Well, there were ideas of a Fascist International IOTL:
Der Kampf: The Rise and Fall of the Austrian Führer
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The problem of calling it "Fascist International": if fascism is still an "Italian invention" in TTL, *Hitler wouldn't like having to play second fiddle to Mussolini and his massive ego. Because obviously Socio-Nationalism is totally superior to mere fascism!
I mean fascist's also just inherently don't exactly have the best teamwork generally when it comes to working with other countries. The Axis were constantly undercutting each other until the wars end.
Deleted member 94680
Yup, cos the Soviets were a bunch of fraternal assistant fiends
Hey, everyone, the next chapter is underway. The rough draft has been finished, it has been sent to my beta reader and will be expanded and refined upon before releasing.
A Nationalist International is a very interesting idea.
A Schism might be interesting but I don't know how likely, if anything the Catholic Church would simply lose a lot of its influence for a few decades and might have to see some very public reforms to distance itself from the 1930s/1940s
A Nationalist International is a very interesting idea.
A Schism might be interesting but I don't know how likely, if anything the Catholic Church would simply lose a lot of its influence for a few decades and might have to see some very public reforms to distance itself from the 1930s/1940s
Schism in Christianity - Wikipedia
Maybe this can help in that regard with the schisms. I don't see a proper schism though given the Eurocentric natue of the Church, I could see a snowball effect of Catholic Churches in the Americans and Asia perhaps taking a modern take on the Anglican route?
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
A Sum of its Parts
January 1919
Vienna, Austria
Republic of German-Austria
Hitler hated Vienna. The city reeked of leftist liberalism and Jewish influence. Walking by the Creditanstalt in the Inner City, seeing desperate people walk in and out, made him nearly want to spit at the large Neoclassical building. How can people say Jews don’t control the so-called ‘republic’ when they owned and operated the largest bank in the nation. He wished he was in Linz, with his comrades. Olbrecht, Lutjens and all the rest. Linz, more so than Branau am Inn where he had spent his childhood in, was his hometown. It was beautiful, elegant, and the people of strong will and stout spirit. The men he had fought with and seen die defending the Austrian Vaterland had hailed from Linz. It was the home of heroes, defenders of the Austrian-German race.A Sum of its Parts
January 1919
Vienna, Austria
Republic of German-Austria
When peace had been declared, the 87th Infantry Brigade had been sent back to Linz. There the thousands of men in the brigade had been honorably discharged, given their last paycheck and sent on their way. Hitler had hoped to remain on as Olbrecht’s adjutant in the rapidly reforming Army, renamed to the Volkswehr with the dissolution of Austro-Hungary, but a Stabsfeldwebel was considered too junior to be a regimental officer’s adjutant. And with the rapid downsizing of the Landwehr into the smaller Volkswehr due to a far smaller budget and arms restrictions placed on Austria by the Entente, Hitler had been discharged from service.
It had been expected but the disappointment was sharp and lasting. Four years fighting for a nation that he had at long last come to recognize as his fatherland and now he was cast out to the streets, left to survive with a handful of banknotes that lost their value with each passing day. He did not blame the soldiers of Austria, it was not their bravery that was in doubt. Others had failed them, the aristocratic-controlled government and the lofty generals whose minds and tactics were locked in the 19th Century.
Olbrecht had fought to keep him on his staff, had filed a complaint with Major General Rudolf Krauss, commander of the 87th Infantry Brigade, but the general said that it simply was not possible.
And while one door closed, another opened. Gustav Gross had written to him, asking him to come to Vienna.
‘I have need of you,’ he had written. And so Hitler had used his dwindling amount of money to purchase a ticket from Linz to Vienna.
Arriving in early December 1918, Hitler met with Gross at the train station. It seemed Gross, inspired by the conversations the two had penned to one another in the many months since his recovery in the hospital, Gross proposed a new political party: the National Liberal Front, an amalgamation of smaller right-leaning political parties to unite into a more cohesive and enlarged political entity that could influence the national direction as the upcoming election for the Austrian Constituent Assembly was set to take place in February.
On December 10th, 1918 the National Liberal Front (Nationalliberale Front, NLF) was created, combining the financial resources and voter support of various parties such as the German National Party, the German People’s Party, the German Freedom and Order Party, and the German National Socialist Workers’ Party, among others, into the third largest party in the country. Gross was publicly running for the Chancellorship but he told Hitler privately that this election was simply to establish the NLF and cement its existence in the Republic’s political conscience. Gross hoped to win enough seats in the Assembly to form a power bloc that could enter into a coalition with the Christian Social Party, the largest conservative party in the country, and oust the Social Democrat Workers’ of Austria from their stranglehold on power.
Hitler, the Hero of Hill 53, was used as a propaganda and recruiting tool to appeal to the veteran vote and the more militantly-minded individuals. Initially, Hitler had been happy to recall his time in the Army, his service and battles, most notably the Battle of Hill 53, and speaking at these gathering in homes, political offices and beer halls had lined his pocket with a not inconsiderable amount of money but as the weeks went on, he wanted to do more than simply be a factor in party recruitment.
“You want to win the Chancellorship eventually, correct?” Hitler had asked Gross as they ate a light luncheon in downtown Vienna almost two weeks after the Front was created.
“Of course, that is the point after all.” Gross was reading a newspaper detailing the intensifying political campaigning going on in the capital.
“I can give you that victory,” he had stated assuredly.
