Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Oath of Loyalty (2)
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October 10, 1939
A pub in the city of Potsdam, southwest of Berlin, Northern Germany
The Luftwaffe's rising star duo of captains, Adolf Galland and Werner Mölders, sighed heavily, beer mugs in hand.
Their respected direct superior, Major General Wolfram von Richthofen, couldn't hold his liquor but loved to drink, and he often joined them for a round.
If only it ended there.
“Schacht, that bastard! After everything I did for him!”
Richthofen, completely drunk, was shouting at the top of his lungs.
“Hey, Mölders. Don't you think we should tell him to stop?”
“Are you going to be the one to do it?”
Galland shook his head at Mölders's question. The two men stared blankly at each other, then clinked their mugs and took a sip.
The cool beer slid down their throats, but neither could shake the strange look on his face.
Most of the air force generals had either transferred from the army or were desk jockeys, so front-line pilots like them rarely saw them. The ones they did see were like Göring—steeped in greed and vanity, impossible to like.
That was why the two men respected and followed Richthofen, whom they had served with in the Condor Legion since the Spanish Civil War. But even so, it was hard to respect a superior officer whining like a jilted lover...
“I thought he’d be a contact in the army, but he becomes a contact for the rebels?! How could he be so ungrateful! Huh?! Galland! Say something!”
“Is that so, sir...”
Galland answered vaguely, and Mölders gave a bitter smile as he watched him. Adolf Galland was a secret, avid listener of the New Government's radio broadcasts and was already filled with disillusionment for the Nazi regime.
He was a man steeped in the mindset of a gentlemanly and honorable soldier, and the Nazi atrocities revealed by the New Government since the start of the civil war were more than enough to shatter his loyalty.
Werner Mölders, once his direct superior and now a trusted friend, knew of Galland's activities but kept his silence.
“To think the day would come when I’d be summoned by Field Marshal Göring and have my loyalty questioned! After all my devotion to the Luftwaffe and the regime, how could he be so thoughtless!”
Just like Walter Model, who had recommended Dietrich Schacht, Richthofen, who had kept Schacht by his side in Spain, given him favorable reviews, and frequently drank with him, had also fallen under the Führer’s suspicion.
Göring's protection spared him from arrest, but as someone who had worked devotedly for the development of the air force since the Luftwaffe's early days, he found the very situation of being doubted offensive.
“Major General, frankly, I am not sure if the current regime is worthy of a soldier's loyalty.”
Richthofen, who had been lamenting, turned his gaze to Galland for his bold, direct statement.
“Ahem, Galland, are you drunk? Major General, I think this fellow has had too much to drink. I apologize on his behalf.”
Mölders tried to quickly smooth things over, but Richthofen, his face flushed, stared intently at Galland before speaking.
“Why? Is it because the regime’s opponents are suffering and dying in concentration camps, and because Austria was sold off? Is that why you’ve lost the will to be loyal?”
Galland’s face hardened at Richthofen’s words, but he soon nodded without hesitation.
“Yes, sir. Shouldn’t a fatherland that demands loyalty from its soldiers prove itself worthy of that loyalty, worthy of fighting for without regret?”
Richthofen let out a sigh. In truth, he knew. He, too, had listened to the New Government's radio broadcasts.
How could he not, when the very man he had recommended and befriended was now their spokesman?
“Galland. I am very fond of you, so I will pretend I didn't hear that. I am indebted to His Excellency Field Marshal Göring, and are you two not indebted to me? I won't ask you to hold absolute loyalty to the government. Just trust me and follow my lead.”
“Understood. I apologize, Major General.”
Even as he smiled at Mölders, who was visibly relieved, and Galland, who answered with a bitter expression, Richthofen felt a sense of bitterness himself.
It wasn’t that he was horrified by the cruelty of the Nazi acts themselves.
He was a man who wouldn't hesitate to burn civilians with incendiary bombs, a man who could proudly become a devil to his enemies for the sake of his fatherland.
But that was a separate matter from the regime attacking its own civilians to start a war and committing atrocities against the very Germans it was supposed to protect.
Are we truly fighting for our fatherland? Richthofen felt a headache coming on and chugged his beer.
“Hah. When you receive a favor, you must repay it. That’s all there is to it.”
Although Field Marshal Göring had recently lost some of his former sharpness and charisma, Richthofen considered him a mentor who had actively pushed for his promotion to general.
