Berlin Treaty (1): Unofficial Meeting
US Senate Passes the ‘Knox-Porter Resolution’
July 1, 1921. The so-called Knox-Porter Resolution, passed in Washington, was a document formally ending the prolonged state of war. Since the United States had not ratified the Treaty of Versailles, Germany and America were technically still at war. Ahead of establishing a separate treaty between the US and its allies—independent of Versailles—the Senate adopted this resolution to terminate what was little more than a formality.
France was perplexed. Having led the charge to isolate Germany and prepare all the treaties, they now faced serious doubts about cohesion now that America had opted out.
“This should give us some breathing room.”
“It might make things even tighter for now.”
At my words, Neurath tilted his head. They would soon push even harder, trying to bind Germany on their own if need be. I knew Germany would eventually break its diplomatic isolation through America and the Soviets. But France wouldn’t just sit idly by. It might look like Germany was catching its breath for the moment, but we were already suffocating.
“You’re too pessimistic.”
I shut my mouth at Neurath’s words. There was no avoiding it anyway, even if I wanted to.
“Think of it casually. Nothing gets decided here anyway.”
Ellis Loring Dresel, the US chargé d’affaires in Germany, flashed a relaxed smile and said this to us in German. But Rosen shot back.
“A meeting to probe intentions like this can never be taken lightly, so we won’t treat it that way.”
I followed Rosen and sat beside him. Dresel didn’t change expression at Rosen’s retort. He merely nodded ever so slightly. Then he continued slowly.
“In that case, let’s start with simpler questions.”
His gaze turned to me.
“What kind of country is Germany right now?”
It was a short question. But its implications were not simple. I thought for a moment before speaking.
“A defeated nation.”
An unhesitating answer. Dresel’s eyebrow twitched faintly. I pressed on.
“And a nation capable of negotiation.”
He gazed at me steadily and replied.
“Aren’t those two concepts hard to reconcile?”
I shook my head.
“Not at all.”
I clasped my hands and continued.
“The problem isn’t defeat itself, but the choices that follow. Germany is choosing right now.”
His gaze deepened.
“What choice do you mean?”
I answered curtly.
“To keep the conversation going.”
This time, Dresel paused. He tapped the desk lightly with his fingers, watching me.
“Intriguing.”
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
“The Germany I’ve seen so far hasn’t made that choice.”
Rosen tilted his head at that and asked.
“You seem to know Germany quite well for someone who crossed the ocean.”
Dresel, as if he’d been waiting for the question, nodded a few times with a smile.
“My father was born in Germany. Though it was your country back then.”
He pointed at me as he said it. I’d had a bad feeling from the start. I just gave an awkward smile in response.
“I’m just a citizen of the republic now.”
At my attitude, Dresel looked at me with mild surprise, then chuckled softly and clasped his hands. He tapped the desk again with his finger.
“Then let me ask directly.”
His gaze returned to me.
“Does the current Germany intend to accept the present order?”
The air in the room grew just a touch heavier. Rosen shifted ever so slightly. I pretended to think, buying time. This question wasn’t simple. The “present order”—it was a roundabout way of asking if we accepted the Versailles system. I opened my mouth slowly.
“We are accepting it.”
Dresel’s eyes flickered faintly. Before I could continue, Rosen spoke first.
“At least, for now.”
A brief silence. He immediately countered.
“‘For now’?”
I nodded.
“Where that order leads isn’t just Europe’s problem. For us, the fact that America hasn’t endorsed Versailles’ tragedy means a great deal.”
Rosen added this with a warm smile. Dresel gave a small chuckle, then lowered his gaze as if lost in thought. Tap, tap—the rhythm of his fingers on the desk slowed just a bit. A short silence. Then he looked up again.
“In that case…”
His eyes flicked between us.
“Does Germany want to change that order?”
Rosen glanced at me, and I answered Dresel without hesitation.
“The current order is wrong.”
At my firm words, Dresel nodded, gazing steadily.
“Can we call that positive?”
As we walked down the corridor, I asked. Rosen kept walking as he replied.
“Half positive, but they can flip it anytime if it doesn’t suit them. Reparations didn’t come up once, did they?”
I nodded and followed. The unofficial meeting itself had been positive. America wanted a treaty, and so did we. But we hadn’t delved into specifics, especially not reparations—not a single word.
I pondered for a moment.
“That might actually be a good thing.”
Rosen didn’t stop walking, but his gaze shifted faintly.
“Good how?”
“Not bringing up reparations first means…”
I glanced out the corridor window as we walked and continued.
“They might not have finished their calculations yet.”
A short silence. Rosen muttered lowly.
“…Or they deliberately avoided it.”
“Could be.”
I nodded and stopped, looking at him.
“Either way, the conclusion’s the same. America is holding judgment for now.”
Rosen stopped too. He looked at me briefly before asking.
“So, what do you think they’ll do next?”
I paused, then spoke slowly.
“This time it was questions. Next time, it’ll be conditions, won’t it?”
Rosen’s expression hardened. I added.
“And those conditions will probably be far more specific than we imagine.”
Rosen let out a small sigh.
“So we can’t avoid it after all.”
I chuckled.
“If it were avoidable, we wouldn’t be here.”
He nodded. He started walking again first.
“Then we’d better prepare.”
I followed.
“I have some ideas.”
“…Best not to think of them for now. Things could get complicated.”
As Rosen walked with hands behind his back, I paused briefly, watching his back. I didn’t reply. I just followed again.
Doorman Agreement…
I racked my brain, trying to recall only the negotiations with America. But the memories were fuzzy. How exactly had they changed the principles? It hadn’t happened yet, so I couldn’t look it up, and improvising risked derailing everything entirely. I grew even more cautious.
That’s when it happened.
Screech—
“Your Highness?”
“Oh, Nanny. What is it?”
“I came to let you know the young master is asleep. I was thinking of heading home now…”
I stood with a bright smile at her words.
“Of course. Anytime. Was everything alright today?”
The nanny nodded slightly and continued.
“Much like usual… but the young master played with his blocks for a good while.”
“Blocks?”
“Yes. He stacked them high, knocked them down… then stacked again.”
I chuckled.
“Kids do that.”
“But this time, he laid a wide base first and built slowly. And it didn’t fall. He’s so young, yet thinks so deeply—it moved me.”
The nanny smiled reminiscently, her face full of lingering warmth.
Stack too fast and it crumbles, but build the base slowly and it holds…
My mind flashed.
“…Ah!”
I stood blankly, then looked at her.
“That’s it!”
Laughter burst out.
“That was the way!”
I stepped forward and grabbed her hand.
“Thank you! You helped me figure it out!”
“…Pardon?”
She looked at me, flustered. I didn’t mind.
“Should’ve realized sooner… Why now?”
I muttered, but my head was already filled with the reparations plan sparked by the blocks. Not piling high recklessly from the start, but building gradually into a long-term strategy. It was simplistic, but at its core, the Doorman plan was that simple principle.
“Your Highness?”
“Oh, sorry.”
I let go and stepped back. The nanny still looked puzzled.
“Is something wrong?”
“…Nothing at all. You helped me remember something very important.”
She nodded, still not quite understanding. I turned away. My steps quickened. If pushy friends demand stacking blocks sky-high from the start, you need a teacher to say build from the bottom slowly. How had such a simple principle only occurred to me now? If I put that plan on the table first, Germany might avoid hyperinflation. If things went as thought.