Chapter 86
Chapter 86
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: The Second Great War - For the Nation (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
< The Second Great War - For the Nation (3) >
February 9, 1940
A pub in the city, Berlin, Northern Germany
“Marshal Göring, no, Hermann Göring. Please, just help him avoid the death penalty.”
Despite his flushed, drunken face, Richthofen spoke with considerable caution.
Hermann Göring.
As the second-in-command of the Nazi Party, he had played a pivotal role in its early formation. Before his descent into drug addiction, his early contributions made him a Nazi idol, far more influential than Goebbels.
Moreover, as the head of the Luftwaffe and a man with significant power in the Nazi regime's administration, he naturally knew about and was involved in most of the party's atrocities.
Unlike Goebbels, who, despite his fame, surprisingly held little real power and relied solely on Hitler's favor, Göring in the original history was the very convener of the Wannsee Conference, which laid out the plan for the extermination of the Jews.
Fortunately, the Holocaust had not yet occurred, but the problem was...
“General, while I respect and am grateful to you, defending Göring will be very difficult. With Hitler dead, he is effectively the head of the Nazi party, and he was the one who ordered the bombing of Frankfurt.”
Everything else could be overlooked, but the order to burn down Frankfurt, the new government's provisional capital, was something I could not possibly cover for.
It was only thanks to General Richthofen's refusal to obey that order and his subsequent surrender with the Luftwaffe that a catastrophe was averted. Otherwise, Frankfurt might have ended up like Guernica, burned and reduced to ruins during the Spanish Civil War.
“That was his mistake, of course, but wasn't he just following Hitler's orders! At this rate, he will surely be executed.”
The trials for the Nazi regime—who had attacked their own people and committed atrocities in their bid to start a war, and who had caused Germans to shed each other’s blood until the very end in Berlin—were being conducted with a severity rivaling the war crimes tribunals of the original history.
In some ways, they were even harsher.
Just as Free France had done with Vichy officials after reclaiming their homeland, it was a political necessity. Thoroughly repudiating them was the very foundation of the Fourth Reich's legitimacy.
Besides, even if our government didn't actively push for it, the German legal community was burning with an almost excessive zeal.
Everyone in the judiciary, epitomized by men like Roland Freisler who had served the Nazis and ignored the law to live in luxury while persecuting the party's political enemies, was now eager to make an example of them and punish the high-ranking Nazis.
During the Nazi regime's rule, the German legal system had been reduced to little more than the Nazi party's kangaroo court. The judiciary must have felt a keen sense of crisis, a need to avoid responsibility and restore its authority.
This was likely why, in the original history, many who were acquitted at the war crimes tribunals ended up serving sentences in West German courts.
“I may have refused his orders and switched sides. But that was ultimately to protect my own career and that of my men, and for the good of Germany.”
A deep sense of guilt was etched on Richthofen's face as he spoke.
As a soldier with a mindset of obeying the state without thinking too deeply, he was likely less concerned with political machinations and more purely distressed by the prospect of his mentor being executed.
“Even though I turned my back on him, I never once wished for his death.”
This was quite a predicament.
“...General Richthofen, you are not responsible for Hermann Göring's situation. He has brought this upon himself.”
“Schacht, don't say that. Can't you help me just this once? I'm not asking for much. As long as it's not the death penalty, a life sentence or anything else will do. He has already lost his former sharpness. Even if he lives, he won't be a threat to the current regime.”
Even so, my words failed to alleviate his guilt. He pleaded with an earnestness that belied his usual boisterous personality.
I could easily imagine the emotions he was feeling.
If my own mentors, Model or Tresckow, or even Richthofen himself, were in the same situation, I would surely feel the same way.
But that didn't mean I could help him.
“I am sorry, General. That is not something I can help you with.”
“You may be the Vice-Chancellor in name, but it's an open secret that you're one of the real powers in the German government now. I believe that if you step in, he can at least avoid the death penalty. It doesn't matter if it fails. Can't you at least try?”
After it became known that Himmler was in Italy, fear of the remaining Nazi elements in Germany had only grown. Trying to save Göring in this climate would mean taking a significant political risk.
Honestly, I didn't know if it would work or not. In fact, the thought that Göring might get a reduced sentence if I did try was even more frightening.
This wasn't Nazi Germany, where the judiciary could be manipulated at will. I had no intention of building a dictatorial regime that was a democracy in name only.
After all that effort, if the democracy we built ended up like modern-day Russia's, the result would be too tragic, wouldn't it?
“General, Göring is the highest-ranking Nazi official still alive. To reduce his sentence, we would have to reduce the sentences of everyone below him.”
General Richthofen did not hide his disappointment at my answer, but what couldn't be done, couldn't be done.
“Even if it were possible, our government is trying to create a democracy. If a politician starts pressuring the judiciary before we've even begun, I would be destroying democracy with my own hands.”
Truth be told, there were some Nazi officials currently on trial whom I wished I could pardon through plea bargains.
