Chapter 37
Chapter 37
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Interwar Period - Widerstand (7)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
July 28, 1939
A pub in downtown Berlin, Northern Germany
“Hahaha, diplomacy is war waged in times of peace. Fools who don’t understand that are incapable of any diplomacy. And that’s exactly what our men at the Foreign Ministry are like!”
“Hee hee, Minister Ribbentrop, your skill is truly remarkable. The Anschluss, the Munich Agreement... The British and French diplomats don’t know what hit them when they face you, do they?”
In a pub in downtown Berlin, Ribbentrop, whom she had called out on a Friday evening under the pretext of an interview, was still chattering away energetically.
Claudia, who had been listening to Ribbentrop’s stories for a full two hours, was feeling a surge of irritation and impatience, but she maintained a smiling face and humored him.
“Hahaha, you really know your stuff, reporter! Ahh—drinking with such a wise beauty makes the liquor taste good!”
“On the contrary, I’m delighted to be in the company of the world’s greatest foreign minister.”
Claudia replied to Ribbentrop’s words and took a sip of her beer, thinking, *‘Hasn’t he drunk enough to need the restroom at least once?’*
The pub’s closing time was approaching, and the once-full establishment had emptied out considerably. Claudia fought the urge to bite her lip as she continued to entertain his conversation, wondering what to do next.
“Haha, I think this every time I see you, but you truly are a beautiful woman. If my old lady were as gorgeous as you, I’d rush straight home after work every day! Haha!”
“Ah, yes....”
*Just go already, you’re drunk enough!* The urge to snap at him was overwhelming. The Abwehr agents waiting outside must be on edge as well.
Ribbentrop half-emptied his beer mug, set it down with a thud, and grinned.
“I really like you, you know. You’re easy to talk to, beautiful, and you don’t spout nonsense. What’s not to like? I wish my staff at the Foreign Ministry were half as good as you.”
“I’m always grateful that you think so highly of me. Thanks to you, Minister, I can hold my head high at the office.”
In truth, after her lover, Dietrich, had invited her to join the resistance, she had consulted with her branch chief and immediately processed her resignation. She had been secretly sending materials to Editor Heuss, but she hadn’t set foot in the Frankfurter Zeitung offices for nearly a year.
While skillfully handling Ribbentrop, Claudia caught a glimpse of the last customers paying and leaving the pub.
Now, it was just her and Ribbentrop in the establishment.
“Hehehe, in that case, I shall give you a gift, my dear reporter.”
Seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were the only ones left, Ribbentrop leaned his head close to Claudia with an suggestive expression.
Claudia flinched for a moment and nearly pushed him away, but she managed to regain her composure just as Ribbentrop began to whisper intimately in her ear.
“I am currently advancing something tremendous that will render all old-fashioned diplomatic policies obsolete.”
And in that moment, Claudia made her decision. Praying that her voice wouldn’t tremble, she responded to Ribbentrop’s words.
“Oh, my, really? I’m so excited to hear what it is. For a man of your stature, Minister, to be so secretive....”
As she spoke, she gripped the capsule in her pocket. She tried to open it, but she couldn’t see it, and the sweat on her hands made it slippery and difficult to open.
“...must mean it’s something truly special.”
She wasn’t even sure if the smile she usually wore with such confidence was properly formed, so preoccupied was she with struggling to open the capsule.
“Haha, but if I am to give you such a magniiificent gift, I must have something in return, don’t you think?”
Ribbentrop was still leaning close to Claudia, his voice a whisper.
“In return... you say?”
Claudia smiled at his words, but a cold sweat trickled down her back as she continued her struggle.
“Oh, my beautiful reporter. Don’t be so tense. It’s nothing much. Just that I’d like to have a more... ‘private’ meeting. Hahaha.”
“A ‘private’ meeting....”
Ordinarily, she would have been furious, thinking, *‘Is this madman trying to make me his mistress?’* But right now, that was the least of her worries.
Looking straight at Ribbentrop, who had thankfully mistaken her stiff expression for nervousness, Claudia finally succeeded in opening the capsule after a desperate struggle.
“That’s right, reporter. If you agree, I can ensure you get the scoop on this incredible news faster than anyone else in the world. Haha... It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aha, I see.”