Gross looked up from the paper and combed his fingers through his gray beard in thought. “How?” he eventually asked.
“You’ve heard me speak at the events you host. I enrapture the crowd. Make me the chief of propaganda and you’ll get your votes in the 1920 election.” Hitler had discovered he had an oratorical skill while speaking to crowds of anywhere from forty to sixty patrons who visited Gross’ office in the Inner City to contemplate joining or helping finance the fledging NLF.
His largest speech had been earlier that day at a beerhall, the NLF hosting it and providing free beer and bread to those who stopped to listen which garnered a crowd of around a hundred and twenty people. And though Gross and several other leading NLF figures had spoken about their plans to reinvigorate Austria’s economy and industry, none had held the attention Hitler did when he started speaking, whipping up the crowd in nationalist fervor as Hitler laid the blame of the Great War on the General Staff, the aristocrats and the Jews. Though some within the NLF supported a return of the monarchy, Hitler was firm in his resolve that this should be avoided as the Hapsburgs had only led Austria into ruin.
It made him unpopular with the newfound party’s leadership, their displeasure blocked by Gross’ support but it nonetheless enamored him with the veterans and the working class who clapped and cheered when he had finished.
Still, despite the steady rise in membership to the Front, Gustav Gross hesitated.
“I’m sorry, Adi. I would prefer you as chief of propaganda but that position is going to Jakob Lutschounig.”
“He has all the oratorical talent of warm pudding,” Hitler said, irritated. Truthfully, Hitler had never heard Lutschounig speak but the man was seventy years old and looked ever tired at party headquarters.
“Be that as it may, I promised him a position in the Front to secure the agrarian vote.”
“You would rather have a man whose speeches bore a crowd into a nap as propaganda chief than have me who whips them into a frenzy? That is idiotic, Gustav, and you know it.”
“That is politics.”
Hitler had not taken that very well, later writing a letter that evening deriding the Front’s archaic parliamentary political appeasement structure, sending it to Lutjens and Olbrecht, who both stayed in Linz and whom he had kept in contact with.
He wanted to be propaganda chief. It would allow his words and vision to reach others across Austria. Being a speaker for the NLF was beneficial financially and to hone his newfound craft at public speaking but he had little freedom over what topics to choose since his rant against those who lost Austria the war. Gross and the others had all but said they were going to keep him on a tighter leash.
He needed something to give him leverage into becoming a member of the Front’s central committee. From there he could influence actual change in the party’s platform, making it go from vague national liberal ideas to something far more concrete and direct, something that would not just promise but actually deliver.
Hitler roamed the streets of Vienna on Christmas Eve when a boy shouting the newspaper headlines atop a box caught his attention:
“-major armed clash at Leutschach in Carinthia between German-Austrian militia against Slovene militia, casualties reported to be in the dozens! Repeat, repeat, there has been a major armed clash at-”
An idea came to him... one that could prove promising.
Hitler smiled.
January 1919
Vienna, Austria
Republic of German-Austria
Vienna appeared hollow, drab, an air of despair hovered over everything. To Simon Golmayer it reminded him of the war. Yet instead of bullets being fired, it was anger; instead of shells slamming into the earthworks killing the youth of an empire now dead, it was the uncertainty of work and money. The city was covered in snow, alleviating some of the drabness but not quite ridding Vienna of it.Vienna, Austria
Republic of German-Austria
His mood was dark, the past few weeks had not been easy, made worse when Richard returned home a week ago bearing news of his twin Abraham having died in the last few days of the war in the Battle of Vittorio Veneto. Not only was there one more mouth to feed but also a son who would never come home. Judith cried for days, Felix and Hannah, sweet Hannah who he had never seen before being discharged and returning home, also cried, not knowing why but sensing the misery in the house. Simon tried his best to help and to improve his wife’s moods but she still remained in bed nearly all day, recluse and silent. Richard, similarly broken, was instead always gone from home, returning late at night smelling of cheap cigarettes and alcohol.
When he had arrived home two weeks ago, he had done so with a pocket full of Austro-Hungarian krone, money that had been made worthless with the dissolution of Austro-Hungary. He had been forced to go to the bank where they stamped new names and denominations over the paper money, now called the Austrian krone. The savings that had been in the bank prior to the war, saved up over a long and difficult career in Viennese banking finance, had been dried up as a result of growing inflation during the war and Judith being forced to withdraw on it to pay the raised taxes and higher price of food and other consumables. Now with inflation rising rapidly, and the Empire’s industrial heartland (Bohemia) and the lion’s share of agriculture output (Hungary) now were separate countries, leaving mountainous Austria to sustain itself.
Long lines existed at markets, grocery stores and the many bakeries and butchers throughout the city. Food was scarce and the prices high. Unlike many of his fellows, Simon refused to use specie to pay for anything. He instead used all the paper banknotes they had, knowing that when inflation got worse, which he knew it was going to as all signs pointed to it, then the coins he had held in reserve would carry more fiscal weight than the rapidly meaningless krone banknotes. But banknotes and specie wouldn’t last forever. He needed to secure a job that provided some influx of cash.
This led him to go to his place of former employment: the Creditanstalt. The Neoclassical architecture reminded Simon of a better time, when money was good and peace reigned over Europe. He walked in, dressed in his best suit, which hung loose on his body, the war and the lean times had thinned him into a wiry man, a far cry from his once plump self.
