reparations; perhaps something similar could be established for the purpose of overseeing investment in the East. Such an institution could be used to circumvent more direct budgetary redistribution and might even provide the oversight on fund usage which this whole fiasco had shown was clearly lacking.

---

Christmas of 1932 was the most hopeful German economists had felt in a very long time. The crushing reparation payments had been dropped, the economy was beginning to improve, and a glaring misuse of government funds had been curtailed. December 1932 also included the christening of the Preußische Staatsbank (Credit Bank of Prussia), established in the city of Allenstein in East Prussia, whose job it was to facilitate and oversee investment in the underdeveloped regions of the East and the vast Junker estates which controlled the region. The Junkers themselves would be relieved at the restoration of the flow of funds, though more than a few would be in for rude awakenings in the coming months when accountants showed up demanding explanations for expensive unauthorised purchases. The replacement of a blank check with a regulated system netted the President many friends among the traditional enemies of the Junkers, at the cost of alienating a segment of the latter who saw this as a betrayal by one of their own. For many, though, the alternative—dissolution of their holdings as proposed by more radical politicians—made this option palatable.

This event was significant only to those who understood it. Far more pressing to the politicians and common folk was the removal of Chancellor Brüning by President von Lettow-Vorbeck, a frankly unavoidable and predictable response which had been building since before even 1932, and the calling for new elections scheduled for the second week of January, 1933. In the interim, Kurt von Schleicher would be elevated to the role of "Stellvertreter" (Deputy) and would assume many of the functions of Chancellor.

To say that Franz von Papen was angered by this perceived slight is an understatement. He had believed himself to be next in line as Vice Chancellor, despite the German Constitution not even mentioning this role, and seeing the power he so craved be passed on to his friend without so much as a glance in his direction would stir a deep, festering resentment inside of him, compounded when Father Ludwig Kaas dismissed von Papen's request to be the Zentrum's next candidate for the Chancellorship. This resentment would grow to affect even his friendship with von Schleicher.

---

Franz von Papen held the newspaper up in Kurt von Schleicher’s face as soon as the door opened, his own face flushed from how quickly he had driven to the other man’s home. The headline of the article—“Schleicher wird Stellvertreter” (Schleicher becomes deputy)—all but blaring from the front page.

“How did this happen!?” von Papen demanded, breathing heavily as he shook the paper. "How could he do this to me? How could you!?"

Von Schleicher blinked in surprise, coffee steaming in his hand. “Won’t you come in?” he finally said, more than a bit taken-aback by this 7:38 house call.

Von Papen scowled and pushed past his friend and into the house. He had been to visit countless times and so made his way directly to the kitchen, not so much as giving a nod to Mrs. von Schleicher before he began pouring himself a cup of coffee. “It is an insult!” he bellowed loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Von Schleicher shooed his wife from the room with a gesture and dropped into the seat at the head of the table. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he offered sarcastically, wrinkling his nose as he watched von Papen grab a handful of biscuits from the tin beside the stove, forgoing the crystal tongs (bought by von Schleicher for his wife as a gift) in favour of his hand.

“This should have been me! How dare he! How dare you!” The biscuits were dropped atop the opened newspaper on the table, half of them reduced to so many crumbs from the aggressiveness of his grip. Von Papen nabbed the largest chunk and stuffed it his mouth, still muttering unkind things and glaring across the table at von Schleicher.

Von Schleicher rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. It was far too early for this. "Franz, you must understand the reality. As deputy, I will be unable to do anything without appearing the President's puppet. I have no true power. I am just a placeholder until a real Chancellor can be found. It is not an enviable position."

"You are being primed to be a future Chancellor," von Papen countered angrily. "You are being given the public eye, the President's public support. I am a member of the Zentrum; I am the ideal replacement for that fool Brüning!"

“You knew that Kaas would never support you, though.”

The other man’s scowl deepened, if that was possible. “Vile old man,” he spat out, eating another cookie shard. “He has never forgiven me for supporting von Hindenburg in 1925.”

I rather suspect he simply dislikes you, von Schleicher thought, though wisely kept this to himself. Kaas and von Papen were at two very different ends of the Zentrum tree; Kaas representing the Conservative regionalist Papists, von Papen the Nationalistic pan-German modernists. It had always been a mystery to von Schleicher why his old friend remained in the Zentrum when his political views would have been far more at home in the old DNVP, though in the end it had been a boon to his career. "I am sorry that you were overlooked," he offered as an olive branch, the lie slipping out easily. "I understand your frustration and empathise with it. You deserve more than the mere Vice-Presidency."

It seemed that this was what his friend had been wanting this whole time and the anger slowly drained out of him, returning him to the calm, collected politician whom von Schleicher had always respected. "You are right. You are right," he said, seemingly more to himself, taking another sip of coffee. "My time will come."

The two sat in silence, becoming wrapped up in their own thoughts. While von Papen stewed on his ambitions, von Schleicher worried about his friend. There was a savagery to von Papen today, a hunger which had been useful in the past but which he did not enjoy having turned on himself. In truth, von Schleicher had been quite proud of being chosen to temporarily occupy the office of Chancellor, because, like von Papen, he suspected that it was in preparation for a future Chancellorship alongside von Lettow-Vorbeck. Oh, the things that the two of them could achieve together… but if this tantrum had shown him anything, it was that von Papen had his own ambitions and ideas for their new government, ideas which did not seem entirely in-line with previous discussion.

Sipping his coffee, von Schleicher thought about the future and began to plan.

---

Von Schleicher's stint as Chancellor is a mere blip in the long line of German Chancellors, but its brief month-long tenure was highly significant in how it affected the relationships of those surrounding von Lettow-Vorbeck and marked the beginning of the Kamarilla's end. Von Schleicher was informally raised to von Lettow-Vorbeck's second-in-command, elevating him above the other members of the Kamarilla, and in the months to follow he would slowly forsake the makeshift council in favour of dealing with the President directly. This followed the informal removal of Oskar von Hindenburg from the group and his isolation from politics from 1933 onwards; with the scandal surrounding his family and his own complacency in the purchase and gifting of his family estate, he no longer had any political clout and his usefulness was nearly nonexistent.

The causes of the Kamarilla's end are widely debated by scholars given how influential the group was in von Lettow-Vorbeck's ascendancy. The refusal to include the increasingly-influential Göring, the personal ambitions of von Papen, and the distancing of Meissner were all surely contributing factors, but the greatest one is likely their failure to pick a candidate capable of fulfilling their shared goals. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was not the docile, moldable puppet that they had sought out for, and he would quickly grow to eclipse their combined ability to control. Some, like von Schleicher, admired this, while others, like von Papen, resented it.

Von Schleicher's brief Chancellorship would come to an end the second week of January, as planned, when the federal election was carried out, the first since von Lettow-Vorbeck's elimination of the KPD as a viable threat. A month had not been enough time for extensive campaigning so it had largely fallen to the clout of the leaders and the ever-changing tide of public opinion, something which worried all candidates equally. Few had much trust in the average individual's ability to choose what was right.

With the former seats of the KPD now redistributed among other parties, the SPD had ballooned significantly and now held more than a third of all seats in the Reichstag, a bloc of power not seen since the Republic first was created. The other parties, in particular the Deutsche Volkspartei (German People’s Party), or DVP, the former party of Gustav Stresemann, had also benefited from former Communist exiles, but the SPD had overwhelmingly come out on top.

Reichstag following the 1933 election

Were he to follow the spirit of the German Constitution, rather than its literal law, von Lettow-Vorbeck would be obliged to select a Chancellor from the SPD, most likely their leading candidate for the Presidency and now the Chancellorship, Paul Löbe. Few truly believed this to be what would happen, and those suspicions were confirmed when President von Lettow-Vorbeck reached out to Father Kaas, leader of the Zentrum, and requested his aid in determining a replacement for Chancellor Brüning.

Despite President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s inability to carry out his promise to create a Free Rhenish State, Father Kaas continued to back him. Kaas had been a vocal advocate throughout the process and it was largely his assurances which kept the Rhinelanders fixated on the SPD as their enemy rather than turning on von Lettow-Vorbeck for failing to fulfil his promise. Of course, that was not to say that his failure had not damaged his credibility at all, because it certainly had. It was for this reason that Father Kaas proposed a Rhinelander as a replacement for the disgraced Brüning, and not just any Rhinelander: Konrad Adenauer, Lord Mayor of Cologne.

Konrad Adenauer, Lord Mayor of Cologne
(https://www.planet-wissen.de/geschichte/persoenlichkeiten/konrad_adenauer/index.html)

Konrad Adenauer was a devout Catholic, an experienced politician, and a hardcore pragmatist, not to mention a man with many enemies. His prioritisation of the Rhineland over all other questions had brought him into conflict with Gustav Stresemann in the early days of the Republic, first during his attempt to create a Free Rhenish State within the Republic and then later, during the economic crisis in the early 1920’s, broaching the topic of an independent Rhenish Republic with the French, something which had not earned him many friends in the German government.

Adenauer was a contentious figure to many in Germany, including President von Lettow-Vorbeck who was by all accounts disappointed in Kaas’s choice of candidate. Pragmatism won out over his personal feelings in the end; Adenauer’s Chancellorship would firmly cement the loyalty of the Rhineland, giving them concrete proof that von Lettow-Vorbeck valued Rhenish interests and further hope in a future Free Rhenish State once the SPD could be brought to heel.

The SPD protested this blatant defiance of their parliamentary majority, as one might expect, but they were yelling into the wind; beyond the Zentrum, Adenauer’s Chancellorship was supported by the KCVP, the CNBL, the BVP, and even portions of the DVP. The DNVP and NSFB both opposed another Catholic Chancellor, in particular one who had supported secessionist tendencies in the Rhineland, but their refusal to work with the SPD rendered this opposition irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
Adenauer himself was also uncertain about taking the role of Chancellor, and would only accept under pressure from the rest of the Zentrum. He had once refused running for Chancellor due to his distaste for having to work with Stresemann, considering the man “too Prussian”, and von Lettow-Vorbeck was arguably a far more extreme example of this. In the end, however, he accepted the nomination and soon after was named Chancellor of Germany by President von Lettow-Vorbeck.

The relationship between the President and Chancellor would be, at least initially, quite rocky, as despite largely harmonious views on domestic and foreign policy, their natures as men were starkly in contrast. Despite these differences, they would commit to cooperation and a shared hope that 1933 would be the beginning of Germany’s return to preeminence on the global stage.

---

(1) - This is based on an actual note written by this ambassador in 1932 following the rise of Adolf Hitler, where he recognised early on how horrible Hitler was. Von Lettow-Vorbeck, of course, is no Hitler, and he likes him quite a bit more.

Author's Note: On the train to Straßburg for a few days of vacation and wanted to get this one out before I arrived. This chapter and the previous were originally one but it grew far too long so I split it. Like the last one, I am not entirely happy with it, but it accomplishes the job.

The Junkers won't be entirely happy with this solution but given the scope of the scandal, and that they are not losing all their privileges, they are willing to accept some oversight, for now at least. Von Lettow-Vorbeck's willingness to oppose the entrenched elites just like he did the Communists is a big part in his growing popularity with the moderates.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"The Poles knew who they were before the Russians had crawled out of their forests. Before the Germans had a kaiser. Before the Hungarians knew God. And it was this ancient sense of self which allowed us to survive it all; the Teutons, the Lithuanians, the Russians, the Germans. Now here we stand, a nation of our own at long last; what force on Earth can oppose us?” - Anonymous Polish Poet, 1937

Not Yet Lost​

---

In March, 1933, a Welsh reporter by the name of Gareth Jones journeyed through the South-West Soviet Union, visiting the Russian and especially the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republics in order to investigate the rumours of famine which had been trickling out through refugees fleeing into Eastern Poland and Romania. What he witnessed there horrified him beyond words: Whole towns of starving peasants, wandering bands of hungry men, farm animals and pets cut down for food, bloated bodies rotting on the streets. It was a horror comparable to the Western Front in the Great War. It was the Holodomor, the "Terror famine".

Gareth Jones returned to the United Kingdom shortly afterwards and published the news of his findings, only to be met with widespread opposition and criticism. Soviet officials and correspondants would decry his "lies" as intended to paint the Soviet Union in a negative light, passing off what he had seen as simple malnutrition. The American journalist Walter Duranty, a resident of Moscow, would denounce the article, backed quickly by the New York Times which profited heavily from his work. Even after Jones provided a detailed analysis of the famine and its causes, many papers would refuse to believe him. He would be banned from returning to the Soviet Union and would suffer a torrent of hate mail from Communist sympathisers who refused to believe criticism about the world's leading Communist state.

Jones's text would take an extra month to be translated and make its way into continental Europe, and while few paid it much mind (few, especially in Eastern Europe, cared if Russians were dying), several states would capitalise on the rumours.

The Polish and Romanians, already somewhat aware of the event due to their shared border with the Ukrainian SSR, would use this as an example of "Communist cruelty"; it formed the basis for a discreditation of the secessionist Ukrainian minority. Both nations had seized lands with significant Ukrainian populations following the Great War (Romania in Southern Bessarabia and Poland in Eastern Galicia and Volhynia) and both were united in their attempts to pacify these regions and oppose Soviet expansionism.

France and Spain, both struggling with a rising Communist movement, refrained from commenting to keep from stirring the pot of their tumultuous governments. France's Centre-Left government feared takeover by more extreme Communist elements as well as potential backlash from the equally-extreme Rightist groups, while in Spain the still-new Spanish Republic had far more important things to concern themselves with than the treatment of farmers and peasants hundreds of kilometres away.

Germany would follow in the footsteps of their Polish neighbours and use it as a denunciation of the "godless Soviets" and call for the liberation of the Ukrainian people. What set Germany apart from Poland, however, was a unique trump card rooted in their own recent history.

---

"Today I come to you, people of Germany, not as your President, but as a fellow Child of God, and I ask you to please join me in praying for our Ukrainian brothers and sisters currently suffering under the boot of Russian and Communist oppression," began President von Lettow-Vorbeck on the sunny Sunday of April 23rd, 1933. He was still dressed in his Sunday best, his family sitting in the next room and listening to his speech through the radio.

"For too long the noble peoples of the East have been subject to the tyranny of their neighbours, the ruthless Russians or the conniving Poles. Let us not forget that it was Kiev, not Moscow, from whence the tree of Eastern Christianity grew, no matter how their oppressors tried to make us forget. It was only for a few brief months in 1918 that the star of the Ukraine was allowed to break free before it was again snuffed out by the Polish and Russians.

I call on all Germans to support the Ukrainian cause, not just through our opposition to the evils of Communism, but through our own shared responsibility. Let us not forget the triumph of German armies over the Russian horde in the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk which first freed the Ukraine from the shackles of oppression, just as we sought to free all of Eastern Europe. Some have forgotten this generosity, others have betrayed it. No! Germany will not give in! We will stand as a bulwark against the Bolshevik menace! I call on all the free peoples of Europe: Join us in defence of our nation! Our civilisation! Our future!"

Von Lettow-Vorbeck lifted his finger from the recording button, taking several deep breaths to recover himself. Beside him Father König, the leading minister from the Berlin Cathedral, took over, beginning a series of prayers for the suffering in the Ukraine while von Lettow-Vorbeck departed the recording studio. A glass of water was pushed into his hand by his wife the moment the door closed behind him and he took it with an appreciative smile.

"How was it?" he asked, taking a sip.

"Perfect," answered von Papen with a grin. He and von Schleicher were standing off to the side, having observed the entire thing. It had been their idea to take advantage of the current famine, inspired by his move against Hugenberg several years ago, and following the Sunday service they had all but kidnapped his family (and the poor minister) and rushed them here to make the speech while families were at home and primed to listen. "The part about the betrayal of our generosity was inspired. It might even win us a few friends in the Baltics, though Poland will see it as the insult it is."

"Who cares what the Polish think," von Schleicher dismissed with a wave of his hand. "They will learn their place in our Europe soon enough."

Little six-year-old Ursula von Lettow-Vorbeck, already tired from the long service preceding the radio broadcast, had fallen asleep on the nearby couch. Von Lettow-Vorbeck sat down beside her and began stroking her hair. "I have no desire to get drawn into a war with Poland over the Ukrainian Question," he warned the duo before they went too far. "Poland will be aligned soon enough, but a Fourth Partition would only serve to make us the front-line against the Soviets, and our army is far from prepared to defeat the Poles, much less the French and Romanians if they join on Warsaw's side."

Von Schleicher scowled, but nodded. The integration of the Stahlhelm into the government as a preliminary tactic for rearmament was well-underway but had yielded far from the necessary results to consider an all-out offensive war. Not to mention the German economy, still brittle and only in the first stages of recovery, couldn't support anything more demanding than a border skirmish. "We need to put more effort into discrediting them," he decided instead. "Poland has already frozen itself out of an alliance with the Czechs after the Teschen border dispute debacle and the Lithuanians won't touch them because of Vilnius. Romania and France are the main issues."

Martha cut in. "What about Stresemann's treaty? If we reaffirm the loss of Alsace, the French might look the other way while we deal with Poland."

Von Papen sneered at her, opening his mouth to say something before he was quickly cut off by von Schleicher, who said, "You make a fair point, Lady von Lettow-Vorbeck, but France is in a fragile position, much like our own. It would not make sense to give up a card we hold unless we need to." Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not miss von Papen's initial reaction and his eyes narrowed slightly at the Catholic.

"The point is moot for now, regardless," von Lettow-Vorbeck declared, "we are in no position to revise Versailles and we must first stabilise the Reich before we can begin bringing others into our orbit. Let us wait and see if we can accomplish the former, first." This effectively brought the discussion to an end and he rose, lifting his daughter into his arms so that they could return home.

Before leaving, he shot a narrow-eyed glare at von Papen when the other man was not looking.

---

In the grand scale of things, the German support for the Ukraine did very little except for earning the perpetual ire of Polish nationalists and the remaining German Communists who trusted in Stalin's propoganda. While the Polish government did not explicitly attack the Ukrainian population in South-Eastern Poland, neither were they especially accommodating, often treating the native inhabitants like interlopers and attempting to enforce the Polish language and Roman Catholic faith on the people living there. Ukrainian separatism and nationalism was therefore repressed as much as the government could constitutionally achieve.

One minor event resulting from von Lettow-Vorbeck's support would be that the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists, the largest and most important organisations-in-exile calling for an independent Ukraine, would move their official quarters from Vienna to Berlin. The group would spend much of May and June that year publically calling for war on Poland and eventually the USSR to create a free Greater Ukraine, but to little effect.

President Ignacy Mościcki of Poland was far from a fool. A multilingual chemist who grew up in Tsarist Russia before fleeing to London, he understood the complex web of geopolitics which now surrounded the Second Polish Republic. Freed from the collapsing Russian Empire by the Imperial German Army, newly-freed Poland—under the leadership of Józef Pilsudski—had fought a series of quick successive wars and uprisings against its neighbours in Germany, Lithuania, Ukraine, Czechoslovakia, and at last Soviet Russia itself to claim a state encompassing not just the majority of Polish-speaking lads, but even Polish-minority territories in White Russia and the Ukraine as well. A mix of sympathy for Poland as well as a desire to weaken the defeated Germany had earned Poland the region of West Prussia as well as portions of Upper Silesia in the Treaty of Versailles to help them grow their industrial might. While not all Polish claims had been fulfilled in Warsaw's favour—the majority of Upper Silesia, as well as Czech Silesia and East Prussian Masovia had been held from them—the current Polish state was the fulfilment of a century of Polish dreams and greater than many had dared to hope for.

Map of Poland
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Polish_Republic#/media/File:PolishRepublicAdminMap1930.png)

It had been the goal of the 1920's to solidify the various formerly-separate regions, dialects, and religions into a cohesive whole, and the Poland of 1930 was a relatively stable nation compared to many of its neighbours. Now, however, the question emerged of Poland's future. Border disputes with Czechoslovakia had frozen Poland out of the Little Entente alliance of Eastern European states seeking to prevent revanchism, while outstanding issues with Germany and the Soviet Union made alliance with a neighbouring Great Power impossible. Britain and America were too distant and consumed with their own empires to care much for the young Polish state and France, Poland's traditional ally, had begun construction of the defensive Maginot Line which caused doubts in many politician's minds as to whether the French would invade Germany should the Germans do the same to Poland. Further insult came in the Locarno Treaties which were signed in 1925, Germany recognising the Franco-German border and France swearing to never send troops beyond the Rhineland with Britain guaranteeing both, as this treaty had effectively made it impossible for France to honour the Franco-Polish Defensive Alliance of 1921.

The most glaring dispute between Germany and Poland was Polish ownership of West Prussia, formerly the connection between mainland Germany and the now-disconnected East Prussian state, and in particular the Free City of Danzig under Polish protection. The Free City had been created by the victorious Entente following the Great War as a way to ensure Polish access to the sea, as the Vistula, Poland's main waterway, had its mouth along the borders of Danzig and could therefore be blocked if under German control. Danzig, formerly the capital of West Prussia, had an overwhelming German majority and sought to unify with their neighbours in East Prussia, and to prevent this had been made into a de facto Polish puppet. Many Polish statesmen sought to formally annex the region and President Mościcki (as well as his predecessors) had petitioned Britain and France many times to allow it, all to no end.

The replacement of President von Hindenburg with President von Lettow-Vorbeck was a breath of possibility for Mościcki. Von Hindenburg had staunchly opposed all motions towards reconciliation with Poland and had refused to abrogate German claims on West Prussia, Upper Silesia, and the former region of Posen. It was the previous regime which had begun the customs war which cut off Polish trade to Germany and which had badly damaged the Polish economy, something which Mościcki sought to rectify. A proverbial fire was lit under this idea when von Lettow-Vorbeck publicly endorsed Ukrainian Nationalism and pressure rose to solve the Ukrainian Question before instability seized the South-Eastern regions. In June of 1933, Mościcki bit the bullet and reached out to Berlin to begin talks on the formalisation of a Polish-German Non-Aggression Pact.

---

The Polish-German Summit of 1933 took place on August 17th, 1933, in the city of Marienburg just across the Nogat River from the Free City of Danzig. The choice of location, in particular the Ordensburg Marienburg (Marienburg Castle of the Teutonic Order), was a telling choice, given the castle's history as a construction of the Teutonic Order who served as the forefathers of Prussia, before being taken by Poland along with what was now West Prussia, before being again conquered by Brandenburg-Prussia and remaining part of the German realm from then on. President Mościcki was not ignorant of the message being sent by this when he arrived, nor the far more blatant messages shouted by East Prussian citizens at his car as it drove through the city. Poland and Prussia had been in conflict since its inception and, while he would have loved to at last bring it to an end here and now, he was not so arrogant nor foolish as to believe that generations of hatred could be undone with one treaty, even if it could miraculously fulfil the dreams of both parties.

Despite the circumstances, Mościcki couldn't help but admire the architecture and scope of the building as he made his way inside. The original fortress had been gradually built upon over centuries but pieces of the original were still visible all over. The black-and-white cross of the Teutonic Order stood alongside the Prussian eagle in many rooms, never having been removed by ensuing caretakers and rulers.

"President von Lettow-Vorbeck," he said in greeting upon passing into the foyer and coming face-to-face with the German President for the first time. Unlike in many of his photographs, the General was wearing a suit and tie, though they seemed to suit him less than his military fatigues. Several guards were posted along the edges of the room but the political clique that Mościcki had come to believe always surrounded him was curiously absent.

"President Mościcki," von Lettow-Vorbeck returned with a crinkly smile, grasping the other man's outstretched hand with both of his own and shaking vigorously. "I was very pleased that you reached out to my government for a meeting. Please, follow me."

President Ignacy Mościcki of Poland, 1929
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ignacy_Mościcki#/media/Datei:Ignacy_Mościcki_(-1934)_(cropped).jpg)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck led the two of them deeper into the fortress, occasionally pointing out notable paintings or statues and giving a brief summary of the figure they depicted. It was a touch informal for the meeting and Mościcki wondered if it was designed to throw him off his game. It wouldn't work, of course—he had been through far more stressful diplomatic engagements than this—but it made the man wonder what the German had planned. Unlike many of his countrymen, Mościcki didn't hate Germans. He had a great deal of respect for their institutions, their devotion to science and innovation, and their hard-working natures. But this did not mean that he was willing to cave to them. It had been the machinations of Prussia which had seen Poland-Lithuania removed from the chessboard of Europe and which had cost them a century of development and spread. If Poland was to return to its natural position as a Great Power, they needed access to the sea and industry, both of which came at Germany's expense, just as the necessary territory had come from Russia and Austria. Poland might not have succeeded in claiming the majority of Silesia nor a larger coastline along the Baltic, but that which they did have they would never give an inch of.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck led them higher into the fortress until they arrived in a large room lined with large windows. In the distance the city of Danzig was visible and it once again felt very pointed as the two sat down at the large table there. Guards were posted around the room but otherwise the two were alone.

"I have no wish to make an enemy of Poland," von Lettow-Vorbeck began, diving right in without formality. Necessity dictated that the two converse in English, their only shared language; Mościcki had learned it while in exile in London and von Lettow-Vorbeck during his time in the army. "The same cannot be said for many in my country."
"I am well aware of that," Mościcki replied, thinking of the protesters outside. "There are some who would gladly sell their souls to see Poland wiped from the map."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck's lips curled in distaste, clearly imagining one such individual. "Imbeciles. They fail to realise that Poland and Germany are natural allies. Neither of us have any desire to see the Communist menace advance one metre further into Europe, and Poland is the barricade preventing that."

"Indeed." Mościcki drummed his fingers briefly on the wooden tabletop. "You know what it is that I want. This rivalry between our two nations has to end, especially this dreaded embargo you've held us under."

The German-Polish Customs War had been ongoing for almost a decade and it had been a real drain on the Polish economy. While it had helped push Polish businesses to increase their trade with other nations, the simple fact that none of them were industrialised enough to make use of the raw minerals which were now being mined in Polish Silesia. The core dilemma was that the customs war had badly hurt Poland and barely dented Germany.

"I completely understand," von Lettow-Vorbeck commiserated. "But you must also understand—the ore you mine is mined with German machines. Transported on German rails. How would it look to our people if we choose to purchase resources which are rightfully ours?"

"Was yours," Mościcki corrected somewhat harshly. "The people living there are the true determiner, and they are Poles through and through. They proved it in 1921 when they voted for Poland."

For the first time von Lettow-Vorbeck's genial expression broke and he scowled as he remembered the vote. "A luxury which was denied the Sudetenland and Austria," he snapped back harshly.

Mościcki suppressed a smirk as he got under the man's skin so easily. Von Lettow-Vorbeck might have been a truly tremendous general, but he was still a novice politician. "Apologies," he said, choosing not to push when he was the one who wanted something. "I did not mean to offend."

"You obviously did not come here with only a slip of paper and a hope that we would give you what you want. A promise of non-aggression and an end to our… economic conflict benefits Poland more than Germany, after all."

"Are you so sure about that? Do not forget that Germany is not the only one with unresolved claims. I am willing to ignore the German interference in the Masovian plebiscite and look past your continued aggression towards Gdansk."

"Danzig," von Lettow-Vorbeck stressed the German name for the city, "is a prerequisite for any treaty, as is the Corridor. I can perhaps ignore the matter of Upper Silesia but the Corridor is a blight which must be undone."

"Polish access to the sea is non-negotiable."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck was clearly getting agitated because he rose and crossed to the windows, looking out across the river. "You bring nothing and expect me to sign over integral parts of Prussia?" he demanded.

Mościcki kept his expression neutral. "Don't forget our relative positions. The German army is in a pitiful state and you have few friends. If Polish troops were to march into Königsberg tomorrow… well, you wouldn't be able to muster much of a force to stop us."

Von Lettow-Vorbeck whirled, eyes wide. "Is that a threat?"

"Of course not, simply an observation. You need friends and we need assurances that we will not be stabbed in the back should the Soviets make a move against us. I may even be able to offer support against future actions against Austria. If it assauges your patriotic spirit, this will only be for a decade or so." Mościcki refrained from mentioning the obvious fact that even if von Lettow-Vorbeck was still around in ten years he very likely would not be President, and even if he was, that would mark ten extra years for Poland to prepare for a German attack. "We can offer priority in trade, support against Lithuania if you try to retake the Klaipeda region, and military access across the Corridor. Surely that it more than generous for a treaty which benefits us both."

The general shook his head. "A decade is too long for German subjects to suffer under Polish rule."

Mościcki was beginning to get a bit annoyed now. "And what of the Poles who suffered under Prussia and the German Empire? What of the Poles who still today work for paltry wages in Silesia and Masovia?"

"You say that while speaking so flippantly of Danzig!?"

"Gdansk will remain under Polish protection for the foreseeable future." Mościcki rose to his feet, narrowing his gaze at von Lettow-Vorbeck. "And all the better for it, I would wager. If this is the sort of leadership the German people would entrust with their future then clearly Poland has nothing to fear."

The two stared at each other from across the room, expressions level but the air almost boiling from the tension. Both were patriots who would do anything for their country and neither would give on the things which mattered to him.

"I think we are done here," the German President declared. He turned and barked something at one of the guards in that hideous tongue of the Germans and the doors behind Mościcki were pushed open, the clear message being that it was time to go.

"I hope you are prepared for how the history books will mark you," Mościcki added as a last parting barb as he crossed the threshold. "History is particularly unkind to tyrants and oppressors, and God even less so."

"You keep to your history books, I will trust in blood and steel, and we will see who comes out on top," President von Lettow-Vorbeck shot back.

President Mościcki returned to his car, this time not sparing a glance at the reliefs which lined the wall. It did not matter anyway; he would have ample time to view them when this place, along with the rest of East Prussia, was back in Polish hands where it belonged.

---

The Second Polish Republic is a state often linked with racism and oppression, though this is not entirely fair as that characteristic ebbed and flowed through the duration of the state's life, peaking in the beginning, ebbing during the late 20's, and seeing a new rise in the 30's and beyond.
The rebirth of Poland in 1918 had been closely followed by a wave of Nationalism and racism, a century of suppressed cultural pride now erupting to damning results. Jews were hit especially hard by this and pogroms grew terrifyingly commonplace, as did persecution and expulsion of Germans, Lithuanians, Czechs, and other minorities deemed potentially "disloyal". This persecution grew so horrifying that the same Entente powers who had guaranteed Polish independence were now forced to intervene and Poland was forced to sign a treaty guaranteeing the respect of minorities and allowing for cultural autonomy (the same treaty was later extended to Czechoslovakia, Romania, Yugoslavia, and Greece, all of whom had also acquired large minorities in the Great War). It was a humiliation for Poland but not one which they could rightfully refute when those same powers were the reason for Poland's security. The situation had been made even more complicated when the Polish-Soviet War pushed the Polish border deep into land occupied by Ukranians and Byelorussians, gaining them even more minorities as well as an even greater number of Jews. By 1931, Poland would have the second largest Jewish population in the world, containing within its borders a fifth of all Jews.
Much like in Germany, Jews were seen as untrustworthy; however, in Poland, this untrustworthiness was just as much tied to the perceived "German-ness" of Jews as it was to preexisting stereotypes and bias. The dominant language of European Jews was Yiddish, a language closely related to (and to a high extent mutually intelligible with) German. To many Poles, Jews would naturally be more loyal to Berlin than they ever would to Warsaw, and this perception was not helped by the generally anti-semitic stance of the Catholic Church which dominated Polish culture. The Catholic Church had provided early and extensive support for the young Polish Republic, optimistic at a new Catholic nation amidst a growing tide of atheism and Protestantism, and played a large role in education and governance which contributed to a parallel rise in Polish-centric Nationalism.
Prior to the Great War, talk of the restoration of Poland had been dominated by two concepts, the "Piast Concept" and the "Jagiellon Concept". The Piast Concept, named for the first ruling family of Poland over a thousand years before, focused on the perceived Western European nature of Poland and elevated the Polish state in contrast to the "savages" in Russia and the Baltics. This concept promoted a smaller, ethnically pure, industrial Polish nation-state akin to Germany or Italy; consequently, this idea focused on taking the industrialised Silesia and perhaps even parts of Pomerania from Germany to boost Poland towards this goal, expelling or assimilating the German population there.(1)

Piast Poland
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Histo...st_dynasty#/media/File:Polska_1102_-_1138.png)

The Jagiellon Concept, in contrast, prioritised Poland at its peak in territory under the Jagiellon dynasty, when Polish kings had sat upon the thrones of Lithuania, Hungary, and Bohemia. The goal of the Jagiellon faction was to focus on a larger, more multi-ethnic Polish Commonwealth influencing Eastern Europe from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Polish language and culture would be dominant, but other Eastern peoples would continue to exist with cultural autonomy within the framework of this larger state. As one might expect, while the Piast Concept demanded the greatest sacrifice from Germany to come to pass, the Jagiellon Concept pitted Poland against the might of Russia.

Jagiellon Poland
(https://cdn.britannica.com/11/64911-050-FB5521BC/Areas-dynasty-Jagiellon.jpg)

Józef Pilsudski, the man who led Poland against the Soviet Union and considered by many to be the father of the Polish Republic, had been an adherent of the Jagiellon Concept. Had he gotten his wish, the Second Polish Republic would have extended to the Black Sea and included most or all of what became Lithuania and the Belorussian and Ukrainian SSRs. Despite this dream not coming to fruition, his influence on the Second Polish Republic was felt in a deeply anti-Russian sentiment which dominated the Polish government. Though few were pro-German, some saw Germany as a preferable option—after all, Germany claimed parts of Western Poland, but Russia claimed nearly all of it, not to mention the fear of the Communist government which would come along with it.

Pilsudski was to Poland what Otto von Bismarck had been to Germany, a figure of tremendous political weight whose mere presence was enough to swing the pendulums of power and opinion. It was his influence that helped prop up the so-called “Sanationist” regime, one focused on a strong, authoritarian government capable of “sanitising” the perceived corruption in the Polish state and considered by many to be the reason that the regime enjoyed its widespread support. Even retiring hadn’t been enough to fully free him from politics and he would be quickly dragged back in by loyalists such as Ignacy Mościcki.

The Second Polish Republic was a Secondary power striving to become a Great one. Territorial gains in Europe were not enough, and talks had begun with various colonial powers about the possibility of Poland purchasing a colony off of them. Poland might have been prevented from claiming an empire in the 1800’s, but they could and would try to make up for it now.

---

(1) This concept would be used by Stalin to justify the Polish annexation of massive swathes of German territory following World War II IRL.

This chapter marks the first ripples of von Lettow-Vorbeck's presidency reaching the outside world, namely that the German-Polish Non-Aggression Declaration (made IRL between Hitler and Poland) will not come to pass. Von Lettow-Vorbeck is fully unwilling to negotiate one the matter of Prussia and that inflexibility -- owing to his personal devotion to the notion of Prussia and the Empire -- will cost him several friends. This is also important because something which I want to make clear is that von Lettow-Vorbeck is not a politician. He is a brilliant tactician, but he lacks that flexibility which politicians like Bismarck possessed which were focused on reshaping both means and goals. Von Lettow-Vorbeck has his goals, and unless he is put into a position where he has no other choice, he will not waver from them. He is a rock, both stable and stubborn.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Konrad Adenauer was a man whose loyalty to the Germany born in 1918 was only second to his loyalty to the land and people of the Rhine. This loyalty would be tested and tried at the hands of President von Lettow-Vorbeck and his enemies in the Reichstag, and, in the end, Adenauer’s moral convictions would not be enough to save the Republic. Whether he understood the steps which he would have needed to take—and if, in the end, he would have been willing to make the sacrifices which the salvation would have demanded—is a question lost to the annals of history.” - Excerpt from The Life and Death of Konrad Adenauer by Anne Frank, 1967 (Youngest-ever winner of the Goethe Prize for Literary Excellence with her autobiography “Child of a Jewish Soldier”, published 1948)

Hope and Compromise​

---

Konrad Adenauer had never much liked the city of Berlin. It was a cold, austere sort of place in his opinion, nothing like the warm and jovial city of Cologne. The people, if possible, were even more so; unsmiling, overly-serious sorts of the Prussian variety, incapable of understanding the humour and camaraderie which permeated every stone of his place of birth. It was a wonder, in his mind, that two such peoples could emerge from the same source, and he lamented often that it was Prussia which had at last won out in the grand struggle for German dominance. How much better would it have been to be Chancellor in a city like Cologne or Bonn!

Ah, well, all of that was far in the past. Adenauer might not have held much personal appreciation for the Prussian Way, but that did not mean that he did not respect its importance to their nation. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was proving to be a living, breathing example of the values which had elevated Prussia to a premier position among the nations of Europe.

The German Chancellor took a bite of his Mett—or, as the Berliners called it, Hackepeter—and scribbled a few notes in the margins of the report in front of him. It concerned the recent upward spike in employment being witnessed across Germany, attributed largely to the public works programs begun under Brüning and von Schleicher. More than 2 million Germans had returned to work and it was only July of 1933; if the trend continued, there was hope that the 34% unemployment rate recorded at the start of the year could be down to the teens by late 1934.

It almost excused von Lettow-Vorbeck’s insistence that von Schleicher and Göring remain part of Adenauer’s cabinet following his assumption to power. Adenauer had given in, in the end, but not without squeezing some concessions of his own out of the man, especially near-complete freedom in determining the majority of other positions. He rather imagined that von Lettow-Vorbeck would not have been as lenient if many of their positions on matters did not overlap. Adenauer had hoped to possess greater freedom of action, akin to what Brüning had had, but von Lettow-Vorbeck had made it abundantly clear that he was no von Hindenburg and that Adenauer’s leash, while not constraining, was likewise not to be given much slack. With the SPD jackals opposing in the Reichstag, cooperation was a necessity.

