Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Interwar Period - The Sudetenland Crisis (2)
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May 8, 1938
Berlin, Northern Germany. Hjalmar Schacht's residence.
“Dietrich, welcome.”
“Mother. Have you been well?”
I was used to acting affectionately toward Luise Sowa, my mother as Dietrich.
To be honest, it hadn’t felt real at first, calling her mother, and I’d had to make a conscious effort. Still, seeing her so happy that the son who had been an absolute scoundrel was now treating her so warmly made it feel worthwhile.
But today, I hadn’t come just to see my mother.
While I did want to make up for that bastard Dietrich’s behavior, I had not forgotten my true purpose.
I thought of the invitation tucked in my breast pocket and swallowed hard.
I didn’t know what Lieutenant Colonel Tresckow saw in me, but the so-called ‘higher-ups’ of the von Kleist gathering were undoubtedly more interested in my father, Hjalmar Schacht, than in me.
If I couldn’t bring him along, they would hardly see me as a valuable asset.
My father, Hjalmar Schacht, was a seasoned economist, a man renowned for his competence and eloquence.
He was sharp enough to render Roland Freisler—the ‘Blood Judge’ who had sentenced countless Nazi political opponents to death with his high-handed and insulting remarks—speechless.
He was the kind of man who, despite having no allies at the war crimes trials, acted arrogant and confident throughout, ultimately securing his own acquittal.
I knew he would eventually be persuaded to join the anti-Nazi movement, but in the original history, I had no idea who had convinced him. Now, because I had become a variable, that role had fallen to me.
He was not an easy man to deal with...
My mother was so delighted to see her son, who usually only visited on Sundays due to his studies at the War College, that it wasn’t until after I’d had dinner that I finally got a moment alone with my father, Hjalmar Schacht.
“What is it, Dietrich?”
No longer the disheveled man from our first meeting, my father, Hjalmar Schacht, now the picture of cold intellect, sent a blunt gaze from behind his glasses.
“Um… how have you been these days….”
I stopped myself mid-sentence. What was I thinking, asking something so stupid of a man who’d just been dismissed and was now a minister in name only?
Hjalmar glanced at me, then folded the newspaper he was reading—the *Frankfurter Zeitung*—and placed it on his desk before turning to face me.
“You have something to say? Sit.”
“Yes, sir….”
I obediently sat on the sofa opposite him.
“So, what is it?”
“Have you heard of the von Kleist gathering, Father?”
“I have.”
Well, it was known as a common high-society gathering for nobles, so it would be stranger if he hadn’t heard of it…
“They’ve invited both you and me. I was wondering if you would be interested in attending.”
“Alright.”
“.......Pardon?”
“You’re asking me to go with you, are you not?”
“...Well, yes. That’s right.”
“Then we’ll go.”
I was thrown into confusion.
In Dietrich’s memories, his father, Hjalmar Schacht, was neither kind nor affectionate toward him.
Setting aside the fact that Dietrich had been a good-for-nothing, Hjalmar Schacht was a typical workaholic politician.
He was by no means a warm family man, so it wasn’t entirely without reason that his relationship with Dietrich had been poor.
“...Forgive me for asking, Father, but do you happen to know what kind of gathering this is?”
“Isn’t it a gathering of those who intend to rise up against that bastard Hitler?”
I was so shocked I nearly shot to my feet, but instead, I slumped back into the chair.
How in the world did he know?
“I was invited once before, back when I was still the Minister of Economics.”
“Ah….”
I see. So they had already reached out to Hjalmar Schacht, even if he hadn’t joined them yet.
Hjalmar fell silent for a moment, then slowly clenched his fist as he spoke.
“Back then, I believed Hitler and the Nazis were the hope of this Germany. I believed they would overcome the situation where our once-great fatherland was burdened by the Treaty of Versailles, where we had to watch helplessly as the Ruhr, our industrial heartland, was trampled under the boots of foreigners.”
In fact, my father’s judgment had been half-right. Hitler would rebuild Germany into a powerful nation and crush the arrogant French who had occupied the Ruhr and intimidated the demilitarized German government.
It was an outcome achieved through a series of flukes and fortunate events, but Hitler ultimately used the fervent public support he gained from it to lead Germany to ruin.
“So I pushed aside family and friends and did everything I could to help them. Thinking back now, it was a foolish thing to do.”
My father, Hjalmar Schacht’s contribution to Hitler’s rise to power was by no means small.
It was almost entirely thanks to him that the Nazi party, filled with left-wing extremists who were at odds with industrialists before the Night of the Long Knives, managed to secure enough financial backing from them to seize power.
He had also played a major role in curbing the hyperinflation triggered by the Treaty of Versailles and the Ruhr occupation, and in building the economy that made rearmament possible.
Hjalmar tapped his fingers on the armrest of the sofa, then spoke.
“I know you’ve been making an effort lately. Luise has been much better thanks to you. ...I’ll go, but there is one thing I must say.”
“...Yes.”
“Germany's economy is already on the brink of collapse. If we don’t reduce military spending immediately, there will be no way to stop inflation. But I doubt those militarists, even if they aren't Hitler and the Nazis, would have the sense to cut military spending to fix the economy.”
...I had a rough idea, but was that really the case?
The reason my father had been removed from his position as Minister of Economics was that he had warned the economy would collapse if military spending wasn’t cut. His rival, Göring, had boasted that it was possible to increase it further and had continued to do so.
Half a year had already passed since then…
There was no way the boasts of Göring, the king of bluffs who was so confident the Luftwaffe could do everything that he brought about the ‘Miracle of Dunkirk,’ could have come true. The issuance of Mefo-Wechsel bonds had been halted just a short while ago because they were no longer sustainable.