The inside was just as he remembered, though he noted a couple more men in security uniforms standing by, hands near revolvers. Simon had heard of riots and protests at banks as people were desperate for their money, begging to withdraw and spend it before inflation wiped out their savings. The crowds on the inside were significant but thus far orderly. He stood in the shortest line and waited nearly an hour to reach the front.
He walked up to the bank teller, a young woman about Richard’s age. She looked up from some documents at him as he arrived at her window.
“Hello, I’m here to apply for a job.”
She pointed wordlessly to a crowd of men sitting near one wall of the bank, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee and water. They, like Simon, were well dressed though many had loose fitting suits and eyes that watched everyone who walked in, their hard-earned combat reflexes still with them in the couple of months since the war ended.
Ah, he thought. He didn’t realize so many would try and seek employment so soon. That was foolish of him.
He looked back at the young woman. “My name is Simon Golmayer, I was a senior accountant with this bank. Herr Rothschild knows me personally.” That stretched the truth, if anything Herr Rothschild knew of him but little more than that.
The woman looked skeptical, as if others had said that before.
Putting on his most winning smile, he nonchalantly slid over a 20 Krone coin. The woman’s eyes hungered at actual money, and she snatched it away, putting it in a pocket.
“One moment,” she said, turning and rising out of her chair.
She was gone a long time, long enough for the men and women behind him in line to begin voicing complaints and muttering.
But the teller returned. “Wait by the men over there,” she gestured at the unemployed veterans, “Someone will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Simon said half-heartedly. He was hoping he would talk to someone immediately and not have to wait but he did as he was told and joined the men. Pouring coffee, ersatz of course, into a provided cheap mug. He sipped, grimacing at the flavor but welcoming the heat.
It took three hours, with several men he was standing with being called up for an interview by a secretary who escorted them further into the bank out of sight. When they returned, some men looked relieved, walking with pride while other looked dejected, angry and wouldn’t catch the eyes of those who watched.
“Simon Golmayer,” called the secretary’s voice. Simon gulped down what was left of his fourth cup of coffee, setting it down on the marble counter, and walked briskly to the man.
“Simon Golmayer?” the man asked, hands holding a paper and a pen.
“Yes, that’s me.”
The secretary marked something on his paper, likely his name off a list, and gestured for him to follow.
Simon did so, walking into the inner offices that he had gone through a thousand times before the war. Some faces he recognized, many he did not. A larger number were women then he remembered. The secretary, a man Simon did not recognize, saw the look and shrugged. “Women are cheaper to employ than men and they do the job about as well.”
He was led to an office and seated. No one sat behind the desk.
“He might have stepped out to use the restroom, one moment,” the secretary said and left. Simon sat and waited, his own bladder starting to complain due to four cups of coffee and nerves.
“Simon, it is you!”
He turned and smiled as he saw Fritz Hanke limp in.
“Fritz! Thank God to see you alive and well,” he stood up and shook firmly the outstretched hand.
“Well, well enough I suppose,” he patted his leg. “Serbian irregular shot me in the thigh in 1916, giving me this damn limp. It aches but at least I survived. More than I can say for so many other Austrian patriots.”
Simon nodded in agreement, feeling a sliver of shame that he had gone the whole war without a scratch, which was ridiculous to feel though it was there.
“Sit, sit,” Fritz said, limping to the seat on the other side of the desk.
“You’re the interviewer?” Simon asked.
“Mhmm,” Fritz said, taking a seat and sighing with relief. “When I got discharged from the Army, I came back here but my senior accounting position had been filled. But the Personnel Manager had just retired so Herr Rothschild offered me the job. He said, ‘For your brave service and wound, you deserve more but this is all I can give.’ Good man that Herr Rothschild. Alas, here I am.”
“Wonderful!” Simon licked his lips nervously. “Is there, by chance, a senior accountant position open?”
Fritz’s smile lessened. “No there isn’t, Simon. I’m sorry.”
Simon felt his spirits deflate. He thought back to his home, where Judith waited with young Felix and Hannah, depending on him to supply a means to survive.
“But we have another position,” Fritz said, giving Simon a ray of hope. “Senior Bank Teller, a supervising position over the Tellers. I know it's not what you used to do but you’re smart and hardworking. We need someone at the front there with some conviction and smarts to run it effectively and diffuse any problematic scenarios with clients.”
“What is the salary?”
Fritz wrote on a small notepad and slid it across the desk to Simon. Glancing at it, he whistled. He knew it was going to be a paycut and he vaguely knew was a Teller Supervisor made pre-war but the number shown to him was lesser than his most pessimistic prediction.
“I know it is a paycut, Simon, but after a year you will receive a notable bump in income with small yearly bumps afterwards. The bank is stretched thin, Simon, financially. Losing the war caused many loans to default or demand immediate payment, of which only a percentage was paid. Lines of credit are few and far between, with even the new government struggling to pay the interest on the loans keeping it afloat. If a senior accountant position opens up I will immediately notify you and push your name to the top of the list.”
Simon did the math in his head. This salary would barely pay the mortgage on his home, but it was a source of income which was better than nothing. He would have to pick up a second job. He would also have to sit Richard down and explain the situation and hope to God that his son gets out of the melancholic mood he had been in since returning and get some sort of job. And in a few years once Hannah went off to Kindergarten then Judith could join the workforce. It would be a long and hard path, one rife with struggle and uncertainty, but that was the beauty of life. It was what you make it to be.
“Will you take the job?” Fritz asked.
Simon stood and held out his hand.