“'n Kaffee,” the Chancellor requested from the owner as he walked by. The man smiled and hurried off to fetch him the aforementioned coffee; like Adenauer, he was from Cologne, and it was a comfort to hear the Kölsch dialect amidst the Berliner nonsense.

Where was he? Ah, yes.

The SPD was raising a ruckus about the proposal for tax cuts for investors and the upcoming vote on the matter was due to be close. They believed that increasing privatisation would be bad for the common man; rubbish! The common man would be better off with more money in his pocket and a place to work, not endless handouts like the SPD planned for.

His eyes tracked the owner’s wife as she carried over his drink. “Bitte schön,” she said in lightly-accented German, smiling broadly. Adenauer smiled back and took a sip of the coffee as she headed back.

There was the sort of person Germany needed more of. Czech, yes, but willing to work hard and earn their place in German society. If the SPD began their handouts, it would not be long before every jobless wanderer made their way into the Reich to live on German generosity. On this, Adenauer and von Lettow-Vorbeck were in complete agreement: Germany needed to be strong, and a strong Germany required strong Germans to defend it. Hard work, Christian values, and respect for authority would be the three pillars of the new Germany which they were seeking to build.

And who knew? Perhaps, in time, Adenauer might even come to consider the Prussian way as near-equal to the Rhenish one.

Maybe.

---

The success of the public works programs of 1932-1934 were a terrific boon to the von Lettow-Vorbeck government and compounded perfectly with the aura of unflappable stability which had been cultivated—at first accidentally and then later intentionally—around the war hero. The phrase “Rückkehr zur Stabilität” (Return to stability) would appear under banners depicting the President in his old military uniform, oftentimes with the imperial flag flying in the background. This flag would be a point of heavy debate, with some seeing it as a time of German ascendance and others as a symbol of Prussian oppression. Following attempts to ban the flag in Prussia, von Lettow-Vorbeck would issue a decree fully elevating the schwarz-weiß-rot (black-white-red) flag to co-official status within the Reich. While the national flag would not change, this decree was a clear and present show of support for those idealising the empire.

Imperial German Flag (Left); Weimar Republic Flag (Right)


The relationship between Weimar Germany and its imperial past was a complicated one, marred by distrust and bad blood on both sides of the debate. The Great War drew a metaphorical line through the collective memories of the population. Many veterans of the conflict found themselves in favour of the pre-1914 status quo, both out of legitimate preference for its style of governance and stability as well as due to the loyalty and patriotism which had been brought out during the conflict. Likewise, many of the intellectuals, housewives, and exempt-from-service individuals preferred the Republic, as these were the men and women who had lived through the bitter days of war and the Ludendorff dictatorship and recalled the harsh policies which had made life in the Kaiserreich unbearable for many.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s open support for imperial iconography unnerved many within even the Centre-leaning part of the Reichstag. Leaving aside the positives and negatives of the German Empire, true restoration of the monarchy and the associated laws and institutions which governed it was desired by an objective few. Among those was Adenauer himself, whose distaste for all things Prussian was most epitomised with his borderline loathing for the royal family and Kaiser Wilhelm II, whose arrogance, foolishness, and bellicose nature were seen as a direct cause of the war which had consumed and divided Europe. Adenauer had made his preference for the Republic clear at many stages, for, to his mind, all but Communism itself was preferable to the mad rambling of a tyrant king.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck and Adenauer would clash more than once over the role of imperial elements in modern society, be it from the usage of flags to the music which was played at large events. By far the most intense conflict which the duo would engage in would be in August of 1933, when the President attempted to resuscitate one of Germany’s bygone holidays as a way to inspire greater national pride.

The Sedantag (Day of Sedan) had been a holiday created by the German Empire to honour the unification of the German states under Kaiser Wilhelm I in 1871, commemorating not the coronation of the first German Kaiser (which overlapped with the founding of the Kingdom of Prussia in 1701), but the day when the fortress of Sedan had surrendered in the Franco-Prussian War and the Emperor of the French, Napoleon III, had been taken captive. It served as a major holiday until 1919, when the Weimar Republic abolished the holiday altogether.

The restoration of the holiday was an attempt to stir a greater feeling of national pride within the German people, something which many within the Conservative parties felt had grown too dim. Increased trade with the United States before the Great Depression and an increasing inter-connectivity with their neighbours had led to many German citizens no longer caring as much for ideas of glory and valour, in particular when issues of money and work were far more pressing. With the economy on the upturn and work flowing back into the nation, the President felt that now was the ideal time to rouse the slumbering German soul.

---

“You cannot possibly be serious!” exclaimed Konrad Adenauer. “You wish to restore the Sedantag?”

“I do not understand your opposition to this matter,” the President countered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “The holiday was a fine example of German national unity and pride, one too-easily discarded by the Republic.”

“The holiday was a goad to the French and an ego-stroke to the Kaiser. We have no need of it in our Germany! And the Reichstag will never accept it.”

“The Reichstag has no bearing on this decision. I am the President, and this is merely a holiday. I will decree it and it will be obeyed.”

“You grow too free-handed with your decrees,” the Chancellor warned, expression tight. “You ignore the Reichstag to the peril of us all.”

“Have I not catered enough to the damned Liberal Reichstag? I allowed them to block Rhenish autonomy and cut subsidies for the Junkers. I even let them have their thrice-damned 44 hour work week! No! I am the President of the German Reich, and I am putting my foot down on this!”

“But the French—”

“To hell with the French! We are Germans, not Frenchmen!”

Adenauer drew himself up to his immense height, glaring down at the President coldly. “Will you be the one saying that when French boots once again march on Cologne?”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck pff’d and waved a hand. “The French would not dare invading over so small an offense. They would not dare invading at all, hiding as they are behind their precious Maginot Line.”

“You are as careless as that imbecile Wilhelm II, throwing away our security over your fool Prussian pride!”

Fury flashed in von Lettow-Vorbeck’s eyes and he gestured towards the Chancellor with his pen. “Hold yourself very closely, Katholiker. I have had men executed for less.”

Adenauer met his gaze unflinchingly. “There are no Hottentots here, General, and your mistakes will not be left buried in an unmarked grave in Tanganyika. They will tear down this very nation.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s jaw clenched tightly enough to pain. With a roar, he whirled and hurled the pen into the wall, where it shattered, leaving a vivid stain on the wallpaper. “Damn the Rhineland to hell and back!” he bellowed. He stood there, form hunched and panting like a gorilla, before his senses returned to him and he straightened. “I will not bend on this matter,” he declared in a harsh voice, glaring at Adenauer. “This is a matter of pride, yes, but it is one of our nation. The French will not define us or stifle our spirit!”

“You allow them to define you,” Adenauer countered. “Napoleon III will live on with every breath of the name ‘Sedantag’.”

“Then grant me a compromise! One which will appease your precious French!” The President dropped violently into his seat, fists still clenched.

Adenauer lowered himself into the chair across from von Lettow-Vorbeck, considering for a moment. Finally it came to him. “Deutschlandtag,” he declared.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck scowled.

“It commemorates the day the German people truly became one volk,” Adenauer defended as only a politician could. “It is the day our great unity—as you yourself once put it—combined into an unbreakable force. Where the Sedantag could be argued as a tribute to Prussian military accomplishment, this name speaks for us all.”

The President made a noise of… not agreement, exactly, but understanding and perhaps some reluctant acquiescence. “Perhaps,” he gave, as much of a surrender as a man of his pride could muster.

Adenauer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Might I remind you that we already have a holiday to celebrate our unification?”

The look he got told him that he did not. “I will consider it,” von Lettow-Vorbeck decided on at last. “I assume it would be presumptive to anticipate your support in the matter.”

“Oh, not at all,” Adenauer replied, rising to his feet and straightening his vest with a quick tug of the hem. “You proved amiable to my concerns and the object of my greatest concern has been changed. What more could I want?” His faux-genial expression turned a bit harder. “I can be a tremendous ally, or a dangerous enemy, Herr Präsident. Remember that.”

Without another word, the Chancellor turned and strode from the office.

---

Adenauer was sometimes nicknamed “The Rhenish Whip”, a reference to how one would tame a lion, in this case the Lion of Africa, von Lettow-Vorbeck, whom only Adenauer seemed capable of taking head-on. The two men were not that dissimilar in personality or ideology, and it was only their methodology which really inspired friction; Adenauer the consummate politician, taking every motion with caution; von Lettow-Vorbeck the ideal general, making bold strides and new directions when he saw an opening. They frustrated one-another to no end, but the reverse side of this friction was that the duo were a force of nature against their enemies.

Though 1933 did not feature any great change for Germany on the international or even broadly national level, it witnessed a large shift under the surface of the nation. The addition of Adenauer to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s government is considered in hindsight to be the greatest stroke of luck experienced by the President, as it gave him a politically-aligned, popular, and experienced voice which he had until this point been largely lacking. The introduction of the new Vaterlandtag (Fatherland Day) holiday on the date of the former Sedantag, the brainchild of von Lettow-Vorbeck under the temperate inflence of Adenauer, is a prime example of their cooperation birthing benefits for German society as a whole.

Regardless of the SPD’s plurality in the Reichstag and their blockage of several more contentious bills, they would be unable—and, at times, unwilling—to block all new legislation emerging from the executive branch, especially when popular opinion supported it. In June, 1933, von Lettow-Vorbeck put forth a motion to create a series of Kulturtarife (Culture Tariffs) to limit the so-called “Americanisation” which had spread throughout Germany during the 1920’s due to the influx of American loans and investment. Despite excess American influence being the goal, it would be used most prominently to target Soviet, Polish, and French influences within German society, in many cases removing films, books, and artwork which were felt to be “dangerous to German cultural identity”. Though this movement was opposed by many within the Left who saw it for the censorship it was, it received support from a public which largely blamed foreigners for the Depression. Von Lettow-Vorbeck would initially seek to close the bilingual German-Polish schools in Upper Silesia, but in the end Adenauer convinced him to let the schools be in order to not alienate the Catholic Polish population nor risk the anger of the Entente for potentially breaching the German-Polish Accord on East Silesia which had been signed by both powers following the Upper Silesian Plebiscite 1922.

This canny understanding of intra-party politics was one of the greatest skills which Adenauer brought to the table. The SPD might have been the largest party, but it was far from a homogenous unit, and it lacked the single-minded direction of the former Communist Party. In fact, it was the Communist Party’s former members in the SPD which made Adenauer’s work much easier, as their attempts to pull the SPD further to the Left made it easier for him to peel more Conservative members away. During attempts to negotiate larger tax cuts for large firms and industrialists in the most industrialised regions, Adenauer skillfully played the more Centre-Left Lower Silesian and Hanoverian representatives against their Far-Left comrades from Prussian Saxony. The ensuing rift badly harmed the SPD’s ability to form a united front against the proposal and in the end it was able to be passed only because of the support of those same Lower Silesian and Hanoverian SPD members, including Gustav Noske, one of the lead "Conservative Socialsts" running the the more Centrist subgroups of the Socialists.

Otto Wels, one of the two co-chairmen of the SPD and a long-time political rival of Adenauer, was no blunt object, either. He understood fully what the President and Chancellor were trying to do and opposed the Conservative backsliding which he was witnessing. His calls for unity and the triumph of individual rights and liberties were a stirring counter to Adenauer. It won the SPD their 44-hour work week and, in late 1933, Wels successfully won over the entirety of the DVP, as well as much of the Farmers’ Party as well as pockets of the Zentrum, to pass a law beginning a new phase of extensive land reform aimed at improving food production and, to a lesser extent, breaking the dominance of the Junker-class in Eastern Germany. The Junkers would decry this as “Settlement Bolshevism” and demand that it be vetoed, but Wels had countered with the threat of a Vote of No-Confidence against the President, and with the anger such a veto would stir up, von Lettow-Vorbeck would not risk it, not even touching upon his own lingering frustration with the Junkers for their complicity in the Osthilfeskandal.

1933 was an era of new, somewhat hesitant hope. The end of Great War reparations had not miraculously fixed the economy, but it, along with positive results from the public works programs, gave Germans a renewed feeling of pride in their nation and faith in a better tomorrow. More money was entering public circulation and luxuries which had not been since in many years were returning, such as night clubs and cinemas. Studio Babelsberg, the lead German film studio, driven nearly to bankruptcy by the economic crisis, would reopen its doors in December as plans were drawn up for new films reflective of the new era. Unlike the vibrant, flamboyant pieces of the 20’s which had drawn from the booming Modernist styles, early 30’s productions were more cautious, human-focused tales of struggle and triumph.

One of Studio Babelsberg’s most famous pieces from the era, Das Brausende Mädel (The Effervescent Girl) of 1934, told the story of a young Bavarian woman moving to Berlin in 1929 to become a journalist, only to be caught in the Great Depression. Unable to work or feed herself, she would be driven to prostitution and drugs, but would continue writing, eventually selling her memoirs and earning enough money to free herself and many other women in her position from the gutter and grant them a new life. The work is heralded as an early Feminist masterpiece and the crowning achievement of German actress Brigitte Helm, who played the protagonist. It was a huge hit in the Netherlands and Britain when it aired in 1934, though many cinemas within Germany refused to air it for its depictions of prostitution and implied same-sex relations between female prostitutes.

German Actress Brigitte Helm
(https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61wkkYOqHbL.__AC_SY300_SX300_QL70_ML2_.jpg)

Youth associations would likewise see their own surge, though this was not solely a product of the public will and in fact was heavily promoted by the new government. Since the days of the Empire, youth groups had been a way to expose young children (mainly boys) to nature and personal fitness in an increasingly-modern and industrialised world. Following the Great War, these groups would grow in number and popularity, with activities like hiking, camping, and sports used to keep children occupied and communally engaged.

As the father of two sons and two daughters, President von Lettow-Vorbeck had a personal investment in this cause, and would soon bring the Bündische Jugend (Federal Youth), the leading youth association, under the wing of the government when he created the new Reichsministerium für Bildung und Kinderschutz (Reich Ministry of Education and Child Protection), whose job it would be to monitor not only the schools of the Reich, but indeed all facilities and programs geared towards children to ensure both quality and safety. Light pushback came from several of the Free States who claimed that this interfered with previous precedent which left the running of schools mostly to the individual states (within a few restrictions), but they were quickly assured that this new ministry did not have the power to control school curriculum, focusing mainly on the staff and disciplinary measures. Its power over the youth organisations would be more extensive, directing funding and numbers towards groups with Conservative leaders and promoting activities like hiking, canoeing, and shooting. The goals were twofold: To increase the public health and fitness of the next generation and to properly prepare young boys for a potential future in the military. In 1935 this ministry would absorb the Jugendamt (Youth Office) and from then on would be the nation-wide authority on childcare and the front line against child abuse.

Parallel to these new 1930’s ideas grew the phenomenon of Preußtalgie (Prussian nostalgia), first taken root following von Lettow-Vorbeck’s election and now rising to new heights as his Prussian leadership style brought jobs and wealth back to the people. In 1933, the Prussia Museum in Königsberg (located in the former royal palace in the city centre) reported a record high in visitors, a trend mirrored across the various estates and castles which had been converted to museums. This newfound fascination with German history was not exclusive to Germans; tourism to the Reich would rise as the economy and quality of life began to recover to pre-war standards and by 1934 Germany was the third most visited European nation by British and American tourists, exceeding Spain (but unable to surpass Italy or France).

1933 was the first year when the people of Germany could begin to raise their eyes from their troubles and look to the future. A new era was dawning, and Germany would shape it, one way or another.

---

Author's Note: Another chapter which feels a bit filler-y, but I felt that it is important to show some of the smaller changes and cultural developments.

The three-way struggle between Adenauer, von Lettow-Vorbeck, and the SPD is a dynamic which will define "Late Weimar" in this world's future, and in general it will be to the benefit of the average citizen because through this they will be able to achieve rights and privileges which would not have been possible otherwise, and in the long-run people like Wels and Braun will be heralded for their push for worker rights.

Without the Nazis, Weimar culture never suffers the violent death of our world, though it will still endure a lot of changes and growing pains due to the Great Depression and the new status quo which is developing. Likewise, without the Nazis seizing control over creative works, the 1930's of this world will see a lot of new art and film trends which never existed or took off in our world.

Lastly, I wanted to show how the personality of a leader can influence a nation. Von Lettow-Vorbeck is a loving father and husband, and so he will be more concerned about things to do with protecting his children than Hitler might have been. Given that he may very well have children of fighting age when a potential war breaks out, not to mention his own experience as a leader, he will be far less willing to throw men away (or give them bars of cocaine chocolate) than... others... would have been.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"An empire is a terrible burden to bear. That kind of power, of majesty, it represents the ultimate pinnacle of human achievement, of transforming yourself and your land into a shining beacon on a hill. The burden is not the empire; it is the terror of wondering which tiny straw will bring the whole thing crashing down around you." - King Edward VIII, 1936

The Habsburg Realm​

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March 15th, 1933 was the date of demise for the first and only Austrian Republic. Following electoral irregularities, Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss used the Vienna Police to indefinitely postpone the reconvention of the Austrian Parliament, from then on ruling by decree. Though the country's constitution would not be changed to enshrine these changes until 1934, completing Austria's transition into an Authoritarian Fascist state, March 15 remains into the modern era a day of remembrance for the Austrian Republic.

The Austrian Republic, like so many of its neighbours, was a product of the Great War, the last remnants of the collapsing Austro-Hungarian Empire which reformed itself into a democratic state. Initially calling itself the “Republic of German-Austria”, politicians in Vienna held out hope in Wilsonian claims to self-determination which might allow the new, purely-German state to achieve union with its German brethren. These hopes were not to be, and German-Austria would be stripped of its claims in Czechoslovakia and banned from ever unifying with their kin to the north.

Lands claimed by the Republic of German-Austria
(https://www.deviantart.com/wolfgrid/art/Republic-of-German-Austria-683595245)

To say that the Austrian people were angry at this treatment would be an understatement. Not only had their historic empire been ripped away and their country marred by a lost war, more than 4 million Austrian Germans (mostly in the Sudetenland but also living in communities across what was now Yugoslavia, Hungary, and Romanian Transylvania) were now citizens of foreign nations. This did not even touch on the economic devastation that this dealt to Austria; prior to the war the majority of Austria’s food had come from Galicia-Lodomeria (now in Poland) and Croatia (now in Yugoslavia). Of the territory which remained within this new rump Austria only 17% was arable, meaning that Vienna would be forced to import large quantities of food. At one point in the early 1920’s these ex-subjects imposed a trade blockade on Austria which may have led to a true famine had the Entente members not intervened to prevent the utter collapse of the state. Few believed that Austria could be economically and politically viable without being part of a greater whole and support for Anschluss (union) with Germany skyrocketed.

Austria (blue) alongside its former territories
(https://www.discusmedia.com/maps/austria_region_maps/3735/)

This question of an Austria separate from Germany came to dominate politics in the 1920’s. A leading opponent of the idea of joining a “Greater Germany” was the Christian Social Party, a Conservative and Catholic-dominated organisation which opposed Anschluss on primarily religious grounds, seeing Germany as too Protestant and fearing Austria’s cultural decay if allowed to join. Germany’s economic woes throughout this decade aided their narrative but despite this the party was unable to make a significant dent in the pro-German faction, as Austria was little better. It did not take long for the question of Anschluss to become a political rift, with Democratic and Liberal factions favouring union while Conservative and religious ones opposed it.

Given all of these trials and tribulations, it is perhaps surprising that the Austrian Republic lasted as long as it did. Chancellor Dollfuss’s so-called “self-coup” of Austria would be seen as little more than a last-ditch attempt to save what was seen as a non-functioning state.

The collapse of democracy in Austria was met with mixed reactions within Germany, largely dependent upon the political affiliation of the given individual. As one might expect, the SPD and the various other republican parties mourned; the Zentrum were hesitantly curious, admiring the staunchly Catholic policies of Dollfuss; the DNVP and their various far-Right allies were infuriated. Nearly all breadths of the political spectrum viewed Austro-German unification as natural and the biggest question regarding Authoritarian Austria was where Germany fit into their plans. The answer? Nowhere.

Engelbert Dollfuss was, first and foremost, an Austrian nationalist. Back during the days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire he had opposed the push towards federalism and now he opposed Austria becoming in any way subordinate to Germany and, in his mind, Prussia. The Archduchy of Austria had been old when the Kingdom of Prussia had been birthed into the world and the notion of ancient, grand Vienna, a city on par with Paris and London, becoming lesser than Berlin made the very notion of Anschluss anathema to him.

Instead Dollfuss would begin drawing closer to Austria's former partner, Hungary, as well as their ideological brother to the South, Italy. All three nations shared certain core tenets, even if the exact expression of their ideologies varied by nation. These tenets included the primacy of the Catholic faith, the opposition to Communism, and the belief that only a strong, undemocratic leader could secure the culture and ideals of a nation. Interestingly, it was Portugal whose ideology Austria's would appear most similar to rather than Italy, in particular the corporatism which had defined the Estado Novo in Portugal. A unifying element of Austrofascism would come to be the former Habsburg monarchy, and the belief that the former ruling imperial family had been of the rare breed of rulers with a true "Divine right to rule", epitomised by their close bond to the Holy See. This was contrasted with the supposedly "atheistic" von Hohenzollern family, rulers who had the audacity to break from Catholicism and even to crown themselves at their coronations.(1)

Otto von Habsburg, claimant to the now-defunct Austrian and Hungarian thrones, would come to have an increasing presence in this new Austria, especially after 1934 when Dollfuss repealed the Habsburg Laws which had banned the former ruling family and confiscated their property, allowing him to return. Though the idea of a full monarchic restoration was put on a back-burner due to fears of intervention by the neighbouring anti-Habsburg states, interest in the ex-royals remained potent.

Otto von Habsburg
(https://www.economist.com/obituary/2011/07/14/otto-von-habsburg)

Dollfuss's brand of Authoritarianism, retroactively named "Austrofascism", brought Vienna firmly into the camp of Italy. While Austrian nationalists rankled at siding with the traitorous old foe of Italy (which hadn't existed even as a dream when their grandfathers were young, they often reminded each other), and looked covetously across the Alps to German-speaking South Tyrol, they were nevertheless forced to swallow their pride and accept the status quo. Italy was far too powerful to oppose and this sacrifice was seen by many as a price to avoid the far greater sacrifice which was absorption into the Protestant-dominated Germany. Dollfuss was keenly aware of the popular support for Anschluss within both Germany and Austria and would tackle this issue head-on. In exchange for abrogating claims on the southern half of Tyrol, Mussolini guaranteed the independence of Austria against any potential German aggression. As a sign of further goodwill, Italy would begin providing financial support for the struggling Austrian economy, support which Dollfuss claimed credit for as a way to boost domestic popularity.

Despite all of this, Dollfuss and his party Die Vaterländische Front (The Fatherland Front) would struggle to win over many elements of the Austrian population. The former republic had possessed a not-inconsiderable loyalist Liberal element and, aside from the Church, the bureaucracy, and the most isolated peasantry, people craved representation. An unfortunate side-effect of this was a greater longing for union with the German Republic during his rule than prior to it, in particular in the western regions of Tyrol, Vorarlberg, and Salzburg, whose economies and cultures were already more intertwined with that of neighbouring Bavaria than the East and South of the nation. Many also saw his attempts to curry favours with Italy as a sign of humiliation and opposed him on that alone. Dollfuss would be forced to commit a portion of his funds to suppressing dissent in these regions and it would result in a further drain on the already thinly-stretched budget.

The success or failure of Dollfuss's regime is still debated by contemporary historians. On the one hand, his regime succeeded where other Authoritarian strains failed, acquiring complete power over the state and succeeding in his main goal of ensuring Austrian independence from Germany. On the other hand, Dollfuss's policies would fail to jump-start the struggling Austrian economy and his single-minded focus on preventing German hegemony would play an enormous factor in turning Austria into what many consider to have been a puppet state of Mussolini's Italy. By the end of 1934, the Federal State of Austria would be reduced into a mere cog in Mussolini's grand design for Europe and, if he succeeded, the world.

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The nation of Czechoslovakia was a young one by European standards, younger by far than all of its neighbours. The result of years of lobbying by Czech and Slovak politicians to the powers of the Entente during the Great War, the two peoples had at long last achieved unity and independence from Austria and Hungary via the Treaties of Saint-Germain-en-Laye and Trianon in 1919 and 1920, respectively. After centuries of cultural and linguistic oppression by the Austrians and Hungarians, this kind of union was a dream come true; however, it would not come without its own difficulties.

The first and arguably greatest hurdle was of the ethnic variety. The borders claimed by the Czechoslovak politicians were ambitious to say the least and coincided more with geographically-defensible borders than ethno-linguistic ones. In the East, the Slovak half laid claim to the majority of the mountainous Upper Hungary, taking with it a sizeable chunk of Hungarians (almost 800,000) and Ruthenians (500,000), not to mention thousands of Poles and Germans in various pockets. In the West, the Czech half had fewer minorities (only Poles and Germans), but simultaneously the most troublesome of these: The Sudeten Germans.

The Western regions of Czechoslovakia were comprised of the regions of Bohemia and Moravia, formerly the independent Duchy and later Kingdom of Bohemia during the era of the Holy Roman Empire. The reign of the Bohemian kings had seen waves of immigration from across the rest of the Empire, mainly craftsmen and merchants but also a significant number of students who came to attend the Charles University in Prague. The rulers had promoted this immigration as it brought many skilled workers and had helped develop Bohemia into one of the richest regions of Central Europe. Following Bohemia and Moravia's absorption into the Habsburg Monarchy during the 1600's this slide towards Germanisation only grew, with German becoming the dominant cultural and bureaucratic language in accordance with the capital in Vienna. Though the hinterlands retained their Czech culture, most major cities, as well as the mountainous Sudetes border regions, were mostly or completely German-speaking by the 20th century.

Ethnic map of Czechoslovakia
(https://mapsontheweb.zoom-maps.com/post/621613495243456512/ethnic-groups-in-czechoslovakia-hungarian)

It was the fall of Austria-Hungary and Bohemia and Moravia's—collectively referred to as Czechia's—separation from the rest of Austria which brought this ethnic question into the forefront of discussion. The historical border of Bohemia had long followed the defensible mountains encircling the region and it was both strategy as well as historic precedent which was cited in defining Czechoslovakia's new Western border. Austria likewise laid claim to this region as part of the new "Republic of German-Austria" in 1918 but was unable to win over the Entente, who saw a strong Czechoslovakia as the greatest assurance against Austrian, Hungarian, and especially German dominance over the region. Consequently the so-called "Sudetenland" border region would be enfolded into Czechoslovakia and 3.1 million Germans with it. It would quickly prove itself to be one of the most valuable regions in Czechoslovakia, containing the majority of the nation's industry, and dependence on Sudeten production would further push the government to keep hold of the region.

3.1 million people was far more than a mere minority, but in truth a plurality. Though less than the 6.5 million Czechs in Czechia, they significantly outnumbered the 2.2 million Slovaks, further frustrating the Sudeten Germans who felt themselves to be invisible despite outnumbering one of the two founding peoples. The government in Prague would attempt to resolve this by removing much of the dialogue referring to "Czechs'' and "Slovaks" and replacing it with "Czechoslovaks", claiming the state as one nation and people seperated by circumstance rather than real difference. Compared to 8.7 million Czechoslovaks, 3.1 million Germans suddenly seemed less daunting, but the cracks begin to show early. Many saw this as an attempt to refuse Slovak autonomy (which would have then been demanded by the Sudeten Germans) and referred to the policy as "Czechisation'', and they were not entirely unjustified in doing so. Aside from the capital and majority of the industry being located in the Czech half, Czechs were also overrepresented in politics and administration, with the prevailing language for postal, railway, and army institutions being mostly or only Czech. Whether or not this was part of an active policy of Slovak suppression is debated, and most experts concur that it was not malicious. The simple truth was that Czechia possessed a far greater pool of skilled workers and businesses to pull from than the Slovakians, just as the Austrian Empire had had in comparison to the largely-agricultural Kingdom of Hungary.

The instability and financial crisis which wracked Germany during the early 1920's had put a lid on the situation for the time being (Czechoslovakia being a far more stable option at that point) and allowed Prague to turn their focus elsewhere. The Germans were not the only troublesome minority, and soon Czechoslovakia and Poland would be butting heads over another strategic region: Teschen Silesia.

Disputed Czecho-Polish Teschen
(https://english.radio.cz/czechoslov...19-a-brief-clash-lasting-consequences-8139977)

Teschen Silesia, formerly Austrian Silesia, was a region in North-East Czechia bordering Poland which both of the new republics claimed as their own. For the Czechs, the claim was historical and strategic: Beyond its centuries-old place within the Czech state, it also held the vital railway connecting the region to Slovakia, not to mention a veritable treasure trove of coal mines and ore. For the Poles, the claim was ethnic and economic: The most recent Austrian census defined the region as majority-Polish and control over it would help grow their industrial independence from a resurgent Germany or Russia.

The dispute over Teschen grew into a conflict and finally a series of invasions and counter-invasions which only ended when the League of Nations intervened and determined the new border granting a majority of the region to the Czechs and creating a sizable Polish minority in Czechia. The dispute over this region would result in Polish exclusion from the so-called "Little Entente", the Czech-led alliance of states seeking to preserve the new status quo and prevent Austrian and Hungarian revanchism, as well as an overall anti-Czech sentiment in Warsaw as many awaited the chance to reclaim Teschen and perhaps a bit more.

The Hungarians in Southern Slovakia may have been fewer than the Germans but they were nearly as frustrating for the government in Prague. The difference between the Germans and the Hungarians was that the Germans controlled the majority of Czech industry while the Hungarians did not. Slovakia was overwhelmingly underdeveloped (though still the most industrialised part of the former Kingdom of Hungary) and Catholic when contrasted to modern, mostly-secular Czechia and therein the Hungarians were differentiated only by their language. It was hoped by Prague that elevating the Slovakian half to the quality of life of Czechia would pacify the Hungarians, but the Great Depression—which took a particularly hard toll on the agricultural regions in the East—interrupted their goals.

In fact the effects of the Great Depression on Czechoslovakia would be among the worst in Europe, though not necessarily for economic reasons. Unemployment and financial woes would be most extreme in the industrial Sudetenland and the agricultural Slovakia, both of whom were hit hard by rising tariffs and cost of living. Though the negative effects on regions like the Sudetenland, Teschen, and Southern Slovakia were little different from those in neighbouring Germany, Austria, Poland, or Hungary, many in the beleaguered regions would feel that, if they must suffer, they might as well do so among their real countryfolk. Still others would outright deny the Depression as being an all-encompassing affair and rumours of the central government offloading the strain onto the minority regions (in some retellings including Slovakia as well) in order to prop up Czechia would spread like wildfire among the less-educated, their own version of the Dolchstoßlegende (Stab-in-the-Back Myth).

Despite all of these setbacks and struggles, the beginning of 1935 would see a general optimism returning to the nation. The effects of the Great Depression were well underway to being undone and the staggering unemployment was returning to normal levels. A divide remained between the Czechs and the rest of the nation but even that was becoming less apparent as the first generation of truly Czechoslovakian students neared graduation and all hoped that the next generation would not even know the difference between a "Czech" and a "Slovak".

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"Yugoslavia" is a word derived from the term "South Slavs", because that is how the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was envisioned: A union of the South Slavic peoples, from the Slovenes in the North-West to the Croats and Serbs in the Centre to the Bulgarians in the East. Of course, dreams are not always reflective of reality, and the Yugoslavia which emerged from the Great War was not the one which had been first dreamed up by South Slavic intellectuals during the reign of the Austrian and later Austro-Hungarian Empire.

For their participation in the Great War Serbia had always expected to make significant gains, claiming the Vojvodina from Hungary, Bosnia and Herzegovina from Austria, and several other smaller border regions which altogether would almost double the size of the state. It was not until the later stages of the war that a new dream would come to them and they would begin making plans to form not just a Greater Serbia, but a Serbian-led Yugoslavia. This plan was met with enthusiasm from France and America and, much like Czechoslovakia, the new union would be borne from the ashes of the Treaties of Saint-Germain-en-Laye and Trianon.

Yugoslavia in its inception was generally understood to be a sum of three parts: Slovenia (the northernmost and smallest), Croatia (centrally-located and encompassing historical Slavonia and the Adriatic coastline), and Serbia (the largest and dominant of the three reaching from Hungary down to Greece). Likewise, citizens of the nation were expected to fall into one of these three subgroups. In practice, it was not this easy, as many of the lands now encompassed by Yugoslavia included either minorities from the lands they had been taken from or others who considered themselves different from the above groups for one reason or another. Slovenia had Germans located along the northern border and in the Gottschee region; Croatia had pockets of Italians along the Dalmatian coast; Serbia had Hungarians to the North, Albanians in the Centre, Muslim Bosnians to the West, and Bulgarian Macedonians to the South. The last two were an especially touchy topic for Belgrade because both were considered South Slavs and yet their place in the new state was uncertain; Bosnians were ethnic South Slavs who had converted to Islam under Ottoman rule while Macedonians considered themselves a subgroup of the Bulgarians and actively sought unity with Sofia at every turn. Neither was a group which the central government considered trustworthy yet neither were different enough to try and expel or oppress.

Ethnic map of Yugoslavia c. 1930
(https://www.srpska-mreza.com/library/facts/map-Nazi-1940.html)

In some ways the formation of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia from the Kingdom of Serbia mirrored the formation of the German Empire from the Kingdom of Prussia, with the king of a solitary state being elevated to the ruler of a broader cultural union. The first king of Yugoslavia was Alexander I and his policies would seek to deal with the cultural divides splitting the young nation from its inception. Alexander and his government used the very real fear of Italian, German, Hungarian, and Bulgarian invasion to unite a disparate people into a functioning whole by attempting to form a "Yugoslav" identity as a counter to the more powerful regional ones. The historic regions were abolished in favour of new internal boundaries based on geographic features and named for the rivers as a way to undermine separatism. Federalism was traded for centralism. Religious and linguistic variance, while not forbidden, was increasingly curtailed in favour of forging a united front from a disparate group. It was a noble goal, but its greatest hurdle was Alexander's choices of template. In almost all things, Serbian was used as the baseline for what defined a "Yugoslav". Latin-based spelling in Croatia and Slovenia was replaced with Cyrillic, greater political representation went to Serbs even in non-Serb regions, and authority was gradually sapped from the cultural capitals of Zagreb and Ljubljana in favour of Belgrade.

These pushes towards Yugoslavism—or, more accurately, Serbianism—did not sit well with the non-Serbians, especially the Croats and Slovenes, many of whom felt that they had simply traded in an apathetic but at least Catholic emperor in favour of a malevolent Orthodox king. These feelings were emulated by the Macedonians, Hungarians, and Albanians, all of whom received funding and support from the nations which claimed them in hopes of triggering a collapse of the Yugoslav government.
Italy would prove to be the largest threat to Yugoslav independence. Italy had long laid claim to the coastal region of Dalmatia and had double-crossed their allies Austria-Hungary and Germany in hopes of gaining this boon. However, at the last moment it had been snatched from their maw by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson and his desire for self-determination, ceding the territory in its entirety to Croatia and in turn Yugoslavia. This had not deterred the Italians, and barely had the Great War ended than they had strong-armed the Yugoslavs into ceding the port cities of Zara and, later, Fiume. These two cities had not quenched Rome's thirst and as the years rolled on, hungry eyes would covet the rich fields of Dalmatia as a destination for settlement, regardless of the peoples living there who very much did not identify as Italians.

Fiume (North) and Zara (South)

Anti-Italian paranoia would curb much of the Croatian and Slovenian secessionist tendencies throughout the 1920's as the two understood that breaking away from Yugoslavia would immediately result in Italian invasion and occupation. Further reassurance came with the increasing ties with Romania and Czechoslovakia, but the protection of a Great Power was still felt mandatory. Despite historic Serbo-Russian bonds the USSR was considered a non-option for Alexander and the rest of the government's virulent loathing of Communism (and in fact Yugoslavia would refuse to recognise the Soviet Union as legitimate throughout this period). France was the most desired ally as a nation bordering Italy and primed to invade should it come to the worst, and much of Alexander's foreign policy would be based around ensuring French support and protection. This would culminate in his trip to Marseilles in 1934 in hopes of securing a true alliance, where tragedy would strike before his goal would come to pass.

The assassination of King Alexander I in Marseilles was a tragedy for his Serbian subjects and a ray of hope for many of the rest. It had been carried out by Vlado Chernozemski, a Bulgarian and member of the IMRO, the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organisation, a terrorist group working to separate Macedonia from Yugoslavia and unify with Bulgaria. Yugoslav politicians would be quick to point the blame at Mussolini for his support for the various separatist organisations including the IMRO and Ustaše, a group of Croatian terrorists working to achieve independence from Yugoslavia. Many of the Ustaše, including their leader, Ante Pavelić, had been hiding out in Italy thanks to asylum granted by Mussolini, and it did not take long for him to come under suspicion of involvement in the assassination of the king.

It was through the machinations (both real and coincidental) of Mussolini and Pavelić that the Franco-Yugoslav Alliance would fizzle out before ever coming into existence. France had been increasingly looking to Italy as a potential ally against a possibly-resurgent Germany and was therefore reluctant to offend them. Pledging protection to Belgrade was one thing; supporting them in an accusation against Il Duce himself was quite another. When Mussolini refused to hand over Pavelić, France was forced to choose a side, and Yugoslavia came out the loser.