I’d read analyses suggesting that war was not a choice but a necessity for the Nazi regime because it was running a war economy that was utterly unsustainable by normal standards, but realizing that this was the actual situation was not a pleasant feeling.
“I don’t hold you in high regard, but I pray you’re not involved in this thinking that everything will be fine once you get rid of Hitler and the Nazis.”
“...Haha... yes....”
I had been in such a good mood all week after seeing Claudia last week, but now a real headache had just dropped into my lap.
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May 14, 1938
Schmenzin, East Pomerania, Northern Germany (Present-day Poland, east of Stettin)
The ‘castle’ of Sir Ewald von Kleist-Schmenzin, from a traditional noble family of the Pomerania region, looked more like a large mansion to me.
To call something a castle in this day and age, shouldn’t it be at least on the level of Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria?
Then again, the famous French châteaux weren’t exactly the kind of castles that come to mind when you think of the Middle Ages…
Reality is always a letdown.
The master of this castle, Sir Ewald von Kleist-Schmenzin, shared a similar name and was from the same family as Ewald von Kleist, who was in the German army and would later rise to the rank of Field Marshal, but they were two different people.
A passionate nobleman who had been imprisoned several times for refusing orders to fly the Nazi Hakenkreuz flag at his castle, Sir Kleist-Schmenzin was a gentleman with a receding hairline but a splendid mustache.
“Thank you for coming, Minister Schacht. Ah, it’s former minister now, isn’t it?”
“Thank you for the invitation, Sir Kleist-Schmenzin.”
I broke into a cold sweat as my father and our host exchanged barbed greetings.
Was he mocking my father for only showing up after he got fired, when he’d refused the invitation as a minister?
“Ah, and this must be your son?”
“Indeed. This is my son, Dietrich Schacht.”
As Kleist-Schmenzin’s attention turned to me, I offered a greeting as cautiously as possible.
“It is an honor to meet the head of such a traditional knightly family, Sir von Kleist-Schmenzin. I am Captain Dietrich Schacht, currently serving in the army.”
“Oh, haha. A polite young man, I see. Well, Captain Schacht, I have heard much about you. You’ve come a long way, so please make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.”
Leaving our host to greet other guests, we stepped inside, where a social party straight out of a scene from the Middle Ages—at least as modern people would imagine it—was underway.
Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies. My, my, on the surface, it looked for all the world like a perfect high-society gathering, didn’t it?
Whether in the military or politics, the upper echelons of society in this era treated such social gatherings as a semi-obligatory duty.
Even the Nazis would find it difficult to interfere with a place that, on the surface, was for smiling, enjoying pleasant conversation, and serving as a marriage market.
These people, who looked like they were just dressed up to idly pass the time, were members of the traditional aristocratic society passed down from Prussia or the upper crust of society. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing them.
Since high-ranking military officials also attended these events as a matter of custom, it was unlikely to arouse suspicion.
As I entered with my father, a familiar face approached and greeted us.
“Former Minister Schacht, thank you for coming. I am Lieutenant Colonel Henning von Tresckow.”
“A pleasure, Lieutenant Colonel. Hjalmar Schacht.”
“Have you been well, Lieutenant Colonel?”
Tresckow exchanged greetings with my father, then smiled faintly at my question and whispered.
“Wait a moment. I’ll call for you when everyone has gathered.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“There are many people inside you should meet. Please, enjoy yourselves.”
Tresckow nodded, offered a bow, and moved away.
There was no turning back now.
Problems were piling up, but one way or another, I had taken my first step into the Black Orchestra.
From now on, I had to be on my guard.
-
But contrary to my resolve, I found myself utterly drained by something I had never expected.
Although he had been dismissed as Minister of Economics, it seemed that being the son of a successful economist who still held a minister-without-portfolio position in the Nazi regime, as well as being a young General Staff candidate, made me a rather attractive commodity to the higher-ups.
I felt like my soul was being drained by the sheer number of nobles who showed an interest in me.
For God’s sake, with World War II just around the corner, did I really have to stand here listening to these high-and-mighty old men drone on about their family lineage and how pretty and demure their daughters were?
To make matters worse, my father, Hjalmar Schacht, made absolutely no effort to rescue me, instead letting me serve as a diversion from talk of his own dismissal.
What a cold-blooded old man... No wonder Dietrich turned out to be such a scoundrel!
Thankfully, Lieutenant Colonel Tresckow rescued me just before I completely collapsed.
...Or so I thought. Less than an hour later, I had to revise that opinion.
I should have just passed out from exhaustion.
“...I am terribly sorry, but perhaps... I may have misheard you... Could you please repeat that?”
I asked in a trembling voice, praying my ears had deceived me. The gazes of men far above my station turned on me.
Former Army Chief of Staff Ludwig Beck, current Army Chief of Staff Franz Halder, retired General of the Infantry Erwin von Witzleben, our host Sir von Kleist-Schmenzin, and all the other dignitaries.
A pale-faced Lieutenant Colonel Tresckow was frantically gesturing for me to compose myself, but I was well aware that this was not a place for a mere captain to speak out of turn.
I knew that, but I simply could not believe it.
“Who are you?”
At Ludwig Beck's curt question, my father, Hjalmar Schacht, looking as if he’d expected this and was weary of the world, answered first.
“He is my son.”
“...My apologies for the impertinence, esteemed Colonel General. I am Captain Dietrich Schacht of the army.”
Hearing my father’s words and my own, Ludwig Beck’s expression softened slightly.
“Ah, former Minister Schacht's son. Recommended by that fellow, Model, wasn't it? I remember now.”
Just as I felt a flicker of relief that he was letting it go, he plunged me back into despair.
“We will cooperate with Britain to oust the Nazi regime, but we must have our sovereignty over the Sudetenland and Danzig recognized.”