Chapter 17
Chapter 17
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Interwar Period - War College
-----------------------------------------------------------------
November 4, 1937
Berlin, Northern Germany
I had finally arrived in Berlin.
The historic capital of Germany, heir to the Duchy of Brandenburg, and a place that would be nothing but ruins by the end of the Second World War.
As if to prove its German sensibilities, the generally austere cityscape was draped everywhere in crimson flags emblazoned with the Hakenkreuz.
It was an oppressive and bleak spectacle, just as one would expect from what the Western world often called the evil empire.
The people seemed more energetic than I expected, but it was common to see the SS (Schutzstaffel) roaming the streets.
From now on, this was my stage. One wrong move, and I'd be gone in a flash.
And I—
—was facing a serious problem that had nothing to do with the Nazis.
Dammit. I hadn't sent a single letter home during the entire Spanish Civil War!
This body, Dietrich Schacht, was a late-born child, arriving eight years after his parents had his older sister, Cordula, in 1903.
As a child born late in their lives, he had been doted on excessively by his parents. With a grandmother from a high noble family and a wealthy father, that bastard Dietrich had grown into a carefree loafer.
Worse, after graduating from the prestigious Heidelberg University, he'd had a huge fight with his father, Hjalmar Schacht, and immediately enlisted in the army.
His father, Hjalmar, had wanted Dietrich to complete his mandatory service and follow in his footsteps as a man of finance, but Dietrich, like so many young German men of his era, was captivated by Hitler and the smart military uniforms, and so sought a commission as an officer.
After that, as soon as he completed his officer training, he was dispatched to Spain. During that time, he hadn't exchanged a single letter with his father, let alone met him.
His mother and sister had sent him a few letters early in his deployment, but Dietrich never replied, and soon they stopped coming.
To Dietrich Schacht, this must have seemed normal, because even I, influenced by his memories, felt nothing out of place... until I returned to Germany and realized I had to go home.
In other words, my current situation was that of a prodigal son who had practically run away from home and been disowned.
A cold sweat trickled down my back. Back in Korea, I'd at least been on good terms with my mother...
Setting aside the problem of being a deadbeat son, it wouldn't be easy for a mere captain to connect with an anti-Hitler circle full of high-ranking individuals.
The core of their group—which the SS intelligence service (the SD) called the ‘Black Orchestra’ (Schwarze Kapelle)—was the so-called ‘von Kleist circle,’ a society of Germany's upper class.
Therefore, I absolutely had to maintain a good relationship with my father, Hjalmar Schacht, who could be my point of contact with them. But it seemed I was off to a terrible start.
I swallowed dryly and stared at the lavish detached house in the middle of Berlin.
So, this was my house. No, Dietrich Schacht's house.
A three-story detached house, not some townhouse, right in the heart of Berlin.
In 21st-century Korea, that would be like owning a luxury mansion in central Seoul—the mark of an incredibly wealthy tycoon... How sad that I couldn't simply rejoice in that fact.
“Dietrich...?”
As I hesitated at the door, a voice that was both unfamiliar and yet familiar sounded from behind me.
I turned to see an older German woman standing there with a shocked expression.
The woman looked more weary than I remembered from Dietrich's memories.
I tried my best to call out to her as gently as possible, drawing on my memories as Yun Seong-il.
“.....Mother.”
The woman, Dietrich's mother Luise Sowa, rushed forward and threw her arms around me in a tight embrace.
“You, you really... *sob*... you came back safely...”
A somber feeling settled over me at Luise's—at Mother's—sobs.
Ah, Dietrich, you damn bastard. This was something you should have done, not me...
“...I'm sorry... I'm home.”
Mother Luise must have been worried sick about this deadbeat son of hers, because she held on to me for a long time and wouldn't let go.
Thinking of my own mother as Yun Seong-il, I did my best to listen to her story and tell her many things in return.
Dammit, I can't even see my real mother, no matter how much I want to. That damn Dietrich.
My sister, Cordula, was in England with her family, she said.
Come to think of it, wasn't my sister's son's godfather Montagu Norman, the Governor of the Bank of England...?
This really is an incredible family.
But that wasn't what was important.
My father, Hjalmar Schacht, had been dismissed from his posts as Minister of Economics and Plenipotentiary for the War Economy just yesterday.
What rotten timing.
Although he remained in Hitler's cabinet as a minister without portfolio (a minister without a specific department), it was in name only.
You could say that most of my father Hjalmar Schacht's power had been stripped away.
In place of my father, who had tamed Germany's hyperinflation while still paying the massive reparations of the Treaty of Versailles when the Great Depression shook the world economy, that clueless oaf Göring would begin to turn all of Germany into one giant munitions factory to suit the Nazis' whims.
Under the drug-addicted and incompetent Göring, various Nazi interests would become entangled, creating a system with screws loose everywhere, resulting in an economy so abysmal that it could only be salvaged by winning a war to pay off the debts.
As I was lost in thought while tending to my mother, a loud bang came from the doorway.
In Dietrich's memory, Hjalmar Schacht was an intellectual, calm, and yet arrogant man.
To see him come home completely drunk and disheveled was not only unfamiliar but also strangely poignant.
Hjalmar Schacht was a man who had contributed greatly to the Nazis from their early days, such as when he personally gathered businessmen he was acquainted with to fundraise for the Nazi Party back when it was just a minor party struggling to cover its operating costs.
He had done so believing that Hitler and the Nazis would be of great help to Germany, but now it had come to this... It wasn't hard to imagine how devastated he must feel.
“...Dietrich?”
My father, Hjalmar, saw me, his eyes widened, and then he began to shout.
“You, you immature brat! After nearly two years without a word, you finally crawl back home!”
