Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Sudetenland Crisis (5)
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**Sudetenland Crisis (5)**
June 25, 1938
A bar in the city of Berlin, Northern Germany
I was meeting a welcome face for the first time in a while.
“Have you been well, Captain?”
“Same as always. How about you, Colonel?”
At my words, Colonel Wolfram von Richthofen took a sip from his glass and grinned.
“The same for me! Haha! How’s life at the war college treating you?”
“Well, compared to my time in Spain, it’s paradise. I have you to thank for that, Colonel.”
“Is that so? I’m starting to miss that place a little.”
Uh… hmm.
He doesn’t miss it because he can’t drop incendiary bombs, does he…
No, this is Richthofen. Maybe he does.
“Really? I thought you returned because the tide of the war was turning.”
After the Nationalist faction secured the entire northern front following the Battle of Brunete, the Spanish Civil War had tipped dramatically in their favor, leaving the Republicans consistently on the back foot…
But contrary to my thoughts, Richthofen drained his glass and replied with a grin.
“Ah, about that. The truth is, I was just fired.”
“Pardon?”
Richthofen? A man Göring himself cherished?
“I didn’t get along with the fellow who came to replace Lieutenant General Thoma in the army detachment. A Lieutenant General Volkmann.”
Ah, Lieutenant General Thoma. He was the army commander of the Condor Legion.
His long, horse-like face was quite memorable. Other than that, he was so unremarkable I could barely remember him.
When Major General Model was Chief of Staff, it felt more like he was the army commander…
“Lieutenant General Thoma was great; he respected the air force’s autonomy. But that Volkmann fellow treated the Luftwaffe like it was his personal subordinate unit. We had a huge fight, and I was replaced. Haha!”
“I see.”
Until the Battle of Brunete, the Condor Legion had clearly revolved around the Luftwaffe, but it seemed their great success in the ground war had shifted the dynamics.
Colonel Richthofen raised his glass again, then grinned and asked.
“So, Captain. You remember why I pushed for you so strongly, don’t you?”
“Ah, of course, Colonel. I’ve even had a few discussions on the topic with my classmates. At the very least, those close to me won’t see the air force as just some flying artillery you call when needed.”
“That’s good to hear.”
This was something I was passionate about myself, as it was not just his request but also the German Air Force’s greatest limitation and problem.
Mass-producing strategic bombers to rain down bombs like the Americans might be beyond Germany’s industrial capacity, but the value of air power in modern warfare was far too immense to be limited to just taking out enemies in plain sight.
“Major General Walter Model also has a progressive view on the matter. Probably because he had the experience of coordinating with the Luftwaffe in Spain.”
“Ah, that man is trustworthy. Ha, to be honest, I was more disappointed about him leaving than Lieutenant General Thoma. Well… maybe it was nice not having to listen to his jokes?”
“…Ha. Ha. Ha.”
General Model’s sense of humor was truly, well… It was something we could agree on.
I lightly clinked glasses with him and savored my drink.
“Oh, right. Captain. It’s been decided that the Hs 123 production line won’t be scrapped, just as you suggested.”
“Is that so?”
The Hs 123 was one of Germany’s earliest dive bombers, a biplane, so it couldn’t compare to the Stuka in actual dive-bombing.
But in the Spanish Civil War, it proved to be a peculiar aircraft; its slow speed as a biplane made it stable and remarkably useful for supporting ground troops.
“That’s right. It was designed for dive-bombing, but it’s ironically being used for close air support. Still, it’s reliable, and its cost-effectiveness is undeniably good.”
I chuckled at Richthofen’s words and added.
“And whether it’s an old model or not, having support aircraft visible in the sky is a good way to show that the air force is cooperating with the army.”
“Ah, dammit. I really should have transferred you to the air force. You understand the Luftwaffe way.”
“Haha, thank you.”
In the original history, the production line was shut down too early, and they couldn’t produce more later when the aircraft was re-evaluated. This would surely be helpful in some way.
Looking at the performance of the StuG III and the lessons from the German-Soviet war, a reliable, low-cost, mass-produced piece of equipment always proves its worth.