Franco-Yugoslav relations cooled rapidly after this affair and Belgrade increasingly looked towards its more immediate neighbours for protection, including Romania and Czechoslovakia. Unfortunately, both of them were increasingly prioritising their own Great Power threats—the Soviets for Romania and Germany for Czechoslovakia—and retained their trust in France, something which could not be said for Yugoslavia anymore.

With the death of King Alexander, the throne fell to his son, Crown Prince Peter, now King Peter I of Yugoslavia, at the time only eleven years old. Due to King Peter’s youth a regency was established with his cousin, Prince Paul, as caretaker of the throne until Peter came of age in 1941. It was with a heavy heart that Paul did this and the regency would pull him between two extremes; on one end, Paul had never supported the Serbo-centric viewpoint of his cousin nor Alexander’s penchant for unchecked monarchism, and believed strongly in democracy and federalism as the road to a united Yugoslavia; on the other end, his moral principles dictated that the kingdom be handed over to Peter unchanged to do with as he saw fit, thereby forbidding Paul from making any of the changes he envisioned. In this sense he was the perfect regent, but an imperfect ruler.

Yugoslavia would enter 1935 far more fragile than it had been just a year before. A child king and his regent on the throne, increasingly-rebellious minorities, and greedy neighbours in all directions, it had become clear to all that the peaceful days were behind them and only storms lay ahead.

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(1) The Prussian monarchy actually did make a habit of crowning themselves rather than having a bishop do it.

Author's Note: This chapter is mostly a filling-in on the status of the Western Balkans and does not break much new ground; however, it does show some small butterflies which will become relevant later.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Sometimes I look around and wonder what the great kings and emperors of old would say about what France has become in the modern day. We are greater in some ways than they could ever have imagined possible, but the road to get there, the indignities and tragedies the French people have had to endure so that we could become the nation we are today… who’s to say if it was worth it?” - Maryvonne Darle, Prime Minister of France, 2002

La Sombre Époque​

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In the Northern part of Paris, near the centre of the Place de Républiques, there stands a statue representing the Third Republic alongside depictions of its sister republics. Like its sisters, the Third Republic is depicted as a woman. She is the epitome of contradictions, garbed in a flowing white dress with an infantryman’s kepi atop her head (the prevailing style following the Franco-Prussian War). Her hair runs wild and free across one shoulder, and over the other shoulder it is sheared close to the skull. In her left arm sits a book entitled “L’Aspiration”, and in her right hand she holds a sword into which the word “La Réalité” is engraved. The front fold of her dress is lifted, a military boot pressing down on a stone cracked in two. The word on that stone is “La Détente”.

The memory of the Third French Republic is a complicated one for the people of modern France, and it is not hard to see why. From its birth out of the fires of the Franco-Prussian War to its eventual demise, the Third Republic would represent both the tremendous heights of European civilisation as well as some of its deepest lows. The loss of Alsace and Lorraine to the new German Empire would define foreign policy for the nation and even their return in 1918 would not quell the ravenous hatred and, at its core, fear which the French felt for their more powerful neighbour. Despite how overwhelmingly this Germanophobia permeated the Republic, it would not define it. The end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries would come to be called “La Belle Époque” (The good era), the time of Europe’s greatest prosperity and influence across the world, a path paved by the British and French and their associated colonial empires. The Third Republic would extend the French influence and language across nearly every continent. France would be known as a nation of grand cultural and technological advancement and would stand above its many despotic neighbours as one of the few true nations ruled on the principles of equality, liberty, and justice.

In principle, at least. In practice, the Third Republic often failed to live up to the noble ideals on which it prided itself. Anti-German sentiment dominated the first half of the Republic’s life and made life harder for those of German, and often simply non-French descent. The most infamous of these cases was the Dreyfus Affair of the late 1800’s, wherein a Jewish soldier of Alsatian background found himself wrongfully accused and imprisoned for the crime of espionage, his status as a native German-speaker and his homeland’s recent annexation into the German Empire providing an easy explanation for his supposed treachery. It would not be until years later that the scandal would be made fully public, but its exposure would not have the delegitimizing effect on Anti-Semetism that so many had hoped for.

Much like its neighbours in Germany and Italy, the post-war years would see France struggle to balance rising political extremism and ethnic strife, both colonial and metropolitan in nature. The devastation wrought by the Imperial German Army on Northern and Eastern France had crippled the industrial regions of the Republic and further exacerbated the divide between the modern, industrialised Germany and the agricultural France. The post-war years saw heated debates lead to crises regarding everything from the reintegration of Alsace and Lorraine to pensions and governmental support for their veterans.

The first half of the 1920’s had been the roughest experienced by the French in a very long time, with inefficient taxation and widespread evasion making it difficult to gather funds and causing a growth in political extremism, namely the Communists on the Left and the Royalists on the Right. By the late 20’s this would have largely been rectified via reform and a massive reconstruction paid for with German loans, though it would not end the underlying class divide between rich and poor. The agricultural nature of France’s economy allowed it to ride out the Great Depression with relative stability, though it was not left completely untouched and the shockwaves would not dissipate for many years.

The reclamation of Alsace and Lorraine boosted the popularity of the Republic but it would soon become clear that these were not the same regions as the day they had been ripped from France in 1871. Beyond their reinforced German-speaking nature, the two had also grown accustomed to greater regional autonomy and a far more Conservative government, and chafed under the centralising, liberalising force of Paris. Soon after their annexation, the territories—renamed to Alsace and the Moselland—were granted greater autonomy within France as a counter to the voices proclaiming a desire to rejoin Germany. These laws would win the loyalty of Alsace but cause strife in regions where such privileges were envied.

Far more than Alsace and Lorraine, though, remained the question of the colonies. The 1920’s and 30’s saw the peak of France’s expansion until that point in history, from the French Caribbean in the West all the way to Vietnam and Tahiti in the Far East, and though the British Empire remained the preeminent world power, France did not linger far behind. France had long sought to instil in its overseas subjects the notion of a “Unifying France”, one whose superior values, culture, and language would not only bring civilization to the so-called “primitives”, but which would ideally also bind them together in a collective union led from Paris. A grand sentiment, if one often at odds with the emerging sense of Nationalism across the colonised world.

The oldest of France’s African colonies, Algeria, would serve as a makeshift petri dish for many of these ideas. Originally a colony of France from 1830 to 1848, Algeria would soon after be annexed directly into France proper where it would face extensive Francisation policies. French colonists would be encouraged to immigrate, French would replace the regional Berber and Arabic dialects, Islam would be repressed in favour of Catholicism, and citizenship would be reserved for a minority while the non-white Muslim and Berber majority would be considered merely French nationals rather than full citizens. While legally and bureaucratically a full constituent part of the Republic, the mistreatment of the natives and French xenophobia would remain a perpetual thorn in the side of Franco-Algerian relations.

French Algeria c. 1930
(https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fichier:Algérie_1830-1930.JPG)

The Third Republic’s foreign policy before the Great War had been dominated by its revanchism against the German Empire, and even after the Great War and the restoration of the territories lost in 1871, fear of German aggression continued to dominate both domestic and international policy decisions. Immediately following the Great War, France had sought to build ties with the new emergent nations, in particular Czechoslovakia, Poland, and Yugoslavia, whom the Third Republic saw as natural allies against future German expansion in Europe. Historic ties with Russia would lead to the French building bridges—albeit hesitantly—with the new Soviet Union, though it would damage their ties to the so-called “Little Entente” when it was feared that France might sacrifice her Eastern allies in order to gain Soviet aid. A similarly contentious connection was that between France and Fascist Italy. Mussolini disliked France for their betrayal during the post-war negotiations, failing to back Italian claims in Austria-Hungary and Turkey, and had previously expressed interest in historically-Italian lands owned by France. Despite this, he was open to cooperation with France—for a price—and an alliance with the Italians was seen by many in the military as preferable to one with the Soviets.

Fear of Communism was a potent rallying force for Right-wing parties within the Third Republic, in large part because France remained one of the few European countries where Communist ideology was allowed its voice on the national stage. France would come to be one of the great centres for Communist philosophising in the Western World and would, over the years, attract leading Communist minds, including most famously Leon Trotsky, former heir-to-Vladimir-Lenin-turned-exile following Stalin’s seizure of power in the Soviet Union.

The presence of so many Communists, many of whom ideological exiles from nations like Italy and, following von Lettow-Vorbeck’s ban on Communism, Germany, worried many French politicians, who saw this rise as a sign of Soviet attempts to manipulate France and, at worst, transform it into a puppet state of Moscow.

Anti-Communist propaganda from France; “It is the Communists who pull the strings of the Popular Front”
(https://www.imago-images.de/st/0095422539)

By the beginning of 1934, the scales had begun to tip away from the historically-popular Left-wing parties, embodied by the Cartel des Gauches (Cartel of the Left) government which had been elected in 1932 but which lacked the absolute majority needed to cement their power. An inability to form a cohesive coalition would lead to several of these Centre-Left governments falling in quick succession and, though they would retain power, their ability to affect change would be greatly diminished, especially with a rising wave of Right-wing extremism in response to the growing public discomfort at the strength of the Communist movement. The rising tension would finally erupt in February of 1934 following the so-called “Stavisky Affair”.

Serge Alexandre Stavisky
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipe...visky_-_Police_Magazine_-_14_janvier_1934.png)

Serge Alexandre Stavisky was a naturalised Russian-Ukrainian Jew who had grown up in France after his parents emigrated from the Russian Empire. He had risen to fame and later infamy through a series of extensive embezzlement scams and schemes, including, most famously, selling emeralds which had supposedly once belonged to the Empress of Germany, but which had turned out to only be glass. He built around himself a network of friends and connections within the wealthiest and most powerful of France, using a combination of their influence as well as his own wealth to ensure that his actions were not made known to the greater public. It was not until 1927 that he would at last be exposed and put on trial, only for the trial to be postponed multiple times, during which Stavisky remained out of jail on bail. It would not be until his death in early January, 1934—ostensibly suicide but suspected of being the work of the police who found his body—that the full extent of his crimes would come out.

Stavisky’s death would open a proverbial Pandora’s Box of secrets as men up and down the rungs of power had their connections to him exposed. The most galling of these was his close connection to the cabinet of Prime Minister Camille Chautemps, having had close ties with two of the leading Ministers. The situation further unravelled when the press revealed that the 19-month postponement of Stavisky’s trial had been due to the public prosecutor being Chautemps’s brother-in-law. Public opinion swung violently against the Prime Minister and questions were quickly raised as to Chautemps’s culpability in Stavisky’s death, and whether or not it had truly been suicide. French Right-wing groups led the charge against the Prime Minister, accusing him of having arranged the assassination of Stavisky to keep his secrets from coming out, and the outrage was inflamed to such levels that Chautemps was finally forced to resign at the end of January.

He was soon succeeded by Édouard Daladier, another politician of the Radical-Socialist Party. Daladier understood the goals of the rioters to be the toppling of the Centre-Left government and the installation of a Right-wing one, and so took immediate action against them. The most significant and damaging steps he took was the dismissal of Jean Chiappe, the head of the Parisian police, whose famed Right-wing sympathies and suspicion in previous anti-governmental movements had led Daladier to suspect Chiappe’s involvement in the riots and him being the reason that they had grown so out-of-control. Daladier compounded this with the appointment of a new Interior Minister, Eugène Frot, thereby bringing control over the Parisian and greater French police under party control. Frot would be quick to take action against the protests and would decree that any protestors would be shot by police.

Soon after, the centre of Paris erupted into chaos.

---

Prime Minister Daladier hurried through the hallways of the Hôtel Matignon, a swarm of secretaries following after him while also trying not to bump into the three security guards surrounding him at all times. These were dangerous times, after all. He scribbled an illegible signature across one of the documents presented him before looking around wildly, cursing under his breath.

“For heavens’ sake, where is Monsieur Frot?” he demanded loudly, uncaring as to who answered him as long as someone did. “I need to know what is going on at the Bourbon Palace!”

“Monsieur Frot is currently trying to redirect forces from South Paris,” one of the aides at his right told him, her hair jumping up and down as she all but ran to keep up with the man’s pace. “The riots are smaller there and the troops better-suited at the National Assembly.”

“That, at least, is something,” Daladier declared, turning to the man on his left. “Is there any news from the Assembly?”

“Fighting broke out between deputies sympathetic to the strikers and to the government. The guards were forced to intervene and the session was ended until these riots can be brought to heel.” He hesitated. “Some are calling for a vote to dissolve the current parliament.”

“They will not get it!” Daladier bellowed, stopping suddenly and nearly causing the rest of his group to collide with him. “If we give in to these agents of chaos, we are all but proving to the world that the Republic is unstable! We will fight these savages like we fought the Barbary pirates. They will give in or they will be crushed!”

He continued on and at last reached his office and entered, the aides scurrying off to their tasks while the guards took their posts outside the doors. Daladier crossed to his desk but did not sit down, instead snatching the phone and dialing in the number for the Interior Ministry. It rang briefly before dropping, indicating that Frot was still preoccupied. Daladier scowled and all but slammed it down, crossing to the window. The riots were not visible from the Hôtel Matignon, but neither were they far, and Daladier imagined that, if he strained his ears, he would be able to hear the rumbles of boots on stone and men yelling.

“Maudits fascistes!” he swore loudly. He likewise cursed that fool Chautemps and the whole mess with Stavisky. Their idiocy threatened to bring down the whole government! Daladier was no Communist, but he would choose Stalin every day before he saw France slip into the stagnation of monarchy once again; or, worse, fascism.

This could not possibly have occurred at a worse time. The Germans had slithered out of their post-war stipulations and their rising economy was hurting French morale. They were la belle nation, the very foundation of European culture and beauty, how could the Germans again be outstripping them? And with another Prussian at its head, it would only be a matter of time before the Germans once again tried to conquer Europe. France had to be strong, to be united, and the Republic was the only way to do so.

Out of nowhere his phone began to ring and Daladier all but flew across the room to grab it. “Oui?”

“It is Frot.” The voice on the other end of the line was dry and raspy, and Daladier’s heart sank when he heard it.

“What is it? Has the Assembly fallen?”

“No, sir, but it may be worse. François de la Rocque has been killed.”

Daladier gripped the phone with both hands. “What!?” he hissed. His mind began to race. De la Rocque was the leader of the Croix de Feu (Cross of Fire) veterans’ league, one comprised overwhelmingly of Right-wing members. It was not the largest of the groups, but it had broad sympathy among much of the population who revered the veterans for their role in the Great War. De la Rocque’s death would look bad, there was no doubt about it, but it was not unsalvageable. He was only one small piece. “What has been the reaction?”

“None so far, sir. Several members have attacked the barricades but they seem to have pulled back overall, allowing us to redirect forces from the South. We are unsure if anyone has stepped up to replace him or if the group will splinter.”

“Keep an eye on it,” Daladier ordered. “Protect the Assembly at all costs! They must not be allowed in!”

“Yes, sir.”

The call ended and Daladier stared at the receiver for a moment. De la Rocque had been the binding force of the Croix de Feu. As far as Daladier knew, the man had never shared power nor attempted to reform the group into much of a threat. His death could only be a good thing.

Right?

---

“Who takes over now?” was the question spoken by many as they gathered under several trees along the Seine. It was the wee hours of the morning and the riots had calmed (though not abated) as many broke to eat or rest. None of the groups had yet been able to break the barricades and reach the Assembly, but likewise, the police had not been able to disperse the group. Now the Croix de Feu was beginning to shed, members breaking off in groups to discuss what they should do now. Some had already left, feeling their cause lost without their leader.

“I say we quit,” declared a younger man with a short beard. His eyes were lined with circles and his expression seemed etched in a perpetually sour shape. “We tried, we failed, let’s get out of here before they come for us, too.”

“Have you no love for your nation?” demanded an older red-headed soldier, baring his teeth. “We fought for France against les boches, we will do so against against the vile Reds!”

The younger gestured aggressively, saying, “I’ve fought enough, I will not risk ending up like de la Rocque! I have a wife and a son on the way!”

“You should think of your son, then,” another chimed in, “do you want to see him grow up a slave to Moscow?”

“Better than growing up without a father!” the first shot back.

“Quiet, both of you!” the oldest of the group ordered. He ran his fingers through his bushy beard. “I will take over for de la Rocque. I am the one with the highest military rank.”

A guffaw was his response from the red-head. “You fought in Cameroon, leading a pack of monkeys doesn’t count!”

“They were better fighters than anything I saw today!”

“Well I did not see you leading the charge!”

“That’s it! I’m done!” announced the young bearded man, rising to his feet. “You lot can stay here with the other fools and die for nothing. I would rather live to see another sunrise!” He moved to walk off, but then a voice spoke.

“Would you not rather live to see a new, brighter France for us all?”

The group turned to see a duo step into the light of the streetlamp. Several of the group members’ eyes widened at the sight of the shorter, bearded member of the duo, though he was not the one who spoke. “This is Charles Maurras,” introduced his companion, a tall clean-shaven man in a suit, as he gestured at the other. “I believe you will want to hear what he has to say.”

“I know you!” exclaimed the oldest with awe in his voice. “You are the founder of the Action Française!” His companions, recognising the newspaper and the party associated with it, likewise turned in shock.

Maurras did not speak, but instead began a series of quick gestures which baffled the onlookers. His companion seemed to understand them, though, as he soon spoke. “I am, but do not think of me as such. I am merely a man with a love of France and its people. I am saddened to see what our great nation has fallen to, the work of traitors and fools who fail to do what needs to be done.”

“Well what can we do?” asked the red-headed man, looking between the two. “The government doesn’t listen to us and the police killed our leader!”

“The loss of de la Rocque was a tragedy,” communicated Maurras through his interpreter, “and it was what brought me here today. To see so many good, noble, honourable Frenchmen fighting for what they believe in, it warms my heart. You have lost your leader, but not your fire.”

The compliments had the desired effect and the men stood a bit straighter, even the one who had been ready to walk off. “Fire will not win us this,” he said. “This is not 1848. We cannot win.”

“It is irrelevant whether or not we win on the streets of Paris. We must win in the hearts and minds of men.” Maurras’s eyes seemed to almost glow in the reflection of the lights. “They see us and they feel for us. For the Croix de Feu, the noble men who defended us in 1914, who are now attacked and killed by the police. And why? For demanding that their nation hears their suffering and their desire to protect the ones they love? That is not justice, that is tyranny! Join with us, with the Action Française, and help us win the fight against those who would oppress France. Even if we do not win by force of arms today, mark my words, they will learn to fear us.”

---

The February 6 Uprising’s success or failure is largely dependent on how one approaches the results. On the one hand, the Uprising failed to achieve its largest goal, that being the end of Centre-Leftist rule over the National Assembly and possibly even the end of the Republic in favour of a dictatorship. On the other hand, it did succeed in many smaller goals. Many within the police and government refused to abide by Daladier's attempts to viciously crack down on the protestors and it led to a rapid delegitimizing of his power base, so much so that he would be forced to resign on the 9th when it became clear that he would be unable to manage his government. His replacement, Gaston Doumergue of the Centre-Right Radical Republicans, would begin the slow shift away from the Centre-Left.

Gaston Doumergue
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaston_Doumergue#/media/File:Gaston_Doumergue_1924_crop.jpg)

The death of Colonel François de la Rocque and the power vacuum which emerged in the Croix de Feu, the most important league by membership numbers, triggered a domino effect which ended with the group’s new leadership forming a coalition with and, later, fully merging with the Action Française later in 1933. This new coalition was a powerful force for opponents of the Third Republic and frustrating adversary for the Cartel des Gauches.

In the wake of the February 6 Uprising, many in France would see the act as an attempt by Fascist sympathisers to overthrow the Republic and establish a dictatorship. The Comité de vigilance des intellectuels antifascistes (Watchfulness Committee of Anti-Fascist Intellectuals), or CVIA, would be established by concerned citizens to combat perceived Fascist infiltration within the Third Republic. This group’s popularity is indicative of the general feeling within France; while many were unhappy with the Third Republic and felt that the system needed to be changed, the advocates for a true dictatorship were far fewer.

Action Française would spend much of 1934 and 1935 dealing with growing pains following its absorption of the Croix de Feux and the need to reconcile the various different groups within itself. Fascism and Monarchism were two of the leading forces, but a not-insignificant minority advocated for a form of Authoritarian Democracy not entirely unlike what had been achieved in Germany under Chancellor Brüning and President von Hindenburg. These divisions were not so insurmountable as to rupture the coalition, but likewise too significant to provide a united front, and in the end it was these divisions which kept Action Française from seizing the power it would have needed to gain control over the National Assembly and elect one of their own into power.

Across the Alps, Mussolini would watch the transition within France with curiosity and interest. Though Italian Nationalists viewed the French lands of Savoy, Nice, Tunisia, and especially Corsica with hunger, it was also well-understood that Italy could not simply take these lands—or the others they desired—without the aid of another Great Power. An alliance with France brought with it many benefits, including the prevention of a two-front war and the reassurance which was the large French navy. Additionally, like Italy, France viewed Germany as the most significant threat to their influence, as while Italy concerned itself with Austria and the Balkans, France sat directly on the German front-line. French guarantees would be useful in ensuring Viennese submission to Rome and would make it easier to force territorial revisions in strategic regions, such as Yugoslavia.

The French government under Doumergue would last less than a year and would attempt to reconcile the extremist forces within their nation, carving a centrist past between the Stalinist Left and the pseudo-fascist Right. Though his attempts were noble, in the long run Doumergue would prove ill-equipped to balance the powerful opposing forces, and upon his resignation in November, the French government would have shifted fully into the Centre-Right, epitomised by his replacement, Pierre-Étienne Flandin, who would hold the office until the next election in 1936. Flandin’s willingness to cooperate with the Italians and, by early 1936 shortly before the election, his willingness to turn a blind eye to members of the Action Française to leading roles within the government, made many within Germany and Spain fear the rise of a Franco-Italian alignment capable of threatening all who would oppose them.

Pierre-Étienne Flandin
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre-Étienne_Flandin#/media/Fileierre-Étienne_Flandin_1935.jpg)

The eventual end of the Third French Republic was predicted by many of the most astute politicians of the time, and with the benefit of hindsight, is often seen as an inevitability. Others argue the opposite; though openly sympathetic to the anti-Republican forces within the government, it was neither Doumergue nor Flandin onto whom the blame for the Third Republic's future fall can be fully laid. It was not until 1936 that France's path was cemented, and with it, the millions of innocents whose blood would eternally drench French hands.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"I looked across that short stretch of road to my homeland, to my empire, and I wept… how could it have come to this? How could my people have betrayed me so easily? A kingdom, an empire built by generations of great von Hohenzollern kings… could it really be ending here, now, with me?” - Excerpt from the memoirs of Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, c. 1937

The August Crisis​

---

On August 2nd, 1934, former German President Paul von Hindenburg passed away at the age of 86 years old. The news of his death, more than the death of any other high-profile war hero, was marred by controversy surrounding his tenure as President, his association with Brüning, and of course the Osthilfeskandal in which his family estate played a significant role. Expressions of pity and sympathy for his family were the rote line of the day, but one did not need to listen hard to hear the murmurs under the surface, the frustration and at times even hatred for the man’s rule which was now translating itself into elation at his death.

Von Hindenburg's passing was the final major pillar in the progressive loss of all the so-called “Old Prussians”, the politicians and generals who had been around since the days before the German Empire and who had stood as the Conservative bastions against ideas of Liberalism and Democracy. Von Hindenburg had been one of the last and, with him gone, the influence of the Old Prussians was at last fading.

President von Lettow-Vorbeck was not a true Old Prussian—he had not come into adulthood until the Empire was well-established—but he considered himself a curator of their legacy and the legacy of the Kaiserreich as a whole. As such, he felt that it was his duty to ensure that one of the heroes of the Great War was given a proper send-off. This was supported by the majority of his government with even Adenauer, a vocal critic of the former President, admitting that it would, at least, be a media boost to show one’s respect for a former leader.

Behind the scenes, though, von Lettow-Vorbeck had more politically charged-motivations than mere patriotism. On the day after von Hindenburg's death, he would have a brief and unrecorded meeting with Kurt von Schleicher, during which the duo conspired to use the upcoming ceremony to fulfil their own political desires.

---

Cecilienhof Palace was a beautiful, sprawling estate located near Potsdam, in the state of Brandenburg, not far from Berlin. It was a beautiful country home done in an English style with heavy Tudor influence, a gift from the last German Kaiser, Wilhelm II, to his son and heir Crown Prince Wilhelm of Prussia. The palace was named in honour of the Crown Prince’s wife, Duchess Cecilie von Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and had served as one of the main residences of the royal family. Following the revolution which overthrew the monarchy, an attempt had been made to expropriate the properties and finances of the former ruling families, but the vote to this effect had come back in favour of the monarchs. Since then, the imperial von Hohenzollern family had retained many of their properties, and Cecilienhof, though remaining in state ownership, had been opened for residence to Wilhelm and Cecilie for themselves, their children, and their grandchildren.

Cecilienhof Palace
(https://www.visitberlin.de/system/f...ock_c_MagMos_web.jpg?h=1c9b88c9&itok=EMLFEMDH)

Though beautiful in any season, it was during Autumn when the palace truly looked its best, thought Kurt von Schleicher as his car rumbled its way up the drive towards the building. The changing of the trees offset the beiges and browns of the exterior beautifully and he could already picture the former Crown Prince crashing through the brush on horseback alongside his sons.

Von Schleicher parked his car near the front door and a valet quickly hurried over to take care of it, the Minister of Defence handing over the keys without a glance. He was well-known by the servants and staff of the estate; he had spent enough time here even before his ascendance in government for them to remember his patterns.

A figure was standing on the porch as von Schleicher strode forward. Perfect posture, handsome features, and an aura which positively oozed status, it was difficult for anyone to mistake Crown Prince Wilhelm von Hohenzollern as anything but a royal. The man raised one eyebrow as von Schleicher approached, unclasping his hands from behind his back. “You are late,” Wilhelm declared with a teasing little lilt to his voice. He offered a hand, which von Schleicher grasped familiarly.

Crown Prince Wilhelm von Hohenzollern, son of Kaiser Wilhelm II, 1934
(https://www.prints-online.com/crown-prince-wilhelm-597312.html)

“Dreadful traffic heading towards Potsdam,” he answered. “They are talking of widening the Potsdam-Berlin Autobahn to accommodate for the traffic.”

“So soon?” said Wilhelm, surprised. “Was it not only finished in March?”

“An unexpected surge in use. Have you heard of the Porsche plans for a cheaper car aimed at the middle class? If they go forward and succeed with it, we might see twice the cars in just two years’ time.”

“I have indeed read about it. What an inspiring time to be alive.” The Crown Prince beckoned the other man inside and they entered the palace. The tall, sweeping foyer was decorated in warm colours, electric lights placed in tasteful wall sconces to give the room a feeling of modern regality. They passed through an archway and down a hallway towards Wilhelm’s personal study, passing a few paintings undoubtedly worth more than all of von Schleicher’s earnings combined. Once they were inside the study, Wilhelm closed the doors behind him and directed them to the leather chairs tucked in the corner by the bookshelves. “What did you wish to speak with me about oh-so-urgently?” He grabbed a cedar box and popped the lid, holding it out. “Cigar?”

Von Schleicher could not resist taking one, lighting it and taking a drag. It was the expensive sort, probably Cuban. There were perks to being friends with a wealthy member of the ex-nobility. “You are no doubt aware of General von Hindenburg’s passing?”

“Naturally.” Having taken his own cigar, Wilhelm snapped the box shut. “The funeral will be a public affair, of course.”

“Of course. The ceremony will begin at the Reichstag, pass through the Brandenburg Gate, up Unter den Linden and past the imperial palace, and end at the cathedral. He is being given the full pomp and circumstance owed to an imperial general—President von Lettow-Vorbeck ensured it personally.”

The Crown Prince rolled the still-unlit cigar between his fingers, eying it thoughtfully. “It is a shame that such a valued and decorated member of the Imperial Army cannot be properly honoured by a member of the royal family. It is the least which he has deserved for his service to the crown.”

Von Schleicher knew what his friend was getting at. “I am aware of your father’s request that his exile be temporarily lifted so that he might attend. You understand that such a thing would be impossible.”

“I do.”

“It is more than just the French or British. Berlin is much-changed since he was last there and he is a contentious figure at the best of times, as was von Hindenburg. We have already been forced to prepare contingencies for possible protests or attacks. It would not be wise to stir the pot any more than has been done. The last thing Europe needs is another monarch to be assassinated, even a retired one.”

“Kurt.” Wilhelm held up a hand, stopping his friend with a gentle smile. “I understand. More so than my father, anyway.” His smile turned a bit bitter as he spoke of the last Kaiser. “Father has become… agitated. Irritable, perhaps, is the better name for it. He seems to have had other expectations of von Hindenburg and von Lettow-Vorbeck, unrealistic expectations which have naturally been left unfulfilled. He simultaneously praises the actions taken against the Socialists while cursing what he sees as infringements on German honour. The last time we visited, he spent nearly three hours lecturing us on his geopolitical views prior to 1914 and defending every step he took. He demands to know why the monarchy has not yet been restored. He refuses to consider the realities of the situation. When I told him point-blank that the German people would never accept him as their ruler, he threw me out of the house.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with him.”

Von Schleicher said nothing. Much as he respected Wilhelm II on the basis of his noble heritage, his personal view was that the man had played a large part in the circumstances which led to German humiliation at the hands of the Entente. The institution of the monarchy was the backbone of cultural pride, but that did not mean that a king should be allowed to run rampant; no, better to condense the power in the hands of a skilled Chancellor or Prime Minister, as the Italians had done, while protecting the king from the backlash.

While von Schleicher was mulling this over, the Crown Prince at last set about clipping and lighting his cigar. The smell of rich tobacco blended well with the cosy, musty smell of old books and stained wood. “Tell me honestly, Kurt,” he spoke after several minutes of comfortable silence, “do you believe that our family will ever again regain the throne of Prussia?”

The other man considered it. It was a question which he had mulled over to himself many times, though less so recently. “I believe that the likelihood of it today is greater than it has been in a very long time, but lesser than is necessary to accomplish it,” he decided on at last. “Von Lettow-Vorbeck is a supporter of the idea, make no mistake. He would do it now if he could, but he is not so short-sighted. His hold on the German people is strong, but not all-encompassing; Leftist ideas still permeate and Prussia remains under Socialist thrall. Without Prussia, we have no chance.” Von Schleicher’s eyes turned sharp. “The days of a monarchy like that of the old Empire are dead, though. A new German Empire must be strong and united to retake its place in Europe, not a broken federation like we were.”

Disagreement flickered behind Wilhelm’s eyes but he did not say anything. They had had this debate many times before and it never saw a proper resolution, Wilhelm a defender of the old system and von Schleicher advocating something new and modernised. “Is that why you came here, then? To debate politics with me?”

“Ah. No.” Von Schleicher tapped the ash of his cigar into a nearby porcelain ashtray engraved with the Prussian eagle. “As we have discussed, your father will be unable to attend the funeral. However, von Lettow-Vorbeck has personally requested your presence in his place, as representative of the von Hohenzollerns, to help lay the General to rest.”

Wilhelm’s eyebrows rose. It had been clear that this request would have something to do with the funeral, but he had been anticipating a request to steer clear of it, not to attend. “My appearance alongside the President and Chancellor would be… contentious, as you put it. Was that not something which you were trying to avoid?”

“There is rocking the boat and there is overturning it. Your appearance would be as a private citizen connected to von Hindenburg through personal connections. No statements will be made and any conclusions drawn will be unsubstantiated.” He leaned forward. “I told you that the President is supportive of our goals to see the monarchy restored. The support of the people is paramount; this is the first step.”

Prince Wilhelm was clearly dubious, though not uninterested. “You do not think that my presence would be seen as… improper?”

“Let us worry about that. We wish to build a new, better Germany, built on the ashes of this broken Republic; you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”

---

Prince Wilhelm’s arrival in Berlin on the day of the funeral, the 7th of August, was a complete surprise to most onlookers. Aside from Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck and the von Hindenburg family (whose approval had been necessary on the basis of politeness alone), no one had been told about the appearance of one of the members of the former imperial family. Even Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck, so rarely not privy to her husband’s thoughts, was reportedly stunned at the arrival of a von Hohenzollern shortly before the service began.

The former Crown Prince was seated in the front row of the church at the innermost end of the pew, directly beside Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck and in front of Konrad Adenauer. Adenauer spent the entire service glaring daggers at the back of Wilhelm’s head, though the supreme dislike in his stare went largely ignored by Wilhelm and the president. While there was a clear undercurrent of curiosity and surprise at the presence of a von Hohenzollern (at least amongst those who recognised him), it thankfully did not cause a stir or provide too major a distraction, something which the von Hindenburgs had been worried about. After all, Paul von Hindenburg’s loyalty to the German Empire was something which had been used to praise or ridicule him throughout his entire rule; it was not strange that such loyalty would be remembered.

What did surprise the onlookers was that, when the time came to make speeches on the achievements and character of the former president, it was Prince Wilhelm who was selected to give the first speech, preceding even the minister and the man’s family. Since the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm II and his family’s loss of their noble titles, the status of the Kaiser as Head of the Protestant Church had been abolished, and decorum would demand that the clerical member speak first. Giving Wilhelm such flagrant privilege was both a return to old precedent and a test of public reaction.

“I recall the day I first met President von Hindenburg, then a general in the Imperial German Army,” Prince Wilhelm began. Though he had lost his crown, he spoke like a man raised to present before an adoring population, each word clear and booming through the Cathedral of Berlin. “I was a lad of only six or seven at the time, still frightened by artillery and machinery of combat. My father, freshly-crowned Kaiser Wilhelm II, wished for me to better understand the military of the nation I was to lead, and so requested that one of his leading generals introduce me to the fundamentals.” His lips quirked in amusement. “Few were particularly gifted with children, nor was teaching within their realm of expertise. It was only General von Hindenburg who took to the request eagerly. Over the two weeks I would spend in his company, he would impress upon me not only the importance of our military power, but our history and legacy. He took me to Schleswig to examine the viking Danewerk and show me the importance of maintaining good defences. He took me to Lorraine and showed me the path our armies carved through the French in 1871. He even brought me across the border into Belgium, to show me Waterloo and walk me through every hour of Napoleon’s defeat.”

The church was completely silent, all hooked on the speech.

“Though we had little contact in the years after this, Paul von Hindenburg has remained ever since the embodiment of a good Prussian in my mind: Strong, intelligent, and unyielding, while simultaneously helpful and caring for those close to him.” Here Wilhelm nodded to von Hindenburg’s grandchildren, seated in the front row. “His loyalty to the German people was second to none, even sacrificing his retirement following the Great War to serve Germany as her president. President Paul von Hindenburg is a man whose legacy will live on for as long as the Reich stands along the names of Bismarck and Wilhelm I. Today we mourn his loss, but tomorrow we will honour his legacy by working towards the Germany he envisioned for us all.”

Once it became clear that the speech had come to a close, President von Lettow-Vorbeck began to clap. A half-second later his clapping was joined by the von Hindenburg family, and it was not long before the entire church was clapping as Prince Wilhelm descended the pulpit and returned to his seat. Once again, a breach of tradition in cheering at a funeral, and more than a few raised eyebrows and glances were traded, but no one knew what to say and so kept quiet.

The next few speeches were more along the lines of what people expected, short personal anecdotes from the minister, Oskar von Hindenburg, and several of President von Hindenburg’s closest friends. None of them received applause, and consequently it was Prince Wilhelm’s speech which people remembered most and which they would go home to tell their families and friends about. No burial was to be held in Berlin, despite the offer of a memorial in the military cemetery by President von Lettow-Vorbeck. The family had graciously declined, and in accordance with the man’s Last Will and Testament, his remains were to be transferred to Hannover, where they would be interred at his family plot. (1)

Upon getting into the car to drive home, Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck turned and gave her husband a shrewd look. “How long were you planning that, then?”

“Only a few days,” von Lettow-Vorbeck answered truthfully. “It felt like the opportune time to reintroduce Prince Wilhelm.”

Martha hmm’d. “Some might take it as a sign of disrespect,” she warned, “using a funeral to introduce political allies. Adenauer was positively spitting fire by the end of the prince’s speech.”

“I indeed felt him spitting something on the back of my neck, though I rather doubt that it was fire,” the man joked lightly. In the back seat, the two boys giggled.

Martha was not impressed. “Laugh all you want, but be careful with him,” she warned. “Adenauer is a political animal.”

“I know,” her husband replied, this time seriously. “I consider it a calculated risk. Adenauer is growing a bit too comfortable with the influence I have granted him. We share many beliefs, but there are points on which I will not waiver, and he must be brought to an understanding on that. He will be angry, but he cannot truly seek to oppose me over a private citizen speaking at a revered general’s funeral. It would make him seem paranoid. And the only significant threat who would back him in the Reichstag is the SPD, and siding with them over the matter would be political suicide.”

“You’ve really planned this out,” Martha noted in surprise.

“Of course, my dear. This job has forced me to evolve my way of thinking, but I am nothing if not adaptable. And in truth, people remain as they are, be they soldiers or politicians. And people are something I have great experience with.”

---

The question of the former German nobility had been an early and significant problem for the German Republic, given that the German Empire had possessed within it the largest collection of kings, princes, and dukes in all of Western Europe, including branches of foreign royal houses. Even following the abdication of the various rulers, the noble houses retained their control over wide swathes of land, virtual treasure troves of finances, and centuries of priceless art and cultural artefacts which many in the new German Republic felt should belong to the people, not to distant and now-deposed nobles.