To serve under a benefactor, protect the fatherland to which he had sworn loyalty, annihilate the enemy, rise through the ranks, and enjoy the honor that came with it. For a soldier, it was so simple and clear that nothing else needed to be considered.
“Schacht, that bastard. When I see him again, I’m going to punch him.”
That contemptible fool. After everything I did for him.
But even as he said the words, he, too, had spent a not-insignificant amount of time with Dietrich Schacht.
He knew that Schacht was not the kind of man who would start a rebellion for no reason or incite the populace with lies. The reality he learned through the New Government's radio was shaking his convictions.
Richthofen had long regarded Hitler as the strong leader who would make Germany great again after its powerlessness since the Great War, and he had never hesitated to call the Führer a great leader to others.
He had said as much to Schacht. But if someone were to ask him again, could he still say it with confidence?
Did he, who had just told his subordinates to trust and follow him, truly have that conviction himself?
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October 10, 1939
Kassel, 9th Military District, Central Germany, New Government Building in Frankfurt
“Ah, all of a sudden.”
Is someone talking about me? Honestly, there are too many possibilities—
I casually scratched my suddenly itchy ear with a finger and walked briskly, my eyes on a stack of documents.
Night had already fallen, but the New Government building was ablaze with lights, like a modern Korean street at night. There were many people worn out by fatigue, but the fledgling government had even more work to do.
“Welcome, Vice-Chancellor.”
Minister of Defense Ludwig Beck greeted me with a tired face.
“My apologies for the late arrival. Things in the Ruhr took longer than expected.”
I had just returned from the Ruhr, where I was reviewing the production of military equipment, particularly armored vehicles.
Although my official title was Vice-Chancellor of the Chancellery, I couldn't dare to overstep in front of my father on matters of domestic affairs or the economy. So I was in charge of psychological warfare and military affairs, areas my father was less familiar with.
“Ah, yes. How did it look?”
The Wehrmacht forces remaining with the Nazis were the main contingent from the invasion of Poland, so they were naturally far superior in equipment to the New Government's army, which was centered on the delaying forces of Army Group C deployed on the French front.
We were using early light tanks like the Panzer I and II, while they had the Panzer III and IV, classified as medium tanks, and even their light tanks were superior Czech-made models.
But with the Ruhr and the ball-bearing factories in our hands, their ability to replenish their armored divisions was likely next to impossible.
As the New Government began to stabilize, we started producing proper tanks instead of early models like the Panzer I and II to make up for the difference in armored strength.
“Production of the Panzer IV is proceeding smoothly. However, the Panzer III is plagued with problems, both in production and with defects.”
Thanks to General Model making me take Guderian's classes and transferring me to the armored corps, I had gained knowledge I wouldn't have known even in the modern era.
But something felt strange. As far as I knew, the Panzer III was supposed to be the main battle tank, and the Panzer IV was created as a support tank.
So why did the Panzer IV have better anti-tank performance, a higher production rate, and even greater reliability? It seemed the famous German tanks of the modern era, the Tiger and Panther, were still a long way from development.
“That blasted Panzer III has been a troublemaker for a long time.”
A main battle tank is supposed to engage enemy tanks, but with the Panzer IV, which was more powerful in tank-on-tank combat, already outnumbering it by more than double, and with that same Panzer IV being our primary adversary, the Panzer III was a truly ambiguous piece of hardware.
“Why don't we just standardize on the Panzer IV?”
Is there really a need to differentiate between a main battle tank and a support tank? Like the Soviet T-34, just mass-producing one model seemed more efficient in many ways.
“We’ve already produced a mountain of chassis for the Panzer III, intending for it to be the main battle tank. We can’t just throw them away.”
“Then let’s just make them into assault guns instead of building turrets. I heard the suspension gets overloaded because of the turret's weight. Wouldn't that solve the problem?”
“Hmm.”
An assault gun was a vehicle where the gun was mounted directly into the chassis instead of on a turret.
While it had limitations since the gun couldn't rotate, it was cheaper and faster to build, allowing for greater numbers to be deployed. It also had its advantages, as it could mount a larger gun than a turreted version.
If building them as tanks was going to be inefficient anyway, we might as well push for mass production of a different kind.
“If we're worried about the Panzer IV's anti-tank capabilities alone, we could also create a variant of the assault gun with an anti-tank gun mounted on it.”
The concept of a tank destroyer didn't seem to exist yet, but was that what it was?
In any case, building them this way would use up the surplus Panzer III chassis and eliminate the need for turrets, which should solve some of the production issues.