The tanks meticulously crafted with Germany’s unique artisan spirit—the Tiger and the Panther—may have shown incredible exchange ratios and spectacular results in combat, but their over-ambition led to catastrophic reliability and production issues, ultimately having little impact on the course of the war.
Though I couldn’t meet him in person often, I continued to stay in touch with Richthofen.
He was only a colonel, but a connection to a key figure in the air force was important.
He was revered by Adolf Galland and Werner Mölders, the spiritual pillars of Germany’s ace pilots, so his practical influence on the air force was, in a sense, greater than Göring’s.
Most of the high-ranking officers in the nascent Luftwaffe, aside from Great War heroes like Göring or Milch, were transfers from the army.
The young, talented members of the German Air Force were dissatisfied with their drug-addled pig of a commander, who was once a hero but now sat at the top, mired in greed and vanity, and with the army-the birthplace of generals who treated the air force as a mere subordinate organization.
It was only natural that they felt closer to Richthofen, who, despite his lower rank, had discussed practical matters with them and listened to their grievances since Spain, all while striving for the advancement of the Luftwaffe.
As I was planning for a potential civil war in Germany, I desperately wanted to avoid the nightmare scenario of the entire Luftwaffe siding with the Nazis and dropping incendiary bombs on the heads of the German people.
“Speaking of which, Colonel.”
“Hm?”
“What are your thoughts on the plan to invade Czechoslovakia?”
Richthofen swirled the drink in his glass, took a sip, and answered.
“Frankly, it’s a total mess. Makes you wonder what the General Staff is even doing. …Just between you and me, the OKW is full of idiots. Keitel? Ha! What does a man who was considered incompetent even in the army know about commanding all three branches?”
Was he drunk? As a key figure in the air force, he must have been involved early on, but a mere captain like me shouldn’t know the detailed operational plans for the invasion of Czechoslovakia yet.
I had, of course, been asking for his opinion on the escalating Sudetenland crisis…
In any case, the OKW was just a figurehead; the actual plan would have been drafted by Chief of the General Staff Franz Halder.
Indeed, before Manstein’s sickle-cut plan that defeated France in six weeks, the operational plans led by Halder could hardly be called brilliant or groundbreaking, even with the kindest of words.
If it weren’t for the Munich Agreement, wouldn’t Germany have crashed headfirst into the Czechoslovakian fortress line, their main attack precisely predicted, and nearly lost World War II before it even began?
The purge of the General Staff following the Blomberg-Fritsch affair was clearly showing its problems.
Well, it was nothing compared to Stalin’s Great Purge, I suppose.
“Um, as a mere captain, I’m not yet…”
“The Führer is a strong leader who united a divided Germany, but I fear the sycophants around him are blinding him.”
I was about to speak but closed my mouth at Richthofen's words.
Richthofen took a drink, then looked at me and smirked.
“Well, that’s just talk. You and I, we’re in a position where we just do as we’re told, aren’t we? A soldier doesn’t need to think too deeply about politics.”
“…You’re right.”
The thought of trying to win over Wolfram von Richthofen had crossed my mind…
But judging by his feelings toward Hitler, it seemed unlikely.
A great pity.
From what I’d observed, he was a true patriot. He held Hitler in high regard as a strong leader but never showed any signs of subscribing to the Nazi Party’s insane ideology…
I could only hope he wasn’t crazy enough to rain incendiary bombs on his own people.
I stared at Richthofen’s reddened face and spoke.
“Um, Colonel. Do you drink often?”
“Well, a fair bit.”
As he said this, the colonel’s face was flushed.
It didn’t seem like he could hold his liquor at all. Didn’t he leave the war toward the end because of a brain tumor?
I didn’t know the exact cause, but a love for alcohol certainly wouldn’t do a brain tumor any good…
“Uhm, perhaps it would be best to cut back a little…”
“Hahaha! Well, I never. To think I’d hear that from you, a man from a different branch.”
Finding something amusing, Richthofen chuckled and replied.
“Alright, fine. My subordinates have been saying the same thing. I’ll try to cut back a bit.”
Though we were on different pages, we enjoyed a pleasant time before getting up to leave.
But Richthofen, who had just promised to drink less, added one more thing.