Still smiling at Ribbentrop, who was staring intently at her face from the side, Claudia carefully held the capsule in her right hand and reached out, fumbling for his beer mug.
“So, what is your answer, reporter?”
“Hmm....”
Pretending to contemplate, Claudia finally found his mug after a frantic search. Seeing her hesitation, he feigned disappointment and began to pull away.
“...! You’re so impatient.”
In the nick of time, Claudia reached out with her left hand, cupped his chin, and pulled him closer with a deep, suggestive smile.
Watching Ribbentrop’s surprised face turn into a foolish grin at her smile, Claudia emptied the capsule’s contents into his beer.
“I’m not cheap, Minister. If you want to meet me ‘privately,’ I’d like to first hear if your ‘tremendous’ news is worth it.”
“Haha, hahaha. Ah, well now. A woman who can keep a man like me in suspense. It makes a man thirsty.”
Ribbentrop’s expression blatantly said, ‘impudent wench,’ but that was of no concern to Claudia.
The few seconds it took for Ribbentrop to down his beer felt like minutes to her, an eternity of anxiety.
“Well, very well. Haha. You are a woman worthy of it. I shall tell you. The non-aggre...”
Before he could finish, Ribbentrop slumped forward. Claudia, anticipating this, caught him and laid him down on the table.
“Oh dear, I told you that you were drinking too much....”
Claudia spoke in an intentionally exaggerated tone, then placed the payment for the drinks and a hefty tip on the table with an apologetic look. She helped Ribbentrop up and they stood from their seats.
“I’m sorry, sir. Did we stay too long?”
“Oh—haha, not at all! Have a good night!”
The owner, who had been wearing a look that said, *‘I can’t kick out a high-ranking Nazi official, but when will these eyesores leave,’* saw the generous tip and beamed as he saw them off.
As Claudia struggled, half-dragging Ribbentrop outside, a car that had been waiting pulled up right in front of them. Ribbentrop was swiftly shoved into the back seat.
“...*Auf Wiedersehen*.”
As Claudia bid a cold farewell, the car drove off with Ribbentrop inside.
-
August 20, 1939
Moscow, capital of the Soviet Union, Russia
Joseph Stalin, General Secretary of the Red Federation that occupied the vast lands of Russia, sat in his office with a deep scowl on his face as he listened to the report.
“The French say they can mobilize 100 divisions, and the British only 4. And the French have a condition that they won’t go beyond the Maginot Line....”
The speaker was Marshal Kliment Voroshilov, Stalin’s closest confidant and friend, but his tone was quite cautious as he delivered the report.
The shadow of the Great Purge, in which an innumerable number of people had been eliminated, still cast a pall of fear over the Soviet Union.
Stalin had been in a foul mood ever since Britain refused his request to send Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax.
When the negotiating team, a far lower-ranking delegation than what their own preparations warranted, arrived leisurely by passenger ship and then spent a day sightseeing in Leningrad (present-day St. Petersburg), he had cursed them out, asking if they were on vacation.
“...These damn capitalist pigs have no intention of forming an alliance with us.”
At Stalin’s blunt remark, Voroshilov hesitated before speaking.
“My thoughts exactly, Koba.”
Stalin sighed and turned his gaze to Lavrentiy Beria, the head of the Soviet secret police, the NKVD, who was standing next to Voroshilov.
Though he was the architect of the Great Purge, feared throughout the Soviet Union, even he smiled sycophantically and bowed before Stalin.
“As you commanded, we have investigated, but she is not a member of the Red Orchestra. The suspect’s whereabouts are unknown, and given her meticulousness, it doesn’t seem to be a simple hate crime. It is certain she had support from a faction within Germany, Comrade General Secretary.”
The assassination of German Foreign Minister Ribbentrop was front-page news worldwide. For a minister to be murdered and the suspect not apprehended was a major loss of face for the Nazis, who launched a belated investigation into her movements.
The evidence suggested it was more than a personal grudge; she had been working as a journalist for years to get close to Ribbentrop. When it was revealed that the suspect, Claudia Jung, had been a socialist activist in her university days, the already anti-communist Nazi regime was seething, accusing the Soviet Union of instigating the attack.