During the early 1920’s, the overall policy of the Republican government had been to leave the matter of the nobles to their individual states, as the question of royal properties was more important to some than others. In Mecklenburg-Strelitz, one of the smallest Free States, the land claimed by the nobility was over half of the overall territory, while in larger states such as Prussia the amount was far more negligible. Despite the economic importance of those lands to their individual regions, in most cases attempts to claim the land by the state failed, usually owing to the predominantly Conservative and monarchist viewpoints of the judges who were to decide the constitutionality of such expropriations. This failure on a regional level frustrated many Left-wing politicians and, in 1926, the German Communist Party proposed a nation-wide referendum on seizing the property of all royal houses throughout the entirety of Germany. Following the economic downturn of the time and the general public debt, the Communists banked on public discontent working in their favour against the remains of the royalist establishment.

Pro-Expropriation Propaganda: “Not a penny for the princes! They have enough! Save the people 2 billion!”
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expropriation_of_the_Princes_in_the_Weimar_Republic)

Despite the Communists’ attempts, the referendum would fail, owing to additional hurdles added by President von Hindenburg as well as an extensive mobilisation by Conservative parties against the action, not to mention support from the Catholic Church which feared this being a precursor to the seizure of Church lands. With the referendum’s failure, the situation of the various royals—in particular the von Hohenzollern family, Germany’s rulers from 1871 until 1918—improved tremendously. With the majority of their wealth and major holdings retained, they would continue to claim the German and Prussian thrones and advocate for the restoration of the monarchy throughout the 1920’s, supported heavily by the landowning Junkers and various Conservative politicians such as von Hindenburg, with Prince Wilhelm von Hohenzollern even being considered as a presidential candidate for the 1932 election before von Lettow-Vorbeck emerged as the better option.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck was a monarchist through and through, and even before he had assumed the presidency he had been making plans with Kurt von Schleicher for how to best approach his goal of returning the Kaiser to his throne. Even after he became president, this path to this goal would not be a clear one; Kaiser Wilhelm II’s poor wartime leadership and flight to the Netherlands from the defeated Germany had not endeared many people to the institution of the monarchy, and for all that the Weimar Republic had its critics, those critics were split on the matter of a new Empire under a king or under a dictator. Thus, von Lettow-Vorbeck was forced to put these plans on hold until such a time that he could begin taking steps in that direction.

The first of these steps was the so-called August Crisis of 1934, triggered when Prince Wilhelm, the heir to the German throne, was brought into Berlin by von Schleicher to make a speech at President von Hindenburg’s funeral. This event itself was small, but would trigger a crisis of enormous impact in German history.

Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, despite his party’s tacit support for the monarchy, was a long-time opponent of it, seeing it as a threat to Germany’s attempts to integrate more heavily with the rest of Europe, as well as holding a deep personal distaste for the von Hohenzollerns. Though working semi-amiably with von Lettow-Vorbeck, the duo had often clashed over their ideological visions for Germany. Before August 7th, 1934, Adenauer had believed that von Lettow-Vorbeck’s Monarchism was a matter of character; now, he saw it for the threat it was and decided to take decisive action to cut it off at the knees. In a striking display of political subterfuge (the details of which would not be discovered until years later), Adenauer reached out to his long-time political rival, Otto Wels of the SPD, and urged him to take rapid and decisive action.

On August 10th, the SPD party newspaper Vorwärts released a blistering attack against President von Lettow-Vorbeck and Minister Kurt von Schleicher, accusing the both of them of “conspiring to overthrow the German Republic and restore the Kaiser”. Alongside photographs of the trio exiting the Berlin Cathedral were passages warning of Conservative-monarchist plans to invade France and trigger a second Great War. The claims might normally have ended there, but soon—ostensibly due to Adenauer’s influence, though evidence of this is largely circumstantial—this story would be picked up by several other major newspapers, though framed in more cautionary language. Questions on the wisdom of such open association with the monarchy would be broached, as well as fears that the Entente powers might intervene should Germany seem to be slipping back into “old habits”. Within a week, the objectively insignificant matter of an ex-noble’s speech had been blown into a nation-wide debate on the nature of Monarchism and Germany’s future as a Republic.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck sat at the centre of this storm and became the focal point of the controversy which emerged, given his well-known monarchist background and open reverence for the German Empire. While only the most Left-wing papers attacked his character directly, a roundabout approach was taken by the pro-Republican forces which openly questioned “anti-Republican powers” in the government, demanding that all civil servants “openly and fully commit to upholding the German Constitution”. There was clear rhetoric drawn from the 1926 Referendum which had failed to fully purge monarchist influences from Germany, something which infuriated von Lettow-Vorbeck and many within the Reichstag, but nothing could be done without appearing more Reactionary than he already did. Public support remained in his favour, but a wrong move at this point could cost him much of the influence he had amassed in the last few years.

---

The duo of Otto Wels and Fritz Selbmann faced down President von Lettow-Vorbeck and Minister Kurt von Schleicher without an ounce of fear in their eyes, only the burning, unyielding sort of resistance which typified the SPD coalition. The air in the room was tense, all four men sitting with their backs ramrod-straight as if prepared to enter physical combat.

Otto Wels had been a leader within the SPD since the birth of the German Republic in 1918 and had become the face of their movement in Germany as a whole. He was a clever man with a sharp tongue and an inflexible backbone; he had once succeeded in convincing even Kaiser Wilhelm II’s most loyal troops to not oppose the new Republic and had only gone up from there. He was a man for whom one could not help but hold a measure of respect, though his radical political ideas prevented men such as von Lettow-Vorbeck from gaining anything beyond this measure.

Otto Wels
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Wels#/media/File:Ottowelsportait.jpg)

Wels, as the most experienced politician present, did most of the talking. His voice was level, but firm. “We will not roll over and take this blatant trodding-upon of the German Constitution,” he warned the president.

“What do you mean?” Von Schleicher’s attempt to play innocent was ruined by his naturally-suspicious face. “A private citizen and close family friend spoke on behalf of said friend at a funeral, anything more is simply rumour peddled by subversives.”

“The same ‘subversives’ whom you hunted down in the streets like mad dogs?” Selbmann demanded, gripping the edge of the table and leaning forward. He bared his teeth as though in keeping with his metaphor. “You have crushed the people’s right to even be subversive! You and your pet monster, Göring.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s expression did not change at the verbal attack, cold eyes remaining locked on the man. Selbmann was a former member of the German Communist Party, surviving the purge initiated by von Lettow-Vorbeck and finding a new home in the SPD. A clever, slippery man by his own definition, his introduction to the upper echelons of power within the SPD had been near-guaranteed as a way to help assimilate the orphan Communists once their more prominent party leaders had been jailed or fled the country. Selbmann was clever, blisteringly so, able to worm his way out of the anti-Communist crackdown and rise to become a leader within the SPD in just a few years.

Fritz Selbmann
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fritz..._0000571_002_Fritz_Selbmann_am_Rednerpult.jpg)

Wels did not attempt to hold back his teammate, just sitting back and waiting until Selbmann had sent the air circulating before he said, “We are not the fools your propaganda paints us as, Herr Präsident. We see what you are trying to do; Germany will not become another Italy, slave to the fascist dog. Not while Prussia stands against you.”

President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s voice was low, almost a whisper as he said, “You are no Prussian.”

“Why?” Wels challenged. “Because I’m not a Conservative? Because I oppose the old order? You are as Prussian as I, yet I cannot imagine you willingly succumbing to the whims of a fluctuating monarch as in the days before Napoleon. Prussia was once the Conservative industrial heartland of old Europe; now, a century later, she is the democratic bastion of the Reich. I am Prussian because I believe in Prussia’s greatness and future, not through blind loyalty to her past.”

“Loyalty to Prussia should not come secondary to loyalty to the Reich,” said von Schleicher.

“Ironic, then, that your party is founded by the same men who pushed Prussia’s hegemony from 1871 until 1918,” Selbmann shot back, referencing Prussia’s eclipsing of the other federal states for the duration of the German Empire’s existence.

“Paul Löbe spoke of exporting Prussia’s so-called ‘successes’ to her neighbours. The SPD has long been an advocate of centralising; how is this so different from what Prussia has done?”

Wels shook his head. “Because you forget that Prussia is not Germany. A unified, centralised Germany is not one with Prussia’s boot on its neck, but one where Prussia is simply a part of a greater whole and these petty distinctions like ‘Bavarian’ or ‘Saxon’ become irrelevant. Should Germans not be loyal to Germany before their home regions? Recall how close we came to splintering in 1918?”

“You forget yourself,” von Lettow-Vorbeck hissed, leaning forward suddenly. “Good men fought the insurgencies. Died to defend our nation. Men like you two sat on the sidelines and watched.”

The two SPD representatives did not so much as flinch. “And once again the Reactionary lion rears his head,” Selbmann mocked.

“I served in the army. 1895 until 1897,” Wels corrected the president, meeting his gaze evenly. “Would it surprise you to learn that I left because of the treatment I faced for my politics, not from a lack of loyalty?”

Von Schleicher cut in before the situation dissolved. “What, precisely, do you desire from us?” he inquired, neatly folding his hands. “Reasonably,” he added a half-second later.

“The ban on the KPD must be lifted,” Selbmann demanded immediately. “It is a wholly undemocratic and unconstitutional encroachment on the rights of citizens.”

“We want you to hold a new federal election, a fair and legitimate one this time,” Wels chimed in. “This minority government you are running hedges dangerously close to a dictatorship.”

“You clearly lack crucial understanding of the concept if you believe that a dictator would allow you the leeway you already have,” the president dismissed. “Your demands are ludicrous and disproportional. What power do you have to enforce them?”

“We have the power of the people,” began Wels, but Selbmann cut in before he could finish.

“Germany needs Prussia. Prussia is the backbone of the Reich, the stabilising force holding it together. Germany needs Prussia, but Prussia doesn’t need Germany.”

The three other men stiffened at the implication. Von Lettow-Vorbeck jerked backwards as though he had been struck, though the other two gave Selbmann equally disbelieving looks. Wels recovered the quickest of the three, clearly favouring a united front approach by turning to the two opponents and nodding resolutely to communicate his agreement, extreme though he clearly found the threat.

On principle von Schleicher wanted to call troops into the room and see Selbmann thrown into a dark, cold cell on the Baltic Sea, but he forced himself to react rationally. The threat was genuine, he knew; extreme and nigh-unenforceable, but genuine. Secession. The last stage of a desperate and angry people. For a long time his goals had kept the threat of the Rhinelanders, the Bavarians, or the Silesians in the corner of his eye, but before now the notion of Prussia leaving Germany had never crossed his mind. It was ludicrous—unthinkable. As had been stated, Prussia was the backbone of Germany, its influence and territory woven through and around everyone and everything. Could there even be a Germany without Prussia? Von Schleicher did not know, and that uncertainty worried him deeply.
“You overestimate your influence,” said von Schleicher.

Wels barked out a laugh. “Are you truly so detached from the land you govern?” he asked, tone surprisingly bitter. “You attack political opponents, you unleash the Reichspolizei against peaceful protesters, you flagrantly oppose the norms and values of the Republic which so many fought for… are you so deaf to all but your own ego that you disregard the voices which oppose you? For there are many, I assure you.”

Von Schleicher glanced at von Lettow-Vorbeck. The president had not lost the stone-like expression, but in his eyes there was just the smallest hint of… what, exactly? Surely not uncertainty, but von Schleicher could find no better word. “I, too, have had the support of the people, lest you forget,” the president at last spoke up, voice carefully level, “and I will not let the people’s trust in me be pushed aside by the likes of you.”

“Then accept our deal,” Wels insisted. “Show the people that you are willing to compromise, to admit your own wrongs. Hold new elections and call a new election on the expropriation of royal properties—”

“No,” von Lettow-Vorbeck all but growled, holding up a hand. “That I will not do. I have already allowed your lot far greater leniency than my good sense and conscience find acceptable. Even more than your gall, I find the sheer hypocrisy of your demands appalling. You dare to criticise my so-called ‘attacks’ of political opponents while trying to blackmail me into doing the same towards those whose politics you dislike.” He shook his head, lip curling. “You disgust me. We are done here.”

Von Schleicher said nothing despite his personal reservations, waiting until the duo had departed—Wels silently, Selbmann with a lingering sneer—before he voiced his concerns to the president. “I am unsure if that idea was wise,” he began.

“Their concessions were excessive and they knew it. I am not the Reactionary dictator as which they wish to portray me. I have granted them many allowances in the Reichstag; too many, many have already said. They have no right to come to me and demand more.”

“They will use this to try and discredit your Republicanism.”

“When have I ever sought to portray myself as a friend to the Republic?” This was said in a somewhat joking manner, though von Lettow-Vorbeck continued quickly with, “My respect for the imperial family is easily-construed as a matter of wartime camaraderie, no?”

“I will have to speak with Göring on the matter, he has been dealing with much of the public backlash on the matter and has a more authentic view of public opinion. Regardless…” The Minister of Defence hesitated, his next words feeling traitorous. “It might be in your best interests to publicly diminish your loyalties to the Kaiserreich, at least for now.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not seem pleased at the proposition, but neither was he angry. “I will not denounce my principles,” he warned.

“No, nothing like that. A public statement of support for the German Republic and a denouncement of those who oppose liberty would suffice. Perhaps removing the imperial flag from circulation once more. The majority of papers have avoided targeting you with rumours and this would incite them to direct their focus elsewhere. It could even work to your advantage and let you turn it against some of your enemies.” He avoided naming names, as von Lettow-Vorbeck’s enemies were not necessarily von Schleicher’s.

“It could obstruct our future goals,” von Lettow-Vorbeck pointed out. “The seeds we have sown will come to naught if we cannot win the loyalty of the people. If we tip our hand too far in the direction of the Republic, it will become impossible to reverse.”

“I do not foresee that becoming a problem. You hold the loyalty of the military.”

“The military was loyal to the Empire and it fell despite this,” the old general again countered. “I do not wish to see a Germany where terror chokes the lives out of her people, but one where they can thrive under the protection of a powerful state. We are not fascists, after all. No.” He shook his head. “I will change nothing. Let them weave whatever rumours about me they like. The time for grand concessions is over. They will fall in line or they will be dealt with.”

Von Schleicher drummed his fingers against the table, considering the future. Their plans for Germany had been discussed at length and Prince Wilhelm was to play a crucial role in what was to come, both for their Fatherland and for Europe at large. The SPD was the biggest domestic obstacle towards their final goal: The restoration of the von Hohenzollern monarchy at the head of a reborn German Empire. If they were to succeed, their two biggest obstacles—the SPD within Germany and the Entente powers without—would have to be aligned or neutralised, and only then could this brittle, failed Republic fall and the German Reich be restored to its rightful place as the greatest of nations. Only time would tell if their efforts would bear fruit, or if von Lettow-Vorbeck’s reign would be seen as the last breath of a dying world order doomed to be erased.

---

(1) In contrast with real life, where Hitler built him a memorial at Tannenberg and buried him there in opposition to von Hindenburg’s will.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"So much of the blame for the conflicts of the 20th Century has been laid on nations like Germany, Italy, or France, holding one or all of these as solely responsible for the bloodshed and death which tore Europe apart. I argue instead that the failure of peace during this era was a collective fault of the institutions which existed to uphold that peace, and the selfish whims of kings and rulers whose petty squabbles came to undermine the very civilisations which they had sought to build.” - Christopher Lee, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Great Britain, 1981

Trust​

---

Despite the waning Summer period, the city of Geneva retained a certain warmth borrowed from the Mediterranean coast located not too far to its south. Lake Geneva was dotted with white sails of casual boaters and children could be seen swimming in the shallows near the edge of the city. It was a gorgeous day and the first one in a long time that journalist Aubrey Leo Kennedy had been able to actually enjoy.

Sipping a cup of tea on the terrace of his hotel, Kennedy watched the vibrant, multi-coloured city teem around him. Geneva was a city like no other, and one placed high up the list of places he’d love to move to upon retirement. His wife wasn’t so sure—she didn’t like France and found Geneva to be far too close, both in geography in culture—but he was positive that he could wear her down with a bit of work.

“Don’t you feel the same?” he asked his companion after voicing his views on the city. “A more stunning city I am pressed to find.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alexander Cadogan answered diplomatically, sipping his espresso. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the sun setting off the coast of Casablanca.”

Kennedy huffed, but it was a good-natured sound, accustomed to the diplomat’s way. “You rather take the fun out of it, you know?”

“Indeed.” Cadogan’s eyes twinkled with silent laughter as he finished off his drink and took a bit of the biscuit that accompanied it. “Though tell me, am I less enjoyable to be around than my fellow delegates?”

“Assuredly not,” the reporter quickly replied, nose wrinkling as he thought back to his recent meetings with the French and afterwards the German representative. “Though those Dutch are not half-bad. They have shown themselves to possess a level head unmatched by their larger neighbours.”

“The neturals have everything to gain from the talks,” Cadogan pointed out. “They benefit if their neighbours reduce their militaries and they profit if they go to war. The only thing that they can’t stomach is having to enter into equal discussions with their fellow nations.”

“We are here in Switzerland,” Kennedy reminded the man.

“And how well have the talks been going? I daresay that the notion of disarmament was dropped before it even began in earnest.”

On this Kennedy had to nod. The World Disarmament Conference began in 1932 as a long-overdue answer to the troubles which had been birthed before and during the Great War, namely increasing militarisation, the advancement of technologies, and the staggering loss of life caused by both of those. If there was one lesson which Europe had collectively been forced to come to terms with, it was the realisation that modern war could not be fought as it once had been done, and that the technologies which made their lives easier also made it far easier to strip those lives from them. The world could not go on as before, not if they had any hope of continuing on to the next century.

This was the idea, anyway. In practice, the issues were far more complicated, as while the victors of the Great War were the ones most interested in ensuring a perpetual preservation of the status quo through the enforcement of disarmament and peace, they were simultaneously the nations who most feared further losses from resurgent enemies. For France, the idea of vast military reduction was untenable without an extensive alliance system to restrain German aggression; for Germany, pacifism could not be considered until the border disputes in the East had been considered; for Eastern European nations like Poland or Romania, demilitarisation remained an impossibility as long as the threat of the Soviet Union remained on their borders.

It was a grand mess of a situation and it was therefore to no great surprise (at least for the likes of Kennedy and Cadogan) that the conference had relatively quickly transformed itself into a forum on current geopolitical topics and the best ways to handle zones of perceived “high-risk”, including, most prominently, Germany and France.

“The French have been making overtures to anyone who will listen,” Cadogan mentioned once the waiter had whisked away the dishes. “This is strictly off-the-record, of course, but Hugh Gibson, the American delegate, spoke with me privately just yesterday. The Americans are being aggressively courted by the French. It seems that the resurgent German economy has Paris in a tizzy and they have gone seeking friends with deep pockets. Gibson was quite concerned, you see, that the French might make promises to the Americans which they have already offered to us. That was not the case, but it was a realistic worry.”

“The French are seeking friends with deep pockets and they went for the Americans?”

“Economic pockets,” Cadogan clarified with a wave of his hand. “The French are too afraid of British industry invading their precious Metropole to risk London, and who else is there? The current government is far too cautious of Soviet influence to look East. Of course, the Americans are keeping to themselves mostly, so I don’t anticipate tremendous success.”

“There will always be new French governments. Frankly, I am astounded that they have retained the same delegate for the duration of the congress.”

“Left or Right, both sides agree on Germany being their greatest threat, so attempts to block renegotiations of the Versailles Treaty are acceptable to both.”

“Unusually single-minded of the French.” Both had enough English in their blood to smile at a joke made at France’s expense. “It doesn’t seem to have helped them in the end, though,” he added, leaning forward so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “I’ve seen the notes from the last session. Is it true that German rearmament is currently under negotiation?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cadogan replied cagily. It was not a no.

Kennedy pondered for a moment. As a soldier during the Great War and a journalist in its aftermath, he had been one of the few voices to decry the Treaty of Versailles as unequal and cruel, feeling that its enforcement would prove to destabilise Europe by pressing the Germans into a corner where their only solution to their claims was war. Though this opinion had been a minority one in 1920, the rise of Fascism in Italy and the threat of Communism from the Soviet Union, not to mention political instability in France and Spain, made many more convert to his viewpoint, Cadogan among them.

The Geneva Conference in which Cadogan was taking part had only cemented these views. Despite its nominal focus on lessening the militarisation and hostility of the world powers, it seemed to have only inflamed them. France refused to dismantle or reduce their defensive measures on the German border nor were they willing to sign off on a remilitarisation of the demilitarised German Rhineland, much less allow the Germans more than the 100,000 troops stipulated by the Treaty of Versailles. The prerequisite for even the possibility of negotiations on their end was the formation of multiple defensive alliances to contain Germany, something which Germany, understandably in Kennedy’s opinion, felt unfairly targeted by, especially when they had so far complied fully to the terms of the Treaty.

“How have the recent events affected the nature of the British government’s relationship to the other continental Great Powers?” Kennedy tried, slipping into reporter mode.

One of Cadogen’s eyebrows cocked. “Our relationships have remained thus far the same.”

“Let me rephrase. How has it affected the opinion of the continental Great Powers?”

Cadogan watched him for a moment. “Off the record?”

And oh, how badly Kennedy wished that he could publish whatever came out of the man’s mouth, but he knew better and nodded.

The diplomat seemed to consider his words deeply. “His Majesty’s Government finds itself… disappointed in the stance taken by its French allies, who seem to value the ambitions of their nation far more than the idea of European peace. They insist upon treating Germany as a dangerous and barbaric threat rather than as their equal—and, in the minds of some, superior. To this end they concentrate all of their focus on containment and forego the idea of détente which only a decade ago seemed near-inevitable.”

In his mind’s eye Kennedy could image the words splayed out across the front page of a newspaper and lamented the loss. “And Germany?”

“Berlin has shown herself to have fully committed to fulfilling her place in the grand European machine. It is undeniable that Britain’s empire keeps her focus divided, something which cannot be said for the Germans, and her leadership within the current order is natural, if not contentious. With over a decade of unmolested peace between Germany and her neighbours, the time has finally come to grant Germany the room needed to fulfil her role as a true Great Power.”

Kennedy eyed the man. “Does His Majesty’s Government share your view?”

“Oh indubitably.” Cadogan was quite visibly pleased as he said, “I spoke recently with Minister MacDonald and foreign secretary the Right Honourable Anthony Eden—you know him, yes? Yes, and we are all in agreement that the Versailles system has become unfit to govern the emerging European order. As long as Germany continues to prove herself willing to cooperate, we so no reason to not treat her as the Great Power she is.”

“Do others share your view?”

“Quite a few, in fact. The Dutch have been supportive of the idea, as one might expect. The Baltic minors, too, and the Finns—not hard to see why, I imagine. The American delegate I mentioned before, Hugh Gibson, even seemed open to negotiations, though of course you can’t take tremendous stock in an American’s views on European politics. Who else? Ah, the Romanians, though I suspect it to be the king’s view more than his Francophile people.”

“Even if you have the support, will you really chart a course that could alienate the French?”

Here Cadogan let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “The French are alienating themselves,” he declared, “and they are blinded by hubris if they believe that they can perpetually restrain Germany's growth with the force of a mere treaty. No, better to strike a deal while the power rests in our hands than to wait until German troops march on the Rhineland of their own accord.”

“I concur.” Kennedy’s hands twitched with the urge to begin typing this out and he let out a sigh of lamentation at the realisation that it would likely be weeks before anything he wrote would be allowed to see print.

“Cheer up, old boy,” Cadogan said with a smile, smoothing down his moustache with thumb and forefinger. “Things are about to get very interesting in European politics, and you will have more than enough to write about when the time comes."

If everything he said comes to pass, Kennedy thought to himself, interesting won’t be the half of it.

---

The World Disarmament Conference of 1932-1935 is sometimes mockingly called “A successful failure”, in that it not only failed to achieve global disarmament to any significant effect, but it is even considered today to have been a major stepping stone in the path towards the European disunity and eventual war in the coming years.

The movement towards global disarmament had begun in earnest following the Great War and the tremendous devastation and loss of life wrought from it, paved by a clause included in the Treaty of Versailles itself which called on the Great Powers to disarm, with this goal being an explicit component of the covenant of the League of Nations. It was, in theory, a noble and powerful goal; in practice, however, the rest of the Treaty of Versailles made the idea of such perpetual peace impossible, with noble principles like self-determination coming into conflict with the desire to punish and weaken Germany and her allies. It was all but impossible for the post-Versailles world to remain set in stone, with border disputes, ethnic dilemmas, and oppressive governments building friction to an eventual breaking point. As such, it was unsurprising to delegates when, by the middle of 1933, the focus of the conference had wholly diverged from disarmament and onto the topic of German rearmament.

By the early 1930’s, many in Britain, including Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan and Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald, had grown to criticise the measures placed upon Germany and were increasingly advocating for negotiations to take place regarding rearmament and the matter of German claims. Such propositions were wholly supported by the government of von Lettow-Vorbeck, himself a proponent of strong Anglo-German relations, but staunchly opposed by that of France. To the French, Germany represented a permanent existential threat to their mere existence, the sort of threat which even Britain, separated as it was by the English Channel, had never posed.

During the 1920’s France’s position had been the dominant one, supported as it was by many of the other nations who feared German influence, including past victims of German aggression, such as Belgium and Poland, as well as those with large German populations, including the Baltic states and Czechoslovakia. However, by 1933, this fear had shifted. Nations in Central and Eastern Europe now turned their frightened gazes to the Soviet Union, increasingly powerful with claims on some of their lands, or to their own internal economic and political strife which threatened to erupt. The Great Depression had put the importance of the German industrial backbone in perspective and, with the German economy flourishing once more, support for German rearmament became a bartering chip towards economic investment.

In July 1933, the Kingdom of Denmark approached Germany with a proposal for an economic agreement in exchange for lending their voice to the German movement towards rearmament. This treaty would grant German investors in Denmark greater financial autonomy and freedom, in exchange for Berlin recognising preferential purchasing rates on Danish products for a period of ten years. Though a more minor voice in the grand scheme of politics, Denmark’s proposal was backed by the fact that, for a period of three years beginning in 1933, they would hold one of the 10 non-permanent member seats on the League of Nations Council, one of the lead deciding bodies in the decisions to be made about Germany.

Denmark’s choice to offer their support to Germany came as a shock to many, as the yet-unrecognised Dano-German border (the northern half of the Prussian state of Schleswig being ceded to Denmark in accordance with the Treaty of Versailles, despite Danish neutrality in the Great War) had been viewed as a serious roadblock to future cooperation between the two. What drove the Danes to pursue closer ties with Germany was, as for many others, the effects of the Great Depression. While the Scandinavian countries of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway were able to ride out the effects of the Depression with relative stability, it nevertheless had a significant effect on their trade with other nations. For Denmark, their close trade with Britain had suffered a serious blow when, in 1932, Britain established the Imperial Preference system, cutting trade from nations outside of their empire and cutting tariffs for those within it. The Danish economy had survived this blow, but the effects were substantial, and alternatives were quickly sought out.

Territorial and linguistic split of Schleswig, 1920. Pink represents the German-speakers, Blue the Danish-speakers; the post-Versailles border appears in black.
(https://de.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Abstimmung-schleswig-1920.png)

The deal would be accepted by the government in Berlin within the span of days, the only point of alteration being the exact size of the decreased tariffs. This rapid agreement further compounded the surprise felt by onlookers and the next few months would see several other nations mimic the Danish approach, though each would be different and not all would be economic. Alongside Denmark, the nations of Albania, Greece, and Romania would receive limited economic investment, and over the next several years German-owned factories would become a common sight in cities like Tirana, Thessaloniki, and Brasov.

Finland and Bulgaria were two other nations to approach Germany for aid, though in both cases their goals were more military-based than economic. Finland had long been concerned of possible attempts by Stalin to expand the Soviet Union’s control into the lands of the fallen Russian Empire, of which Finland had been a component, and expressed interest in German help developing counter-measures in the case of a Soviet incursion. This provided the Finns with valuable military training from Europe’s most experienced leaders, while Germany in turn gained the chance to test out many of their tactics in a region geographically similar to the terrain they would be fighting on in the Soviet Union. For Bulgaria, the benefits reaped by Germany were fewer, but exceptional Bulgarian performance in the Great War and a shared ideological opposition to Communism lent the Balkan nation the sympathy it needed to earn a German military mission of its own.

All of this is to say that Germany did not simply sit idle while its delegates defended its right to rearm in Geneva, and it is this proactive approach which is credited today as the basis for the victory which the German delegation achieved in 1935. In contrast, the French, as much in their ideology as in their military planning, remained on the defensive, using their perceived moral superiority (defending Europe from its former threat) and the weight of their own international influence to try and guide the Conference towards rejection of German desires. This is not to accuse the French of incompetence; rather, they had simply failed to adapt to the new realities of the situation and the opponent they were facing, hindered as they were by preconcieved notions and distracted by the turmoil within the borders of their own nation.

It was at the end of 1934 when the discussions finally reached their peak, triggered by the upcoming 1935 plebiscite to be held in the League-controlled Saar Basin Territory. From 1920, Prussia’s South-Westernmost region (along with a small piece of Bavaria) had been removed from the control of Berlin and had been established as a League of Nations protectorate under the watch of France and Britain, similar to Danzig’s role under Poland. Like Poland with Danzig, France desired the direct annexation of the region, and like in Danzig, this had been against the wishes of the people living there. The Saar Basin Territory had been a compromise; independence for fifteen years followed by a vote. Three choices had been laid out beforehand for the people of the Saar: Rejoining Germany, continuing on as an international zone under French protection, or formally joining the French Republic.

Territory of the Saar Basin alongside Germany
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terri...ia/File:Lage_Deutsches_Reich_-_Saargebiet.png)

France had sought to resolve the question of the German military long before the day of the referendum, as, should the territory be returned to Germany—as many predicted based on numerous surveys—it would further lengthen the Franco-German border and add an unneeded boost to Germany's industrial capacity with its rich coal mines. France had in fact attempted to hold the plebiscite back as a bargaining chip to be used against Germany, threatening to oppose German annexation of the region without guarantees of certain borders and military sizes, but this backfired on Paris quite spectacularly when it was used to portray them as opponents of the democratic right to self-determination.

On December 13th, exactly one month before the referendum was to take place, British Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald responded to French requests to indefinitely extend the lifespan of the Saar Protectorate by saying, “Nothing less than an overwhelming French majority will convince me that the Germans of the Saar want anything other than to be German. Your government’s continued refusal to recognise the democratic principles in which you pride yourselves makes me wish that we had done the same in Alsace!”

On January 13th, 1935, the Saar Referendum took place to determine the fate of the Saar Basin Territory. For obvious reasons, the two biggest regional powers had pre-existing biases towards the results of this referendum, and to that end the League of Nations had established a neutral peacekeeping force to prevent tampering during the referendum.

Suspicion of tampering was far from mere paranoia. Indeed, both sides had worked hard throughout the years leading up to the referendum to skew opinion in their favour. On the French side, census reports were forged to depict the region as possessing an enormous French-speaking minority, while the Germans (under Hermann Göring and his VoSiSt) infiltrated newspapers and warned of French-led population expulsions were they to take over the region. It remains unknown to what effect either side was really able to influence the plebiscite, and it is often joked by inhabitants of the Saar that the duo largely cancelled each other out. In the end, however, German hopes and French fears were realised, and with 93% of Saar occupants in favour, the region was re-annexed back into the Reich.

President von Lettow-Vorbeck sensed the opportunity when it arose and struck, appearing personally before the delegates to make a case for Germany’s future himself.

---

“Honoured gentlemen,” the German President spoke, voice echoing through the large room. He had been allowed onto the speaker’s stage and from there he could see the dozens of countries represented splayed out in every direction, all watching him with indifferent, curious, or hostile eyes. This was an important moment, he knew, and what he said here would have a profound impact on Germany’s future, so he made sure to speak each word carefully, grateful to have had the last few weeks to refine his French with his wife. “I stand here before the greatest collection of intelligence, ingenuity, and patience that I have ever seen. Here today I see the men who represent their nations in the most noble of goals: The pursuit of a true everlasting peace.

“I am a general, as many of you will already know. A soldier. I have travelled much of the world and I have seen the horrors of war in ways that few others can imagine. I know war. I know its horrors and its tragedies, as does my nation. Like many of yours, my nation fought in the Great War. We lost our fathers, sons, and brothers. We lost, in the end, but we have learned from it. We have grown and evolved as a people. Now we seek to rejoin our brothers across Europe, to be looked at as equals and friends, not to be isolated and hated for the threat of what we might do. For have we not shown our commitment to peace? We have accepted our restrictions with grace and have made no attempts to resolve the matter of our claims in Europe. We have respected the sovereignty of the League Territories, we have honoured our military restrictions, and have now peacefully regained territory through the will of the people living there. What more is there?”

From the side of the room with the French and Polish delegations came some irritated sounds and voices, no doubt related to his… stretching of the truth in regards to the military. Von Lettow-Vorbeck shot them a look out of the corner of his eyes, repressing a smile when they were quickly silenced by the stares it brought down on them.
“Peace is a choice. The most difficult of choices. The German people have not had the chance to make that choice, for it was taken from us when our nation was dragged into war. I do not see peace as a removal of all armies, for what is an army but an expression of a nation’s fitness, like in the human body? No—the truth to peace is trust. Trust in oneself and one's neighbours to not take advantage of its weakness. The League of Nations was the first step towards a collective trust, one which Germany was initially not privy to. Now we sit upon its Council. We earned your trust once—it is time to allow us to do so again.”

---

The French were positively livid. In the span of just under a month, Germany had not only regained an extremely valuable bit of territory which France had sought to annex, but it had successfully convinced, bought, and manipulated the other powers of the League of Nations into allowing a revision of the Treaty of Versailles. Even Italy, whom France had hoped to join their side, had come to support the Germans, using the chance to push their agenda for a Four-Power-Pact granting the European Great Powers of Britain, Germany, France, and Italy preeminence among their neighbours to improve Italian prestige and try to acquire their claims in the Balkans and Africa.

The proposed resolution consisted of three components targeting three different facets of the military restrictions on Germany. The first and most important was that the troop count, formerly capped at 100,000, had now been raised to 400,000—four times the amount agreed upon in the Treaty of Versailles and more than half of the amount of the Imperial Army prior to the Great War—for a duration of eight years, at which point the limitation would end completely. Following this, the restrictions on the German war colleges had been lifted, allowing for Berlin’s famous war college to reopen. Lastly, and of the greatest concern to the French, was the matter of the Rhineland, where German demilitarisation was to be lifted after a period of two more years, granting German troops access to “their own backyard”, in the words of one delegate.

The French attempted to withhold their allowance, citing the necessity of unanimity in all votes, but this was smoothly countered by the German delegation with the trump card of the demilitarised Rhineland bordering France; should the French grant Germany their vote, the region would retain its demilitarised status as a gesture of peace; should the French oppose them, the Rhineland would be re-militarised the moment the restriction lifted. Given their position trapped between two horrible decisions, the French caved and allowed the vote to pass, recognising that they had been outplayed and that continued resistance would only hurt their own place in the international stage.

Very little in the name of disarmament was accomplished at the World Disarmament Conference, but Germany came out of it in a far better position than they had entered. Full rearmament had been prevented, it was true, but the 100,000 limit under which they had strained so far had not prevented the Reichspolizei, and the same would undoubtedly be true for a restored army. 400,000 was enough to stave off the risk of invasion that had lurked over their heads and while the Rhineland remained off-limits to their troops, none doubted that such a situation would not last for long.

President von Lettow-Vorbeck and his administration reaped the rewards of these successes, heralded as “Retter der deutschen Ehre” (Saviour of German Honour) and more than offsetting what little backlash he had received for his affiliation with Crown Prince Wilhelm. If there had been any doubt as to the military following him, it was now thoroughly snuffed out. The president announced an immediate military expansion to take advantage of the alleviation of the restrictions, though he was quick to caution that economic concerns made the 400,000 threshold a goal of the next few years rather than the next few months. A large shift would follow wherein the best and brightest of the Reichspolizei would be moved over to the army, jump-starting the rearmament which the German people had so long awaited.

Scarcely had the ink dried on the paper than the French were warning all that “They would regret this when German boots crossed their borders!”, several delegates going so far as to storm out of the conference altogether. They decried it as a slap in the face to the brave soldiers who had died to protect their homelands, and countered the Germans with an expansion of their own army by an extra 100,000 men and laying down plans to extend the Maginot Line northwards along the Belgian border. The Belgians protested this action, fearing being sacrificed to German ambitions in the event of the next war, but this went ignored by the French government.

“If France is to stand,” Prime Minister Pierre-Étienne Flandin said in an interview with a French newspaper, “then I fear she is to stand alone.”

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

“There is no more ridiculous concept in the history of world politics than the notion of pacifism, for pacifism is one of those rare inventions which is solely human. Animals do not comprehend pacifism; they consume and destroy as is necessary for survival, be it flora or fauna, and know none of the artificial guilt with which humanity is taught to wrack itself. In this way, I argue, war is the universal test; it is the rock against which we beat our fists, testing our resolve, and either our resolve breaks, or the enemy does.” - Excerpt from “The War in the East”, Werner von Blomberg, 1947

Dangerous Games​

---

It was a disgustingly wet June day in Banja, a small town (if it could even be called that) north of the city of Plovdiv in central Bulgaria. The conditions were horrible, almost brutal, with the unfortunate combination of rain pouring down from the nearby mountains merging with soggy, unstable earth churned up by farmers and now sucking in the boots of every soldier tramping through it like a voracious animal. Makeshift trenches had been dug at intervals and off to the side were several officers in uniforms, screaming directions through the biting wind while large tanks tried to force their way through the muck.

