Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: World War II - Our Fatherland (3)
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< World War II - Our Fatherland (3) >
May 19, 1940
Berlin, Northern Germany
May 19th. The day the fortnight’s grace period Britain gave France came to an end.
And because of that, the leadership of the Fourth Reich, gathered grimly in the conference room despite it being a rare Sunday, was in a state of confusion.
“What in the world do you think they’re planning?”
It was a rare sight for my father, Hjalmar Schacht, but his expression showed he was genuinely asking because he didn't know.
But no one here could answer with confidence.
France had very meekly announced it would cease its aid to Italy, and their volunteer force, the Falcon Corps, was steadily preparing to withdraw.
Seeing them drag their feet until the very last deadline only to back down gracefully, the optimistic view was that they had simply caved.
The mood in Britain was one of self-congratulation, claiming they had brought about that damned ‘peace for our time’ once again.
We, too, expressed our gratitude to Britain.
But to celebrate it as our own diplomatic victory…
“Considering the secret talks with Spain, it's certain that something is afoot.”
This was the problem. There had to be a reason why Spain would risk getting on our bad side to not let go of France's hand.
If France intended to withdraw without doing anything, Spain wouldn't have needed to ask us to look the other way while they maintained neutrality, would they?
The request to guarantee their independence was clearly a demand made with a war between Germany and France in mind.
Unless we were to push into mainland France when the time came, our only means of threatening Spain was through economic sanctions.
“This is quite the enigma.”
Foreign Minister Weizsäcker clicked his tongue. Judging by France’s actions alone, it seemed they had succumbed to our and Britain's diplomatic pressure, but Spain’s actions made no sense.
Of course, with the United States already imposing sanctions, the threat of losing passage through the Suez Canal and facing British-led economic sanctions was indeed a tremendous one for France.
France and Britain had been allies for a long time, and the French economy was heavily dependent on the British. Without the Suez, managing their colonies in Indochina would become nearly impossible.
But this withdrawal would be a significant blow to La Rocque's soaring political standing. If he were going to back down this easily, he wouldn't have started providing such overt support to Italy in the first place.
“How about we first consider all possible scenarios?”
At Defense Minister Ludwig Beck’s suggestion, everyone fell into a moment of thought.
“The most realistic possibility is that France promised to cede some of its colonies.”
“Hmm, that seems the most likely.”
Vice Foreign Minister Erich Kordt's opinion seemed plausible at first glance. After all, Spain and France were already sharing colonial rule over Morocco.
That was the practical line of thought, but I was skeptical. In the original history, even as the great British Empire was letting go of its colonies after World War II, France had tried to hold onto its own, brutally suppressing independence movements with bloodshed.
Would a France so proud and greedy for its colonies really give them up just to bring Spain in as an ally?
But if not that, France truly had no other cards to play. Something tempting enough for Franco, a man second to none when it came to testing the waters, to bite immediately.
“Gibraltar…?”
I had muttered it to myself, but all eyes suddenly focused on me. Britain's major naval base, located at the Strait of Gibraltar in the southern Iberian Peninsula.
It was originally Spanish land and, though small, was essential for maintaining naval supremacy in the Mediterranean.
“Spain would certainly covet Gibraltar, but…”
Erich Kordt trailed off. Yes, I knew. It didn't make sense.
“But it's British territory. France wouldn't fight a neutral Britain over it, would they?”
“Indeed, haha…”
That was the problem. Would France, after yielding to British pressure and pulling its troops out of Italy, suddenly go mad and start a war with Britain?
Even if they did, as long as the Royal Navy existed, France's means of striking the British mainland were extremely limited.
Franco wouldn't be ignorant of that, so…
…Wait a minute.
I felt a chill run down my spine.
I’d seen a situation like this somewhere before. A nation with an overwhelmingly superior navy, but because of that, it doesn't expect to be attacked and is vulnerable to an air strike.
A method that Franco would risk antagonizing Germany for, yet one he would also deem risky enough to require taking out insurance with us in case of failure.
Britain and France were allies, after all. No one in Britain would ever imagine that France would attack them.
This can't be a European version of Pearl Harbor, can it?
“You said all their capital ships were deployed in northern France, correct?”
“That is correct, Vice-Chancellor.”
Admiral Canaris, the director of the Abwehr, nodded.
I had thought they moved them there to keep the Kriegsmarine in check, since becoming allies with Italy meant they no longer had to worry about naval supremacy in the Mediterranean.
But what if, like Pearl Harbor, they launched a massive surprise air raid and then delivered the final blow with their fleet?