“How about we have our next drink in Prague?”
“…Ha. Ha…”
When we were together in Spain, I hadn’t noticed because we were in the middle of operations…
A lightweight who loves to drink and an incendiary bombing maniac. What a hell of a combination.
-
July 9, 1938
Berlin, Northern Germany
I was greeting guests at a mansion owned by my father, Hjalmar Schacht.
Though he’d been dismissed as Minister of Economics, my father was still the President of the Reichsbank and had plenty of money.
Having a rich father who owned a separate house for receiving guests in addition to his own residence in Berlin was convenient in many ways.
“The negotiations between Herr von Kleist-Schmenzin and the British went as you predicted, Captain. Only MP Churchill showed some interest. Under-Secretary Vansittart was there, but he didn’t seem very engaged.”
“That’s to be expected. It’s hard to hope they’d see us as equal negotiating partners.”
Director Erich Kordt nodded at my words.
Winston Churchill. The name, a symbol of Britain in World War II, brought up complicated feelings.
I was grateful that he, who had early on pegged Hitler as an unspeakable scoundrel, was paying attention to us…
But he wasn’t Prime Minister yet and had little power. And if we did manage to seize power later, he was a ticking time bomb. I didn’t particularly want to get involved with him.
Apologies to the man who would go down as an indomitable hero in British history, but I’d prefer it if he remained a has-been politician for the rest of his life…
“Still, as you wished, my brother made sure to avoid any discussion of territorial claims.”
“That’s a relief. It was just my opinion, but thank you for your consideration in many ways, Director.”
“Not at all. The Foreign Office agrees with your perspective, Captain.”
Kordt finished with a smile.
“To be honest, the fact that the son of the former Minister Schacht is expressing such opinions within the military actually lessens our burden. State Secretary von Weizsäcker also holds you in high regard, so we plan to continue our cooperation.”
“Thank you. That’s very reassuring.”
As expected of career diplomats, having people with a relatively realistic perspective on our side within the resistance was a great source of strength.
Claudia’s efforts to give them a good impression of me beforehand must have helped a lot, too. I was grateful.
As the two of us were chatting over coffee, our main guests arrived.
“It’s been a while, Captain.”
“It’s good to see you, Lieutenant Colonel.”
Lieutenant Colonel Tresckow was chain-smoking as usual. Just before entering the house, he dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it with his foot.
This man was quite the heavy smoker…
“Please, come in, Lieutenant Colonel.”
I turned my gaze to the two men who followed him inside.
A strikingly handsome man who looked to be in his thirties and… a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an intense presence.
A peculiar combination.
“Welcome. I am Captain Dietrich Schacht.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Captain. I am Count Hans-Jürgen von Blumenthal. I’m also a first lieutenant in the army.”
The handsome man, Count von Blumenthal, introduced himself with an easy smile.
“Count von Blumenthal. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Count von Blumenthal… if I recall, he was the one who was supposed to raid Hitler’s chancellery during Operation Green.
In that case, the identity of the middle-aged man was set.
“Lieutenant Colonel Hans Paul Oster. A pleasure, Captain.”
Lieutenant Colonel Hans Oster.
The mastermind of the Oster Conspiracy to assassinate Hitler during the Munich Agreement, and a man who, unbowed by any of Hitler’s successes, had opposed the Nazis more fervently than anyone.
Such a man was looking at me with an intense gaze, his hand extended.
“…It is truly an honor to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel Oster.”
As I shook his hand, he gripped it firmly, smiled faintly, and spoke.
“It may be a bit much to ask at our first meeting, Captain, but time is short, so I’ll ask the most important question first.”
“…Please, go ahead, Lieutenant Colonel.”
Hearing my reply, Lieutenant Colonel Oster looked me straight in the eye.
In that moment, I instantly understood the assessment that the surviving members of the resistance gave of him after the war.
Eyes filled with conviction and faith, an indomitable gaze, were piercing through me.
“To take down the devil ruling this Germany, what are you prepared to sacrifice?”
Even though the situation didn’t call for it, I felt a smile spreading across my lips.
“…Everything.”
This was the man I had been looking for.
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