A quarter of a kilometre away, protected by a commandeered barn on a hill, a small crowd of men watched the military exercises play out. A large square table was laid out with a map of the area, and every few minutes an aide would shift one of the figures to match the ongoing events. Farther back from the table, beside the door and watching the men below, stood two men engaged in conversation. On the left was the handsome figure of Tsar Boris of Bulgaria, recognisable by his mostly-bald head and moustache, and to his right, dressed in a German military uniform, was General Erich von Manstein, German attaché to Bulgaria for the duration of their cooperation.

Erich von Manstein
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erich_von_Manstein)

Tsar Boris III of Bulgaria
(https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/t...ulgaria.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20171008015551)

“Notice the tank’s unwieldiness in the rain,” Boris was pointing out, watching the tank try and fail to react quickly as its sides were pelted with bullets. “Such a mechanism would be wholly impractical in the Eastern marshlands, not even touching upon mountainous terrain such as Romania.”

“Not in the midst of things, no,” von Manstein countered thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with one gloved hand, “but perhaps from a distance as support?”

“Bah!” Boris shook his head. His German was flawless, no doubt instilled in him by his family—originally of German stock—as a child. “Why not artillery, in that case? I can see the appeal in the open plains or cities, but these devices are no replacement for men on the ground!”

Von Manstein remained unconvinced. As they watched, the tank at last aligned itself towards its target and took off at a trundling speed. Its path continued on until it struck the trench, where, though first seeming to ride directly over the gap, it soon succumbed to the weak walls and sunk into the ground, coming to a halt. “Perhaps,” the German murmured, “we simply need a new approach.”

“Yes, well, let me know when you have found that,” Tsar Boris said with a smile, patting the other man on the shoulder. A glance behind the duo and he said, “It looks like our lunch is here. We should eat before it grows cold.”

The two men crossed to the grouping of armchairs brought in by the staff and a moment later a pair of plates were presented to them. Von Manstein politely held back his instinctive frown when he saw the clear evidence of food having been removed from his dish; he understood and empathised with the Tsar’s paranoia after what he had experienced recently and the annoyance of having his own food taste-tested before he could take a bite was a small inconvenience.

Only last year, Bulgaria’s democratic government had been the victim of a coup by the Zveno military organisation which, with the help of the army, had toppled the parliamentary system and turned the Tsar into little more than a puppet under a dictator. It had taken nearly a year before Boris had enlisted one of the Zveno’s own to launch his own counter-coup and return power to his own hands. He allowed the people their voice, but he kept a far firmer hold on the reigns than he had prior to 1935. An unfortunate consequence of this was a need for increased security.

The two ate in silence and von Manstein pondered this latest round of military exercises. They were learning a great deal from all this, it could not be denied, yet he could not shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. The Treaty of Versailles had cost Germany years of technological and military planning, an advantage which their enemies could very well make use of. Who knew what sort of dastardly inventions the Soviets were cooking up? Surely, the Communists understood nothing of fair and honourable combat.

The German military mission to Bulgaria had been the brainchild of von Manstein himself, one which the Minister of Defense had been eager to see through once he learned of it. It was an open secret that, in the 1920’s, the German government had partnered with the Soviets to test new military inventions and tactics where the eyes of the French and British could not spot them. Such measures had been necessary, von Manstein had and still felt, but times had changed; Germany was no longer the international pariah she had been and the Soviets were an increasingly-impossible option if Berlin truly sought alignment with her old foes.

Both Germany and Bulgaria had a lot to gain from cooperation. Both nations had seen their militaries heavily restricted following their defeat in the Great War and both had had territories ripped away which they were eager to reacquire. Compared to Bulgaria, Germany was in a relatively enviable position; Bulgaria was surrounded on all sides by suspicious eyes and any attempts to overturn the post-war status quo would be quickly and viciously suppressed. Bulgaria needed friends quite desperately, and Germany was more than willing to help them subvert their own unfair treaty.

Half of the men fighting in German uniforms down the hill were Bulgarians. Were any uncomfortable questions to be raised, all evidence would point to German military exercises in Bulgaria, nothing more. And that was not forbidden—not anymore, at least.

Once Tsar Boris finished off his meal, he turned to a chatty mood, as he often did. Von Manstein took this as his cue to light a cigarette and sit back.

“There are refugees in Bulgaria, did you know?” the Tsar spoke, seemingly almost to himself with how he gazed off into the distance. “Bulgarians fleeing from Yugoslavia. From Macedonia, their homeland, out of fear of the dreaded Serbs.” He glanced over. “Much like the Germans of the East, I hear.”

Von Manstein raised an eyebrow but did not comment. He had not heard of any expulsions or mass exoduses of Germans from Poland or one of the other regions with a large German population. Quite likely something the Tsar was speaking of the post-war relocation of the German minority in Posen.

“Bulgaria was nearly the queen of the Balkans,” Boris continued wistfully. At some point one of his servants had procured for him a glass of something strong-smelling, probably vodka, and he always got nostalgic with alcohol. “The ruler of the three seas…”

“Perhaps Bulgaria could have brought some stability to the region,” von Manstein mused. Despite his respect for the Balkan peoples as fellow Europeans, he found the region… frustrating. There was potential there, it was undeniable, but petty squabbles over this or that patch of worthless farmland had exhausted much of what the region could have been. It lacked a backbone, a leader, like Prussia had been to the disparate German states, or England to the British Isles.

Boris did not hear and launched into a tangent about the Greeks and Thrace, his favourite topic after Macedonia. At an earlier point in his mission here, von Manstein would have stayed to politely nod along, but it had been nearly a month and he had already learned that such rants were for no one but the Tsar’s ear. He rose, crossing back to the open doorway where he tossed the cigarette butt out into the rain. The downpour had grown even more heavy and the distant movements had become all but invisible. Much more and they’d have to cancel for the day or risk their droops drowning in the trenches, a horrifying, if accurate, bit of realism from the Great War.

The lumbering mass of the tank sank deeper into the mud and the men scrambled out of the top of it, yelling at each other if the gestures were to be understood. Yes, von Manstein thought to himself, the tank had potential, even if many of the old-school types did not see or understand it. Just like how Napoleon had revolutionised warfare with his speed and artillery, so too could Germany shake the foundations of modern combat with the introduction of such technological terrors… now, if only he could figure out how to convince the higher-ups…

---

The back-to-back changes to the European political theatre brought about in early 1935 had a profound impact on the complex web of relationships between the various nations of Europe. Germany’s resurgence as an equal Great Power, previously only anticipated as an event which would come to pass at some undefined point in the future, dramatically tipped the balance of power away from the dominant forces of the past decade-and-a-half. Whereas French- and British-aligned policies had been the European standard during the 1920’s, now it was Germany into whose sphere nations began to be drawn.

Included within thoughts and fears on German resurgence was the matter of the imperial German lands now residing within the borders of other nations. Until this point, many nations occupying formerly-German lands, such as Lithuania and Czechoslovakia, had rested their hopes on the notion of British and especially French intervention in the event of German moves towards retaking their old territory. 1935 proved to be a rude awakening, and with Anglo-German relations warming and France further retreating behind their fortifications, it became clear that the system in which they had trusted had all but ceased to exist.

For the Kingdom of Belgium, situated at the precarious crossroads of the Franco-German border, this shift was an uncomfortable and unwelcome one. Belgium was a nation roughly a century old, split from the Kingdom of the Netherlands in the early 1830's and in time growing to become a formidable Secondary Power with its acquisition of the Belgian Congo, one of the largest African colonies. Made rich from its industry and resource extraction both domestically and abroad, the kingdom was not without its problems, the largest of which being the two constituent peoples comprising it.

Ethnic map of Belgium
(https://www.researchgate.net/figure/Map-of-Belgium-with-the-linguistic-regions_fig1_252068201)

To the North sat Flanders, occupied by the Flemish, a Dutch-speaking people, and to the South the Wallonians in Wallonia, French-speakers. The two had been initially united in their distaste for the Protestant Dutch (given Belgium's Catholic majority) and had seceded together, with the disagreements only arising in the decades after. Wallonia was historically richer and more industrialised than Flanders, benefiting from both the rivers running mainly through its borders as well as close trade with neighbouring France, and it was the dominant aspect of Wallonia which had led to the capital, Brussels, keeping its Francophone nature despite the surrounding Flemish-speaking regions.

The Great War had thrown a wrench into this harmony when the German Empire invaded France through Belgium, breaching its neutrality and turning it into a battleground between the largest empires on the planet. The German occupation had been a time of great suffering for the Belgian people, the indignities suffered coining the phrase “The Rape of Belgium” to describe the occupation between 1914 and 1918. During the occupation, the German Empire overwhelmingly favoured the Flemish for positions within the regime, hoping to establish a Flemish-speaking client state to reduce French influence in the Lowlands, and dismantling much of the Wallonian heavy industry, shrinking the divide between the two regions, while at the same time Flemish soldiers fighting for Belgian freedom felt undervalued by Francophone generals. These four years awoke a flame of Flemish nationalism, one whose heat could not be so easily snuffed out once the war had drawn to a close.

Following Germany’s defeat, the question of the collaborationists became a bone of contention between the Flemish and the central government which would eventually give rise to several parties of varying stages of radicalism supporting everything from Flemish autonomy within Belgium to secession from Belgium and union with the Kingdom of the Netherlands to the North. Not helping the already-tumultuous internal strife was the Belgian region of Eupen-Malmedy on the German border, annexed from the Prussian Rhineland in 1920 but retaining an overwhelmingly German character, another dubiously-loyal group within the Belgian melting pot.

The fight to balance the influence of the adjacent powers and their linguistic siblings had been one fought by every monarch since Belgium’s first, and the young King Leopold III was no exception. The Great Depression had taken its toll on his nation and, though they had mostly recovered, he was deeply conscious of their vulnerable position both militarily and economically. Since even before Napoleon, France had eyed their valuable lands as a place for expansion, and despite their close ties in the last war, there remained a sizable population within both Wallonia and France which called for the former’s secession and absorption into the latter, just as many Flemish and Dutch did. The economic turmoil had not aided this, and King Leopold feared that the next conflict, regardless of the winner, would be one that a unified Belgium would not survive.

It was thus with no small amount of trepidation that, following the various economic concessions gained for other smaller European states in exchange for their support of Germany, the Belgian Parliament opened talks on investment with Berlin. The outreach had been intentionally delayed by Wallonian diplomats until the Disarmament Conference had reached its end, but that had not deterred the interested parties, and two weeks after the Geneva delegates had returned home, a request was wired to Germany, requesting the opening of talks on the idea of investment in Belgium.

What they got in return was a simple demand, its contents brief.

---

Prime Minister Georges Theunis sat alongside King Leopold III of Belgium, cigars in both mens’ hands, a heavy silence filling the room as they considered the proposal which had been brought to them that morning. It was one which had not been entirely unexpected, but its arrival was nevertheless a surprise. A flat trade, a purchase offer: Two million German Marks and the promise of future investment in exchange for the return of the Eupen-Malmedy territory.

On paper the offer was laughable. Two million Marks did not hold a candle to the amount owed in accordance with the Treaty of Versailles. Yet it had become apparent during the Lausanne Conference in 1932 that these payments would not be coming, and because of that the Belgians were put in somewhat of a quandary. Eupen-Malmedy, though worth little, was a prize showcasing their victory over the treacherous Germans who had invaded and raped their neutral nation. To hand it back in exchange for wealth which the Belgians were owed anyway… it would be a slight to their honour. But would it be a worse slight to their honour than refusing the economic aid which the money could bring? It was not just money, either; Germany had promised them a deal as lucrative as that gained by the Danes, with Belgian resources from the Congo gaining first preference, an invaluable bargain when the other major powers had their own empires from whence to draw such goods.

During 1925 and 1926, talks had been underway to cede the two provinces to Germany in exchange for German recognition and repayment of debts tied to the currency used during the occupation of Belgium and which had remained in circulation. These talks had fallen through due to a variety of factors but it seemed that the Germans had not forgotten.

"What is your… instinctive, initial reaction?" King Leopold queried, turning to his Prime Minister.

Theunis allowed himself a drag of the cigar to formulate his response. "Give it to them," he admitted.

Leopold's brow drew together in confusion and frustration. "To the Germans? After what they did to us?" Leopold's distaste for the Germans was not as potent as his father’s, but nevertheless he had no great love for the steel-helmeted men of the Rhine.

"Us owning Eupen and Malmedy benefits us as little as it hurts Germany, and that is assuming we do not one day end up being pressured into giving it back to them outright or forced to hand it over in a war. We might as well take advantage of the offer and extract some worth from it. Learn from the French’s mistakes. Perhaps we can even coerce them to grant us more."

"You don't trust that the British will back us once more? The French?"

"The French are hiding beyond their precious Maginot Line and will leave us to die before taking one step into Germany. The British may protect us, but tell me, who will get here first, the Germans or the British? We may survive it, we may even come out of it an independent nation, but how much of Belgium will be left after the next round?"

King Leopold dipped his head in reluctant agreement. He had only been king for a year and the decisions weighed heavily on him, each one feeling as though it might be his last. "You make a good point. Regardless, I do not like the notion of endorsing German claims."

"I concur. But Germany has not been overtly aggressive, even with von Lettow-Vorbeck in control. The man fought with honour against our troops and he is not disliked in London. Look upon his success in Geneva. He seeks to redefine the current balance of power, and soon there will be little that any of us can do to stop him."

"You believe that the United Kingdom would ally with them?"

"Nothing so extreme, but perhaps support them as a counterbalance against the Soviets and Italy, depending on which direction they orient themselves. France has already proven unequal to the task, after all."

Leopold seemed to mull this over for several minutes, waiting until the cigar had burned down. "I fear the direction the world is going in," he said at long last. "It feels as though a great turmoil is on the horizon. A second Great War, greater than the last."

Theunis shuddered. "I can scarcely imagine such a thing."

Leopold gazed out the window. "Neither can I. And that is what scares me most."

---

“I will colour myself reluctantly impressed,” Chancellor Adenauer said in his usual dry way, considering the image laid out for him. “It would be quite the fait accompli. How did you come up with it?”

“You have my wife to thank for the idea, as a matter of fact,” President von Lettow-Vorbeck clarified, not lifting his eyes from the map, the region of the former Saar territory highlighted in bright red ink.

Adenauer hmmed. “It will anger the Socialists greatly, but the Prussian nationalists, too,” he pointed out, eyeing the man. Von Lettow-Vorbeck had not learned of Adenauer’s brief alliance with the Socialists to curb any attempts to restore Prince Wilhelm to the German throne and it was not likely that he would, but Adenauer would be keeping an eye out regardless. Thus far no more had been said on the topic of the royals, and Prince Wilhelm had retreated once more from the public eye, but the Chancellor was not so stupid as to believe that von Lettow-Vorbeck or his cronies had dropped the idea.

Despite this disagreement, Adenauer remained positive about their ability to work together on domestic matters. He was no Pacifist; the remilitarisation achieved by Germany was a cause worthy of celebration and he already looked forward to the day when the last dregs of Versailles were torn away. And while he and the president would never see eye-to-eye on certain core issues, he appreciated the honourable man hidden beneath feldgrau. For one, his commitment to fulfilling his promise to the Rhenish people.

The map laid out before them depicted Germany, though their focus remained on the Rhineland stretching from the Dutch border down to Alsace and Baden. Since long before Germany existed, the Rhineland had been split between various princes and bishops. Now was the closest that the region had come to unification, there were only a few barriers stopping them. The majority of the Rhineland was held by the Free State of Prussia, whose Minister-President Braun had made it clear would not be allowed to split off and form a Free Rhenish State as desired by its residents. While this was a hindrance, it was not the end of the story, for Prussia only controlled the bulk of the Rhineland. A large section was held by the Free State of Bavaria, another smaller sliver by the Free State of Oldenburg, and now, the Saar Territory, currently held in limbo until it was fully integrated. The re-connection of certain roads and railways, the abolishment of border crossings, and the conversion of their currency (as the region’s currency had been pegged to the French Franc) to the German Mark. All of these were necessary steps, but the slow and methodical process of undergoing them worked well as a smokescreen masking the Chancellor and President’s plans for the region.

German Rhineland, March 1935
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rheinlandbesetzung_(1936)#/media/Datei:Occupation_of_the_Rhineland.png)

“Now that the Minister-President of Bavaria has given his assent to the process, the Minister-President of Oldenburg has seen reason and given in as well,” Adenauer said.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck rubbed his face, the gesture communicating clearly his exhaustion with the aforementioned Bavarian Minister-President and the list of demands he had laid out before agreeing to theirs. If they were to go forward with their motion against the SPD, Bavaria’s acquiescence was critical, as without them this whole thing would fall apart or, worse, risk flipping the Bavarian voting bloc against the national government.

What the SPD’s threats towards the unity of Germany had done was convince von Lettow-Vorbeck of the necessity of not only defeating the SPD electorally, but in the hearts and minds of the German people. Even with the successes achieved under his leadership, an enormous portion of the German population continued to profess loyalty to the Left and their parties, and in order to drive them from the Reichstag, first he would have to turn the people themselves against Wels, Braun, and all those who opposed the Conservative order he wished to establish.

In this Adenauer was in agreement, and the two had re-entered a state of cool cooperation in February, 1935 in order to move forward with von Lettow-Vorbeck’s plan to use the annexation of the Saar Territory as a weapon against the SPD. Prior to its occupation by the League of Nations in 1920, the Saar region had been (excluding a small Bavarian component) part of the Kingdom of Prussia, and Minister-President Braun had already made it clear to the press that he expected to see the region reintegrated into the Prussian Rhineland.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck had no intention of doing so. The inability to fulfil his promise to the Rhenish people and see a Rhineland state created was a black mark on his record, one which his wife had provided a brilliant solution for. After all, nothing offered the opportunity for administrative reform like territorial expansion. If the Bavarians and Oldenburgers could be convinced to cede their territory in the Rhineland, the three could be unified into a Free Rhenish State, forcing Prussia into the corner as they either refuted their people’s desire for representation—damaging their democratic image—or agreed and lost the immense population and industrial might of the Rhineland.

A further step in this direction came with the president’s offer to the Belgians of a trade deal in exchange for solving the Eupen-Malmedy dispute. If it were to be accepted, the two regions could be even more territory towards the Free Rhenish State and an added bit of pressure placed upon Braun’s neck.

That was not to say that Adenauer himself was terribly pleased with the push towards purchasing the region from Belgium, as in his view it was yet another example of von Lettow-Vorbeck carelessly disregarding precedent—namely, consulting the Reichstag before agreeing to such a large transfer of funds—to achieve his own personal goals, but after much deliberation and a brief conversation with his party leader and parish priest, Ludwig Kaas, he had come around to the idea. What difference could such a small act make in contrast to the boons for the Rhenish people and stronger German ties to the West? To calm what little worries he’d had, he broached the subject of the possible purchase with the British Ambassador and had been surprised to see his concerns waved off.

“If the Germans and the Belgians have reached a friendly deal on the matter of that little sliver of territory, I say all the better!” Ambassador Phipps commented. “His Majesty’s Government has no qualms with the heads of two sovereign states solving a border dispute through diplomacy, and I myself admire the character of the thing to grant the Belgians what they are owed from the last war. No small thing, indeed!”

And, in truth, a small thing was just what it was. Eupen and Malmedy held no great worth and Belgium seemed quite happy to be rid of it. That was not to say that the Belgian people as a whole had forgiven the Germans for their actions in the war, nor were many in their government especially happy with increased trade with Berlin, only the immediate financial gains keeping the disquiet to a minimum.

In fact, it was the other involved German states who seemed to have the greatest issue with Adenauer and von Lettow-Vorbeck’s plans for the Rhineland. The Minister-President of Oldenburg would only agree to cede their lands in the Rhineland in exchange for eventual compensation bordering Oldenburg itself, not to mention Bavarian agreement in the matter being a prerequisite. For Bavaria, one of the most powerful states, the demands were much higher. The Bavarian Rhineland (commonly referred to in this era as the Bavarian Palatinate, another geographical name for the region) had been won following their victories over the forces of Napoleon, and it remained a symbol of their victory in this conflict. It was not without its economic boons, either, given its border with the Rhine river and France and the associated trade which could then be harnessed by Munich. Minister-President Heinrich Held of Bavaria was not unwilling to negotiate, but his price would be steep, as in order to win the approval of the Bavarian Landtag (their regional parliament), a necessity before any land could be given from the state, he would have to offer a substantial compromise. His suggestion had been the restoration of some of the Reservatrechte.

The Reservatrechte (Reserved Rights) had been a series of special rights endowed onto certain nations of the German Empire following their entrance into the Federation in 1871, most notably the Kingdoms of Bavaria, Saxony, and Württemberg, as well as the Grand Duchy of Baden. As the strongest constituent members of the Empire under Prussia, a certain level of autonomy had been demanded before they would recognise Berlin’s authority, with Bavaria demanding the most. These rights included primacy in the federal Bundesrat, control of rail and postal systems and its associated income, internal control of their military in peacetime, state control of settlement, and at one point even the ability to establish their own embassies separate from those of Germany proper. It was these rights which allowed Bavaria to keep its strength opposite its Northern brethren, and these rights, far more than the Bavarian Rhineland, which the Bavarian government wanted back, having lost the majority in 1919 when the Weimar Constitution abolished them.

Neither Adenauer nor von Lettow-Vorbeck were proponents of centralisation, but likewise neither were particularly keen on endowing Bavaria with too much power, having seen in the past how easily that power could turn secessionist when placed under duress. To von Lettow-Vorbeck and von Schleicher’s annoyance, it was Adenauer who had ended up running the debate, as his proud Catholic Rhinelander status meshed far better with Minister-President Held than the Prussian mannerisms, not to mention Adenauer’s own gift for outwitting opponents.

From the start Bavarian attempts to regain control over national institutions such as the post and rail had been blocked, as regional autonomy in these matters was seen by von Schleicher and von Lettow-Vorbeck as horribly feudal and impractical, especially in times of war. Unsurprisingly, the idea of Bavarian embassies and their own army was not even brought up. Instead, Held was far more interested in the loss of income which the removal of the Reservatrechte had caused, and while control of the national post and rail would remain in Berlin’s hands, it was agreed that 50% of the income generated from Bavarian post and rail would be reserved for use by Bavaria alone. Bavaria would also be prevented from bringing back their Beer Tax, but the amount which they gained from the national tax—until this point only 13%, well below the income prior to 1919—was raised substantially, to just under 30% of the national beer tax income. These concessions were seemingly innocuous on paper but would do wonders for the Bavarian economy, winning the federal government more loyalty from the Bavarian parties as they now felt themselves to be more than simply a border region subservient to Prussia.

“We have solved the issue of two exclaves but managed to make a new one,” Adenauer commented dryly, eyeing the marked regions. Following the union of the Saar Territory, the Bavarian and Oldenburger Rhineland regions, and Eupen-Malmedy, their new state would be one of the smallest German states, a sad reflection of the greater Rhineland which Adenauer dreamed of. It would be a visible symbol of the SPD’s unwillingness to cooperate, but it was an eyesore regardless.

German Rhineland, 1935
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Weimar_Republic_states_map.svg)

Von Lettow-Vorbeck waved a hand. “It will not last,” he declared with an air of absolute assurance. He then switched topics. “When did Held agree to announce the transfer?”
“If the other Bavarians are as keen to cooperate as he suggested—which my sources in the Landtag corroborate—the announcement of the handover will take place the first week of April. What of the Belgians?”

“The Belgians want the money and care little for when the transfer happens.” Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s expression of disdain told Adenauer what the man thought of the Belgians, his ideas likely stemming from the years he spent fighting them in Africa. “They will go forth with it as soon as the money arrives.”

“Then let us aim for that first week in April,” Adenauer decided. “Braun has undoubtedly heard rumours of our plans; we must make our move before he can.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s eyes snapped to him. “He already knows? How can you be sure?”

“Braun is no novice. He will see your delaying tactic for what it is and I wager a guess that he might even see our plan. If he can find proof, your tactic to discredit them will backfire and you will be portrayed as seeking to dissolve Prussia, something which your electorate would not be in favour of.”

“I see.” Von Lettow-Vorbeck smiled a toothy smile. “Then we will have to be faster.”

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"I still have nightmares about the day the men in blue came to our house… it was Summer, and I’d just gotten home from playing with my friends. I hadn’t even changed out of my short pants for dinner, yet. My father got up to answer the door… I remember yelling. My mother told me to hide, but I didn’t understand, thought it was a game. They came into the house and took her, too, and then me. That was the last time I ever saw my father, and I wouldn’t see my mother again for a very long time.” - Uwe Meyer, the son of one of the many Communists eliminated by the VoSiSt following 1932

Along Came a Spider​

---

April 7th, 1935 saw the creation of the Free Rhenish State under the executive directive of President von Lettow-Vorbeck and Chancellor Adenauer. The move came mere days after back-to-back announcements out of Belgium, officially ceding Eupen and Malmedy to Germany, and Bavaria, celebrating the return of their ancient rights. The reason for the latter became quickly apparent when Bavaria announced their relinquishment of their own territory in the Rhineland and its union with the new state.
The combination of these events proved predictably overwhelming for the public, for whom the return of more lost territory as well as the formation of a new Free State far outweighed whatever legal jargon the Bavarians were babbling about. This was intentional, as it was hoped that diverting the focus from these privileges would keep the other states formerly possessing such privileges from asking for them back.

Even more distraction came in the form of the drama which erupted on the 8th of the same month when the Prussian Parliament unequivocally refused to cede their own holdings in the Rhineland to this new state, going so far as to decry the declaration as an infringement on the authority of the Reichstag to weigh in on such decisions. Though arguably true, it did not win Braun’s government any supporters in the Rhineland, and only furthered swirled talk of his party’s attempts to build a more centralised state opposite the federalism which von Lettow-Vorbeck openly favoured.

France was outraged at the audacity of Germany to so blatantly pursue alterations of their Western border, especially with the Locarno Treaties of 1925 having guaranteed Germany’s Western border opposite Belgium and France, but Germany countered this by arguing the land transfer as a flat purchase which in no way violated the aforementioned Treaties (which focused more prominently on Germany not taking the territory by demand or conquest). The fact that Belgium was largely apathetic to the territorial loss did not aid French claims, and when they failed to garner international support in opposition to German actions, the matter was dropped. It certainly did Franco-Belgian relations no favours, and the plans for the extension of the defensive Maginot Line along the Franco-Belgian border lost many of its opponents in Paris.

The border revision was tremendously popular with the German people; however, despite popular hopes, no further border alterations were sought in the weeks or months after. The annexation of two territories—minor though they were—was unsettling enough for Germany’s neighbours that President von Lettow-Vorbeck forbade talk of further border alterations for the rest of the year. With the Western border secured (the return of Alsace and Lorraine was seen as impractically optimistic and not worth actively pursuing at present) it opened up the possibility for German attention to slowly turn East.

The German ambassador to Czechoslovakia, Walter Koch, had requested permission to leave his post and retire, and this opened up a unique opportunity for President von Lettow-Vorbeck to appoint a loyalist to the position. Though he had no immediate designs on the Czech state, and in fact would much prefer their diplomatic alignment to anything more aggressive, he did not wholly rule out the possibility of using the enormous German minority within the state to try and force German designs. Likewise, the appointment of the rather prestigious position granted him the chance to reward a former supporter, one whose political fortunes had vastly decreased in recent years.

---

Oskar von Hindenburg was caught between giddiness and anxiety as he made his way down Unter den Linden, the diplomatic documents he’d been given to fulfil his new role as German Ambassador to Czechoslovakia tucked into the slim folder inside of his jacket. He needed a stiff drink to calm his nerves and then the first thing he planned to do was to inform his family; his wife Margarete likely wouldn’t be terribly happy with this appointment, seeing as it would force them to move abroad for at least a few years, but Prague was a beautiful city, and there were enough German-speakers to keep it from being too overwhelming.

His feet led him a few blocks away from the main Berlin thoroughfare, to a small corner bar in an upper-class and quiet residential area. It had been a favourite drinking spot for his father and, later, for him as well. Upon entering he crossed to the bar and ordered a beer, which the barkeep soon placed in front of him.

Von Hindenburg was immensely grateful to the president for granting him the chance to prove himself after the blunder of the Osthilfeskandal and he would do his absolute best to not screw it up. It was his job, he had been informed in no uncertain terms, to keep the Czechs in a state of compliant worry. Prague needed to retain a healthy concern of Germany while also not becoming properly fearful, less they conspire with Germany’s enemies. In the same stroke, he needed to make it clear that Germany was interested in a positive relationship, at least as long as Prague made no untoward actions against the Sudeten Germans. After all, Germany had not revoked their claims on the region, and the loss of the borderlands would harm the Czechs far more than the loss of Eupen and Malmedy had hurt the Belgians.

A glance at the paper splayed out on the bartop showed him that the press continued to rave about von Lettow-Vorbeck’s recent successes with no apparent sign of stopping. Catching the barkeeper’s eye, he nodded at it. “What do you think of the president’s latest achievement?”

The barkeep, a balding, heavyset man around von Hindenburg’s age, grunted an impressed sort of sound and said, “He’s done more in the last few months than anyone else in the last ten years. Still, it’s just some worthless land on the Rhine, isn’t it?”

“And the chance to rebuild our army,” von Hindenburg pointed out, sipping his beer and wiping the foam from his lips.

“My boy was ecstatic. Ran right off to try and enlist, even though he’s underage.” The man shook his head, though there was a fondness to his tone as he said, “Damn fool boy will be the death of me.”

Von Hindenburg, whose own son was not even ten and cared for almost exclusively by his wife, had nothing to add and so changed the topic. “It opens up a useful precedent for restoring Prussia’s lands to the East, does it not?”

The man shrugged. “I suppose. Doesn’t affect me much, though, does it?”

“You don’t wish to see German greatness restored?”

The man’s eyes flickered over von Hindenburg for a moment, assessing him. “I lost my brother in the Great War,” he declared at last. “I don’t want to lose my son over some damn land on the Baltic.”

Von Hindenburg decided not to push the matter further. He was dressed in a suit rather than the military garb he favoured, and that was probably the only reason that he had earned such honesty, even if it chafed to hear such pacifistic (and, in his opinion, anti-German) opinions. His own son was just a child, but he could not envision anything other than pride for the boy joining the army and fighting to protect the Fatherland!

The barkeep seemed to sense the reaction his words had garnered because he soon excused himself and began cleaning at the other end of the room, which von Hindenburg was just fine with. The place was almost completely empty with the exception of the two of them, the only others being a pair of old men in the back corner conversing in some Southern dialect. Von Hindenburg took another swig of his beer and wondered if and how the fighting spirit of the German man could be restored from the rot inflicted by democracy.

“Mind if I join you?”

Von Hindenburg was surprised at how unsurprised he was when Hermann Göring slid into the seat beside him. It had become an open secret within the upper circles of German politics that Göring sat like a spider at the centre of a web of political connections and secrets, all linked by the VoSiSt agency which had only continued to grow larger and more powerful since its creation. There were rumours of him recruiting many of his allies from the noble classes whose power had waned since the end of the monarchy, paying them with money or favours to collect secrets against leading politicians. It could not be corroborated, of course, and von Hindenburg personally did not believe these rumours to hold much weight—he could not imagine von Lettow-Vorbeck or Adenauer allowing such a thing—but they still made him wonder. After all, how else could Göring have known to find von Hindenburg here, now?

“Your father frequented this place,” Göring provided as an explanation. The barkeep hurried over to take his order and soon he had a whiskey placed in front of him. “I heard about your promotion. Congratulations are in order.” He lifted the glass in a makeshift toast.

“Yes, well, I have the president to thank for giving me a second chance.”

“Nonsense!” Göring exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You come from a long and distinguished line of important men. One hiccup does not break such a mighty chain.”

“I suppose,” von Hindenburg admitted.

“Your father also took part, and you do not think less of him for it, do you? It was hardly the grand scandal the media made it out to be. A slight misjudgement, at best.”

The words perked von Hindenburg up slightly. It was true, this had not affected his own view of his father, and why should it? Support for the landed nobility was a long and storied tradition within Prussia, and the fact that the weaklings currently running things did not understand it said more about them than it did about himself and his father.

“In fact, it was for this reason that I wanted to speak to you. As the new ambassador to Czechoslovakia, you will be in a unique position to aid the Reich and its people. Have you heard the name Konrad Henlein before?”

“I cannot say that I have. Who is he?”

“He is the head of the Sudetendeutsche Partei, a movement of Sudeten Germans opposing their place within the Czechoslovak state. He will approach you shortly after your arrival in Prague.”

Von Hindenburg’s brow furrowed. As far as he had been made aware, it was not in Berlin’s current interests to support Sudetenland secessionism, not when they already had enough to deal with in regards to the reintegration of the Saar territory and Eupen-Malmedy. He voiced this to Göring, who shook his head.

“While it is true that pursuit of our Eastern claims is not currently feasible, there will come a time when the global situation changes. How should I put this… if we do nothing, there is a danger of the Czechs snuffing out the fires of German nationalism by answering their appeals to autonomy. This cannot be allowed to happen. If we lack the support of the Sudetenlanders, any future attempt to seize it will fail.”

The other man blinked, surprised and a bit confused at what he was being told. “You do not want the Sudetenland to gain autonomy?”

“I want the Sudetenland to become German. Autonomy is a thin veneer for assimilation; convince the people of their equality and watch them slowly abandon their ancestral language and culture because it is easier. Give them a rope and watch them hang themselves with it.”

Von Hindenburg took another sip of his beer and considered the argument. There was definitely merit to the proposal, though he questioned if such matters really fell under his purview as ambassador. “What will this Henlein expect from me?”

“Tacit support, nothing more,” Göring was quick to say, sensing von Hindenburg’s reservations. “This is not an attempted coup of the Czech government or anything so extreme. I would just like for you to keep in contact with our Sudeten friends. Keep them informed on any motions which the government in Prague might make which could compromise our shared goals.”

The word ‘espionage’ flitted through von Hindenburg’s mind but he dismissed it quickly. He was well within his rights to discuss concerns with relevant citizens, was he not? And it was not as though he would be in danger; his ambassadorship granted him diplomatic immunity, the breach of which would mark an act of war. In fact, when he considered it from that angle, he was the ideal candidate for such an approach.

“Very well, Herr Göring, I will do as you ask,” he said finally. The other man’s smile was wide and pleased, his teeth seeming to flash in the low light.

“Cheers to that,” the man declared, downing his whiskey and slamming the glass back down. “To a Greater Germany,” he vowed, “the rightful ruler of Europe.”

---

One of the most popular children’s games during the latter half of the 20th Century in Germany was a game called Vorsicht! (Caution!). The game functioned as a sort of treasure hunt, with one team hiding a handful of items and the other team attempting to find them. The challenge came from the question element, with the team which hid the items having to provide a clue to each item’s location and the team which searched having to solve them. Whichever team got more points—either finding more of the hidden things or successfully stumping their opponents with their riddle—won the game.

Though no evidence exists to support it, it is a common assumption that this game emerged as an answer to the growth of espionage and blackmail in Europe during the 1930’s and 40’s, especially that of the Volkssicherheitsstab, or VoSiSt, in the German Republic. The name of the game, “Vorsicht”, is often seen as a child’s bastardisation of the organisation’s name.

Initially envisioned as a branch of the domestic security agency focused on tackling threats to the state, it would not take long for VoSiSt to balloon far beyond what many expected of it, led in every step by Hermann Göring. Göring’s military service and ties to the nobility and industrialists had made him a powerful influence within von Lettow-Vorbeck’s campaign and, once he was placed in a position of power, they opened up doors to him in every facet of German society.

Volkssicherheitsstab logo

The early days of the Weimar Republic had been a time of rampant violence and danger, with assassinations and street brawls contributing heavily to the image of instability which would plague the regime even decades after it was brought to an end. Von Lettow-Vorbeck had made use of this instability in his rise, his famous fight against the Communist protests a staple of the popular narrative, but he was also deeply conscious of how easily those same forces could be turned against him, and so when Göring came to him with the offer to expand the powers of the VoSiSt to begin tackling not only emergent threats, but potential ones as well, von Lettow-Vorbeck was quick to agree.

Under Göring’s careful watch, the VoSiSt would be expanded inch by inch, each time with a justifiable reason. In response to the initial wave of Communist bans and arrests, the VoSiSt took over the tracking and observation of suspected dissenters, including intercepting mail and keeping an eye on their friends and family. After several fled into neighbouring countries, Göring began sending agents abroad, establishing offices in cities like Paris and Prague. This, of course, required individuals with an intricate understanding of local language and customs, and soon the undesirables of those same countries were being turned into weapons in Göring’s ever-expanding arsenal. By the late-1930's the mere sight of the blue-jacketed men was enough to bring silence to a room and incite fear into the hearts of those who held opinions contrary to the standard government narrative.

A significant minority of VoSiSt’s foreign agents were drawn from the so-called Auslandsdeutsche (Foreign Germans) across Europe. The spread of German settlement in the mediaeval era had left German minorities scattered across every European nation, and under the economic turmoil of the Great Depression these minority communities were often the ones most affected. It was not hard to find individuals resentful of their government and their commonly bi- or trilingual nature made them perfect for the German intelligence service.