There was Albert Speer, a talented architect skilled in munitions management. There was Paul Hausser, who could help integrate the Schutzstaffel into the Wehrmacht. And there were well-respected and competent generals like Kurt Student whom I would have liked to give some role if possible.
But since we proclaimed ourselves a democracy, I couldn't act on my personal knowledge to favor and employ certain individuals.
For a powerful figure to be able to save a heinous criminal deserving of death simply through connections—that itself is something that should never happen in a proper democracy.
“Even if you say that, I honestly don't get it. The democracy I remember was a pathetic, useless system. I suppose nothing could be worse than those who would kill their own people to start a war, but the reasons you give don't quite convince me. Is your ideal for the nation more important than your connection with me?”
Putting it like that made things very difficult. What was I supposed to say?
“...If I don't help you here, does that make me a bad person in your eyes, General?”
Richthofen raised his glass to take a drink, only to find it empty. He set it down with a look of dejection and spoke again.
“When the elections happen, I'll order the entire Luftwaffe to vote for your side. I'm a big shot in the air force, you know! ...Can't you do something?”
Outright suggesting election fraud—what was this now? But for someone who knew little about democracy, this was probably his way of showing goodwill. Seeing the military's perception of democracy, the road ahead seemed truly daunting.
“That's election fraud... I'm sorry, General. Just as you turned your back on your mentor for the sake of your men in the Luftwaffe, I have a responsibility I must uphold, even if it means being a bad person to you.”
Richthofen let out a sigh.
“Always so glib with your words, after I supported you so much. You scoundrel....”
“...If you want to hit me again, I'll take it.”
Richthofen chuckled hollowly at my reply and ordered another drink from the waiter. He sat there for a while with a half-resigned look on his face, then tossed out a comment.
“My apologies, I've made a fool of myself. That was a cowardly request.”
“Not at all, General. If I were in your shoes, and it were General Model or you in the same situation, I would have struggled with it too.”
“Hearing you say that makes me feel a little better.”
Richthofen took the new glass from the waiter, had a sip, and spoke again.
“I've never known much about politics. Never wanted to.”
He fell into thought for a moment, swirling the drink in his glass, before continuing.
“You're a scoundrel, but I know that if anyone should be in politics, it's a fellow like you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Richthofen took a gulp from his new glass and grimaced.
“It's an insult, you damn friend. Don't you even dream of quitting politics and coming back to the army. You're not cut out to be a soldier.”
“...Is that, so.”
Richthofen gave me a look of disbelief.
“What, were you actually thinking of returning to the military? Think about it logically. If a high-ranking government official suddenly returns to the army as a mere lieutenant colonel, everyone will be at a loss as to how to treat you.”
“That's true.”
Someone like General Model would probably not care and treat me as usual, but Manstein, my peers in the army...
“Good grief, you acted like a true politician, turning down a desperate plea from someone who supported you with all their heart. If you dare to quit irresponsibly after all that, I'll beat you to death myself.”
“Haah....”
Richthofen clinked his glass against mine and said with a bitter smile.
“I don't really get this 'great democracy' you talk about. And I don't know much about the duties a politician has to uphold. I'm just a soldier. So work your ass off and show me you're not just a smooth-talking liar. If you can't, I think I'll resent you for it, even later on.”
I felt like my escape route had vanished. Or maybe, I had been deluding myself into thinking there was an escape route that never existed in the first place.
I only just realized it now.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
I had thought about it enough. After going through all the trouble of ousting the Nazis, what was the point of looking for a way to run away just because things got tough?
No matter how hard it got, if we couldn't show that the result of everything we'd done was far better than something like Nazi Germany, it would all be meaningless.
At least for as long as I was responsible, whether it was de-Nazification, the war, or anything else, I had no choice but to do my best.
-
February 16, 1940
Bydgoszcz, German-occupied territory in Kuyavian-Pomerania (West Prussia), Northern Poland
Lieutenant General Erwin Rommel was positioned on the west bank of the Vistula River, facing the Polish army.
As the sound of artillery shook the ground behind him, Rommel raised his binoculars and watched as shells rained down on the enemy lines, sending plumes of smoke into the air.
In the initial offensive, the German army had brilliantly succeeded in cutting off the enemy's main force from its rear guard. Now, they were continuously pounding the entrenched enemy units with artillery and air power.
The skies had long belonged to the Germans, and the Polish army, having retreated in disarray during the initial surprise attack, had lost a significant number of their already scarce artillery pieces.
As a result, the Poles were being pummeled one-sidedly by the Germans, unable to even mount a decent counter-battery fire.
“At this point, it's just cruel.”
Rommel clicked his tongue. This was less a proper war and more a one-sided infliction of losses.
With their main forces completely surrounded, the Polish army desperately wanted to reorganize their rear guard and send relief, but the losses forced upon them by the relentless artillery and air force made it difficult to even maintain their current position, let alone regroup.
The German army had not yet launched a full-scale assault on any major strongholds. Thus, the only captured position was Bydgoszcz, which Rommel had taken in a surprise attack early on due to its proximity to the German border.
But that was precisely why the Germans could afford to leisurely inflict damage on the Polish army with very few losses of their own, all while regrouping and preparing for the next offensive.