“Yes, Fritz, I will.” They shook on it and once again Simon Golmayer worked at Creditanstalt, run by Louis Nathaniel de Rothschild.
January 1919
Bruneck, South Tyrol
Kingdom of Italy
The sight of the Italian tricolor flying over Bruneck Castle gave Jakob Kuhr a sour stomach. Many men and women, of all ages and occupations, grimaced and muttered unhappily when about in the streets, seeing the black and gold of Austrian Cisleithania gone and the green-white-red flag of Italy flutter in its place, dominating over the city from the castle’s towers.Bruneck, South Tyrol
Kingdom of Italy
Bruneck was a much changed city to the one Kuhr left when he was conscripted. Unemployment was high, almost as high as the price of food and other goods, but the sight of Italian soldiers patrolling the city, abusing their power to receive food for cheap or free and other services for the fraction of the cost, bullying the locals to cave into their demands, filled Kuhr with such rage and shame he had contemplated either shooting himself or shooting the nearest Italian. But he knew his death, either done cowardly or bravely, would do nothing to liberate South Tyrol from the Latin heel. He had voiced the frustrations, privately, to friends and coworkers at the construction company he was lucky enough to be employed by. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady and in specie rather than near-useless banknotes.
Warned by some to stop his secessionist talks, he instead went to the beer halls of Bruneck, filled with unemployed veterans itching to do something, anything, against the occupiers.
Kuhr was not alone, many men and some women were in the halls, listening to orators of various quality deride the Italians and calling for South Tyrol to rejoin Austria, or German-Austria as it was being called in the vain hope of being integrated into Germany.
Kuhr sat there, drinking the cheap beer and eating the even cheaper black bread, and listened to Major Maximillian Kostner of the Standschützen, the South Tyrolese militia and veteran of the Great War, who went on and on to boycott using Italian products or buy from Italian merchants who were flooding into the area to stake their claim on Italy’s newly annexed province.
This received hearty cheers and vocal support from the Austrian crowd, though Kuhr knew some would not follow through on this as Italian goods or food was too valuable to ignore but it would start a movement at the least, a peaceful protest against what many South Tyrolese saw as an illegitimate military occupation. Anything that strayed too close to violent means were ignored. There were doubtless some in the crowd being paid by the occupiers as informants.
Early on in the occupation, days after the Italian soldiers marched in and made Bruneck Castle their base of operations, a Tyrolese patriot had thrown a grenade at a truck carrying Italian soldiers. The grenade missed but the patriot had evaded capture. As punishment ten Tyrolese citizens of Bruneck had been imprisoned, with the Italian authorities demanding the attempted saboteur to turn himself in within twenty-four hours or face the consequences of his actions.
No one turned themselves in and no came forward with information. Twenty-four hours after their announcement, the Italians marched then citizens, all men picked randomly from ages 18 to 80, into the city's central square where they were lined up and shot by firing squad. Since then none had dared physically attack the occupiers, but dissent simmered just beneath the surface.
The beer hall's doors slammed open, drawing the eye of all present, while a young boy ran in, gripping a newspaper. He ran to the raised platform Kostner was speaking from.
Kostner took the paper and quickly read it, eyes tightening as he continued. Many looked on quizzically. At last Kostner finished and he looked out over the assembled faces.
“In the city of Marburg an der Drau, thirteen German-speaking Austrians were murdered by Rudolf Maister and his Slovene horde, with sixty more wounded. Former Landwehr First Sergeant Adolf Hitler is calling for volunteers to ensure Carinthia remains a part of German-Austria. He calls for fellow Austrian patriots to aid their countrymen in this hour of great struggle.”
Outrage erupted in the beer hall, with men standing up, shouting “Those damn traitors!” and “Death to Maister!” and finally “Bloody Maister!” The Austro-Slovene Conflict over Carinthia had escalated since the end of the Great War, with several minor clashes between militia units, but this was a murderous and heinous crime and Maister needed to be punished for the crimes he oversaw.
Kuhr was among those shouting. Though he was a South Tyrolese Austrian, he felt the shared outrage that other German-speaking Austrians were being persecuted and oppressed in land they had long ruled.
“We must aid our brethren in Carinthia!” Kostner shouted, affirmative yells answering him. “Who will volunteer to aid our brothers and sisters? I shall be the first to volunteer but who will come with me?”
Many raised their fist, a good many shouting their willingness.
It was Kuhr, who spoke from within, a deep-seated emotion and feeling that seared its way to his mouth to be uttered aloud, that would spark conflict in South Tyrol for years to come.
“First Carinthia, then South Tyrol!”
The hall took the call, yelling it so loud that the wooden beams and stone bricks shook with the words.
“First Carinthia, then South Tyrol!”
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This takes place in January 1919, with Hitler's and Simon's PoV being mid-January with Kuhr being late January.
This is where PoDs get wider and wider. Hitler's actions in the next few months will have huge ramifications for the NLF, Austrian politics, and Hitler's path to power.
Hope y'all enjoy!
This is where PoDs get wider and wider. Hitler's actions in the next few months will have huge ramifications for the NLF, Austrian politics, and Hitler's path to power.
Hope y'all enjoy!
Well that was filled with the beat of butterfly wings.
Hitler being sneaky to get towards his goal of being propaganda chief, but not leader- nice. Massive AU there where he was able to stay in the army.
The descriptions of post war Austria and Tyrol are very well realised. You can feel the despair.
Great chapter @Tanner151 - looking forward to more.