Ethnic Germans Across Central Europe (Green), with borders in black, 1934
(https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1937_linguistic_map_of_Central_Europe-EN.svg)

It was these German communities abroad which Göring put particular emphasis on, often attributed to his pan-German beliefs which advocated for Germany’s direct control over all German-speaking lands adjacent to the Reich. An opponent of democracy, Göring nevertheless saw the idea of natural self-determination as a useful tool with which to overturn the Treaty of Versailles and bring the Auslandsdeutsche back into the fold, an idea which was seemingly validated with the return of the Saar territory in 1935. It was his belief that a sufficient skewing of popular opinion in the German-speaking regions like Alsace and the Sudetenland was a prerequisite to reclaiming any of these regions, and blamed the loss of Upper Silesia in 1920 on an insufficient intelligence network capable of foiling Polish interference in the plebiscite.

For Göring, the notion of autonomy was anathema to the idea of a healthy nation-state, and it was the obligation of the state to assimilate or expel foreign influence just as much as it was the work of the human body to eject harmful viruses and bacteria. This notion applied just as much to other nations as his own, leaving a cynical disbelief in the idea of peaceful coexistence and resulting in his conclusion that cultural autonomy was only a veil to disguise assimilation, and therefore to be avoided at all costs.

This approach played an enormous role in the VoSiSt’s interactions with the German communities abroad, most notably the Sudetenland and Alsace-Lorraine. For the former, scare tactics aimed at the government in Prague were enough to keep the Sudeten Germans unwilling to fully collaborate, the economic troubles and employment of the Great Depression brought up frequently to discredit the Czechoslovak state, despite many of these issues having resolved themselves by 1935. For the latter, the matter was more complicated, as despite the German-speaking majority in the former territory of Alsace-Lorraine, there was no great love lost between the Alsatians and Berlin, and thus Göring was forced to take a far more delicate approach than he did in other places.

---

There were few who were able to step foot in Strasbourg and not be stunned at its beauty, and today was certainly no exception. The sun was close to setting, the last rays of golden light catching on the solitary steeple of the Strasbourg Cathedral, the air filled with the smell of the flowers which bloomed in window boxes and along the bridges crossing the river at intervals. Down the road two young women only a few years younger than him were discussing their plans, the sound of their Alsatian a comforting thrum which fit perfectly into the setting.

Hermann Bickler tipped his hat at the duo as he passed, offering and receiving a short greeting before he continued onwards. He lacked the time to dally, much as he would enjoy a coffee and Flammkuchen at his favourite restaurant; there were important topics to be discussed and his presence was vital.

Hermann Bickler
(https://archives.strasbourg.eu/ark:...nter=1097.500,-1557.000&zoom=7&rotation=0.000)

The directions scrawled on a scrap of paper led him to a house in the Neustadt, the city quarter built under Imperial German rule and entirely composed of tall, modern buildings styled like the architecture in Berlin. Upon arrival he knocked twice, and it was only a matter of minutes before the door swung open.

Paul Schall peered at him through his thick round glasses, recognising him immediately but holding the door as though prepared to swing it shut on him. “Who is calling?”

Paul Schall
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Schall#/media/Datei:Paul_Schall.jpg)

“Oh, enough with that nonsense,” Bickler snapped, shoving his way past and into the house. An irritated huff came from behind him as Schall closed and locked the door, though Bickler ignored it. “Where is he?” he asked.

“In the—” Schall began, but Bickler had already noticed the figure around the corner and headed off in that direction before the other man could finish.
Jean-Pierre Mourer was working on what seemed to be a late dinner as Bickler entered, and he did not deign to look up until he had finished cutting and eating a piece of the grilled chicken on the plate in front of him. Once he did so, he took the time to wipe his mouth and re-fold his napkin before speaking. “Either you arrive annoying early or frustratingly late, I truly cannot decide which I find more detestable.”

Jean-Pierre Mourer
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Pierre_Mourer#/media/File:Jean-Pierre_Mourer.jpg)

Bickler scowled, hating Mourer’s tendency for talking down to him like an errant schoolboy, a consequence of their relative ages. “Apologies, Monsieur Mourer,” he retorted snidely, intentionally using the French honorific, knowing how much Mourer disliked his own French-sounding name. “Next time I will sit on your front porch until the clock chimes.”

Mourer ignored the dig. “Do you have the letter?”

Bickler sighed but nodded, withdrawing it from his jacket. “Directly from Berlin.”

Mourer wiped the grease from his knife and slid it across the top of the envelope, breaking the seal. He pulled out the letter and quickly skimmed it, expression unchanging.

“Well?” Bickler prompted. Behind him, he could hear Schall arriving in the dining room.

Mourer shook his head, re-folding the letter and placing it on the table beside his cutlery. “The Germans are being obtuse again,” he said with a sigh.

“Another offer?” Schall spoke up.

Bickler turned to the smaller man in surprise. “Another? You mean this isn’t the first?”

Mourer shot Schall a look that communicated his exasperation with the slip-up. Schall flushed and left the room. “Yes,” he said at last. “This is the third one in the past few months.”

“Then why did they send it with me?”

“I wager they felt that you would ensure I get it and that it would not be lost in transit. That Göring fellow really does not comprehend the meaning of the word ‘no’.”

Bickler’s fingers itched to grab the letter and read it, but he held himself back. “What sort of offers?”

“Support against Paris in the event of an uprising, promises of autonomy within the Reich, that sort of thing,” Mourer said breezily, once more cleaning his knife before returning to his food.

Bickler eyed Mourer with no small amount of confusion. Despite their political views not aligning—Mourer being the head of the Alsatian Workers and Peasants Party, a movement with a large Communist element, and Bickler supporting the more Conservative Catholic parties under Karl Roos—both of them were members of the Unabhängige Landespartei für Elsaß-Lothringen (Independent Regional Party for Alsace-Lorraine) and advocates of an autonomous or independent German-speaking Alsatian state. German support for this seemed logical, at least to him. “Why wouldn’t you want to accept that?”

“For all my distaste with the French system, I have equally little love for the Prussian boot,” Mourer declared succinctly. “As a Reichsland within the German Empire, Alsace was little more than a colony for Prussia. The French, for all their faults, have shown a willingness to compromise that I cannot expect of the Germans.”

“But von Lettow-Vorbeck isn’t the typical Prussian! He gave the Rhinelanders their own state!”

Mourer’s eyebrow cranked up. “You call that sad little thing a Rhenish state?”

“Well the Prussians—”

“Von Lettow-Vorbeck is a Prussian himself,” Mourer interrupted. “How do we know that the refusal to break Prussian hegemony is not a product of his own nationalistic fervour? What’s more, even if it were true, what good would it do us now? The German army is a pale reflection of its might in the Great War, and even then it was unable to protect Alsace, much less now, caged in as we are behind the mighty Maginot. No.” He shook his head and looked down at his food. “I will not throw us into the fire over such a worthless endeavour.”

Bickler tried to think of a good counter to this but came up with nothing. Mourer’s own party held many of the Communists who’d fled von Lettow-Vorbeck’s purges; it was logical that he would hold an instinctive bias against the man, illogical though it might be. As far as Bickler was concerned, von Lettow-Vorbeck was a man willing to negotiate and compromise. He sought to grant the Rhinelanders their own state in exchange for their support; surely, Bickler felt, he would grant Alsace their own in exchange for union with Germany?

“You were just a boy during the Great War, so you did not experience the hell which was the Western Front,” Schall spoke suddenly from the doorway, drawing the gazes of the other two. “Do not court war where it does not exist.”

“I will not stand aside while the French eradicate our culture,” Bickler countered.

“Go home, child,” Mourer said, his voice tinged with anger now. “You have no place in this struggle. You know nothing of the trials we faced before you were even born.”

“I am Alsatian, too!”

“You do not even know what that means, and until you do, you will never understand what is being asked of us here.” Mourer shook his head. “You have no idea, no idea the kind of demons you seek to barter with. I would rather see Alsace fade into obscurity than see her destroyed by the guns of war.” He pointed to the door. “Now leave.”

Bickler did, though the cool evening air outside did little to calm the fire in his blood. He looked up and down the street, taking in the grandiose German-style buildings. Perhaps, if Mourer was so opposed to it, this Göring might be looking for someone new to lead Alsace, and Bickler could be just that man.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"The grand ballet of death which drew to a close the era of peace was not an inevitability, and indeed, when looking at the mirror of public opinion, had little reflection of the happy souls whose lives would be snuffed out in its dance. No, it was not the people for whom the guns of war would blaze; it was for the angry little men in their ivory towers, dreaming their fairytale dreams.” - Excerpt from Ernest Hemingway’s ‘A Daisy in Winter’, the story of a French woman from Nice whose love for a fascist Italian artist would expose her to the greatest peaks and darkest excesses of the human soul.

Mirror, Mirror​

---

From the windows of the zeppelin, Engelbert Dollfuß watched the snowy peaks of the Alps pass by beneath him, eyes catching on little towns and sweeping mountains and mentally ticking off their names as he went. Zell am See with its lake, the Großglockner mountain towering high above everything else, the tiny town of Uttendorf which his family had visited one beautiful Summer in his youth… the sight brought him comfort, and upon reaching the line of mountains which marked the southern half of the Tyrol, now under Italian rule, he had to look away, unable to bear the sight.

“It is a beautiful country,” his companion, Miklos Horthy, regent of the Kingdom of Hungary, commented in German. His German held a flawless Austrian accent, and, in a stroke of irony, it was his Hungarian which now held the accent as well.

Miklos Horthy, Regent of the Kingdom of Hungary
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miklós_Horthy#/media/File:Vitéz_nagybányai_Horthy_Miklós_kormányzó.jpg)

“It is, even now,” Dollfuß agreed. “The beauty in Austria-Hungary was always her people, though, and it remains that way today, even with much of her land under foreign rule.”

The Hungarians knew this better than most, with 72% of their country and 64% of their population now displaced and controlled by their neighbours. Even Austria had gained a slice, the German-populated Burgenland along their shared border. The division of the lands of the Crown of St. Stephen was a travesty against European history itself, one which, Dollfuß hoped, the Entente would be made to pay for one day. “I can only hope that the day will come where Hungary will be restored to her place,” Horthy declared, turning and looking out the window. “If the Italians can aid in that, then perhaps this will all have been worth it.”

“Stimmt,” the Austrian Chancellor agreed. Neither of the duo were particularly thrilled with being summoned—for the word “invited” implied a level of choice which was not present—to meet with Benito Mussolini in Venice to discuss their shared plans for Europe. While it was true that they were sovereign nations unbeholden to Italian whims, it was also true that Italian financial backing played a critical role in both economies and that, if either of them sought to take on their enemies in the Balkans, they would need the support of a sympathetic Great Power, of which only Italy fit the bill. With Italian control of Istria and designs on Dalmatia, it was very unlikely that Horthy would ever again have a navy like the Austro-Hungarian one.

Soon the duo diverged from the matter at hand and moved on to other topics, including the recent German rearmament, the Czech’s plans for fortifications along the German and Austrian border modelled on the French’s own defences, and even Hungary’s own petitions to the League of Nations that their rearmament be reexamined much as Germany’s had been, to no avail. It seemed that equality of arms was to be a luxury extended only to the Germans, at least for now.

“The Germans are helping the Bulgarians in secret, though,” Horthy was quick to inform Dollfuß. “Perhaps not men, but guns and tactics. Where is our dear friend Italy, though? Is this how Mussolini treats his allies?”

Dollfuß’s mouth twisted and he could not hold back a scowl. The insult which was reliance on Italy never failed to chafe. He already had a decent idea of what would be demanded from Vienna in their upcoming meeting when discussing claims, and it was very likely that Austrian humiliation would come hand-in-hand with whatever pitiful gains Mussolini would grace them with. Humiliation, though, was preferable to the alternative. “I wish that there was another way.”

Silence descended upon them for several minutes, Horthy peering off into the distance and rubbing his chin contemplatively. “Have you spoken with Otto von Habsburg recently?”

“Only in passing. He and his family have been assigned permanent guards for their own protection, not that they need it. The people love them still. He was present at a ceremony in Graz a few months ago, and we had the chance to speak briefly. He is a brilliant man, cultured and raised to rule.” Dollfuß raised an eyebrow, communicating his curiosity at the direction the conversation had taken.

“Hungary is little different,” Horthy replied. “The Crown of Saint Stephen is theirs by blood. The revocation of their rights in 1921 is seen by most as illegitimate; the people long for the heights of the kaiserlich und königlich regime.”(1)

“Were the choice to be given to me freely, I would see the Kaisertum restored in an instant, but it is simply not to be lest we lose what little we still have to the forces of our own perfidious subjects.”

“Perhaps,” Horthy acknowledged. “Perhaps.” He turned and looked out the window, seemingly contemplating the Adriatic visible on the horizon.

The duo withdrew into silence once more, and this time it lingered, Dollfuß directing his focus to the novel he’d brought with and Horthy watching the scenery pass by, still lost in thought. It was roughly an hour later when a staff member arrived to inform them that they would soon be landing in Venice and requesting that they please remain seated for the descent.

As the dirigible descended, Dollfuß took note of the crowd surrounding the landing pad. Upon closer inspection, he realised that it was not a crowd of onlookers, but instead Mussolini’s famous Blackshirts; thousands of men, most of them younger than thirty if he had to guess, waving Italian flags and cheering. The thick, insulated windows of the zeppelin prevented the sound from coming through but, if he were to guess, the Austrian Chancellor imagined that it would be another one of Mussolini’s blusterous pursuits of prestige and grandeur.

He was proven correct when, upon descending from the flying machine, he was greeting to loud cheers of “Benvenuti piccoli amici di roma! Benvenuti piccoli amici di Mussolini!” (Welcome little friends of Rome! Welcome little friends of Mussolini!) The word choice and its reduction of Austria and Hungary was the farthest thing from subtle, and both of them were fluent in Italian and therefore not blind to it, but what could they really do? Being friendless was as good as death in the modern world, for Austria even more so than for Hungary, so there was nothing to do but smile politely and hold one’s tongue.

Turn the other cheek, like Jesus would do, Dollfuß said to himself.

“My friends.” Mussolini strode forward from the crowd, broad chest glittering from the medals pinned to his uniform, fez perched jauntily atop his head, and a broad smile splitting his face. “Welcome to Venezia!” He clasped Horthy on both biceps and kissed him on each cheek before turning to Dollfußs and doing the same. Neither Dollfuß nor Horthy were keen on the practice but no comment was made beyond polite greetings and thanks. Despite all three speaking German and French, Italian was the language of communication at Mussolini’s insistence—another little boost to his ego and another little humiliation for Rome’s old enemies from Vienna and Budapest.

Benito Mussolini, Prime Minister and Self-Proclaimed “Duce” (Leader) of Italy, 1930
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benito_Mussolini#/media/Datei:Duce_Benito_Mussolini.jpg)

The trio passed between the lines of cheering Blackshirts and to a sleek black automobile parked at the edge of the tarmac. The driver, a thin elderly man in a suit, opened their doors for them and, as soon as they were seated, drove them away from the parked dirigible and towards the city itself. The drive was short but felt longer for its tenseness, Mussolini filling the time with jokes and personal anecdotes into which he tried to draw the other two. Dollfuß was reasonably skilled at this sort of game and continuously steered the man into longer stories, thereby preventing them from having to respond. Horthy, however, remained seemingly withdrawn from it all, providing only brief commentary or nods when addressed.

Mussolini brought them to a large palace on the outskirts of the city where they were provided with rooms and a staff to care for them for the duration of their three-day stay. It was a grand gesture, admittedly, and served its purpose of displaying the wealth and power which would come through increased ties with Italy, but Dollfuß, at least, could not find himself feeling wholly comfortable while staying there. “The walls have ears,” the British saying went, and it could not have felt more real here, especially upon his discovery that all of his staff members were fluent in German, meaning that they would understand and be capable of relaying anything suspicious which they heard or read. The maid designated for cleaning his room was a native to South Tyrol, and he would have questioned how she could bear to work for the nation holding her homeland hostage if he had not known that it was assuredly not done under her own free will.

The time allotted for bathing and settling down was brief, for only an hour later they were summoned to meet with Il Duce on the terrace to partake in supper and discuss the futures of their respective nations. It was a beautiful location, one could not deny it; the Adriatic coast glittered in the sunset and the island of Venice proper could be seen in the distance, even from here one of the most beautiful cities in all of Europe. It was not hard to imagine this place as the heart of a sprawling merchant republic feared and respected from Barcelona to Constantinople, and Dollfuß was briefly reminded of Venice’s historic desire to remain independent from all, even Italy herself. Not that he would have dared to voice such a reminder.

Despite every stroke so far happening as the Austrian Chancellor expected, he experienced a jolt of surprise when it was not only Miklos Horthy and Mussolini to join him, but the Tsar of Bulgaria, Boris III, as well. A smug little smile was the response to the querying look he gave Mussolini, and the Tsar deposited himself to the left of Dollfuß (who now sat between Horthy and the Tsar) and wasted no time in ordering a vodka. It would not take long for Dollfuß to wish that he’d had the foresight to do the same.

Like in the car ride, Mussolini began by regaling them with tales of grandeur, though there was a small grace in them now being focused on Italian greatness rather than his own personal diatribes. Nevertheless, Dollfuß did not enjoy them, emphasising as they did Italy’s innate greatness and natural domination of its neighbours in the Balkans, irregardless of the broken, irrelevant peninsula which had been in its place for the last few centuries. Horthy retained his innate skill at cool detachment, not saying a word as Mussolini carelessly insulted centuries of Austrian and Hungarian, playing up Italy’s role in great wars against the Ottomans and diminishing the order and civility which Habsburg rule had brought to what was now Yugoslavia. The Bulgarians were the only ones spared, and it did not seem to be for lack of trying, with the best Mussolini could do being a few passing comments on Rome’s ancestral influence on the region and the Christianising effect of its rule. Dollfuß was not sure if Tsar Boris avoided confrontation through Horthy’s brand of detachment or if he was simply too intoxicated—for he did consume a frankly alarming amount of alcohol—to take notice of it.

“And now look at the tragedy which has been brought down upon our great peoples,” Il Duce concluded, gesturing to the trio as though he had not spent the past hour detailing supposed failings of those same peoples. “Your ancestral lands given to the stitched-together corpse which calls itself Yugoslavia. Does it not inspire anger? Do not your souls burn for revenge? I, alone, can give it to you. Imagine it—a new Roman Alliance, banded together to restore order and at last quench the Balkan flame of instability.”

With you, of course, grabbing the largest piece, Dollfuß thought to himself. Granted, Austria’s enforceable claims on the region were small, confined mainly to Carniola and the regions of Styria lost in the Treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, known now as Slovenia. Despite this, he was under no illusions as to Vienna regaining these regions even if Mussolini’s wild plans bore fruit, as Italy’s own interest in the Slovenian Littoral was known. At best, Austria would gain Maribor and a small push Southward, and even that seemed optimistic. Of course, that was better than nothing, which would be what they’d regain if they sat aside and let history pass them by.

“And what of conflicting claims?” Horthy broached, his first time speaking since the car. He, it seemed, was able to read between the lines much like Dollfuß himself, no doubt thinking of Hungarian claims on Croatia which clashed with Italy’s own designs on the coastland. It was no secret that the old Admiral dreamed of the chance to rebuild the mighty navy which he once headed.

Hungarian Claims, 1935
(https://www.reddit.com/media?url=https://i.redd.it/l2g97cqp6v251.jpg)

Mussolini was egotistical, narcissistic, and far too ambitious for his own good, but he was not a fool, much as Dollfuß would like to think otherwise. He had not risen to such a prominent position for no reason, and his smile got a bit sharper when the question was asked. “I believe in creating a new world order, not simply digging up one long-dead,” he said. “Those who support me will be rewarded; those who oppose Italy will be overrun, trampled, and forgotten.”

“We will need guarantees,” Boris spoke up, the first time he’d contributed thus far. “Bulgaria has been scorned and betrayed by promises made in peacetime. I will not throw my lot in without true assurances.”

Mussolini placed a hand over his heart. “I empathise. Italy, too, has been betrayed by would-be allies. But she is neither Britain nor France, greedy and selfish powers consumed with their own gains. I swear it on the honour of my great nation.”

If Boris’s expression was anything to go by, this was not the kind of guarantee which he had imagined. No doubt the actual plans drawn up tomorrow would come with a more concrete offer, tied of course to promises of gains in Macedonia and Thrace, but it was not a terribly promising start, and not for the first time, Dollfuß wondered just what cards Mussolini would be able and willing to play moving forward. The stage was shifting, with German power ascending and French in decline, and Italy had not yet decided where to place its weight. If played right, Dollfuß knew, Italy had the power to tip the scales and gain everything that they had always dreamed of.

Alas, in such a game, Austria was a mere pawn. Glancing over at Horthy, he almost missed the look of unveiled disgust which became visible while Mussolini looked away. The duo’s eyes met, and the Regent of Hungary soon turned aside. This whole process disgusted him, Dollfuß could tell. To be reduced to such begging. Oh, if the great Habsburg kings and emperors could see them now…

---

The city of Frankfurt had always been a hotbed for liberal thought in Germany, even all the way back before Germany had even existed as a unified nation. After all, it had been here, at the peak of the 1848 Springtime of Nations revolutions sweeping Europe, that the Frankfurt Parliament had proclaimed the Schwarz-Rot-Gold (Black-Red-Gold) as the national flag of Germany and pledged towards the unification of all German-speaking peoples under that same banner. Resistance from the various German monarchs had stopped the formation of a unified Greater Germany then, but there remained hope that such a goal could be achieved now, under the German Republic.

That is what Heinrich Adler would have said had the question been posed to him five or six years ago, when all trends seemed to point towards the SPD and their democratic brethren cementing their hold over the Reich and achieving what not even the King of Prussia had been able to do. Now, though? Sitting here, listening to the leaders of his preferred political party argue, he was not so sure.

“Who’s that man?” asked his neighbour, a young man named Ernst who lived a few doors down from the Adlers. It was his first time coming to one of these political rallies and he was clearly a touch out of his depth, though Heinrich could forgive it given his youth.

“That’s Fritz Selbmann,” Heinrich explained. “He’s one of the ex-Communists who joined the merger.”

“Wow!” Ernst breathed, visibly impressed. Heinrich wouldn’t have tagged him for a Communist sympathiser, and while his own views were nowhere near that extreme, he chose not to mention it.

On-stage, Selbmann continued to loudly deride party leaders Otto Wels and Hans Vogel. “You sit by impotently while the window of possibility to stop Germany’s slide back into the Dark Ages continues!” the man was shouting, gesturing violently with both hands.

“We are not revolutionaries, we are republicans,” Vogel started, before Selbmann cut him off.

“Right now you are neither! Here, in this city, your true republican forefathers fought and died to create a German Republic, and now you turn aside while it lies on its deathbed! Only a fool would stay so willfully blind to what is coming!” He had a fiery, preacher-esque element to his public speaking that neither of the other two could match, and from a glance at his neighbour and many others around him, Heinrich could see many nodding along.

Seeming to sense that victory in this debate would come from the support of the average SPD voters rather than the leadership, Selbmann pivoted to the crowd filling the chamber. “We cannot fight tyranny with just our vote when it is clear that our vote no longer matters! The Conservative puppet masters have already conspired to place themselves in positions of power; how long do you really believe it will be, before they strip us of what little freedoms we still possess? How many of our number have been forced to flee from the Fatherland solely for what they believe? And mark my words, it will not end there.” His gaze circled the crowd. “They won’t stop at the Communists. They will come for the Liberals, next. Then the Moderates. Then finally the Jews and anyone else who does not conform to their Reactionary views. We saw it in Russia; we will see it again, here, if we do not follow Lenin’s example and rise up against it!”

Someone in the front cheered, and others quickly took it up, rising to their feet in a wave of clapping and whooping. Not all followed—Heinrich Adler, for one, remained in his seat, scarcely believing what he was witnessing—but they appeared fewer for the intensity of the participants. He looked over at his neighbour, a boy not that much older than his daughter Edith, and wondered how he could call for something so extreme.

“Has not Germany seen enough of pointless conflict and death?” Party leader Wels demanded, stealing back the limelight. “We have all lost family in the Great War; fathers, sons, and brothers killed for the whims of an indifferent Kaiser. Revolution is not the answer! It will only further destroy what we have built!”

“It will be our salvation!” Selbmann countered loudly. “You have been drawn in by the lies and the oppression! Do not forget how many we were in 1932, and how many we still are! In hiding, perhaps, but if we stand as one, there is nothing which we cannot do!”

“If we had stood as one a decade ago, it would never have come this far to begin with,” Wels countered. “Thälmann called us ‘Social Fascists’ and sat aside while the Conservatives and Reactionaries grew stronger.”

“And you sat aside while our president—” His face took the expression of having bitten into something sour when saying the word. “—stole money from the people to fuel another despotic monarchy and extend his claws into the Rhineland!”

Ah, yes, there it was. The Rhineland Question, the original point of this meeting, to which they continuously circled back before diverging into another shouting match. The more extreme party members, including Selbmann and the ex-Communists, considered von Lettow-Vorbeck’s creation of a new Rhenish State (in direct defiance of Prussian control of the Rhineland) to be little more than a declaration of war against the SPD-dominated Prussia, and called for strikes, protests, and walkouts to force him to undo this. Prussia, they pointed out, was the core of Germany, and even a few days of such extreme measures would cause the central government to buckle and cave to their demands. Party leaders Wels and Vogel, while angry at von Lettow-Vorbeck and Adenauer, had settled on a formal protest submitted to the Reichstag, demanding that the land be restored to its rightful pre-1920 ownership. This had come to nothing, of course; even if they had achieved a clear majority within the Reichstag, something which all knew as impossible on a matter this contentious (with even many SPD members from the Rhineland supporting the action), it would be quickly and mercilessly shot down by the executive branch.

Heinrich had no great investment in the reformation of federal borders or the pissing match (for there was no better name for it) between Braun in Prussia and von Lettow-Vorbeck in Berlin. The economy was in an upturn, he had been able to get a job and provide for his family, and there had even been talk with members of his family about getting his father’s bank up and running once more after bankruptcy had seen it collapse. He had no interest in stirring up conflict, not when life was going so well, and conflict seemed to be the only thing that the SPD—be it the Left- or Right-Wings of it—seemed keen on. In truth, he had begun to wonder if it was not time to make an end of his participation in such politics at all, and instead focus on his family and business.

The meeting went on for another hour, continuing in its circle of argument and counter-argument, before the lateness of the hour forced them to call a truce and bring it to an end, though it was clear that no solution would be reached any time soon, if ever. Selbmann was making waves which Wels did not support, but simultaneously could not outright expel without losing the Communist exiles and their dominance in the Reichstag. Clearly, something would need to change.

“He is incredible,” Ernst declared as they walked towards the Judenstraße, hands in his pockets and face stricken with wonderment. “He’s a visionary.”

“He’s a lunatic,” Heinrich countered, knowing to whom Ernst was referring. “You are too young to remember the Great War, but I promise you that war is not the grand adventure about which young boys are told.”

“Revolution is not war.” Ernst set his jaw stubbornly. “It is liberation.”

“The high ideals of war may sound grand in history books and peace treaties, but in reality they sound like bullets and the screams of your friends as they die pointlessly. I saw what war did to France; I will not bring that hell to our streets and homes.”

“We are Jews! We know what the Reactionaries will bring if we let them stay in power!”

“What Reactionaries?” Heinrich gestured around with one arm to the lit cobblestone street on which they walked, dozens of other people passing by in either direction and completely ignoring the duo. “As you say, we are Jews, yet we walk home unmolested and without fear. We are not being hunted or expelled, and our community here in Frankfurt is one of the largest in Europe. Where is this tyrannical regime we are to fear?”

“It is coming!”

“Based on what evidence? I do not deny that our government has taken a turn for the Conservative, more so than I would like, but it remains leagues beyond what we ever could have expected. My daughters can grow up and go to university, can work, can even vote! If Germany was truly to take the turn Selbmann predicts, would those chances have not been the first to go? No,” he cut Ernst off when the boy made a move to speak, “I do not want to discuss this further. I wash my hands of this nonsense. If Selbmann wishes to lead the SPD down such a path, it is one I will not follow. I have my daughters and wife to care for and I cannot risk throwing my life away.” Having said his piece, he continued down the street, Ernst not following.

“You will regret it!” Heinrich heard the other yell out after him. “When the revolution comes, you will see!”

The older man just shook his head. I dread to imagine it, he thought to himself.

---

(1) Kaiserlich und königlich, “Imperial and Royal”, a reference to the union between the “imperial” Austrian Empire and the “royal” Kingdom of Hungary

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Much of the suffering my and many other peoples endured could have been avoided if different choices had been made when Italian troops crossed the Abyssinian border in 1935. If the Great Powers had been willing to set aside their egos and work together in the interest of collective security, instead of playing tug-of-war over scraps, perhaps my father and my kingdom could have avoided their eventual horrible fates.” - Prince Nicholas of Yugoslavia, 1968

Heavy is the Head​

---

On November 19th, 1935, the Kingdom of Italy invaded the Empire of Abyssinia (sometimes called “Ethiopia” in English), crossing the border sans declaration of war and forcing Abyssinian Emperor Haile Selassie to declare war in defence of his nation. This marked the beginning of the Second Italo-Abyssinian War, a war which would complete European domination of the African continent with the surrender of the last true and independent African nation.

The buildup to this war had its roots as far back as the late 1800's, when Italian expansion in the Horn of Africa had brought them into conflict with Abyssinia and seen the Italians come away the losers, a rarity in wars between Europeans and Africans in that century. Despite their loss, Italy had maintained colonies in neighbouring Eritrea and Somalia, and throughout the following decades maintained dreams of uniting the two through the annexation of Abyssinia into a comprehensive colony of Italian East Africa.

Italian Colonial Holdings, 1934
(https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/zZkAAOSwV91kadV3/s-l1200.webp)

For Benito Mussolini, the continued independence of Abyssinia was a slight to Italian honour, a naked defiance of supposed Italian superiority and a grating reminder of their failure in 1896. While Italian dreams of expansion in the Balkans were currently impossible, Il Duce saw African conquest as a suitable distraction for the time being, and so began making plans.

The two greatest obstacles to Italian expansionary goals were France and Britain, the other two major colonial powers within Africa, neither of whom were particularly keen on further Italian competition in what they saw as their sphere of influence. In regards to France, a solution presented itself readily in early 1935. Preoccupied as the French were with the Saar Referendum and the possibility of German rearmament, they were more than willing to turn a blind eye to Italian ambitions in exchange for Rome's support against Berlin, especially while Mussolini continued to oppose German attempts to unify with Austria. In March, 1935, in response to their failures at the Geneva Conference, French Prime Minister Flandin put forth the Franco-Italian Agreement, agreeing to recognise Italian interests in East Africa, as well as cede certain border regions of French Chad to Italian Libya, in exchange for Italian promises to assist France in “maintaining order” in Europe, taken but not explicitly stated to refer to preventing any German actions towards enforcing their claims on France or Austria.

Despite Italian hopes, the United Kingdom would not be so easily swayed. Though there was a definite undercurrent of pro-Italian diplomacy during the beginning of the 1930’s within Parliament, this had slowly faded when, under von Lettow-Vorbeck, the German Republic had continued to improve its international image and present itself as a bulwark of stability opposite the “violent” Italian Fascism. Not helping the matter was Italy’s increasingly-aggressive overtures towards Abyssinia, a nation nominally under British protection, and it soon became clear to Westminster that the end goal of Rome was war against the Abyssinian Empire. Following the success of resolving the matter of German rearmament, overtures would be made to Italy to attempt to resolve the matter, going so far as to offer Italy the North-Eastern regions of Abyssinia to bridge Italian Eritrea and Italian Somaliland, to no avail.

Many historians argue that Italian and British designs on East Africa were not wholly antithetical, but that it was instead the unique convergence of British, Italian, French, and German goals and diplomacy which drove a wedge between the former allies of London and Rome. It is indeed undeniable that there were many within the British circles of power who supported, or at least did not actively oppose, Italian gains, seeing them as a fair expression of Italian might as well as an earned boon leftover from the Great War. For many others, though—including the top pick for a new Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, whose campaign against the Labour Party focused heavily on their failure to achieve disarmament—the importance of Italian alignment had been relegated to a secondary position opposite strengthening ties with their own empire to cement their status as premier world power. It was well-understood that Italy would have demands before agreeing to fall in line with anything the British planned, and there was a certain doubt as to the worth of trading valuable colonies for an ally with such aggressive and expansionary goals. In fact, far from shoring up ties with the Continent, many began calling for a return to Splendid Isolationism, the Victorian-Era notion of Britain standing alone and above the wars and violence of their European brethren.

Stanley Baldwin fell into neither of the two extremes, those being an Italian alignment or Splendid Isolationism, and it was this steady, “middle-of-the-road” approach which helped cement his inevitable victory. It is undeniable that the question of rearmament had been brought to the forefront of the political scene following the events in Geneva, but with the Labour Party having touted the Conservatives as warmongers and the public being largely pro-peace, it would have been political suicide to call for rearmament without legitimate reason. Instead, he ran his campaign on a platform of housing, jobs, and imperial stability, and opposed further negotiations with Mussolini, stating that, “On the matter of Abyssinia, I believe that the matter has been quite firmly settled. As a member of the League of Nations and a sovereign state in her own regard, Abyssinia must be accorded the respect and treatment of any other state, European or otherwise, with the implicit expectation that her territory not be infringed upon any further than what is necessary to secure our colonies.”

The Italian response to this was incredibly negative, with many taking offence at the idea of an African nation being accorded the same respect as a European one. Baldwin’s quote would be translated into Italian and printed in every major Italian newspaper, coupled with a political cartoon depicting Abyssinian Emperor Haile Selassie as a “King of Apes” and the Italian quote “Salute a Selassie, grande re d'Europa!" (Hail to Selassie, great king of Europe!”)

Even more than the historic hatred of Abyssinia, this backlash triggered a flood of public discontent within Italy for Britain as a whole. Reminders of the British betrayal of Italy during the post-war treaties were dredged up and many politicians put forth demands for Britain to not only cede their own holdings in adjacent British Somaliland to Italy, but also the island of Malta (geographically a part of Sicily, it was pointed out) as well as recognising Italian claims in the Balkans. It placed Mussolini in particular under pressure as he was pinned between the twin columns of public and governmental opinion, especially opposite King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy, whose own opinion favoured Britain and who was deeply concerned of the Italian navy having to face down the British one, especially with Britain maintaining control over the two major entries into the Mediterranean via the Suez and Gibraltar.

A point oft-ignored in contemporary descriptions of the Kingdom of Italy under Fascism was the greater popularity of the royal family when contrasted to Mussolini and other fascist leaders and how that influenced interactions between the nominal Prime Minister and his sovereign. The House of Savoy, Italy’s royal house since unification and the rulers of Sardinia-Piedmont beforehand, was deeply beloved by the people of Italy, earning cheers and applause at every appearance (contrasted to the stony silence which frequently met fascist symbols and leaders). Until the late 1930’s, it is very likely that, had the king attempted to oust Mussolini from his post, he would have been successful, with the army and populace following his lead. The fact that he made no move to do so, as well as his willingness to cede greater and greater powers to his Prime Minister, played a crucial role in the loss of popular support during the last years of the fascist regime and, eventually, culminated in the end of the Italian monarchy itself.
Popular support would not be enough to incite the king to restrain Mussolini, however, and on November 19th, war erupted between the Abyssinian Empire and the Kingdom of Italy, the first major conflict involving a European power since the Great War itself, and what many today consider the first step towards the oncoming conflagration.

---

Galadi was a dirty little village in a dirty little region of a dirty little country for which Antonio Bertoldi had absolutely no respect. It was a dry, barren wasteland not even fit to be called a nation in his opinion, much less an empire, though he couldn't imagine the sort of disease-ridden monkey that these creatures called a ruler. He longed to return to the warm shores of his home in Italy, where the sand was white and fine, not coarse and dyeing the entire world a perpetual shade of muddy orange, and the heat was comforting rather than stifling. He missed his parents and siblings, but he had a duty to fulfil, and he would stay until the Italian flag flew from Eritrea clear across to Somaliland.

“Dalmati,” called out Giorgio Puccini, one of the other soldiers, as he jogged over. He, like Bertoldi, was young for a soldier, 18 to Bertoldi’s 20. He’d barely gotten any of his whiskers yet, and his clear attempt to grow them out had led to a perpetually scruffy-looking appearance that had earned him the nickname “gattino”, or “kitten”. Giving nicknames seemed to be a popular habit within his troop; he’d scarcely opened his mouth before his native Dalmatian accent had earned him the nickname “Dalmati”, or “Dalmatian”, since he was the only non-peninsular Italian from their group, being an inhabitant of the city of Zara. He supposed he couldn’t complain about it too much.

“What is it?” Bertoldi asked, pushing himself to his feet off of the large empty oil drum on which he’d been sitting. “Raiders? An attack?”

Puccini laughed and clapped Bertoldi on the shoulder like one of the older officers might’ve, a strange sensation given their close ages and identical levels of experience. “You don’t need to be so eager,” he teased, “lots of men on the front would kill to have garrison duty!”

Bertoldi scowled and rubbed at his short-cropped hair, missing what his mother called a “shaggy mop”, which he’d had before enlisting. “Some duty,” he muttered glumly, sitting back down. “I’m positively dying of boredom. These Abyssinians don’t even do anything! They just glare and say things in their awful language!”