“D-dear. He's just come back after so long...”
Ignoring my mother's attempt to stop him, Hjalmar strode forward, yelling.
“While your father was cleaning up after those Nazi bastards, you were off admiring them and joining the army! So, how did you like the blood-soaked battlefield?!”
“...I was in Spain as a volunteer and have just returned to Germany for the General Staff course. I am sorry for being so neglectful.”
When I readily apologized, Hjalmar flinched for a moment, but then, with a weary look, he pointed to the door and spoke.
“...Get out. You worthless boy...”
Well, this is just not my day.
“Again, I apologize, Father, and Mother. I will be in Berlin now, so I will visit often.”
My father, Hjalmar, didn't reply, but I could tell his anger had subsided slightly.
“I will take my leave now. Please, stay healthy.”
What was this feeling, this mix of Yun Seong-il's frustration at having to clean up Dietrich's mess, and the hurt of being treated so coldly by people who were, after all, my parents?
-
November 10, 1937
Berlin War College, Berlin, Northern Germany
Thanks to my mother, Luise Sowa, who stopped me on my way out and pressed an enormous amount of money into my hand for ‘emergencies,’ I was able to spend a few comfortable days in a hotel and acclimate to Berlin.
I felt a fresh wave of guilt. No, it wasn't even my fault... Ugh.
And finally, the day of my admission to the War College arrived.
Wearing the uniform of a Wehrmacht company-grade officer for the first time... it felt like I'd become a character in a movie.
The problem was, I was in the position of the villains in the movie, the ones with only the cool uniforms.
The officers admitted to the War College are selected through a fiercely competitive process of recommendations and evaluations from among the most promising company-grade officers.
As a result, things like noble birth or seniority meant nothing; selection was based almost entirely on merit. Even one's enlistment class was irrelevant. Consequently, the ranks of the admitted officers varied.
Second lieutenants, first lieutenants, captains... a diverse group. In any case, thanks to the strong backing from the Condor Legion, I wouldn't be outranked here.
I felt a renewed sense of gratitude. The Condor Legion, Colonel Model, Lieutenant Colonel von Richthofen, Clemens, and the company... I wonder if they're all doing well.
The assembled officers were all unable to hide their excitement and anticipation, because graduating from the War College and earning the General Staff insignia was proof of being recognized as the absolute elite within the German Army—a future general.
Though at most, only 10 to 20 percent of those gathered here would ultimately graduate and become General Staff officers...
In any case, the General Staff course runs for three years.
In terms of timing, the Second World War would break out in the middle of it. When war breaks out, officers in the General Staff course don't just sit quietly in school and receive their education.
Students of the War College are assigned to units and complete their coursework while gaining practical experience on the battlefield.
It's a time-honored tradition, dating back to when Scharnhorst first established the War College during the Napoleonic Wars.
Generals like Walter Model, Erich von Manstein, and Heinz Guderian all completed their General Staff training while participating in various battles during the First World War.
But more important than all that.
We were all tense because of the man standing before the podium.
“Company, attention!”
A silence fell, so profound that not even a breath could be heard, broken only by the sharp sound of everyone snapping to position.
“To the Führer, salute!”
“Heil Hitler!!”
The man who received our salute—the man with the mustache who would be remembered in human history in this era, in the future, and perhaps forever—smiled as he looked us over.
“Ah... to be here with the young officers who will be responsible for the future of the Greater German Army... er... all 160 of you, is a great honor.”
Adolf Hitler. Not a character from a history book, a documentary, or a movie role, but the real Hitler was here.
“You will be loyal to me and to Germany, will you not? Of course, I trust that you will. As soldiers, as sons of Greater Germany, you must unite and be loyal to Germany.”
It wasn't the frenzied speech one usually associates with Hitler, but a calm and refined tone that flowed from him.
“You must love peace, but you must be courageous. Love peace, but at the same time, become strong soldiers. As Germans, you must not be weak; you must become strong.”
From his calm and refined words, a heat began to build. As he spoke, he seemed to become increasingly intoxicated by his own fervor.
“You must know what sacrifice is, and you must know how to never yield! Someday, we will all disappear, but Germany will never disappear!”
Finally, intoxicated with himself, with his own fanatical belief, he began to speak fervently, waving his hands.
“Your bodies are my body, our Germany's body, and your blood is Germany's blood! The same soul burns within me and all of you!”
The finest officers, the elite of the Wehrmacht who had fought through fierce competition to be here, could not even blink as they kept their eyes fixed on him.
“The will to become one—that great column fills Germany today! I know that you will all grow closer to one another, and I do not doubt for a moment that a unified Germany lies before me and you!”
Even I.
I felt an inexplicable intensity from his speech, which was nothing more than totalitarian propaganda, and I was being overwhelmed.
“As Führer, I command you, the proud sons of Greater Germany! Be loyal to me! Be loyal to Germany! Be loyal to National Socialism! And fight for the fatherland, offering your bodies, your blood, and if necessary, even your souls!!”
Hitler concluded his speech with a shout, swinging his fist wide.
Overwhelmed by the sight of him, sweating and panting, the master of ceremonies was speechless. In that moment, without any signal, everyone naturally raised their hands and began to speak, giving him the Nazi salute.
“I swear this sacred oath to God—”
Hitler, though breathing heavily, looked down on us with a satisfied smile.
“that I shall render unconditional obedience to Adolf Hitler, the Führer of the German Reich and its people, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces—“
The young officers, captivated by his gaze, continued the oath with looks of blind respect and awe.
“and that I shall at all times be prepared, as a brave soldier, to give my life for this oath.”
That is my enemy.
The worst dictator in human history, who ruled an era with his frenzied charisma.
< Interwar Period - War College > End
© Carcassonne