Hitler being sneaky to get towards his goal of being propaganda chief, but not leader- nice. Massive AU there where he was able to stay in the army.
The descriptions of post war Austria and Tyrol are very well realised. You can feel the despair.
Great chapter @Tanner151 - looking forward to more.
Sounds like Hitler. He hated Vienna in OTL and here he’ll hate it more since he is actively there a lot. Most of Austria’s Jewish population lived there, the Rothschild Family lived there and so on and so forth.
As for the German National Socialist Party, there were several bearing that name in Austria and Czechoslovakia. With their original name being the German Workers’ Party (Austria).
It was rebranded to German National Socialist Party in 1903 but after that details are scarce and I can’t find who led it until the 1930s when they were essentially a junior branch of the Nazi Party in Germany. That’s why I haven’t mentioned the leaders.
Austrian politics, aside from the big parties, have so little information about them that I’m having to work around it or as butterflies start to flap put in other people, either historical or original creation.
And yes, Hitler is going to lead a paramilitary militia to Carinthia, tentatively called Kampfgruppe Wolf. It wont be a huge number of volunteers, but not insignificant.
He has aspirations to be leader, he just doesn’t realize it yet. He does respect Gross, but he will have major issues with the other members of the NLF’s Central Committee.
This little expedition he plans to Carinthia will make him a national hero to some.
Hitler’s path to power will be quite different ITTL.
Yeah, there were a whole slew of National Socialist parties floating around Germany, Austria and Sudetenland. A lot of them remained minor or were renamed or were merged with the Austrian Nazi and Sudeten Nazi parties subservient to Hitler’s German Nazi Party.
Hitler’s Nazi platform in the 1920s was directly inspired by the German National Socialist Party in Austria’s 25 Point Program.
Interwar Austria, especially early on, is just such a mess with way less easily accessible documents or articles than Germany.
And also, in OTL Gross helped create the Greater German People’s Party in 1920. That has been butterflied away with the creation of the National Liberal Front. I did this to also streamline Austrian politics and lay the foundation for what is to come.
marathag
Banned
from the wiki
At the time when Hitler joined the party, there were no membership numbers or cards. It was in January 1920 when a numeration was issued for the first time and listed in alphabetical order Hitler received the number 555. In reality, he had been the 55th member, but the counting started at the number 501 in order to make the party appear larger.[12] In his work Mein Kampf, Hitler later claimed to be the seventh party member, and he was in fact the seventh executive member of the party's central committee
At the time when Hitler joined the party, there were no membership numbers or cards. It was in January 1920 when a numeration was issued for the first time and listed in alphabetical order Hitler received the number 555. In reality, he had been the 55th member, but the counting started at the number 501 in order to make the party appear larger.[12] In his work Mein Kampf, Hitler later claimed to be the seventh party member, and he was in fact the seventh executive member of the party's central committee
Hitler will be one of the founders of the NLF, but will be the official first member of the Austrian Social Nationalist People's Party which he creates after being kicked out of the NLF which will happen later on in the story.
I predict that south Tyrol will be much more of a hotbed. It certainly seems like the perfect place to wage a Guerilla war, mountainous terrain plus a population of trained SOldiers, I could see Hitler encouraging this resistance as well.
Question. Is Mussolini going to still be socialist or form fascism as in out TL?
Mussolini is still Fascist, he creates Fascism and Fascist Italy will play a role in the Interwar and the Second World War.
Hey, everyone, chapter has been sent to beta reader and I will be editing/refining it over today.
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Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
In the Presence of a Führer
Vienna, Austria
German-Austria
January 1919
In the Presence of a Führer
Vienna, Austria
German-Austria
January 1919
“What is this?!” demanded Ludwig von Hoffenberg, gesturing angrily at the copy of the Wiener Zeitung before him. The Deputy Chairman of the Nationalliberale Front was a short man, with thick shoulders and an impressive mustache sprinkled with hints of gray. He matched most of the NLF Central Committee in appearance. A group of men past their prime with a shortsighted vision, so akin to dinosaurs.
How does Gustav not see this? Hitler pondered. How does he tolerate it?
Why should a fossil berate him for the fossil was already dead, merely living on borrowed time.
“A newspaper,” Hitler calmly replied, sitting at ease under the glares of the six Committee members.
“How dare you, you pe-” von Hoffenberg reddened and stood from his chair in anger, raising a stubby finger but before he could say anything that would have escalated matters, Gustav Gross laid a hand on the man’s arm and a glare from the Party Chairman made von Hoffenberg sit. Hitler eyed him without blinking until the man sat and only then did he turn his attention to Gross.
Though older than von Hoffenberg, his beard gray with wisps of white, Gross’ gaze was more collected and controlled. Gross was a visionary, shackled down by the lackeys he surrounded himself with. Such a shame, Hitler thought.
“Adi, please, explain yourself,” Gross began, “Because this,” Gross tapped the newspaper on the table separating Hitler from the Committee, “is potentially a step too far.”
Hitler rose from his own chair facing them and leaned forward on the table, in an almost conspirationaly manner.
“I used all the money I had earned from my time in the Landwehr and from my speeches these past weeks to purchase a sectional in the Wiener Zeitung and a half dozen other newspapers across Austria. It was to be released days after the Battle of Leutschach but was delayed due to the paper’s hesitance to incite militancy or chaos but after the January 27th massacre in Marburg they decided to publish it. They all call for action against the South Slavs in the Carinthia. It is Austrian land, has been for centuries and will be for centuries hence but only if something is done.”