“No, that's too far-fetched…”
Even so, Britain's capital ships easily outnumbered the combined French and Italian navies by more than two to one.
France, with only one aircraft carrier at best, had no way of attacking Scapa Flow, Britain's main naval port in the north, the way Japan struck Pearl Harbor. Besides, Britain also had its Mediterranean Fleet and its Far East Fleet.
“What is it?”
Ugh, it sounded like nonsense, but he just had to ask. I spoke to my father, my face showing my lack of confidence.
“I was just thinking, if France were to use its navy and air force to launch a surprise attack on the British Channel Fleet, wouldn't there be a chance for Britain to temporarily lose naval supremacy? If that happened, it would make sense for Spain to join the war on the promise of Gibraltar.”
Honestly, it sounded like nonsense even to me, but seeing the high-ranking officials all fall into deep thought was a strange sight.
“But what could they possibly gain by going to war with Britain at this point? They are, at least nominally, Britain's ally.”
“…You have a point.”
At my father's rebuttal, I was ultimately at a loss for words.
What could France possibly gain by turning on its ally, Britain, in a mad gambit? Of course, it was true that Britain's existence allowed us to diplomatically isolate France and conduct a proactive foreign policy.
If I tried to force the pieces to fit…
They want to break Germany, but they don't want to attack a Germany protected by Britain and the United States at the cost of countless sacrifices. So, if they could make Britain submit, it would be possible to bleed Germany dry with a naval blockade behind the Maginot Line, just like in World War I.
…No, surely not. Would they really start a war with the master of the seas, a nominal ally no less, just for that?
It’s not like they were going to occupy the British mainland. Surely they wouldn't do something so insane?
“In any case, although the order to withdraw the Falcon Corps has been given, they have not lifted their mobilization order and are continuing to build up their military. We cannot afford to be complacent, so keep all possibilities in mind.”
The meeting concluded with my father's words, but an inexplicable sense of unease lingered.
“Hmm, Vice-Chancellor Schacht. Your idea is a bit tenuous, but given France's irrational behavior, I will consider it a possibility. I will make more aggressive use of our agents in France.”
As the meeting ended and I stood up, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, director of the Abwehr, approached and offered some reassurance, which helped calm my nerves a little.
“Thank you, Director. I always have high expectations for the Abwehr.”
In the original history, the Abwehr couldn't even use half its capabilities because it was busy running counter-operations against the SD, colluding with the Allies, and supporting the Black Orchestra. But things were different now.
All I could do was hope they would produce results and uncover France's inscrutable intentions.
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May 22, 1940
Posen, Central-Eastern Germany – 3rd Army Headquarters
“They’re sending a lot of this precious stuff.”
Major General Kurt Feldt of the 3rd Army, led by Georg von Küchler, clicked his tongue as he inspected the military supplies passing through Posen on their way to Poland.
Equipment like the Sturmgeschütz III assault guns, Bf 109 fighters, and Hs 123 attack aircraft could be excused as newer models were being released. But even precious items like the newly produced Pak 38 anti-tank guns and the 8.8cm Flak guns—which even the German army was short on—were being continuously transported to Poland.
For the 3rd Army, stationed on the Polish border and effectively treated as a second-line unit, these were particularly galling pieces of equipment to see go by.
To think that the Polish army was receiving better equipment than they were! How could this be?
Of course, Poland was bending over backward to pay Germany for those supplies, and even so, they were in a desperate situation, forced to rely on German equipment to face the Soviets in Germany's stead.
And the Fourth Reich was using the money earned from Poland by operating the munitions industry that Hitler had bloated to an excessive size, reinvesting it into the civilian sector, and doing its utmost to transition the economy away from its dependence on military production.
While that would ultimately benefit Germany's long-term war-fighting capabilities, it was something that those currently feeling deprived neither knew nor wished to know.
“These damn new government bastards are deliberately ostracizing us.”
General of the Artillery Georg von Küchler vented his frustration. From his perspective, the Fourth Reich was still nothing more than Germany's new government, rather than his fatherland.
“It seems they intend to promote the generals who joined their new government from the beginning, the ones who suit their tastes.”
Lieutenant General Walter Petzel, commander of the I Army Corps, offered this with a bitter smile.
Küchler's 3rd Army, deployed in East Prussia for the planned invasion of Poland, was largely staffed by personnel with Nazi sympathies and could have been considered an elite force.