“...Or it could be the work of the British or French, who want us to shed blood with the Germans....”
As his attempt to form an alliance with Britain and France to counter a rearming, anti-communist Germany fizzled out due to their absurd attitude, Stalin naturally harbored such suspicions.
“Comrade General Secretary, there have also been reports of German figures making secret contact within Britain recently.”
Beria’s report further fueled Stalin’s suspicions. The several attempts at contact made by the German resistance to Britain had all been uncovered by Soviet spies in the country.
Though they couldn't determine the exact content of the discussions.
“Hah, I won’t let them have their way. While those fascist bastards are distracting the capitalist pigs, we’ll make a move on Finland.”
Stalin came to a conclusion.
-
August 28, 1939
New Reich Chancellery (Neue Reichskanzlei), Berlin, Northern Germany
“Dammit, nothing is going right! That moronic liquor salesman gets himself killed chasing after some commie bitch!”
Hitler slammed his fist on the desk, shouting. The regime’s support, which had been sky-high after the Munich Agreement, was slowly being overshadowed by the anxiety of war as Germany, Poland, Britain, France, and the Soviet Union hurled fierce accusations at each other.
Public support was still decent, but the atmosphere within the Wehrmacht was even more dire. They were staunchly opposed, arguing that a war now would bring in not only Britain and France but also the Soviet Union.
“Idiots! Cowards steeped in defeatism! The Anglo-French-Soviet talks were fruitless, weren’t they?! They can’t intervene! It’s the same as with the Munich Agreement, why can’t they see that?!”
Göring and Himmler listened to Hitler’s tirade, sweating profusely. Hitler, panting with rage, seemed to calm down a little. He let out a deep sigh and asked Göring.
“How much is left in the gold reserves?”
“My esteemed Führer, I regret to inform you that we cannot avoid a credit crunch at this rate. The companies that haven’t been paid for the Mefo bills for years are on the verge of bankruptcy, and Czechoslovakia’s gold reserves were slightly less than we anticipated...”
“Dammit! This blasted economy, economy!”
Despite Hjalmar Schacht’s warnings, Germany had recklessly printed Mefo bills to run its munitions factories. Now, even after plundering all the gold from the Czechoslovakian central bank, they still lacked the funds to pay the companies.
They desperately needed a war. Whether the military opposed it or not, without a war, the state would go bankrupt and the regime would be overthrown.
Finally, Hitler looked at Himmler and gave the order.
“Even those damned Wehrmacht fools will have no choice if Poland declares war first. Execute ‘Operation Himmler.’”
“Yes, my Führer!”
-
August 31, 1939
Gleiwitz, Breslau (Silesia), 8th Military District, Eastern Germany
One day before the historical outbreak of World War II.
Gleiwitz, a city situated on the Silesian plateau along the German-Polish border, was home to a radio station with the tallest wooden radio tower in the world.
[Grandma is dead. I repeat. Grandma is dead.]
“Grandma is dead, confirmed.”
Upon receiving the code phrase for the start of the operation via radio, SS-Hauptsturmführer (Captain) Alfred Naujocks and his SD agents, who had been on standby in Gleiwitz for quite some time, stretched their limbs.
“We’ve waited long enough. What about the ‘Canned Goods’?”
“They’re alive, but still unconscious.”
The men referred to by the codename ‘Canned Goods’ were prisoners Heydrich had selected from concentration camps and sent over in a comatose state induced by poison.
“Begin the operation. Change into the uniforms, and from now on, we only speak Polish, not German. This is a very important mission. No mistakes!”
“Yes, sir!”
The Nazis, wanting to avoid intervention from other major powers in their invasion of Poland, had been planning since May to stage a Polish declaration of war, based on the idea that they could act if Poland declared war first.
It was called ‘Operation Himmler.’ Their mission was to attack the Gleiwitz radio station dressed in Polish uniforms and read a declaration of war in Polish.
Afterward, to make it look like they were repelled by German forces, they would dress the comatose prisoners in Polish uniforms, scatter them around, and shoot them. The scene would then be shown to the press and passed off as the work of the Polish army.
Although Britain and France eventually did intervene, it was this secret operation that, in the original history, led to Poland being unfairly blamed for providing the pretext for war, despite shedding the most blood among the Allies besides the Soviet Union.