“One of them spit at di Remo this morning,” Puccini said in what was probably supposed to be a soft voice, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You know what di Remo is like—he flew completely off the handle. Beat the living shit out of the monkey till his whole face looked like rotten meat.” Puccini grinned broadly. “Then the governour had him tied to a pole in the city centre so everyone could see what happens if they do anything like that. He’s still there, though I don’t think he’ll make it through the night, and we certainly won’t let one of our doctors treat one of their kind, so you better go check it out before he dies.”*

Bertoldi mirrored Puccini’s smile, though he did not feel the emotion which his friend so clearly did. He certainly had no love for these savages, but he could not bring himself to find joy from the notion of torturing them. They were lesser than Europeans, that was obvious, but what good did torturing or killing them do? Wasn’t the whole point of this war to topple their so-called “emperor” and bring good, Catholic civilization to the region? Of course, he also knew that he was new to colonialism and warfare, and perhaps there was something more to this which he simply was unaware of. He would have to trust in Mussolini to know what Italy needed, just like his father had always taught him to do.

“Is there any news from the front?” he asked, deciding to change the subject.

Puccini deflated. “No, not yet,” he lamented, dropping onto the barrel beside Bertoldi. “I bet we’re winning too quickly to need to send back reports on. They’re Africans, after all; a few pointy spears are nothing against Italian steel!”

Bertoldi elected to not point out that Italian steel had already once failed to conquer the region. It was… not forbidden, exactly, but highly discouraged to bring up the Italian performance against Abyssinia in 1895 and 1896. He had distinct memories of learning about the war during one of his classes, where it was taught as a failure of the Italian military, but it seemed that Italian schools had a different mindset than Austrian ones, with many claiming British or French intervention and greed as the driving forces for Italy’s defeat. He changed the subject again. “Any new deliveries?”

“No.” A scowl darkened Puccini’s face. “They say the British aren’t letting us use their port north of here, so we have to ship everything through Somalia with horses and trucks.”

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They want Abyssinia for themselves!”

The indignity of it! It made Bertoldi’s blood boil and he gained a scowl to match Puccini’s. “As if their empire isn’t big enough already, now they want to take ours?”

“They’re greedy bastardi, those Brits. They’re just afraid of us, afraid that our navy will become bigger than theirs and that we will threaten their unjust occupation of rightful Italian lands. Just you wait—Mussolini will show them!”

Bertoldi could picture it in his mind’s eye, just like everyone always talked about—an Italy stretching not only from Savoy to Albania, dominating the Balkans and Greece, but also their empire, from the tip of Tunisia down to the Horn of Africa, as mighty as Rome itself, just like he always heard on the radio. Abyssinia was only the beginning, he knew, and one day soon all of his home region would be restored to Italian rule and Rome would regain its ancient claim as the dominant city in all of Europe.

All they had to do was wait and trust Mussolini. He and he alone could lead them to victory.

---

Across the Adriatic Sea from the nation currently launching its invasion of Abyssinia, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia watched with deep concern. Under the order of Prince-Regent Paul, the troop count on the Italian, Austria, and Hungarian borders had been doubled and planes were being sent out every half-hour to keep track of Italian naval movements. Rest assured, if Italy made a move, they would be the first to know of it.

This was cold comfort to Prince Paul himself, safely tucked away though he was in the national capital of Belgrade. He paced the halls of the White Palace relentlessly, his thoughts consumed with stratagems and questions on what he would do if his nightmares were realised and the Italians invaded. It was perhaps ludicrous to imagine them taking such a step now, in the middle of another war, but if there was anything which this conflict had shown, it was that Mussolini would take any step he saw as necessary to achieve Italian prestige, including, Paul had no doubt, striking East to claim the rich plains of Dalmatia which Rome saw as its right. French and Britain’s as-of-yet unwillingness to step in did not aid this, nor did Austria and Hungary’s support for Italy and proximity to their heartlands.

“Your Highness, please, sit down,” Prime Minister Stojadinovic insisted for the third or fourth time from the nearby dining table upon which a myriad of documents and maps had been splayed out. “You will do the nation no good with worrying alone.”

“Worrying is all I can do,” Paul declared, though he reluctantly crossed to the table. He could not bring himself to sit, though, and stood behind a chair, gripping the headrest tightly. “Is there any news from the North?”

“No news from anywhere, the same as a half-hour ago,” Stojadinovic said in a somewhat strained voice. He understood the other man’s concern, but paranoid micro-management would manage nothing. In Stojadinovic’s experience, as an economist if not as a soldier, Mussolini would not be foolish enough to begin a second war while in the initial stages of his first. Italy’s economy would have enough problems bankrolling this idiotic little adventure in Africa; it certainly would not be able to handle a war which directly threatened its industry and people. Still, that did not mean that it would hurt to play it cautiously, especially when the threat of Italian invasion was proving profoundly stabilising for the nation’s internal policy.

The Croats, one of Yugoslavia’s three official ethnic groups, were well-aware of Italian designs on their coastal territory, and all but the most extreme Croatian Nationalists knew that an independant Croatia would not last long before having its lands seized by its neighbours. This had worked to the benefit of the Yugoslavian government in the 1920’s, portraying the government in Belgrade—for all its disputes—as a superior option to what would face them under Italy, and Stojadinovic had not wasted this opportunity to dust this tool off and apply it once more. The Yugoslavian administrative regions, or “banovinas”, which contained Croat majorities had not been this calm in years.

“I have arranged for two contingents of troops to be placed along the Bulgarian and Albanian borders, in case either seek to take advantage of the distraction. We are stretched thin, but it is enough, I believe..”

“Good, good,” the Prince-Regent murmured distractedly. “And the French Ambassador?”

Stojadinovic grimaced, but dug the letter out of the pile of paperwork. “They accuse us of paranoia.”

“What?” Paul ripped the letter from his hands and read it quickly. “It says nothing about paranoia.”

“Not directly,” Stojadinovic conceded, “but notice the word choice. ‘No unprovoked action,’ it says, followed by saying that they would ‘look unfavourably upon continued bias against our Italian neighbours’.” He laughed harshly. “Bias, the ambassador says! As though we were the ones to invade and occupy our cities.” He glared down at the map where the ports of Rijeka and Zadar (Fiume and Zara in Italian) were marked in deep red.

Prince Paul was clearly reluctant to think ill of his French friends, and said, “It does not abrogate their support for us.”

“Nor does it reinforce it. Do you not see, now, that the French would gladly throw us to the Italians if it meant an ally against the dreaded Nyemtsa across the Rhine?”

Paul placed the letter back down on the table and turned away, avoiding letting Stojadinovic suck him into another debate on the matter. The Prime Minister lacked the deep admiration and respect which the royals held for the French and British, and instead advocated a pivot towards the Germans, whom Stojadinovic saw as the most logical counter to Italian and Soviet ambitions in the Balkans. During his quest towards economic resuscitation and reform following the Great Depression (the very reason Paul had appointed such a renowned economist as his Prime Minister) he had massively increased the sale of foodstuffs and raw minerals to Germany, a veritable goldmine for the nation, though at the cost of infuriating the many members of the Serbian nobility who loathed their old enemies in Vienna and Berlin, the same peoples who had oppressed the South Slavs for centuries and fought against Serbia in the Great War. Stojadinovic had publicly criticised these voices as being too “stuck in the past”, and not even an assassination attempt had stopped him from trying to bring Belgrade and Berlin closer together, even against the wishes of Prince-Regent Paul, himself.

“I can only thank God that King Peter is safe far away from this madness,” Paul spoke up. Stojadinovic glanced over and saw that the acting sovereign was standing below and staring up at the enormous painting of his brother, the deceased King Alexander I, which hung between the two windows. “I could not bear the thought of letting his realm fall due to my own foolishness or inaction.”

It was at times strange to remember that Paul was merely standing in for the child who technically ruled their nation, currently hidden away in a school in England where the messiness of domestic politics and colonial wars could not touch him. “You were the one chosen to rule our kingdom until your nephew comes of age. You will have to decide the best path to do so. I understand honouring your brother’s wishes, but circumstances today are not the same as they were before.”

“And if I choose incorrectly? If I forsake our old allies and our new ones betray us? If I concede to those who crave federalism and it leads to our utter collapse?” He lifted his hands to his brow. “There is a saying in English, you know. ‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’ Each day I feel that weight grow. One day, I fear it will break me.”

---

Author’s Note: I hope it goes without saying that the opinions of racist 20th century people are not to be justified and that this is written as a reflection of the era rather than my own thoughts on the matter. Racism is bad, full stop.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Germany has built around themselves an economic system whose very existence hinges on the continued power and stability of the Reich, a system which has allowed them to reach heights comparable to even the British Empire itself. And while the reward for their compliance has been peace and protection, it is undeniable that the cost extracted from the smaller nations of Europe and the world has not been insubstantial—if that is in doubt, one merely has to look at what happened to the Kingdom of Belgium when they stepped out of line.” - Excerpt from Mitteleuropa - The Footprint of the Reich by Milton Friedman, published 1974

The Price of Peace​

---

“As I am sure you can understand, such a proposal would cost the Reich little and would win us significant diplomatic credit with the United Kingdom,” German Foreign Minister Konstantin von Neurath was saying, smoothly working his way down the list of bullet points detailed on the brief on von Lettow-Vorbeck’s desk. The topic at hand was Britain’s League of Nations proposal to place sanctions upon the Kingdom of Italy, and whether or not Germany should support them in this. “The bulk of our trade with Italy has been foodstuffs, something which we would be able to subsidise with new economic agreements aimed at the Balkans and Baltic states. They, in turn, rely on our industrial products; with both British and German markets beyond their grasp, their economy will be unable to support both a war in Africa as well as the increased investments in Austria. It would only be a matter of time before the Italian sphere of influence collapses.”

“A sound plan,” von Lettow-Vorbeck noted, eyebrows rising appreciatively. “What do you think?” He posed the question to von Schleicher, seated to his left.

The Minister of Defense rubbed his chin. He had been an early advocate of German-Italian alignment against France, but the situation had evolved somewhat in the past year, and Italy was no longer the useful prospect which it had once seemed. Mussolini’s overreaching in Africa would cost him greatly, whether or not he could succeed where his predecessors had once failed, and it provided a golden opportunity for Germany to occupy the void which Rome would leave. “It is surrendering a card which we hold, granting Britain our support and asking nothing in return. I do not believe it to be a mistake, but the risk incurred must also be taken into account. If we do this, we are surrendering major continental allies. Would you place our trust so fully in British hands?”

“Of course not,” von Neurath was quick to interject. “But let us not forget that it was the reliance on the alleged superiority of the Great Powers’ combat ability which led to our defeat in the Great War, when our supposed partner and equal in Austria-Hungary was brought low by the so-called ‘plucky Serbia’. Rather than making the same mistake again, I propose a revival of the Mitteleuropa idea. Envision it: A German sphere stretching from the Baltic Sea to the Balkans, strangling our enemies before they can even strike. Italian aggression has opened a door through which we must take a step.”

Mitteleuropa. A dream borne from the nationalistic fires of the Victorian Era and the hunger for an empire which defined German policy under Kaiser Wilhelm II. A German political and economic hegemony encompassing all of Central and Eastern Europe, creating a belt of self-sufficient strength and power through which neither the French nor the Russians could ever hope to tear. The Imperial German Army had come so close to achieving it with the fall of the Russian Empire, only to have it stolen from their grasp at the last second by domestic revolution and surrender.

Von Neurath continued. “The Bulgarians favour us, though they think that we are blind to Tsar Boris clumsily trying to play both sides. The Albanians, too, or at least their king, hate their heightened dependency on Rome, and have sought to expand upon the investments we established last year to counteract its influence. Romania is, while too close to Poland for my liking, at least sympathetic towards German interests. The only roadblock is Yugoslavia and the Serbs’ hatred for all things German.”

“Their Prime Minister is not as inflexible as he at first appears,” von Lettow-Vorbeck cut in. “Sources from Belgrade have informed me of the panic gripping their government. Many fear that an Italian invasion is imminent. They are no longer certain of French protection.”

“And what does Göring say of Paris?” von Schleicher inquired, not bothering to hide the open secret of the VoSiSt’s international activities.

The president shot him a faintly amused, faintly chastising look. “The French won’t oppose the Italians. They won’t support them, especially in the face of British enmity, but they will not risk open opposition under any circumstances. They have far too much to lose.”

“I concur.” The duo turned back to von Neurath, who continued, “Britain’s proposal to block trade to Italy will only increase the distance between London and Paris. We can take advantage of the distraction and assert our influence.”

Von Lettow-Vorbeck looked between the duo. “The both of you are in agreement, then? We will pledge our support for the British sanctions against Italy?”

The other two nodded. “It was only a matter of time until one of our opponents made a misstep and cleared the board for our rise,” von Neurath said with a smug smile. “Now, all that remains is to take the first move.”

---

On December 9th, 1935, the League of Nations, led by Britain, came together in an emergency assembly to tackle the emergence of a sudden and dangerous threat to world peace and stability: The invasion of Abyssinia by the Kingdom of Italy, and Britain’s proposal to end the war. The British plan was simple and brief, proposing a series of economic sanctions designed to strangle the Italian war machine and force them to the negotiating table or risk economic collapse. The planned sanctions would have been extensive, including not only weapons of war, but also fuel, with some even extending their demands to a complete closure of the Suez to Italian passage.

On paper, it seemed a near-guaranteed victory for the forces of the United Kingdom. Not only did they having the backing of League policy, wherein aggression of one League member against another was strictly forbidden, but they also possessed the support of two of the other four permanent members of the League—the Soviet Union, a vocal opponent to Imperialism, and the German Republic, whose alignment was a simple matter of foreign policy goals. It was assumed, somewhat prematurely, that France would soon join onboard, as France had previously joined Britain in her attempts to prevent Italian expansion into the Horn of Africa and the threat to their holdings in the region which it would bring.

Member States of the League of Nations, 1935-1936
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Membe..._of_Nations#10_January_1920:_founding_members)

This would not be the case. For the French, so recently scorned by Britain during their attempt to prevent German rearmament and expansion westward, the decision to fully sideline Italy on the request of London was not one so easily made. To Prime Minister Flandin and many within the Parisian government, what 1935 had shown them was the profound risk of placing too much faith in a single ally, be it Britain or anyone else. While it was true that the two great empires retained cordial relations and strong trade, despite everything, a veil had been pulled from the French’s eyes and they now saw that their survival and continued relevance could not be assured if they were to solely toe the British line.

This reluctance was seized upon by the Italian delegation and soon Britain’s attempt at a swift diplomatic stroke descended into the hell of debates and counter-arguments which characterised the League of Nations. The Italians wielded the advantage in this situation, because time was on their side: While Britain had to convince their peaceful neighbours to damage their own economies and risk war for the benefit of an African nation which many had never heard of, Italy merely had to hold out until the importance and urgency withered, a task which would quicken if their armies successfully defeated the Abyssinians and drove the government into exile. The weakest point in their opponents’ armour was France, so it was against them that the Italian delegation struck, promising the French economic concessions in conquered Abyssinia as well as reaffirming their commitment to preventing Austro-German unification, something which they could not do if their economy was to crumble under the weight of sanctions, they added as a reminder.

Another sympathiser to the Italian cause was Poland. While Poland held little love for Fascism or Mussolini himself, they aligned in their shared commitment to prevent German expansion in Central and Eastern Europe, as well as a common moral view in regards to the Catholic Church. Poland held one of the few semi-permanent seats on the League Council, granting them, while not an especially powerful voice, an important one nevertheless. France’s own sympathy further swayed the Polish delegation, not only in accordance with their hopes to encircle Germany in the event of war, but out of their own ambitions towards colonial expansion in Africa, something which they had hopes of seeing realised in exchange for a pledge of support.

Lastly, there was Portugal, a nominal ally of Britain with more than passing similarities to Italy in forms of governance and Authorianism. Mussolini had long hoped to align Portugal in his plan to exert Italian influence from Iberia to Anatolia, but his hopes had come to naught, as leader of Portugal Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, despite his admiration for Mussolini, held more than a little distaste for Fascism itself. With Portugal holding one of the rotating non-permanent seats on the League of Nations Council, Italian diplomats would reach out to try and court the Portuguese, but in the end nothing would come of it and Portugal remained on the sidelines.

As the Italians had hoped, days turned into weeks and no unified resolution was forthcoming, and by the time February 19th rolled around, marking two months since the beginning of the Second Italo-Abyssinian War, Britain’s hopes had been thoroughly dashed. The League had proven impotent in the face of this new crisis, and Baldwin’s appeals to Parliament had failed to rouse them to more than a series of sanctions on weapons, with them refusing to budge on the matter of oil sales or the Suez Canal, especially focused as they were on the domestic complications arising from the death of King George V and the public’s focus dramatically shifting from the war to the matter of a new coronation.

Germany was little better. Von Lettow-Vorbeck followed the British sanctions with ones of his own, mainly focused on the sale of heavy industrial equipment, and while it did force Mussolini to put a pin in his attempts to improve industrialisation in the North, the German President was unwilling to fully oppose his wealthy financial backers, for whom a complete closing of trade lines to Italy would have been unacceptable.

Neither the Italians nor the British would gain anything significant from these talks, and if one were keeping score, the only groups to improve their position in the wake of the Italian Invasion were the ones who opposed both sides altogether.

---

“People of Danzig, the time for your salvation is at hand! Witness the perfidy of Germany’s enemies, the arrogant, money-grubbing Jews and decadent bourgeois who squabble amongst themselves to the detriment of the common man! The blindness of our once-mighty nation’s government, turning its head to the plight of the Germans of West Prussia! The weakness of von Lettow-Vorbeck, conspiring with our enemies and conceding to his economic puppetmasters! No more! The time is now, loyal Germans, the time to throw off the weight of our past an embrace a new future! A new world order, free from the shackles of corrupt capitalists and bloated democracies! A world order led by Germany!”

Rapturous applause broke out throughout the crowd, men clapping, women cheering, and children waving flags bearing the black-white-red of the German Empire. In the distance, the local police were conspicuously pretending not to notice the technically-illegal rally, and it was near-guaranteed that their Polish counterparts were being kept occupied somewhere else in the Free City while the rally was going on.

Franz von Papen turned up the collar of his coat to combat the stiff wind blowing off of the Bay of Danzig. He’d thought that Winter in Berlin was cold, but that had nothing on the freezing Baltic coastline, the sky overhead overcast and pregnant with snow. Casting his gaze left and right, he slid through the crowd and towards the edge of the stage, where the speaker and leading member of the NSFB, Otto Strasser, had descended and was engaging in conversation with a group of locals. Von Papen kept back but listened closely to the words being exchanged.

“...and you must understand that this comes from a place of love and pride for our great nation and its people,” Strasser was saying, gesturing vehemently with his hands. “For the German people to achieve our greatest potential, the barriers between the strata of society must be torn down and the power taken from those who misuse it. Only then can Germany become the world power that it was destined to be—when every man, woman, and child can at last fulfil their role in service of the Fatherland.”

“What about the Jews and the Poles?” one of the onlookers cried out.

“The Jews and the Poles are foreigners occupying the land needed for German blood to flourish. When the engines of German progress churn, they will find no place for themselves, and will be expelled, just as our ancestors once expelled the savages who occupied the same Baltic land on which we now stand. The same goes for any others who stand in the way of our national unity.”

A cheer broke through the murmurs of appreciation and it triggered a new wave of elated clapping for Strasser. The man smiled broadly, clearly revelling in the immense popularity which he enjoyed in the Free City of Danzig.

Von Papen felt his lips curl with distaste, hidden behind his collar. Strasser and his brother were exactly the sort of gutter politicians whom von Papen loathed; men of no great breeding or stature, inflaming the common fool by promising the stars and bringing chaos and instability wherever they went. Of the two brothers, Otto Strasser was clearly the worst, with his borderline-Communist rhetoric and flagrant disrespect for the mechanisms of power. It was no small wonder that such revolutionary idiocy had failed to catch on in Germany, and that it was only here, in Danzig, a city under little more than foreign occupation, where the ideas took root.

It took a frustrating fifteen minutes before Strasser detached himself from his adoring followers and von Papen had the chance to approach him. If the expression which overtook Strasser’s face upon seeing von Papen was any indication, his opinion for the latter was as poor as the latter’s was for the former. “Ah. It’s you.” His tone mirrored his expression.

Von Papen set his jaw, swallowing the urge to stoop to the other man’s level. “It is a pleasure to meet you in person,” he offered, stretching out a hand.
Strasser took it, but dropped it just as quickly. “I have arranged for a room. Please come with me.” He turned on his heel and strode off.

Von Papen followed, the sound of their shoes on the cobblestone the only thing they exchanged. The walk was brief but the absence of the surrounding crowd made the January climate all the more biting and harsh against the man’s skin and he huddled in on himself. Strasser, in contrast, seemed unaffected by the conditions, and von Papen would almost fancy him to have slowed his gait to prolong the other’s suffering. At last, though, they arrived at their destination: A squat, well-lit bar at the edge of the river, its logo a fox encircling a plump hen. The duo entered, pushing open the door and moving past the heat-retaining curtain before a wave of warmth and the smell of beer-soaked meat wafted over them. Strasser was treated to another wave of friendly greetings by present patrons, and once more von Papen felt that he was being deliberately mocked as the rules of politeness forced him to stand and wait while the politician paused to greet everyone by name before they, at long last, reached the small back room which had been set aside for their meeting.

Von Papen shut the door with a slam, free hand clenching so tightly that he felt his knuckles pop from the strain. “So,” he spoke at long last, crossing the small space in a single stride and sliding into the chair opposite Strasser. “I see that the tales of your party’s grip on Danzig are more than mere rumours.”

“The Danzigers have suffered greatly at the hands of the greedy, Capitalistic powers of Europe,” the metaphorical ‘left head’ of the NSFB declared, pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher left out for them. “Their humiliation has opened them to the possibilities of a better future. A revolutionary tomorrow.”

“Some have accused you of communist sympathies. Words like that don’t help.”

“You mean you and your friends have accused me.” Strasser sneered in disgust. “I don’t care much for what you or your autocratic kind think of me.”

This was proving far more difficult than von Papen had anticipated. Strasser and the NSFB were not only opponents of von Lettow-Vorbeck and his conciliatory politics, but rather opposed the entire system which had governed Germany since time immemorial. For all that his allies in the DNVP likewise sought to reverse Germany’s liberal slide and remove von Lettow-Vorbeck from power, that was the extent that the two Right-wing parties’ goals overlapped. The Strasser brothers talked of revolution, of class conflict, of the elimination of the landed elites and aristocracy itself! It was madness, but it was the only card which could currently be played.

“Then why did you agree to this meeting?” von Papen hedged carefully. Given the man’s loathing for everything that the arch-Conservatives prioritised, he could not fathom why this proposal of negotiating an alliance against the forces dominating Germany would have been agreed upon.

“My brother talked me into it.” The younger Strasser brother glared down into his glass. “I will admit that our parties’ goals are not… wholly incompatible.”

Ah, Gregor Strasser. The older and, in von Papen’s opinion, wiser of the duo. It was with him that von Papen had hoped to speak, not the temperamental, revolutionary younger iteration. “That is what I feel, as well. Something must be done to stop Germany’s decay at the hands of a liberal appeaser.”

“What good have Hugenberg and his ilk done? They do not propose change or improvement; they merely call for a return of the feudal nonsense.”

“Hugenberg is not in question.”

Strasser’s gaze snapped to him. “Oh?”

It was a secret, but the leadership of the DNVP had grown thoroughly sick of Hugenberg’s approach and how it had cost them much of their public support. Motions were being carried out behind the scenes to at last unseat the old codger and select a replacement—if von Papen could secure an alliance with the NSFB, he might have enough sway to ensure an ally as its new head. “The DNVP is changing. It has to, or it will cease to be a factor in the next election.”

“The DNVP has no chance of winning this year, with or without our help,” said Strasser. “The Catholics and the Socialists have too strong of a hold.”

“Perhaps. But the president gives too much. He is weak—if he is removed from the picture, if something were to happen to him, the regime will crumble and the Socialists will try to seize power. The military will oppose them. When this happens, that will be our chance.”

For the first time since they’d locked eyes in the town centre, Strasser looked interested in what von Papen had to say.

---

A/N: I want to say that I hated writing this chapter and that I do not like the result, but I finally decided to post it just to be over and done with it. I wanted a scene from the British perspective but it kept getting co-opted by the death of King George V and the ascension of King Edward VIII. I finally decided to skip over that and have the next chapter be a British chapter.

Chapters will continue to be somewhat irregular and delayed in posting, I am currently undergoing auxilery training for work and it is sucking up a lot of my free time.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

“Hercule Poiroit wiped his mouth with the cloth serviette, carefully folding it up and replacing it atop his plate, concealing the burgundy Mitropa ‘M’. ‘We have eaten well, mon ami, and now we shall get down to brass tacks, as you English say, and find our murderer.’” - Excerpt from Agatha Christie's 1939 novel ‘The Kaiser's Ghost’, the mystery of a murdered German general and the rush to catch the culprit before he disappears forever.

Bones of Iron, Veins of Steel​

---

“The new railway line will follow the pre-existing route along Rhine westward from Mainz, before breaking off at Bingen and cutting South through Bad Kreuznach and then West towards the Mosel,” Adenauer explained to the men to his left and right, tracing the path of the new train line on the map in front of them. “Idar and Oberstein are to be unified into a new municipality, Idar-Oberstein, which will serve as a junction linking the Trier-Kaiserslautern and Saarbrücken-Mainz lines.”

Nahetal Rail Line, 1935
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nahetalbahn)

The man to his right, newly-elected Minister-President of the Freistaat Rhinelands (Free State of the Rhineland) Peter Altmeier, examined the plans with appreciation. The formation of the new federal state had brought to light a number of problems with the administration in the region, a holdover from the old feudal system which had split the region between multiple different actors. The most egregious of these problems was that of infrastructure.

Up until the fall of the German Empire in 1918, the German railways had remained under the control of the constituent states and their respective rulers, which had frequently led to problems due to differing signals and systems. While the German Revolution had handed over control of this, and many other things, to the central government, the difficult domestic and financial situation had prevented the gaps from being filled. Now, though, with the economy flourishing, the time was ripe to to right that wrong.

“Are you fully convinced of Kaiserslautern as the provisional capital?” asked the man to Adenauer’s left, Wilhelm Weirauch, deputy director of the Deutsche Reichsbahn (German National Railway). “I understand the geographic appeal, but Ludwigshafen would be more practical from an infrastructural standpoint, not to mention possessing a far larger population.”

Adenauer shook his head. “Ludwigshafen sits on the border to Baden, and would be too easily overshadowed by Mannheim. Trier would have also been an acceptable option, but it remains under the Prussian boot.”

Squashed beneath the bulky Prussian Rhineland, the new Free State looked a sad little thing on the map. Absentmindedly, the Chancellor picked at the edges of it, wondering if it would ever be expanded to its rightful glory.

German Rhineland, 1935
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Weimar_Republic_states_map.svg)

“I agree, Kaiserslautern is the best option,” Minister-President Altmeier chimed in. “It is not the largest city, perhaps, but it at least bears a long history. Ludwigshafen was little more than a vanity project for the Bavarian king. Perhaps its new role will help Kaiserslautern flourish.”
Weirauch studied the map for a moment. “If we can regain Alsace, it would at least serve us well along a southern route towards Strasbourg,” he conceded, though it was clear that he was not fully convinced.

Adenauer did not care. It was not as though it would matter, anyway; the city was little more than a consolation prize, and the more unappealing it was as a capital, the easier it would be to dislodge and shift the focus to the true rhenish capital: Cologne. “The residents have been largely supportive of the new state,” he said, smoothly redirecting the focus of the conversation. “Voter turnout was high for the first election and the majority of the media is positive.”

“The most problematic area thus far has been Eupen-Malmedy, though this seems to be more based on lingering reintegration pains than any specific hatred for the new state,” Altmeier added as clarification. “The city of Malmedy, as I am sure you are aware, is Francophone, and there has been some violence against officials in the city and cries to rejoin Belgium, mostly by the younger generation. Belgium has refused to back their claims. In the worst case we can try and arrange limited autonomy in the region. I am sure that it will not pose a problem”

“See that it doesn’t, it would not due for such measures to undermine our credibility.” Adenauer was still not convinced of the wisdom of pushing for their Belgian claims, but what was done, was done.

“We are working to reintegrate the Vehnbahn back into our rail system; perhaps that will help stabilise the region,” Weirauch pointed out, gesturing to the former Belgian rail exclave which had now rejoined the Reich. “The Luxembourgers have already consented to us extending the line further south to their capital, as it opens the possibility of a faster route to Aachen and Maastricht.”

Luxembourg had been ripped from their customs union with Germany following the end of the Great War, and the new one which they had forged with Belgium was a pale reflection. The rebuilding of the railways and ties with Belgium was the first step; with German trains and products passing through their land, not to mention their own German-speaking nature, their future alignment with Berlin was only natural.

“Will the unions be a problem?”

“Difficult to say. There is a dangerously socialist slant to many of our workers, it is true, but they never fully recovered from the Depression, and with your government providing new jobs for the rails, I do not see a large opposition from the EdED or the DTV, at least if they want to prevent another exodus of their members.”

The EdED, short for Einheitsverband der Eisenbahner Deutschlands (United Union of German Railway Workers) was one of the most powerful and oldest unions in Germany, formed initially in 1897 before merging with other unions. Even with the economic downturn of the 1920’s they had remained a juggernaut, and when working alongside the other major union, Deutsche Transportarbeiter-Verband (German Transport Workers’ Union), or DTV, they had the power to put the squeeze on the government like none other.

“Let me deal with the unions,” Adenauer assured the duo. “There are always cracks, if one knows where to look. Pull on the right thread and the whole construction falls apart around you.”

---

One of the most iconic hallmarks of Germany throughout the last century has been their trains. As the largest country in Europe (overseas holdings exempted) in terms of both size and population, the German Reich is often referred to as the great train junction of Europe—it is almost impossible to cross the continent without setting foot on German soil, and more than 70% of all locomotives used in Europe were produced or at least designed in Germany. There are very few places across their nation which cannot be reached via the extensive network of high-speed and regional transportation, with even the popularity of aeroplanes and airships proving unable to dislodge the train from the hearts of Germans everywhere.

The 1930’s saw an explosion of rail usage across Germany, pioneered in large part by public works programs which largely favoured rail travel as an alternative to the less-accessible automobiles. When asked about their long-term goals for Germany, Minister for Transport Gottfried Treviranus said, “It is the goal of this government to connect Germans to Germany in a way never-before seen. By the end of the next decade, we want the whole of the Reich to be accessible to its citizens, no matter their origin, from the peak of the Zugspitze to the shores of Westerland and everything in-between. We will reinforce the Fatherland with bones of iron and veins of steel.”

Gottfried Reinhold Treviranus, 1936
(https://www.omnia.ie/index.php?navigation_function=3&europeana_query=Treviranus, Gottfried)

Treviranus would come to hold the post of Reich Minister for Transport for nearly twenty-two years, surviving multiple elections and governmental shifts; even the fall of the Republic wouldn't lessen his grasp on the ministry. This unmatched tenure is attributed to his single-minded pursuit of German technological supremacy and the lengths he took to ensure it.

In 1933, Germany had become home to the fastest train in the world, the Fliegender Hamburger (Hamburg Flyer), a diesel-electric locomotive running the route between the cities of Berlin and Hamburg at roughly 124 kilometres per hour. The train was a remarkable feat of engineering, but also a deeply exclusive one, with associated costs, such as the making of the locomotives themselves, forcing the Reichsbahn to limit its use to the aforementioned route.

Hamburg Flyer, 1933
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DRG_Class_SVT_137)

Treviranus had taken note of the train’s incredible feats and had petitioned for funds to extend the high-speed railway, but it was not until late 1935 that his requests bore fruit, courtesy of Chancellor Konrad Adenauer.

In 1931, Germany had bid for and won the right to host the 1936 Olympic Games, a privilege which now von Lettow-Vorbeck’s government was obliged to fulfil. The president held little care for the event and as a result the work of planning it fell to Adenauer, a job he took to with relish, commissioning a new sports area and hand-picking individual venues. In his grand plan for the Olympic Games, a chance to demonstrate the peaceful and prosperous republic which had taken the place of (what he saw as) a decrepit monarchy, a high-speed rail connection between major German cities would be invaluable.

The majority of the Summer events had been planned to take place in Berlin, despite Adenauer’s personal distaste for the city, and the chancellor wanted to ensure the highest possible number of tourists would be able to reach the capital when the time came. With Treviranus’s help, he proposed to the Reichsbahn the idea of transforming the Hamburg Flyer route into a cross-German one, beginning in the city of Cologne and travelling via Hamburg to Berlin and then further on to Breslau with stops only in major cities. They were sceptical, but since the price largely came down to training and acquiring more trains, something that the central government agreed to subsidise, they acquiesced.

But Adenauer’s plans were larger than they had realised. Though the Summer Olympics were slated for Berlin, the Winter ones were going to take place in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a town in Upper Bavaria. Thus, his proposal was followed by a second, more ambitious one: The creation of a brand new high-speed line from Berlin to Munich.

The difficulties in a new North-South route were greater than an East-West one, and came with associated risk. The South was more mountainous, which many felt made high-speed travel difficult if not impossible, and would bring in the complication which emerged from crossing from the Prussian train regions into the Bavarian ones. Conductors and engineers would need to be trained for the high-speed trains as well as for the regional differences, including signals from the days of the Königliche Bayerische Staats-Eisenbahnen (Royal Bavarian State Railways). Altogether, it was difficult to garner support outside of Trevinarus himself.

Adenauer would not be deterred, going so far as to enlist the help of Waggonbau Görlitz, the company behind the Hamburg Flyer, offering them tax breaks and government-sponsored investments in exchange for backing his proposal. The company saw the potential for profit in association with the Olympic Games, and agreed heartily. The fact that what he was doing was technically illegal made no difference to Adenauer; he had his eyes on a goal, and so went after it with the full force of his influence and power.

Another potential backer for the project was Mitropa, Germany’s premier company when it came to managing dining and sleeper cars. Founded in 1916 as a wartime competitor to the far more famous Belgian CIWL (Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits), Mitropa, short for “Mitteleuropa” (Central Europe), held a monopoly on the aforementioned services across Germany. After the war’s end, many of their routes through Eastern Europe and the Balkans had been stolen by said competitor, and they sought to restore glory to their name. A North-South rail line across Germany would be ripe for profit, not to mention continued hopes of German expansion carrying their influence throughout Europe as had been during the Great War.

Mitropa Dining Car circa 1935
(https://www.gettyimages.in/detail/n...ography-around-1935-blick-news-photo/56460856)

Adenauer’s hard work succeeded, and the Brandenburg-Bavaria rail line would be officially opened for public use in September, 1936. To say that Minister Treviranus was ecstatic would be an understatement, and he poured his heart and soul into advertising it to the wider European world, beginning an ongoing tradition of integration between the Ministry for Transport and the tourist industry, eventually culminating in its expansion into the Reich Ministry for Transport and Tourism several years later.

For all the economic hopefulness brought about by the Olympics, they likewise placed focus on the remaining weakness of the Reichsbahn and of Germany as a whole: Its poor relations with the nations bordering it. With Germany surrounded on three sides by nations of cool, if not outright hostile disposition, not to mention the Reich’s own claims and hunger for growth, it was wondered by many if the era of peace would last, or if perhaps the competitiveness of these Olympics games were merely a prelude to a far greater and more deadly form of competition.

---

Outside the window of the cosy First Class carriage in which Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck and her three youngest children were sitting, the scenery of the green Pomaranian coast rushed by, a blur of trees and lakes with the occasional glimpse of the vast Baltic Sea beyond. Her two youngest, Heloise and little Ursula (though not so little now, all of nine years old) had fallen asleep shortly after Köslin, while Arnd remained engaged in the book he'd brought with him. It was a shame that their eldest sibling, Rüdiger, hadn't been able to join them on their brief holiday, but at the age of fifteen he was growing more invested in his studies and had less interest in spending a weekend touring museums and old castles in Königsberg with his family.

The train gave a little jump and the carriage shook. Heloise stirred and Martha was quick to reach over and pet her head until she drifted back off to sleep. Glancing over, she saw that Arnd had abandoned his text in favour of watching the scenery zip past, and was glad that at least three of her children would be able to have this experience.

Taking the children to see the old historic sites of Prussia had been a shared desire of hers and Paul's, and though his work as German President would not let him leave for even a single weekend, he had been quick to ensure that the rest of his family would enjoy utmost comfort while travelling. A five-star hotel awaited them in the city and a chauffeur had been hired to pick them up from the station and ferry them to all of their desired destinations. They had a whole list of plans—the former royal castle in the city centre, the Teutonic fortress in Marienburg, the Masurian Lakes, and of course the Free City of Danzig. Martha only wished that they could've come by air, as Arnd had begged, but Paul remained sceptical of the safety and so rail it was. For their own security, an entire First Class carriage had been sealed off, the only occupants being the von Lettow-Vorbecks in the foremost compartment and two bodyguards in the next one over.

A soft knock came at the door and it was opened to reveal the conductor, a kind-faced older man with a silver moustache which matched the silver buttons on his jacket. On his breast was pinned the black-and-gold logo of the Reichsbahn. “I apologise for disturbing you,” he said, keeping his voice down, “but we are nearing the Polish Corridor and I have to begin my preparations for the Polish border check and our conversion into a Korridorzug.”