They had been stationed in Königsberg, anticipating the honor of being the spearhead aimed at Danzig and Warsaw. Instead, they had done nothing but twiddle their thumbs throughout the German Civil War, only to suffer significant losses from a surprise Polish attack, leading to one humiliation after another.
“We still defended Königsberg and participated in the counterattack against Poland! And yet those bastards bury us while promoting their own kind of radical figures like Manstein, Rommel, Lutz, and Guderian!”
Lieutenant General Albert Wodrig shouted in fury.
“And what’s more? Ha! Don't oppress the Poles, they say! Those bastards killed scores of my men in a cowardly surprise attack, and that fresh-faced young Vice-Chancellor runs around with fire in his eyes to make sure we can't even touch them!”
At his subordinate’s anger, his superior, Küchler, muttered coldly.
“I never doubted that we would be the vanguard of the German people against the inferior Slavic races. But to think I would see those Untermenschen, who murdered Germans without knowing their place, be allowed to walk free, and to see Jews settled on their land.”
The Fourth Reich had tried to eradicate the anti-Semitism and racism instilled by the Nazis, but the time had been too short, and the roots of hatred sown by the Nazis ran deep.
“Even for a government of men who vowed to drive out the Junkers who have served the Reich and revive something as weak as democracy, I thought they would naturally distribute the reclaimed lands of the German Reich to us soldiers and Junkers who won glory on the front lines! But to give it to the Jews? Ha!”
The words of General of the Infantry Nikolaus von Falkenhorst, commander of the XXI Army Corps and a man of traditional Prussian Junker stock, spoke for all the Junkers who had been marginalized and failed to find a place in the Fourth Reich's mainstream.
It wasn't that there were no Junkers in the Fourth Reich's current Wehrmacht, but they had become more cooperative with the government rather than maintaining their ties with other Junkers since the military government's coup.
"To think our proud German army shed blood to seize land for those Untermenschen to live on."
A sense of futility tinged his final words.
Küchler glanced at his subordinate generals before speaking.
“It’s only now I say this, but things were better under the Führer.”
His subordinates flinched slightly, but no one objected. Küchler began to speak with a bit more confidence.
“In truth, what have those high-and-mighty new government officials accomplished? The Anschluss? That was the Führer's achievement! But didn't those bastards allow a referendum on Austria's independence! The annexation of Bohemia was also the Führer's achievement! And what right did they have to liberate it!”
The German military's characteristic way of thinking—tactically brilliant but strategically lacking—led them to perceive the Fourth Reich as only losing what had been gained under the Nazis.
“Ahem, ahem. But isn't it an achievement to have reclaimed the territory of the German Reich and still received Britain's recognition?”
Lieutenant General Petzel ventured timidly, but Küchler slammed his fist on the table and shouted.
“The Führer would have taken South Prussia too! We all know it now, don't we? If those new government bastards hadn't interfered at Gleiwitz, we would have fought a just war against Poland, and then France and Britain wouldn't have been able to intervene! Look at the situation now! Their justification for the coup, to prevent a war, was a fabrication!”
For those who didn't know the original history, if one ignored the sequence of events, it was a fact that in the end, Britain and France had not intervened even after they fought Poland.
As Petzel fell silent, Küchler continued.
“Think carefully. We have dedicated ourselves to fighting for the glory of the Germanic people. But look at us now. The so-called new government of Germany is handing over equipment we can't even use to the Poles, and the land we fought so hard to reclaim has been given to the Jews.”
Seeing the darkness spreading in the generals' eyes, Küchler spoke in a low whisper.
“The Führer was right. Those men who brought down National Socialism, which would have made Germany truly great, they are the traitors, instigated by the Judeo-Polski Untermenschen. That's why they're keeping us, the ones loyal to the true Germany, in check like this!”
“Then, what do you intend to do, General?”
After General Falkenhorst asked his question, swallowing dryly, Küchler clapped his hands twice.
A man in a Wehrmacht uniform entered, raised his hand high, and shouted.
“Heil Hitler! I am honored to meet the loyal generals of the true fatherland!”
The man was Walter Schellenberg, the person Himmler had appointed as the head of the SD after Reinhard Heydrich was eliminated in a purge.
As the generals looked on, somewhat bewildered, Küchler spoke.
“The main forces of the Fourth Reich are all at the front, and our 3rd Army is right next to Berlin. The plan is to march on Berlin with the supporters of National Socialism. When we make our move, Himmler in Italy will have Italy act to buy us time. If all goes well, France will join us too.”
Küchler looked around the tension-filled conference room and spoke with a solemn expression.
“We are saving our fatherland from those traitors.”