Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: German Civil War - The Oath of Allegiance (3)
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October 11, 1939
4th Military District, Dresden – 8th Army Garrison, under Army Group South
Gerd von Rundstedt, the commander of Army Group South and a senior figure in the Wehrmacht who had been stalling the offensive, was arrested on charges of treason under the pretext of a phone call with Ludwig Beck.
Afterward, Hitler, through the Wehrmacht High Command, sent an ultimatum: attack the New Government's forces immediately or be considered collaborators with the rebels.
A heavy silence hung in the room where the 8th Army's key corps and division commanders had gathered. The 8th Army's commander, General of the Infantry Johannes Blaskowitz, broke the silence.
“It seems we all have a decision to make.”
Army Group South was composed of the 8th, 10th, and 14th Armies.
Of these, the 10th Army, under the command of Walter von Reichenau, a Nazi to the core, was already engaged with the New Government's main forces.
The 14th Army's commander, Colonel General Wilhelm List, who had also supported the Nazis during the Blomberg-Fritsch affair, had announced his intention to attack Nuremberg upon receiving direct orders from the High Command after the army group commander's arrest.
However, General of the Infantry Johannes Blaskowitz had long disliked the Nazis' interference in religion and the military, and he had even found their atrocities against the Jews repulsive.
And now, that same regime was attacking its own people to start a war and had begun to tear the military apart for not following orders.
“I can no longer stand by and watch. To follow Hitler at this point is something a proud soldier of the fatherland must not do. What are your thoughts?”
At General Blaskowitz's words, the generals gathered there swallowed hard.
They all understood that the choice they made in this room would determine not only their own lives but the fate of Germany itself.
“I stand with you, Commander.”
After a long silence, the first to step forward was Lieutenant General Friedrich Olbricht, commander of the 24th Infantry Division.
In the original history, he had been directly involved in Stauffenberg's plot. Though he was sweating from the tension and adjusted his glasses, he was the first to speak up.
Getting the first man to agree was the hardest part. The decision came quickly after that, as all the generals present had learned of the Nazis' atrocities through the New Government's radio broadcasts and newspapers.
“I will follow you as well.”
“I agree. The Crown Prince—no, the Kaiser—is with the New Government. We cannot point our guns at him.”
When the two corps commanders, General of the Artillery Wilhelm Ulex and General of the Cavalry Maximilian von Weichs, both voiced their agreement, the remaining division commanders nodded with tense expressions.
“Hah, thank you. Then, to the New Government—”
As General Blaskowitz was about to speak, the door burst open and a man stormed in.
“The Führer has ordered an all-out offensive. What is the 8th Army doing?”
The man who barged in was the Chief of Staff of Army Group South, Erich von Manstein.
After Rundstedt was taken away, he had relayed the Führer's direct orders from the Wehrmacht High Command to each army. When the 8th Army delayed its response, he had come in person.
General of the Infantry Johannes Blaskowitz’s face hardened as he recalled Manstein praising the Führer as a great leader on his birthday.
“Manstein. We can no longer follow the Führer.”
“What did you say?”
As Manstein stood there, bewildered, General Friedrich Olbricht secretly moved his hand toward his pistol.
“If the leader of the regime endangers Germany and fails to repay the loyalty the Wehrmacht has offered, then we will stand with the people and the Kaiser, and fight alongside the New Government.”
All the generals swallowed nervously, watching Manstein's reaction, ready to subdue him if necessary.
But Manstein, a grin spreading across his face, shouted, almost ecstatic.
“Let me join you, Commander!”
“You are, of course—what?”
While Blaskowitz and the other tense generals stood dumbfounded, Manstein shouted again.
“That madman of a Führer arrested the innocent General Rundstedt and threatened to arrest me too if I didn't deliver his orders. I only issued them because I had no choice!”
“Is, is that so?”
While all the generals who had been prepared to subdue him felt awkward, Manstein eagerly grabbed Blaskowitz's hand and chattered on.
“From the very beginning, I knew the New Government was Germany's only hope. In fact, I have been secretly helping them! I came here believing that you, true patriots, would understand their cause. Come with me! If you come with me, they will gladly accept you.”
“Ah, I see. Th-thank you. I never knew you felt that way, truly.”
General Blaskowitz was quite flustered, but the generals, who had no direct line to the New Government, let out a quiet sigh of relief.
But the most relieved of them all was Manstein.
He had been terrified when Rundstedt was arrested for having a phone record with Beck, and when he heard that Erich Hoepner, who had been introduced as a contact for the New Government within the Polish invasion force, had also been arrested.
He had immediately relayed Hitler's orders to avoid suspicion and had come here to press them for the same reason. He never imagined things would turn out like this!
The New Government, which he thought would quickly collapse after General Lutz's armored breakthrough was halted, had stabilized through a war of public opinion. Just as Manstein was about to switch sides, the military government's coup had occurred.
He had missed his chance to defect then. With Rundstedt and Hoepner arrested, he had been worried he would be exposed next. But now, he was suddenly in a position to take credit for the 8th Army's surrender.
“If we delay any longer, the Führer will become suspicious, so we must act quickly. We are right near Frankfurt, so we must inform them that the 14th Army is going to attack Nuremberg!”
“Ahem, my apologies, Manstein. I misjudged you and suspected you of being a Nazi sympathizer.”
“Doesn't that just prove how well my disguise worked to avoid their suspicion? Haha!”
Having completely regained his composure, Manstein flashed a triumphant smile.