“So you’re suggesting we standardize the Panzer IV as our main battle tank and use the problematic Panzer III chassis for assault guns and anti-tank platforms?”
“Yes, Minister. I believe reducing the number of variants and focusing on steady production would be better for productivity.”
I didn't possess any great military knowledge, but I knew that in World War II, Germany's military production efficiency hit rock bottom because they produced all sorts of bizarre variants separately.
Nazi Germany was hopelessly entangled in a web of collusion and corruption between the Nazi Party and corporations. Things only improved slightly when Albert Speer, backed by Hitler's favor, took charge. We, on the other hand, were relatively free from such issues.
Moreover, we were receiving support in the form of Lee-Enfield rifles from the British, who were very pleased with our recent negotiations, allowing us to focus a bit more on mechanization.
“Hmm, I’ll discuss it with General Lutz.”
“Thank you for listening to my humble opinion.”
Though my title was Vice-Chancellor, I was only in my twenties, and my military rank was merely Major. Yet, Ludwig Beck was relatively open-minded toward me.
Knowing that the military command had frequently and intentionally ignored orders from Hitler himself, who was no less than the Führer, I was quite grateful.
“Here is the report, Minister. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”
I placed the report down and spoke to Ludwig Beck. He remained silent for a moment before speaking.
“Do you not resent me?”
During the military government's coup, Ludwig Beck had not been a direct conspirator, but he had capitulated to them after the radio station and government building were seized.
He had personally announced the ascension of Wilhelm III to the throne in the name of the New Government's regent over the radio and called for the people to support the military government.
By then, the *Frankfurter Zeitung* had already been distributed at my request, and Operation Freiheit was underway, so it didn't become a major variable. However, the stain of the New Government's leader surrendering to coup forces remained.
It had been a truly close call back then. If Colonel Tresckow hadn't helped me escape—
Or if, even after escaping, I hadn't received Claudia's help to distribute the newspapers quickly and flee Frankfurt, no one could say what would have become of the New Government.
“How could that be your fault alone, Minister? I and the other members of the New Government share responsibility for its temporary incapacitation.”
I had prepared countermeasures after hearing Colonel Tresckow's warning, but I never expected the monarchists, who had hesitated so much during the Munich Agreement, to make such a bold move. So, the fault was certainly mine as well.
“Is that so...”
After the military government was suppressed, Wilhelm III and my father had intended to remove Ludwig Beck from power entirely.
But the military opposed it, and after I personally persuaded the Kaiser and my father, he was able to keep his position as Minister of Defense.
It was true that we needed his influence within the military, but—
“It was you, Minister, who authorized my activities during Operation Widerstand and gave me the position of spokesman, especially when I was disliked by the monarchists.”
Although Director Canaris of the Abwehr had consistently supported me since the Munich Agreement, if Beck, the head of the New Government, hadn't approved my requests, I wouldn't have been able to play the role I do now.
“I am not one to forget a favor, Minister.”
“I see.”
Beck smiled, looking somewhat hollow.
“Thank you. You may go.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take my leave.”
There were things I couldn't tell him. In the original history, he was the leader of the Black Orchestra and had to take his own life in agony after Stauffenberg's failure.
Even if their ideas were old-fashioned and foolish, I, at least, wanted to respect these men who had risked everything to stand against Hitler.
The fact that they, who should have met a miserable end, were alive and breathing was proof that everything I had done was worthwhile.
But the ones I truly felt guilty about were still in Nazi territory.
The thought that I might have been able to persuade them surfaced whenever I let my guard down, tripping me up.
How did they see me and the New Government now? My act of staging a coup without informing them could be called a betrayal.
I was afraid that they might be in a difficult situation because of me.
Model, Richthofen, Michael, Clemens.
My mentors, colleagues, friends.
Were they still loyal to the Führer and the Nazis?
Did they hate me?
I hoped not, but even if they did, I had no choice but to accept it.
Until now, I had used psychological warfare to avoid escalating the civil war as much as possible.
But the final confrontation with the Nazis was drawing near, and Hitler and his party would never step down quietly.
Ultimately, bloodshed to end the civil war was inevitable.
It was to avoid the worst-case scenario of the Holocaust and Germany's defeat in World War II, but this change in history could mean that people who survived in the original timeline might be sacrificed.
Perhaps the people I cared about would fall trying to stop us.
I had already prepared myself, but the weight of changing history pressed down heavily on my shoulders.
I pray the sacrifices will be as few as possible.
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