The truth—that this incident was a complete fabrication by the SD—was only revealed at the war crimes trials after the war had completely ended.
“Hyaaawn... I’m sleepy... When is the relief shift coming... Huh?!”
The radio station guard had no choice but to raise both hands when men in Polish uniforms suddenly burst in and pointed guns at him.
“P-please, spare me, spare... Agh!”
The ‘Polish soldiers’ didn’t say a word before striking the guard with the butt of a rifle.
“What, what is this, Polish soldiers?!”
“D-don’t shoot! We’re civilians!”
The SD agents, needing to appear as convincing ‘Polish soldiers’ as possible, showed no mercy. The unlucky employees on duty at the station late at night were brutally beaten, tied up with ropes, and thrown into a corner.
Having easily subdued the radio station, SS Captain Naujocks smiled. Everything was going smoothly. Now, all that was left was for the agent most fluent in Polish to read the declaration of war, and then to strategically shoot and place the prisoners.
*They should look like they were shot while trying to flee, so it would be best to shoot them in the back.* As he was idly thinking this, all the lights in the station suddenly went out.
“Huh?”
“What the!”
As the agents reflexively reacted in German, Naujocks frowned. At that moment, the sound of military boots echoed through the station, and with a loud bang, the door burst open and German soldiers poured in.
“Wh-what?!”
Naujocks and the other ‘Polish soldiers’ were swiftly subdued. For a moment, Naujocks wondered if he was being purged, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
This operation was too important to be sabotaged like that. There must have been some kind of mistake by Heydrich, the police, or perhaps the military.
Unable to explain himself without revealing they weren't actually Polish soldiers, he was stuck. Finally, a man with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel entered.
Naujocks cautiously tried to pull out his SD identification to prove who he was, but a soldier watching him swung his rifle butt, hitting him hard. He had to spit out a broken tooth.
“You son of a bitch! I can’t take this! I wasn’t reaching for a weapon! We’re SD! You’re interfering with a vital operation for the fatherland... Ugh!”
Before Naujocks could finish, the ‘Lieutenant Colonel’ punched him in the stomach, and he collapsed.
“I am well aware of that, SS Captain Naujocks.”
“Sir, the men outside have been neutralized!”
Receiving the report, the Lieutenant Colonel, Deputy Director of the Abwehr Hans Oster, nodded and ordered his men to untie the radio station staff.
“W-what, what on earth is happening?”
“The Schutzstaffel (SS) has committed an act of treason, trying to drag Germany into a war. The situation is chaotic, so we will protect you.”
“Gasp... Th-thank you.”
The unfortunate victims at the radio station would become precious witnesses, so they had to be protected. Oster watched them for a moment, and as the station’s power was restored, he picked up the phone.
While waiting to be connected by the operator, Oster swallowed dryly.
There was no turning back now. But was this really the right thing to do?
[This is Captain Schacht.]
“...Grandma did not die.”
[...Good work, Lieutenant Colonel. Phase one is a success.]
Oster could hear sighs of relief from those around Captain Schacht, and he hesitated for a moment. His conviction that Germany must be liberated from the devil Hitler had never once wavered until now.
But how many German lives would be lost because of this venture? Oster had long agonized over whether he had the resolve to bear the weight of those countless deaths.
As he remained silent, Captain Schacht’s voice came through the receiver.
[Sir, I don’t know what the future holds, but I can tell you one thing for certain. If we leave Hitler’s Germany as it is, there will be sacrifices beyond our wildest imagination.]
“Ha.”
This young captain had thrown himself into this cause with more passion than anyone, as if he had nothing to lose. Sometimes, it was as if he could read his mind. Just like now.
Oster suddenly thought that he wouldn’t have come this far without this young man. And now that he had, there was no stopping.
“...Requesting authorization to execute Operation Widerstand.”
He heard the sound of the phone being passed to someone else on the other end.
A deep, heavy silence followed.
As Oster waited, swallowing dryly, the voice of Ludwig Beck came on the line.
[Operation Widerstand is authorized. ...May God bless us, and Germany.]
“Confirmed. Commencing Operation Widerstand. God bless.”
The die that would change history had been cast.
< Interwar Period - Widerstand (7) > End