He did have some regrets. If only he had known that Dietrich Schacht, that mere captain, would become a key figure in the New Government, second only to its spokesman, he would have treated him better.
His defection was a little late, but delivering the 8th Army's surrender should be enough to secure the promised position of Chief of the General Staff.
Luck was on his side, as always. He was better than Halder, that thief. Of course.
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October 12, 1939
Western Germany, 11th Military District, Hanover, SS Training Ground Wewelsburg Castle
“Ugh!”
SS-Lieutenant General Paul Hausser nearly tumbled from his chair as he jolted awake. He struggled for a long moment to clear his hazy mind as lights flashed before his eyes before he was finally lucid.
“Huuuh...”
The light from the lamp stabbed at his dry eyes like a blade. He laboriously moved his body, limp with hunger and fatigue, and covered his eyes with his hand.
It was approaching six weeks since the coup.
The training facility's food had run out long ago. The aerial resupply, which Göring had boasted would be no problem, never rose above a precarious level that just barely kept the men from starving.
Even that had now reached its limit. Unable to bear eating his fill alone, he had started skipping meals with his men, but his old, tired body was failing him.
Worse, the Luftwaffe had informed him that further aerial resupply was impossible due to a shortage of parts and munitions. Instead, they promised to launch a counterattack soon and rescue them.
That was three days ago.
Hausser pushed his body, which felt like it would collapse from dizziness, to its feet and staggered out of his office.
His adjutant, who had once been stout but was now gaunt, was asleep at his desk outside the office, his face etched with exhaustion.
Instead of waking him, Hausser moved his creaking body and went outside.
The men, who used to look at him with respect and proudly shout "Heil Hitler," now just glanced at him listlessly. Very few bothered to salute.
Some were too weak, completely exhausted. It was disrespectful for a soldier not to salute his general, but Hausser pretended not to notice and walked past.
As he wandered through the garrison, a young SS second lieutenant approached and saluted him.
“Heil Hitler!”
“Heil Hitler.”
The saluting SS Second Lieutenant, Heinrich Springer, began to explain the desperate situation.
“General, more men surrendered last night.”
Hausser squeezed his eyes shut.
“I'm sorry, sir, but we can't hold on any longer. General, we are at our limit.”
Springer's words sounded like a death sentence to Hausser.
During the humiliating collapse of the German Empire and the chaotic birth of the Weimar Republic, he had believed that Hitler and the Nazis were the ones who would make Germany great again.
That was why he had thrown away his entire career as a general staff officer in the Wehrmacht to join the Nazi SS, and he had helped them every step of the way as they grew into a proper armed force.
“It's my fault.”
He knew what the SS, which the Nazi party had so carefully cultivated, was doing. He had always acted as if he didn't, but at his rank, he couldn't help but know.
He didn't particularly hate Jews, but he knew that the SS men he had trained were persecuting them horribly.
While he believed he was pursuing the honor of a soldier, he turned a blind eye to the crimes his Nazi masters were committing in their own country.
He considered it all a necessary evil for the sake of a regime that would make Germany great. He had placed his bet on them, sworn his loyalty, and believed he had to follow them no matter what they did.
“Innocent young men are paying for my sins.”
“General…”
And these men, trained by him and indoctrinated with his beliefs, had become the limbs of the Nazi party, following its orders without hesitation.
He had taken fresh-faced young men—who had joined, captivated by the smart uniforms or wanting to fight for their country and make a name for themselves—and turned them into this.
He had made them blind followers who believed it was their duty to obey the Führer and the Party, even if it meant endangering Germany, even if it meant doing things no human being should do.
These were pitiful men. While he could feel shame listening to the New Government's radio broadcasts, some of them felt nothing at all, expressing only rage and hatred for the traitors who dared to stand against the Führer and the Party.
Could such fanaticism truly be called loyalty? And even if it could, what reward had they received for that loyalty and devotion?
Six weeks. It had been nearly six weeks since they were isolated here. Holding out for that long in a training facility, not even a city, was not the noble and heroic resistance the Nazi propaganda claimed it to be.
It was just a miserable, desperate struggle born of stubbornness.
Their smart dress and combat uniforms were now filthy and caked with grime. Their unwashed, matted hair and the stench they carried made them look like refugees.
What had the Führer and the Nazis done to save their men, who were wasting away without proper food? Were they even trying?
“What in the world have I been doing?”
Hausser covered his face with his hands. He had once felt a sense of pride knowing that his men called him 'Papa' amongst themselves.
But he, the man they trusted and followed, was a coward unworthy of that name. He had told himself that the atrocities the Nazis committed were necessary for Germany, that they had nothing to do with him.
Even when he knew what kind of barbarity his own trained men were committing, he was too busy defending them to think of setting them straight.
This was the result. After teaching them to obey the regime without question, the fury of an enraged German public that now knew the regime's truth was consuming him and his men.
He had been more afraid of questioning the value of his own loyalty than of the suffering of those oppressed by the regime and his men. That was what had driven them to this point.
Until the very end, he couldn't admit that the loyalty he and his men had devoted to the Führer and the Nazis was worthless, so he had waited for a hopeless rescue from them.
But that was over now.
Only now did he realize that he had been holding out not out of a soldier's due loyalty, but because he didn't want to admit his own mistakes.
“Springer.”
Heinrich Springer flinched at the dry, cracked voice of the lieutenant general he had revered as the father of the SS, but he straightened his posture and answered.
“Yes, General.”
“Go and tell them. Tell them that I will surrender, provided the safety of my men is guaranteed.”