“Say what you will about that sycophant, but he's certainly competent.”
Erich von Manstein was seen as a petty man who was endlessly obsequious to those in power while bad-mouthing them behind their backs. So much so that army officers who disliked him derisively called him the sycophant.
Nevertheless, the operational plan that had seized control of the battlefield in such a short time while minimizing losses and methodically bleeding the enemy dry was the product of his mind.
Manstein was one of those insufferable General Staff officers whom Rommel disliked, but even Rommel had to admit his ability.
“General. The Vice-Chancellor from the Chancellery is scheduled to arrive shortly.”
Rommel's thoughts, which had been focused on the battlefield through his binoculars, were interrupted by one of his staff officers, Major Claus von Stauffenberg.
“Ah, right.”
-
“Your efforts are much appreciated, General.”
“Welcome, Vice-Chancellor.”
Rommel returned the salute of the Vice-Chancellor, who was dressed in a military uniform.
As someone who had remained with the Nazis almost until the very end, his perception of Vice-Chancellor Dietrich Schacht had, until recently, been limited to him being the son of the capable economist Hjalmar Schacht and an expert in propaganda.
Lately, however, he and a considerable number of other officers had begun to hold a reasonably favorable opinion of this young government official.
“Are there any particular problems?”
“None today.”
Rommel replied with a grin. For him, who remembered the hardships of the last Great War, there were few complaints about the current situation, where both supplies and operations were running smoothly.
The fact that they could relentlessly bombard the enemy and conduct continuous air strikes was proof that logistics and supply were functioning perfectly.
“That's a relief. As you mentioned, General, the armor on the Panzer IV is proving to be weaker than expected. We are currently working on improving it.”
Dietrich Schacht would visit the front almost once a week, going to each division to identify problems and report on the progress of improvements.
He had heard that the person who recommended him during his army days was Model. Perhaps he had learned the habit of diligently touring the front lines from him.
“That is good to hear. I would appreciate it if you could hurry it up a bit, though....”
“We are currently running competitive tests between the existing armor design and a new sloped armor design, so it will take some time, but I will pass your request along to the Krupp company. Um, if you have any other opinions....”
Rommel looked around, and Stauffenberg raised his hand.
“Vice-Chancellor, are there still no orders to attack the besieged cities of Danzig or Posen?”
“That matter has been delegated to the Army High Command, so I'm not privy to the details. I haven't heard anything yet.”
The Vice-Chancellor smiled sheepishly, and Rommel and his officers chuckled along with him. It was a scene unimaginable when they first heard some young upstart dignitary was coming to visit the front.
The reason the German army could afford to leisurely inflict losses on the enemy while merely besieging, not capturing, major strongholds was largely due to this.
Unlike the Nazis, who had desperately tried to increase their influence over the military, the Fourth Reich rarely gave orders to the armed forces.
“To speak of government policy rather than offensive plans, securing Danzig and Posen is something that must be done. However, we are hoping to acquire them through surrender negotiations with Poland, rather than suffering casualties in urban warfare in cities where many Germans also reside, if possible.”
So that was why the artillery and air strikes seemed so persistently focused on Poland's rear guard.
Stauffenberg and the other young officers were itching to secure West Prussia and Posen quickly, but the Vice-Chancellor's explanation was reasonable enough that everyone seemed to accept it.
“Negotiations are all well and good, but I personally would very much like to have the honor of entering Danzig.”
Rommel, however, had first met his beloved wife Lucie in Danzig, and he was eager to claim it, both for the glory of Germany and as a city of his personal memories.
“Hmm, I will pass that along.”
When a politician says they will "pass it along," it's usually just lip service, but by now, enough trust had been built that they knew when this Vice-Chancellor said he would pass something along, it would at least be genuinely relayed.
Rommel smiled with satisfaction.
“Thank you as always, Vice-Chancellor.”
“Not at all, General. I am always grateful to those of you working hard on the front lines. I will see you next time.”
Unlike Hitler, Dietrich Schacht demanded no useless inspections or meals. He concisely discussed the matter at hand, saluted, and departed.
It seemed like a casual chat as he left, but he would likely reappear next week to report on the progress of their requests.
The Vice-Chancellor's conduct—attentive to the difficulties at the front yet wasting almost no time—suited Rommel quite well.
“Well, he doesn't seem so bad.”
Being on the front lines, Rommel didn't know much about domestic affairs, but everyone knew of the current Chancellor Hjalmar Schacht's competence, and according to his wife Lucie's letters, life was better than it had been under Hitler.
“It's certainly better than the Weimar days.”
Rommel chuckled at Stauffenberg's comment.
In the German military, with its many Junker officers, the Fourth Reich's promise to reintroduce democracy after the civil war was viewed with considerable suspicion. However, the government, having demonstrated its competence through the German Civil War and the current wartime situation, was slowly beginning to earn a measure of trust.
Rommel lightly kissed the letter from his wife, tucked it away, and then clapped his hands and called out.
“Alright, let's get to work. If the government is doing its job properly, so should the military!”