“Inciting violence is never the answer,” said Propaganda Chief Jakob Lutschounig.
Hitler slammed his fists on the table, causing some to jump from the unexpected act. “Violence is and has always been the answer! The wheel of history is turned by the blood of the fallen and by those daring enough to seize the moment. If we do nothing, Carinthia may very well be lost to us. Austria has already been carved up, we as a nation lack the resources once available to us as an empire. Dare we risk losing more?”
The men eyed one another hesitantly. Hitler straightened. “We are at a crossroads, both as a nation and as a party. If we do not seize this opportunity to remind the jackals that hunger after our land that Austria is not to be trifled with then within a generation our Fatherland shall be at the mercy of its enemies.”
Gross leaned back in his chair and after a moment asked, “What has this to do with the Front?”
“The Front can provide money, contacts, and even volunteers. We are a young movement but virile, eager to flex its muscles. Many within our ranks clamor for something to be done. The murder of law abiding Austrians by Slovene radicals cannot be tolerated.”
Hitler saw Gross give a slight nod, as did the bespectacled Party Secretary Arthur Seyss-Inquart but the other four were stone faced.
“Would you excuse us a moment, Adi?”
“Of course.” Hitler left the room to wait in the annex, surprised to see an elderly man reading the Wiener Zeitung in the room. A couple of female secretaries worked away on typewriters, the click-clacking providing a comfortable background noise to lose oneself in.
Hitler contemplated the past few weeks. The skirmishes between Austrian and Slovenian forces in Carinthia had escalated with the Slovenes holding the advantage, but if Hitler could amass five hundred or even six hundred men then he had no doubt that the Slovenes and the forces of the abominable State of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs, what some were dubbing Yugoslavia, would be ousted from their occupation. This would not only secure Carinthia but make the name of Adolf Hitler a household name, a hero of the people, of the Aryan Race, and of the nation…
The door opened and Gross stepped out. Hitler stood and waited, hands behind his back, sweating and clenched together.
“Well?” he asked.
Gross gestured him to sit and Hitler did so, apprehension rising as his friend sat next to him, face seemingly troubled.
“Well?” he asked again.
“The Central Committee has denied your request for funding and other resources, in a 5-1 vote.”
Hitler clenched his teeth before relaxing them. It had been expected. “Thank you for the vote, Gustav, I-”
“I didn’t vote in your favor, Adi,” Gross said, the words akin to a gunshot, a knife to the back. “While I agree with your ideals and principles, this is not the way to move forward. This involvement with Carinthia, it won’t end well. It will blacken the NLF and make us appear more militant and aggressive than we would like. It would damage our reputation and that we cannot risk, not with the Assembly elections only a couple of weeks away.”
Hitler closed his eyes, disappointed. He had expected this but he had hoped his friend and mentor would have been able to swing enough support to secure the vote or at least some of Hitler’s requests. But alas, the very democratic system that the NLF used to decide matters of import had turned against him, making the whole system seem tainted. Sometimes plurality did not always mean the correct path, and this was one of those times.
“Von Hoffenberg called for your removal from the party. He was very insistent on this,” commented Gross, almost nonchalantly.
Hitler’s eyes snapped open and he glared at the Party Chairman who threw up his hands in a defensive shrug.
“There was a vote, 3-3. Since a majority could not be secured, you will remain part of the National Liberal Front. I voted for you to remain, if you wish to know. I am on your side, my friend. You are hot headed, impulsive, and simmering with anger but you have a way with words and emotions. You could prove very useful to this movement, Adi, I know that. I think you can accomplish many things for National Liberalism, great things even, if your, uhh, rough edges are filed down.”
Gross sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.
“You may not have been removed from the party but you are forbidden from speaking on behalf of the Front until such a time the Committee lifts the ban. I’m sorry, Adi, it was a necessary compromise to keep you in the Front.”
Hitler felt numb with betrayal. They had defanged him like the Allies had defanged Austria. His speeches had been his only income and gained the Front new members, enlarging a potential power base of his own to eventually support his appointment to chief propagandist. And now that was taken from him, as so many other things had been.
He rubbed his mustache furiously, mind racing.
Life was nothing but a constant struggle. If he withered now, he would collapse but if he remained strong… well then he would have his pride and strength of will. From that, he could rebuild...
“I am going to Carinthia,” he stated. “Volunteers or no volunteers, I will not leave Austrian brothers and sisters behind to fend off the assault of murderous savages by themselves. If you cannot or will not help, then I must.”
“I applaud your patriotism, Adi, but only as a friend. As Chairman of the Front, I give no comment. I’m sorry it has to be this way.” Gross left Hitler there in the annex, furious and distraught. He had spent all his money on the newspaper article. He was penniless, or just about, and the only thing that filled his stomach was a fiery resolve.
“That was difficult to watch,” said the seated man from across the room. Hitler looked up, surprised to see the man there.
“And you are?” His tone was harsh, partially deflated and exasperated.
The older man put down the paper in an adjacent seat. “Georg Ritter von Schönerer.”
The name was immediately familiar to Hitler. He was practically a legend amongst Austrian far-right and national liberal organizations. His racial theories and ideology ran parallel to Hitler’s own. Hitler rose and came to attention. “Mein Führer,” he said.
Von Schönerer chuckled. “Führer,” he said then shook his head in remembrance. “Not for a long time I’m afraid.” The man shifted in his seat. “Please sit, young man.”