Arnd piped up from his seat by the window, asking, “Korridorzug? Is our train changing?”

The conductor, evidently a parent or otherwise accustomed to children himself, took a moment to explain it to the curious boy. The special diplomatic status accorded to Danzig and the Polish Corridor had left Germany divided by foreign territory, a situation made especially difficult for the movement of trains via the former Preußische Ostbahn (Prussian Eastern Railway) connecting Berlin to Königsberg, the same route on which they now travelled. A solution had thus been devised which would not require German citizens to acquire a Polish visa for what amounted to less than a half-hour of their time within Polish (and Danziger) territory: Becoming a Korridorzug (sealed diplomatic train).

At the station of Lauenberg, the final major stop within German territory, Polish border agents had been authorised to seal the doors of all passenger carriages from the outside, thereby preventing anyone from embarking or disembarking between Lauenberg and the first station within East Prussia, Marienburg.(Any visitors intent on visiting Danzig would be forced to disembark and re-enter the city from the East, in order to have their passports properly checked by border control.) By doing so, they could limit the chance of unwanted incursions into their sovereign territory, while likewise abiding by the rights of fair transport demanded by the Entente for German citizens. This was not without problems, as the conductor began to enunciate, before pausing and glancing at Martha, asking for her permission to continue. Knowing to what he would refer, and aware that her son would not be fazed by it, she nodded.

“In 1925, there was a train derailment due to poor track maintenance,” he explained to the fascinated boy. “Many people died in the crash, and the ones who did not were trapped in the carriage for several hours before help arrived.”

“The tracks were built by Germans, but it was the job of the Poles to maintain them,” Martha added, drawing her son’s attention. “They didn’t, and our people paid the price.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Hush,” she reprimanded him softly, placing a finger upon her lips to remind him of his sleeping sisters. “It is,” she added. “This ‘solution’ is merely a cause for greater strife and suffering.” She turned to the conductor. “Must we do anything to prepare?”

“No, ma’am,” he said with a shake of his head. “However, the Polish guards will perform a walk-through of the train before sealing it, and I wanted you to be prepared. I do not expect them to try anything with you, but there have been… incidents in the past. Luggage destroyed, passengers harassed, things in that vein.”

Martha nodded in understanding. “Thank you for taking the time to let us know.”

The conductor closed the door and moved on, undoubtedly to pass the same message on to the other travellers.

“Mother,” her son began, “if things are so bad, why does Father not do anything to stop it? He is the most powerful man in Germany, isn’t he? Can’t he make the Poles give us back our land?”

“It isn’t that simple, I’m afraid. His power has limits, especially outside of Germany. Poland wants to hold this territory just as badly as we want it back, and that could mean war.”

“But why is that bad? We would win!”

“That is what we believed before the Great War,” she reminded him. “It cost us a great deal when we were proven wrong.”

“We only lost ‘cause we were stabbed in the back, though.”

“And that is why war is a risk. Perhaps, facing off against Poland alone, we would win, but what would happen if France attacked from the other side? Or if the British once again try to starve our children with their navy? We would assuredly lose, and not only would we never see Danzig again, we could lose more German homelands, and become too weak to ever regain them.”

Arnd clearly had not considered that notion, and so lapsed into silence. Several minutes passed until the train began to shudder, the application of the brakes bringing it to a slow halt at Lauenberg main station. Through the window several passengers could be seen disembarking, and simultaneously several men in brown uniforms with the red-and-white armband of Polish police discussing briefly with the conductor before boarding the train. As the First Class carriage sat at the front of the train, it was through there that they passed first, coming to a stop in front of the doors leading into the Lettow-Vorbeck’s compartment. At some point the two guards assigned to their protection had appeared to stand beside the door, and while they allowed the Poles to enter, they kept a close eye while doing so.

The majority of the group continued onward to investigate the other passengers, with one remaining to examine their compartment. The guard was young, younger than Martha had expected, certainly no older than twenty at most. His blond hair was cropped short to his head and his dark blue eyes cast over them suspiciously, brows drawn. His eyes lingered on their limited baggage and Arnd in particular, who was giving the man his own hostile stare.

“Where are you going?” the Pole demanded in accented but otherwise perfect German.

“Who do you think—” began Arnd hotly before Martha cut him off.

“Königsberg, for a weekend visit,” she interjected smoothly, shooting her son a look which warned him not to open his mouth again. “Would you like to see our papers?” She held them out.

The guard snatched them with one quick motion and began to peruse them. Technically, legally, he did not have the right to examine her documents any more than he had the right to check luggage, but the legalities often fell subsidiary to other matters. After several long seconds he tossed them onto the seat beside her, giving a curt nod, closing the door, and stomping off.

The door had scarcely closed then Arnd was yelling, “How dare he treat you like that! I am going to tell Father and he will make sure this sort of thing never happens again!”

“You will do no such thing,” Martha snapped, turning her sternest gaze on him. “Your father will never hear a word of this.”

He was at first cowed, before frustration elicited a further, “But why?”

She sighed, and then again when she saw how his eruption had woken his sisters. “What good would that achieve? I am unhurt, my pride is undamaged, and our journey will continue soon.”

“But he insulted you!”

“Do you think your mother so brittle and timid that such nonsense would affect me?”

“Well… no, but–”

“You inherited your father’s spirit,” Martha said, more gently this time, “but you must also understand that there is a time to fight, and a time to accept things as they are.”

Arnd frowned. “Like what you said about war. It is a risk.”

“Exactly. I am not saying that fighting against injustice is bad, merely that it must be done strategically. Triggering a crisis over a rude border guard is simply not worth the risk.”

“But then what is worth the risk? How do we know we won’t just be waiting forever for our chance and it never comes?”

“We cannot know. We can only hope, and wait, and plan, so that if the day does come where we can turn the tables on our enemy, we will be ready.”

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"Since the Roman Empire has perhaps no other civilisation had such a profound and benevolent effect on the development of the human race as the British Empire. Beginning as an island nation off the coast of Europe and rising to become an empire spanning the seven continents, the footprint of Britain is an indelible mark upon the world. It was through her proactiveness that the light of civilization permeated the dark, savage wilds of Africa and Asia, her greater ideals which set the foundations for the United States, and her drive for progress which inspired the disparate peoples of Europe to seek peace and betterment. Britain is not just the ruler of the waves, but represents the pinnacle of human achievement and development. Why, then, should we reduce ourselves to becoming anything less than the leader and greatest of powers which we are, much less in favour of those who owe us everything?” - Excerpt from the highly controversial “On the Question of the Commonwealth” submitted by Winston Churchill to ‘The Times’ in 1940

Trial of the Spheres​

---

The death of King George V of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland on January 20th, 1936 could not have come at a less-auspicious time, and cast a pall over the nation which overshadowed even the Italian war in Africa. Flags had been lowered in mourning and the angry protesters once filling the street outside of the Italian Embassy had returned home to pay their respects for the beloved and fallen monarch. Daily radio broadcasts detailed at great length the deceased king’s achievements, both personal and national, with great emphasis placed upon his support in expanding the British Empire and his participation in the Great War against the menace of the Central European Powers. Certain topics were artfully avoided, such as his close familial relation to those same Central Powers or his tenure overlooking the loss of most of Ireland, but even when taking those hiccups into account, his reign would be remembered as a time of great stability and prosperity within Britain and her overseas empire.

With the death of the king, the throne passed to his eldest son and heir, Edward, soon to be known as King Edward VIII. This accession was not merely tainted by the shadow of the times and the growing tension in Europe and the world, but by the character and habits of the new king.

His Majesty, Edward the Eighth, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland, and of the British Dominions beyond the Seas, King, Defender of the Faith, Emperor of India.
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwar..._The_Prince_of_Wales_No_4_(HS85-10-36416).jpg)

Edward was a diametric contradiction to his father, the former king, in nearly every way imaginable. Outspoken to his father’s demureness, flirtatious to George’s doting monogamy, and, most troubling to the men of the British Parliament, politically outspoken where his predecessor had respected the royal family’s policy of non-interference. Edward’s coronation made many fear an attempt to restore greater powers to the monarch, a fear which was not helped by his tremendous popularity. As one of the most visible and adored men in the English-speaking world, Edward commanded tremendous respect from all levels of society. His fashion tastes were plastered from London to San Francisco; his service on the Western Front earned him the love of veterans; his handsome features and suave demeanour drew the gaze of any eligible women who crossed his path.

It was this appreciation for the fairer sex which had often brought Edward into conflict with his father. Starting from his coronation as the Prince of Wales at the age of 17, Edward would become embroiled in numerous affairs with women from all types and backgrounds, from French courtesans to married English noblewomen. The Royal Family would put great effort and no small amount of funding into the task of keeping him on the straight and narrow and, more importantly, preserving his reputation. King George often despaired at his son’s womanising nature and unwillingness to settle down, and near the end of his life began to openly hope for Edward to not sire children so that the crown might pass to George’s second son, Albert, and through him to George’s granddaughter, Elizabeth.

Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin had shared the now-deceased king’s frustrations with their future ruler, and had done so even during his tenure as Prince of Wales. In particular, the two butted heads over Edward’s latest and most intense relationship, that being one Mrs. Wallis Simpson. Simpson was a twice-married American socialite with whom Edward had begun engaging in an affair and whom, it was becoming increasingly apparent, he intended to marry. Not only did Wallis’s abrasive and domineering nature cause friction with the reserved temperament of the British court, it also flew in the face of Edward’s role as the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, with whom he was required to be in communion as King. As the Church of England only permitted divorce on the grounds of adultery or death of a spouse, neither of which had been provided as a reason for Wallis’s first divorce and were not being considered for the second, there was a risk of her first being considered invalid by the Church and her second therefore bigamous. Regardless of whether or not the Church would rule in her favour, the scrutiny and messiness surrounding her made Parliament supremely uncomfortable with the idea of her ascending to the position of Queen.

More egregious than his romantic preferences, however, were King Edward’s political ones. For centuries, the British crown had been required to work in tandem with Parliament, with the balance tilting slowly towards a more democratic system until the reign of George V, when the power of Parliament stood near-uncontested and the king occupied a role little more than a figurehead. Within this system, it was expected that the king would make no statements on national policy, and until now, this convention had been respected. Not only did Edward flagrantly ignore precedent, he also cared little for his role, ignoring important documents and spending much of his time off with his mistress.

These factors, when taken alongside the League of Nations dispute over Abyssinia, make the reason for the somewhat distracted nature of Britain in early 1936 abundantly clear. The empire upon which the sun never set was feeling its overstretched nature, and where gaps were seen, it did not take long for interested competitors to slither their way in.

---

A silver fork plunged into the juicy cut of steak, tearing through the meat and skewering the asparagus beneath it. Ambassador Friedrich von Keller lifted the morsel to his mouth, his napkin following suit to catch the droplet of sauce which caught at the edge of his lips. The motions were automatic, ingrained over a lifetime of upper-class education and refinement, and he followed them with a sip of £2,000 wine. “Marvellous,” he declared in fluent Spanish once he had chewed and swallowed. “Simply exquisite.”

Across the table from him, Carlos Saavedra Lamas, head of the Argentinian Ministry of International Trade, smiled, visibly pleased with the reaction. “I know that if it is a German saying this to me, it must be true,” Saavedra Lamas stated with a smile. “Your standards for food are high, I am aware.”

“I daresay that I couldn’t think of a single restaurant in Munich which could top what I just tasted,” the German commented, pausing to take his final bite of the meat before setting down his utensils. “My belly is full, but my palate yearns for more.” He grasped his wineglass and took another drink. “The wine pairs excellently. Where is it from?”

“Near Mendoza.”

“Incredible. Truly. I am bereft of adjectives to express my enjoyment of this meal.”

Saavedra Lamas quirked an eyebrow. “Have you not gotten the chance to experience local cuisine in your years living here?”

“Yes, well…” Von Keller coughed, appearing a bit embarrassed. “My wife insisted on hiring French staff, and a good bloody steak is a rarity on my plate.”

“Ah, I see. Well, a happy wife begets a happy life, no?”

“Well-said!” The German laughed. “I will have to bring her a bottle of this, though it will be an effort to convince her to try it.”

Saavedra Lamas gestured widely to the remaining two bottles set down on the adjacent pouring stand. “Take both of these as a gift from me.”

Knowing the price of just one, von Keller shook his head. “I would not dream of it!”

“I insist! Tell your lovely wife that it is a gift from the people of Argentina to thank her for allowing us the use of her husband.”

“Well.” Von Keller flushed slightly, though if it was due to the wine or the compliment, he could not say. Likely some combination. “I suppose if you insist…”

“I do,” Saavedra Lamas said firmly but kindly. “And you would not risk insulting me by declining, no?”

Von Keller laughed once more and said, “I suppose when you phrase it so, I have no choice.”

His host rang a little bell and a servant entered. A series of quick instructions in Spanish and the bottles were whisked away to be packaged safely for travel back to von Keller’s estate.

Von Keller shook his head in wonderment. “I have been a guest in the royal halls of Belgrade and Brussels, but I must confess that you have impressed me far more than either king has done.”

Saavedra Lamas’s lips curled at the edges at that. “You flatter me.”

“And you, I.”

The two continued on in conversation for the next half-hour, beginning with family matters before gradually diverging into discussions on the state of world affairs. Von Keller expressed admiration for Saavedra Lamas’s famed role as a peacekeeper in South America and his aid in mediating peace between Paraguay and Bolivia in 1935, while Saavedra Lamas shared his own love of German culture and his desire to see Germany restored to her place as a leader among world powers. Eventually, though, as the sun began to set and pipes were filled with tobacco, discussions turned to the true point of their meeting.

“You must understand that investment is not our highest priority at this point in time,” Saavedra Lamas clarified, folding his hands in front of him. “The problem is not the flow of funds; rather, it is our economic and trade independence. With the British market now partially walled-off for our vendors, we have been put into a… difficult position. We are producing a significant amount of goods which we cannot sell, especially foodstuffs. What we need is a market.”

Von Keller made a noise of realisation. “The steak and wine make more sense now.”

Saavedra Lamas shrugged gently. “It was the best presentation I could think of. I hope it does not appear underhanded.”

“I would have thought of nothing different.” Von Keller removed the tip of his pipe from his mouth and pointed it at the other man. “I need to first clarify that I am not qualified to make such a trade deal, you understand.”

“Naturally. Merely your help in pleading our case would do wonders.”

“What precisely is your government’s proposition?”

“It is like this. Argentina needs an export market for our food. Formerly, Britain served this role, but for the last few years our exports have dropped thanks to Imperial Preference. The Americans are purchasing, but not enough. Another Great Power being interested in us would help a great deal.”

“Helping by buying?”

“Buying and re-selling.”

Von Keller tilted his head. “Why re-selling?”

“Awareness. The more people eating our food, the more customers we can build for it. Don’t think that we don’t see the trade and investment market that Germany has been building up around itself. We aren’t looking to fully join it, at least not yet, but we want our foot in the door early.”

Von Keller nodded in recognition. “What can you offer in return? You must understand that German farmers have priority.”

“Of course, and that is why a broader European market is in our interest. Previous leaders have shackled us too tightly to Britain, but for Argentina to become for South America what Germany is for Europe, we cannot stay that course. We are prepared to grant German resale permission of Argentinian goods—only through licensed sellers, of course—for a period of five years, followed by another five years of special dispensation on prices. In exchange, we would like a guaranteed purchase rate for those same first five years.”

“What purchase rate would that be?”

“400,000 tonnes.”

Von Keller gripped the edge of the table. “That is… a very substantial sum.”

“I am aware.”

“I will have to discuss this with the Reich Ministry for the Economy. A deal of the likes of your proposal is not made lightly, and could have serious ramifications for our economy and workers.”

“Understandable.” Saavedra Lamas lifted his folded hands to his lips. “Argentina has a very significant German community, and continued cooperation is something that our government is deeply interested in. Think of it this way: Money spent on Argentinian goods would not solely be for the benefit of a foreign power, but for your own brothers and sisters overseas. What’s more, it could be the beginning of a permanent foothold in the region. Argentinian shores would provide a useful stopping point during a navigation to Antarctica, would it not?”

A questioning eyebrow-raise was his prompt to continue.

“There remain several portions of the great southern continent which remain unclaimed or, if claimed, poorly-defended. Ripe for German expansion.”

“You would propose a desert of ice and snow as compensation for German currency? Would you be the one so bold as to propose this before the Reichstag?”

“It is just an idea,” Saavedra Lamas said, holding out hands in a pacifying gesture. “Merely to show that we are flexible, and willing to do what we can to make this idea work.”

Von Keller rubbed his jaw. “I will have to discuss this,” he repeated finally. “Perhaps an agreement can be reached, though I would not hold your breath on the 400,000 you desire.” He shook his head in disbelief, muttering the word “Antarctica” under his breath.

“For whatever you can do, I, and the people of Argentina, will be forever grateful.”

---

Rays of sunlight filtered through the faintly warped glass of von Lettow-Vorbeck’s study window like drops of golden rain. They caught on the stray dust motes swirling in the air, splintering and spreading out to fill the entire room with the warm glow of Summer. No loud noises or distraction were present to distract the man in question from his task, only the soft scratching of a pen on paper disturbing the tranquillity.

The paper in question was the latest page in the small brown journal into which the German President inscribed the majority of his thoughts and ideas. It served as both an outlet for his increasingly-stressful life as well as a chronicle of the plans he had made. It was risky, he knew, to commit the inner workings of his mind to the written word, especially when many of the plans he conceived of could be considered little more than traitorous, but he was only a man and allowed himself this weakness. Caution was not wholly thrown to the wind, however, and he satiated the nagging voice of worry by writing in Swahili, a language that only a handful in the entirety of Germany would even recognise, let alone be able to read.

The train of thought on which he was currently focused was the state of Germany’s international prestige and power. It was undeniable that the Reich had fallen far since 1914, and where one her presence could be felt on every continent from the Americas to Asia, now her wings had been clipped and she struggled to make ripples even within Europe herself. The chains of Versailles had been loosened, but not wholly removed. That would change one day, of that the man was positive, but until that time came…

Adenauer would be a problem. Von Lettow-Vorbeck paused in his scribbling to consider, before striking out the last line he wrote. Yes, Adenauer would definitely be a problem. The man had all sorts of ideas about Germany’s place in a grander European System, ones which von Lettow-Vorbeck could respect but with which he could not agree. Adenauer wished for harmony and co-operation with the forces of the West; a noble idea, but one which was wholly incompatible with Germany’s own potential for greatness. Once upon a time, the armies of the German Empire had taken on four Great Powers at once and nearly triumphed. Many had forgotten this fact, but he had not, and he was sure that neither London nor Paris had, either. They feared Germany, as they were right to, and as difficult as that fear had made his job, it also provided opportunities.

Yugoslavia, he wrote, and then in a triangle encircling it, Greece and then Bulgaria and Hungary. He considered the names for a moment before drawing a circle around Yugoslavia.

The Balkans were important, hadn’t even Bismarck predicted the war which would burst from that region’s wild loins? And now the stage was being set again, with the lynchpin of all of it being the Kingdom of Yugoslavia itself. Nearly all of their neighbours desired a piece of them; all it would take would be a hard enough push and the fragile seams would tear it apart from within. But was that really the most desirable option?

Albanian -> Investment? was a note written on a previous day and he eyed it contemplatively. He had previously dismissed the idea, seeing little to gain by funnelling German funding into a tiny, backwater nation thoroughly entrenched in Italy’s sphere, but he found himself reconsidering it. Previous forays into the region in order to win support for rearmament had not brought back any exceptional dividends, but neither had it been an abysmal failure. Perhaps even more important than money, though, was what Albania represented to Italy, and the anger and frustration it would inspire in Mussolini should the Germans pull it from his orbit, as he had done when he stopped Austro-German union.

He tapped his chin with the end of the pen for several seconds, then drew a line between Albania and Yugoslavia. There was potential there. Germany was already one of the leading trade partners for the Yugoslavs, and with Italy distracted in the Horn of Africa, they would be devoid of the extra funds needed to counter new German purchasing power in Albania. If both nations could be brought into Germany’s sphere of influence, not only would it put greater pressure on Italy, but their proximity to Greece would exert pressure on the fragile Mediterranean nation to follow suit. It was almost perfect, the one small hiccup being Bulgaria and their claims on Yugoslavian Macedonia.

Albania-Macedonia trade? He thought it over before shaking his head. Macedonian buyout? This time he’d barely finished writing it before striking it through. Limited war? Also scribbled out.

With a huff, von Lettow-Vorbeck sat back in his chair. It really was a frustrating mess of a situation. Germany’s relationship to Bulgaria was quite positive, hinging not only on their historically-good relations, but on Bulgaria’s staunch opposition to Communism and valuable geographical position in the event of war in the East. Despite this, their desires were frustratingly difficult to accommodate for, putting them at odds with all of their neighbours, many of whom shared equal potential as allies. He could abandon them, but doing so would be driving them into the arms of Mussolini.

Any disputes with the Lowlands had largely been resolved in German favour, only Belgium dragging their feet on building proper ties with the Reich, but von Lettow-Vorbeck lost no sleep on a nation which he found to be irrelevant to any future plans. With the exception of Norway, the Scandinavians leaned heavily towards the German camp. Finland and the Baltics had no real choice other than orienting themselves with Germany; Lithuania might become a problem with the dispute over the Memel territory, but when played against Poland’s occupation of their capital, Vilnius, he did not foresee it proving to be an issue. France was hostile but had neutered themselves with excess reliance on their precious Maginot. No, Germany’s biggest issues lay to the East and South, and the unlikely, but dangerous possibility of Berlin’s enemies teaming up to remove the threat on their borders once and for all. Even with the rapidly-growing military and domestic police force, Germany would have no chance against a combined Polish-Czech-Italian attack.

The situation was made no more helpful when he cast his eyes beyond Europe. British and American influence dominated the New World, and while friendly relations were maintained, it would be folly to expect any to throw off the mantle of Anglo-America in exchange for Germany, especially when her own influence struggled to escape the boundaries of Europe. In the East, Japan ruled over most of Germany’s former Pacific colonies, unwilling to hand them over.

China. He wrote it down. He had been contacted numerous times by Hans von Seeckt, head of a military mission to China. The man insisted that the nation was ripe for German alignment and that Beijing could play a crucial role in German plans for the future. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was sceptical, but he had little to lose and no better ideas, so jotted a note to himself and slipped it into a pocket for later. Perhaps he could learn more about what China could offer the Reich.

Sighing, the ex-general rose to his feet and stretched. It had not been the most productive brainstorming session, but ideas were swimming which may one day be of use. A lack of proper planning was a death sentence, and if he were to see Germany’s lands restored and expanded, he would have to be methodical and precise, or he would risk undoing all he had worked to build.

 

[KaiserKatze]

8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler​

"It is the great fault of mankind to be tempted by that which we do not have. The weak crave power; the uneasy crave stability; the lost crave purpose. In the hands of a skilled master, that fault, that craving, can oh-so-easily be turned on one’s enemies. Once that has been done, all one must do is sit back and let the yearning masses consume each other while you claim dominion over the wreckage.” - Jean-Jacques Crevet, protagonist of the banned 1938 French film ‘La Fleur Pourrie’ (The Rotting Flower), a harsh critique of the state of France at the time and the political violence erupting from both ends of the spectrum

An Unhappy Marriage​

---

Britain was not the only country destined to face governmental shifts, with France, Spain, and Germany all slated to undergo elections in 1936 which had the potential to radically alter their governments. France came first, in April, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an especially contentious one. Opposite the incumbent Prime Minister Pierre-Étienne Flandin rose the powerful Popular Front, a coalition of Centre-Left and Left parties which hoped to revolutionise the French economy and oppose the increasingly-powerful Far-Right leagues whose power and presence had been growing, including, most notable, the Action Française, led by Charles Maurras. Though the Party had failed to draw the Communist Party into their ranks—this still the era of the Communist International’s opposition to working with less-revolutionary parties—their numbers were nevertheless formidable, and their message enticing.(1)

In the wake of the February 6th Uprising and the assimilation of the Croix de Feau, Maurras’s Action Française had risen to become a powerful force of influence in the Third Republic. Until this point, many had seen the group as one in decline, rooted as it was in pre-revolutionary and monarchist ideas which found little grasp on the modern French populace. The absorption of so many fascist adherents had nearly caused an internal crisis and ruptured the group, and it was only through the near-frantic work of Maurras himself that the two had been able to reconcile and birth a new shared ideology: Integral Fascism.

Integral Fascism is sometimes erroneously described as a marriage of pre-1934 Integralism and Italian Fascism. This is not the case, or perhaps could better be described as not entirely the case. Integral Fascism was a brilliant stroke of trickery by Maurras, one which preserved the elements of his Integralism ideology to which he most fiercely clung while also providing concessions in ways that he found to be, as a whole, irrelevant.

Integral Fascism maintained Integralism’s belief in a decentralised state centred around the so-called “petits pays”, i.e. local communities and, most importantly, family. It kept the Catholic Church as the foundation for moral stability within France and focused on French culture as a unifying force which transcended explicitly racial connotations. Even the notion of a powerful monarch, one of the less-popular foci within Integralism, was carried over. Where elements of Fascism took over were in questions such as the economy, where Corporatism and inter-class co-operation were seen as the solution to France’s increasingly-underdeveloped economy opposite the likes of Britain or Germany, and Expansionism, where Maurras reluctantly swallowed his own aversion to French cultural assimilation policies in the colonies and turned a blind eye to the actions taken against native peoples in Africa.

If one is indeed to consider Integral Fascism a marriage of two ideologies, it can only then be understood as an unhappy one, and one held together solely by Maurras’s own character and gift for the written word. He published writing upon writing throughout the mid-to-late 1930’s where he furiously defended this new ideology as a perfect blend of pre- and post-Revolutionary Ultra-Conservatism. Scholars today have dissected these writings and it is near-unanimously agreed that even Maurras himself was unsure of how the puzzle fit together, solely that it had to in some form. The simple fact of the matter was that Integralism’s localist, anti-modernity approach was incompatible with Fascism’s push towards a new world order and rejection of the old, and there was only so much smoke and mirrors which could disguise that fact.

Despite all of this, the ideology would continue to see its popularity rise, albeit slowly, throughout 1936, and, with the possibility of a socialist Prime Minister leading France, Action Française would be able to unite the disparate anti-socialist groups composing it into a true and significant threat to the forces of the Left. Though nowhere near powerful or united enough to offer their own candidate as a counter-offer, their numbers were enough to tip the scales where it counted.

---

Marguerite Dupand laid the paper-wrapped slab of beef at the bottom of her wicker basket, taking care to not rip the packaging as she followed it with assorted vegetables, two-dozen eggs, a small packet of sugar, and finally a bar of chocolate. After a moment of consideration she rearranged it so that the chocolate sat below the eggs. The last thing that she wanted was for her daughter to see it before it had time to become part of her cake.

“That will be seventy-eight Francs and twelve cents, Madame Dupand,” the grocer, Louis, a round man with an Occitan accent, said with a smile.

“That much?” Marguerite exclaimed, surprised.

Louis rolled his shoulders and his smile turned sympathetic. “I am afraid so. Prices are going up all over France.”

Marguerite set down the bills she’d pulled out in preparation of payment—roughly sixty Francs—and reopened her purse. Another twenty Francs were procured, along with the appropriate change, and placed atop the preexisting pile. The price hike cut into her weekly budget more than she’d have liked, though not enough to cause concern. Still, it would perhaps be prudent to ask her husband Marcel about setting aside a bit more in the event of further price increases, even if the government had promised that it would not be so.

Louis held out a hand, letting the change pour into her outstretched palm. “I wish you a wonderful day. Until next time!”

“Au revoir.” With a mind already calculating how twenty Francs fewer would affect her budgeting, Marguerite dropped the money into her purse and exited the market. Outside a group of women were discussing the recent price hike.

The visibly youngest of the group was fanning herself. “I don't know what my husband will say,” she said in a strained voice. “Thirty Francs for a steak is too much, but he always eats steak on Tuesday and I don't know how he'll react when I tell him. Should I buy it anyway? I don't really need as much food as he does, what with the construction work.”

“Meat is a luxury,” another retorted, wrinkling her nose visibly. “Men aren't dogs; they can live on eggs and greens like the rest of us. It is all that damned fool Flandin's fault! The Germans and Brits get richer and we get poorer.”

“I heard that the gold standard is to blame,” declared the third in the group. “My husband is a banker, you know. He knows things about finances. He says that the gold standard is dragging us down.”

“How can it be dragging us down? It is gold—its worth is inherent!”

The first woman wrung her hands. “Oh, this doesn't help at all! The steaks, Nicole, the steaks!”

Marguerite rounded the corner and the voices died out, replaced by the dull murmur of the city at noon. Cafes were filled with workers eating lunch, the sun baking the cobblestones till the air simmered, and the insect life had burst from hibernation to pester the city's inhabitants as they did every Spring. Saint Denis was a workers’ borough, and while it lacked the glitz and glamour of nearby Paris, it had a unique charm all its own.

She crossed the Place Victor Hugo and was just turning down the alleyway which led to her house when she recognised a familiar face in front of a nearby cafe, seated on a spindly metal chair and sipping from a white porcelain cup. After a moment of consideration, she decided that she could spare the time to say hello, and walked over. The other person recognised her as she drew close, and his eyes lit up.

“Marguerite!”Jacques Doroit exclaimed, rising to his feet to greet her. He took both of her hands in his and gave her a kiss on each cheek. He squeezed her hands once firmly before releasing his hold for propriety’s sake. “How long has it been, now?”

Jacques Doroit, 1929
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacques_Doriot#/media/File:Jacques_Doriot.jpg)

“Two years, I should say.” Marguerite was unable to hold back a grin to match his. She had worked as his secretary during the first three years of his tenure as Mayor of Saint Denis, from 1931 until 1934, and though the struggling economy had forced her to seek employment within a different part of the administration, she had thoroughly enjoyed her time working for him. At his invitation, she sat down across from him. “How have you been? How are your daughters?”

“Both are doing very well, thank you. Well-behaved and successful in their studies. And yours?”

Marguerite’s mind drifted absently to the chocolate hidden in her groceries. “A troublemaker, but with a good heart,” she replied, smiling and taking a moment to retell an event last month when her eight-year-old daughter, Héléne, had been caught letting a stray cat in through her window to sleep in her bedroom. Marcel had been furious and, following a good scolding, had sent her to bed without supper. Imagine their surprise when the next morning they found the cat in Héléne’s closet, a whole litter of newborn kittens alongside her!

“A good heart is increasingly difficult to come by these days,” Doroit offered sagely, clearly amused by the story. “Moral decay is setting into our society. If we cannot protect the values of the next generation, who will?”

The topic reminded her of some of the rumours circulating. “I hope this does not come across as too brusque, but my husband and I support you wholeheartedly with this new direction,” she said, dropping her voice so as to not be heard. “We need new voices in Paris. New ideas, like yours.”

Doroit’s face did not shift, but something in his eyes lit up at her words. It had not been long since he had announced his opposition to the attempts at a broader Leftist alliance proposed by French Left-wing politicians, denouncing the movement as a Marxist attempt to bind France to the rotting corpse of the Soviet Union. His statement had not been met with many supporters in Saint Denis, given how loyal the city tended to be towards Socialist and Communist ideas, but Marguerite and her husband could see through the nonsense and understood the truth. What France needed was a Revitalisation National, to use Doroit’s words, something to renew their economy and restore their prestige. She wasn’t as keen on that Maurras fellow—his writings felt like a look into the past rather than a bold new step forwards—but if men like Doroit were truly helping steer the Action Française now, then it was a movement which she wanted to be a part of.

He reached across the table to clasp her hand. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “This is not the right place to discuss politics, but please—I am holding a rally tomorrow. Come, and bring your husband.”

“We will be there,” Marguerite promised, rising once more to her feet. Doroit kissed the top of her hand in thanks.

“We will build a new France for people like Héléne to live freely,” he declared.

“And what a glorious France it will be.” Marguerite smiled. “I cannot wait.”

---

French Prime Minister Flandin was caught in a quandary. The quandary was a political one and, just as if not more damningly, a moral one. He had the profound sensation that the decision he made would have terrific consequences for his homeland and the future of the French people, and, like it or not, a choice would have to be made.

Flandin let out a long breath. The metal of the fence dug into his forearms where he was leaning against it, the cigarette between his fingertips nearing its end. He took one last long draw from it before flicking it over the railing and into the rippling waters of the Seine below. Near his feet, his pet poodle busied herself with investing the damp earth and the myriad of interesting smells therein, unaware of her master's inner turmoil.

The pink-and-orange sunset cast a warm glow over Paris. In moments like these the world felt wholly still and calm, the complicated tangle of politics and domestic issues washed away by the rays of the setting sun. Somewhere on the other side of the river there was music playing, no doubt emanating from one of the open windows. People living their lives, unburdened.

Flandin reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and removed the wadded-up newspaper page he’d hurriedly stuffed into it. With careful motions he unfolded it, reading the words which haunted his thoughts. News of riots and street violence, arrests and counter-arrests, all of which led back to one source: Action Française, the once-fringe movement which now threatened to overturn the delicate chessboard of French politics. He had done his best to turn a blind eye to them until now, appreciating their use as a foil to the Communists if nothing else, but his tolerance had turned to complacency and complacency bred danger, and the movement’s growth was about to surpass the threshold where it could be contained.

But did he want to contain them? That was the question which had been presented to him not one hour ago by members of his own party. Action Française was a group of violent thugs led by that fool, Maurras, but being fools did not prevent their usefulness. They would never possess the numbers to contest the elections with a candidate of their own, and their intense, even violent opposition to the Communists and the so-called Popular Front, an attempt to unify the disparate Left-wing groups against the government, put them, by process of elimination, on the side of the Conservative National Front and Flandin himself. Why, one of his ministers pointed out, if Flandin were to concede certain wishes of theirs, they may be willing to openly support him and thus ensure his victory.

Flandin was a member of the Liberal Right. Opposition to Communism was a core component of his philosophy, something which AF certainly agreed with. But they took it to steps he could not reconcile with; their talk of dictators and kings was madness. Yet simultaneously, they were one of the few to see the rising threat of Germany for what it was, supporting an alliance with the Italians to contain the Teutonic threat, something which Flandin himself had spent his tenure as Prime Minister working towards, to moderate success.

“Allons-y, Fifi,” he murmured, giving a gentle tug on the leash as he stuffed the wrinkled clipping back into his pocket. He crossed back to the path and began the long walk home, still going back and forth on the questions in his mind.

Was he risking falling into the same trap as the leaders of the First and Second French Republics, who invited a Napoleon into the halls of power and through this arranged the destruction of their own democracies? Or was he walking in the footsteps of King Louis XVI, a man so blind to the dangers of revolution that he instigated the very uprising he had sought to oppose?

With the tip of one shiny leather shoe he kicked a large pebble from the path, sending it ricocheting against the metal fence with a loud ding that reminded him faintly of the sound of bullets striking his aircraft. Though it had been twenty years since the Great War… it had been, hadn’t it?

He drew up sharply to a halt. Fifi, who’d been trotting ahead of him, was yanked back with a brief yelp before she turned and headed over to him curiously.

Twenty years. The number felt too big somehow, a chasm too vast to encompass the still-raw scars left upon him and his nation. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could still feel the grip of the steering column in his hands, the icy temperatures burning his face as he took his plane higher and higher. They’d fought longer and harder than anyone had imagined possible to liberate Alsace and Lorraine, and the peace that they’d built was already threatening to crumble. If only the damned Brits and Americans had listened to the French, if only they had agreed that Europe could only be safe if Germany were dismantled…

He looked down at his dog. “The freedom of France will not be at odds with my personal convictions,” he said aloud. The words were almost a surprise to hear despite his own mouth forming them, and he had to take a moment to consider what he meant.

Many within France felt that the key to her future security was a series of strong alliances, such as with the United Kingdom or the Soviet Union. Those alliances were powerful, it was true, but came at a cost; neither of the two potential allies saw Paris as their equal, and this domineering attitude had already reaped its consequences in German steps towards rearmament. Flandin himself was guilty of complacency in this matter, something once thrown against him by Marshal Philippe Pétain. If France’s survival hinged on the strength of her allies rather than the strength of her citizens, did she have any right to call herself a Great Power?

Slowly, he resumed his walk, though he was no longer paying attention to the scenery around him.

France may have regained Alsace and Lorraine in 1918, but something had been lost in the process. The fire and hunger for triumph had been, if not been snuffed out, then reduced to a fragile ember of its former self, beaten down by the horrors experienced. The solution was not a compromising skew towards Left-wing radicalism to earn the loyalty of the Communists, as proposed by the Popular Front; nor would it be helped by falling to Fascism or Communism. Rather, the Third Republic would have to tread the narrow path, to awaken the French spirit from its hibernation.

His hand reached into his jacket pocket, absently toying with the balled-up newspaper. Action Française were fools and extremists, yes, but they held that fire within them. Fire was a useful tool, but only when he allowed it to be. France was not Italy; they would not abandon their freedoms so casually, and Maurras was certainly no Mussolini.

Certainly, the actions of a few pseudo-fascists were not beyond his control?

---

(1) IRL, it was only the threat of the Nazis which pushed the Communists to end the "anti-cooperation" policy and join the Popular Front. Germany is a threat, but it is only a somewhat more hostile version of pre-1932 Germany, not anything as radical as fascist Nazi Germany, and with the power of the Socialists even within Germany itself, I do not see the basis being there yet for a complete breakaway from the Stalinist line. That said, many would support the Popular Front in principle.