Hitler did so.
“You are Adolf Hitler, am I correct?”
“Jawohl, mein Herr.”
“Ah, good. I was hoping to meet you. I want to fund your little expedition to Carinthia.”
Hitler was stunned. “Why?” he asked.
Von Schönerer sighed and looked at Hitler. “I am an old man. I’ll be dead within five years most likely. God willing I’ll live longer but I am a realist. I am a man of not inconsiderable wealth and am going to donate a respectful amount to the National Liberal Front. However I will donate a large sum to you to pay for the price of travel from Vienna to Carinthia and enough supplies for a hundred men to last several weeks.”
“Thank you, mein Führer!” Hitler felt relief. “But why do this? Why donate to me?” Hitler privately cursed voicing the question but he had to know.
Von Schönerer offered a wry smile. “Did I not mention a certain Franz Olbrecht wrote to me several days ago when your call-to-arms was published and asked me to do so. His father and I were associates once back when I was at the forefront of politics, whom I owed a favor. His son called it in and I answered. Did I not, truly?”
“No, you did not,” Hitler said drily.
“I’m so forgetful these days. Cursed age. Then I should also mention he is not only here in Vienna but he has brought some friends as well and that they are outside this very moment.”
Hitler eyes widened and he rushed out of the modest single story office building that comprised NLF headquarters.
In front of the building stood nearly a hundred men, all from the 87th Infantry Brigade, all veterans, all comrades. They raised their fists and cheered as Hitler approached. Olbrecht stood at the forefront in a sharp suit. Though he wasn’t wearing military clothes, he still commanded an air of command yet when Hitler approached it was Olbrecht who made the first move.
Hand extended, Olbrecht said, “It is good to see you again, Adi.”
“Ja, you too, sir- I mean, Franz.”
Olbrecht chuckled. From behind approached von Schönerer.
“It seems, Herr Hitler, that you have your army or at least the beginning of one.”
Hitler looked out over the faces of the men assembled. They were soldiers, Aryan warriors of Austria, defenders of the Vaterland. The origin of a movement that would sweep through the nation.
“A beginning is all I need.”
Vienna, Austria
German-Austria
February 1919
Hitler stood next to von Schönerer and Olbrecht. Though both men were older and holding a higher social rank, it was clear to all that it was the former First Sergeant who was to lead. It had been his call for crusade that caused these men to gather in righteous defense of the Fatherland.
The train was about to pull in, Hitler could see it in the distance, slowing itself down, smoke pluming from its smokestack into the clear morning air. The squeal of its brakes upon metal a sharp and piercing noise, accompanied by the murmur of men and women who watched on, some with wariness and some with intrigue, as hundreds of men, most of whom had been soldiers during the Great War stood in loose formation, rifles, pistols, cudgels and knives clear to any observer. Many had arrived with nothing more than the clothes on their back, a wad of increasingly useless banknotes in their pockets, and perhaps a knapsack of food. It had forced Hitler, Olbrecht and von Schönerer to pool their financial resources together to buy more food and train tickets. Thankfully most of the men had brought their own weapons but the lack of standardization would cause logistical issues once ammunition began to run low but that was a later concern for another day.
Nearby stood a handful of policemen but they did nothing to stop them, Hitler noted. Some even cheered them on with encouragement and clapping. The train whistled as it neared. It was almost time. Hitler stood atop of a box to gain a better view of the men.
“Comrades,” he called out, voice clear and strong. “Today is a momentous day for our beloved Austria. Today is the day we show the world the strength of our resolve. Though we go to fight the Yugoslavian menace and protect our people in Carinthia, we do so under the watchful eye of the Allies.”
Some jeered at the mention of the Yugoslavians, others at the reference to the war’s victors. Even bystanders who had little to any idea of who the armed men on the platform were watched on with interest, some of them joining in the jeering.
“I am asking a lot from you, my friends. What we are about to embark on will see some of us die. I will not hide this fact from you. Victory and defiance are costly but I am willing to pay the price for this great nation. Are you?”
The men cheered, yelling their affirmation. Hitler raised his hand and after a moment they quietened down.
“We shall be the shield of the Austrian Volk, the sword of the Germanic Race laid against the parasites and vultures that wish to feed off our weakened nation. Little do they know the righteous fire that burns in our hearts! The triumphant will of the Austrian Germans has never been vanquished and never shall be!”
More cheering, which quietened down faster when Hitler raised his hand again.
“Before we embark on this crusade, my friends, my comrades, I give one last opportunity for any who do not wish to sacrifice everything for our nation and Volk to leave.” Hitler’s tone here turned sneerful, eyes watching for any who would leave this almost holy endeavor. None did. Not a single man stepped away or turned their backs. Hitler’s face split into a smile.
“Men of Austria! You have hailed from all corners of the nation, from Salzburg, to Linz, to Bruneck to Vienna itself and many more. You are men with a mission, a reclamation of land lost to southern savages and reminder to those who watch us that the Austrian soldier must not be trifled with for he is a defiant one, brave and resolute in the face of adversity. As Leopold led warriors to Jerusalem, I shall lead you to Klagenfurt. And as we approach Carinthia, let us remind the world that we are not the sheep so many think us to be, nor the lamb to be led to slaughter. We are not the flock but rather the wolves who hunger after it! We are the Kampfgruppe Wolf and the Slovene traitors and usurpers will learn to fear our approach. Onwards to Carinthia, comrades, onwards to victory!”
The men shouted and cheered, their emotions high, their nationalism strong. Their blood ran hot, their dedication to the cause cemented by his words. The train pulled in, blowing its whistle as if in salute.
Olbrecht stepped forward and shouted. “Vorwärts zum Sieg!” which the men of Kampfgruppe Wolf shouted in unison:
“Vorwärts zum Sieg!”
“Vorwärts zum Sieg!”
“Vorwärts zum Sieg!”
Vienna, Austria
Austrian State
May 1936
Austrian State
May 1936
Annika Consbruch stood excitedly in front of mural titled 'Proclamation of the Wolf.' It showed the Führer when he had been a younger man. Even then when he had been penniless and without political stature or rank, he had rallied hundreds of Austrian patriots to come together and defend Carinthia against the Yugoslav hordes. It filled her with pride to know that the leader of Austria these past years was not some spineless Chancellor or weak-willed President. He was the Führer, the epitome of the Austrian State, its founder and the bearer of the torch that was Social Nationalism, a flame of civilization and order in a world rapidly filled with Jewish parasites and Communist devils. Though only fourteen, she was old enough to remember the chaos preceding the establishment of the Austrian State. The fighting in the streets, the terribly economy, the lean hunger that had plagued many within the Fatherland. All were vivid in her mind. Yet the ascension of the ÖSNVP to power had seen these concerns lessen and in time fade altogether. Her father was once again employed in construction, working alongside tens of thousands of others in Festungsmauerprojekt, one of the many large scale projects being carried out in Austria, strengthening the State.
The other girls of the Bund österreichischer Jungfrauen (BOJF) whispered excitedly, their whitish gray dresses similar in color to the uniforms of the Hitler Youth that stood close to them but different in attire, eyeing the mural when not eyeing the Maidens, likely imagining themselves standing there before the future leader of Austria as part of the famous Kampfgruppe Wolf.
Overhead the public announcement blared, "08:30 departure from Vienna to Linz set to commence in ten minutes. Repeat, 08:30 departure from Vienna to Linz set to commence in ten minutes."
As on cue the BOJF and HJ leaders turned to their detachments, forming them up in lines on the platform where seventeen years ago Hitler had once stood. The train pulled in. The doors slid open and out stepped a man in the blue-gray uniform of the Sturmwache. His Kruckenkreuz armband standing out. The man smiled at the Austrian youth before him.
"Good morning, future soldiers and mothers of the State!" he said cheerfully, the boys and girls coming to attention.
"I am Sturmbannführer Andreas Bolek. I will be your guide when in Linz. You will be housed in a hotel near the colosseum. While in Linz, you must conduct yourself with exception. The leaders of the military, government and the Party will be there. After all, we are celebrating the recent Verschmelzung. It is a great day for our race and nation." He looked around with exaggeration and leaned in, hand cupped to his mouth. Annika and everyone else leaned forward to hear. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll see the Führer himself."
This created a storm of excited whispering and faces of glee amongst the young boys and girls before their respective handlers shushed them.
Sturmbannführer Bolek smiled before coming to attention. "Heil Hitler!"
As one, the boys of the Hitler Youth and the girls of the League of Austrian Maidens shot out their arms in salute. "Heil Hitler!"
The other girls of the Bund österreichischer Jungfrauen (BOJF) whispered excitedly, their whitish gray dresses similar in color to the uniforms of the Hitler Youth that stood close to them but different in attire, eyeing the mural when not eyeing the Maidens, likely imagining themselves standing there before the future leader of Austria as part of the famous Kampfgruppe Wolf.
Overhead the public announcement blared, "08:30 departure from Vienna to Linz set to commence in ten minutes. Repeat, 08:30 departure from Vienna to Linz set to commence in ten minutes."
As on cue the BOJF and HJ leaders turned to their detachments, forming them up in lines on the platform where seventeen years ago Hitler had once stood. The train pulled in. The doors slid open and out stepped a man in the blue-gray uniform of the Sturmwache. His Kruckenkreuz armband standing out. The man smiled at the Austrian youth before him.
"Good morning, future soldiers and mothers of the State!" he said cheerfully, the boys and girls coming to attention.
"I am Sturmbannführer Andreas Bolek. I will be your guide when in Linz. You will be housed in a hotel near the colosseum. While in Linz, you must conduct yourself with exception. The leaders of the military, government and the Party will be there. After all, we are celebrating the recent Verschmelzung. It is a great day for our race and nation." He looked around with exaggeration and leaned in, hand cupped to his mouth. Annika and everyone else leaned forward to hear. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll see the Führer himself."
This created a storm of excited whispering and faces of glee amongst the young boys and girls before their respective handlers shushed them.
Sturmbannführer Bolek smiled before coming to attention. "Heil Hitler!"
As one, the boys of the Hitler Youth and the girls of the League of Austrian Maidens shot out their arms in salute. "Heil Hitler!"
+ + +
“If the origin of Hitler the tyrant can be traced anywhere in history, it is the speech he made on February 5th, 1919, on that platform in Wien Südbahnhof. He had transitioned from soldier and follower to leader and this would stoke the flames that would in time birth the ideologue who would haunt Europe in the coming decades. Millions would die in the war he would create whilst millions more suffered hardship and loss. An ocean of tears have been wept by the rise of that monster and all that followed.”-excerpt from ‘We Were Young Once’ by Dutch-German journalist Anne Frank, published 1953.
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