Chapter 95
Chapter 95
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: The Gathering Storm (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
**< World War II - The Gathering Storm (1) >**
March 16, 1940
Berlin, Northern Germany – Government Chancellery
Photos of General Rommel and General Lutz entering Danzig, and General Manstein and General Guderian entering Posen, proudly graced the front pages of every German daily.
The four men in charge of the armored units, the core of this Polish war, became overnight stars.
Erwin Rommel, the ‘conscientious soldier who stopped Hitler and defended Berlin,’ and Erich von Manstein, the ‘great strategist who toppled Poland in one fell swoop,’ became veritable heroes of all Germany.
In the end, both became the German heroes they had so longed to be, which is a fine conclusion, but…
General Witzleben, who trusted me from the early days of the new government, and my mentor, General Model, are still reinforcing the Siegfried Line on the French front, just in case.
Without them and their brilliant withdrawal operation in Italy, we wouldn't have had the troops to launch a counterattack on Poland in the first place.
Knowing that full well, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Honestly, I wanted to put those two generals in that position.
This is definitely not due to any personal grudge about the blatant opportunist Manstein doing better than General Model.
…On second thought, maybe it is a grudge.
In any case, by reclaiming West Prussia, including Danzig, and Posen, Germany recovered most of the eastern territories lost by the Second Reich and finally achieved the long-desired connection between the mainland and Königsberg.
Support for the Fourth Reich soared even higher, and the people began to hope that peace would be restored once the war with Italy was over.
But just because I had ended the war with Poland didn't mean my schedule had cleared up. Unfortunately, that was far from the case.
I was in the Government Chancellery in Berlin, reporting in the Chancellor's office.
“The security situation in West Prussia and Posen has finally become somewhat manageable.”
The phrase “somewhat manageable” left a great deal unsaid.
Considering we were the ones who had been preemptively invaded, the peace treaty with Poland was relatively reasonable by the standards of the era, and could even be seen as lenient at a glance.
In fact, Britain and Hungary, who had mediated our peace negotiations, expressed considerable praise and gratitude, and overall international opinion was quite favorable toward us.
But in the end, it was only lenient from the victor’s perspective. It was another matter entirely for the Poles, who were being expelled from their homes in West Prussia and Posen, to accept it meekly.
“Here is the report on the riots and incidents that have occurred.”
I handed my father the report on the problems that had been giving me a headache even after the peace treaty.
Forcing Poland to renounce its claims to West Prussia and Posen and expelling the Poles were necessary measures to prevent future conflicts, but I still went to great lengths to ensure our relationship with Poland didn't sour.
Making Gdynia a free city to guarantee Poland a minimal trade route, and giving the Poles a one-month grace period to sell their property and prepare to leave rather than just kicking them out empty-handed, were all part of that effort, but…
Did the considerations I had painstakingly persuaded the cabinet to approve move the Poles? Far from being grateful for being permanently expelled from the homeland where they had lived since the days of the German Empire, they naturally resisted fiercely.
Likewise, the German army, furious that the ‘defeated invaders’ were responding to our administration’s generous measures with such impudence, was itching to ‘deal with’ those Poles.
“Hmm....”
My father, Hjalmar Schacht, slowly flipped through the pages, examining the report, while I waited, feeling a deep sense of fatigue.
It was truly exhausting. Even though the Italian front remained, my workload had only increased, not decreased, despite the conclusion of the core Polish front.
“Not as bad as I expected.”
My father’s bland reaction made me feel a surge of irritation, but I exercised my patience. Business is business, and personal is personal.
That's why, no matter how much I like General Witzleben or General Model, I don't try to funnel all the opportunities to distinguish themselves to them. It's all to maintain that line.
“...That’s because a certain high-ranking government official has been running around West Prussia and Posen stopping them this whole time.”
The Poles were constantly on the verge of rioting, and the German army did little to suppress it, instead acting in a way that almost encouraged it.
Their logic went something like this: The government order is not to lay a hand on the Poles first, so if they strike first, it’s self-defense!
The time given to the Poles to pack their bags and sell their property had devolved into a period of resistance before leaving their homeland.
To think I came up with such an armchair plan! As I was feeling self-reproach and anguish, my father, Hjalmar Schacht, scoffed.
“Hah, the Polish matter was entrusted to the Vice-Chancellor, so shouldn’t you see it through to the end?”
“...You are absolutely right, which is why I’ve been working my tail off handling it. Mr. Chan.cel.lor.”
Thanks to that, even after the peace treaty was signed, I had to frantically travel back and forth between Posen and West Prussia, struggling to prevent armed conflict.
Only after I stayed in the region for several days to monitor the situation and Manstein reluctantly made the request did the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, Field Marshal Wilhelm Ritter von Leeb, issue a strong order to exercise restraint.
The ceaseless riots finally stopped, and the Poles, who had been causing a commotion for over a week, slowly began to realize the futility of it and started to leave the region peacefully.
There was no shortage of armed clashes during that period, and those who held out until the very end, refusing to leave, would ultimately be forcibly evicted. But there was nothing more I could do about that.
“Once the Poles have finished evacuating, we will restore the urban areas and then, as planned, move in the Jews.”
“As it should be.”
We intended to settle the Jews in West Prussia and Posen, where the Poles had been moved out. We would give land to those who had been liberated from the camps but were still ostracized and impoverished, providing them with a foundation for a new life.
The Germans living in West Prussia and Posen would have been less indoctrinated by the Nazis, and having been persecuted alongside the Jews in Poland, there was some hope that their perception of Jews might be slightly better.
Of course, that was just wishful thinking; we would have to wait and see. The Jewish problem was a significant shame for the Fourth Reich, too important to be addressed with boundless optimism and armchair planning before being forgotten.
While it was realistically impossible to return everything the Nazis had taken, we had to at least ensure they could live like human beings.
In any case, both Posen and West Prussia had been somewhat industrialized since the days of the German Empire and were decent enough for agriculture compared to other parts of Germany. This would help alleviate both the Jewish unemployment problem and Germany's food situation.
“With this, I think we can breathe a sigh of relief regarding the Polish and Jewish issues.”
I was worried because the Soviet invasion came even faster than expected, but Poland somehow managed to establish a defensive line and stabilize the front.
With the Rasputitsa season approaching, it would be difficult for the Soviets to continue their offensive. My expectation was that with continued logistical support from us, Britain, and Hungary, Poland would manage to hold on.
Hearing my words, my father took off his glasses, set them down, and looked at me with a wry smile.
“So, are you happy, making all this trouble for yourself?”
“How could I be? It’s necessary, so I do it.”
Just as he had advocated for the German-Polish customs war in the interwar period, my father held a very hardline stance on Poland.
But he didn't interfere this time, even as I persuaded the cabinet to approve conciliatory measures toward Poland against their opposition.
No matter how much I struggled to look ahead and reduce the animosity between Germany and Poland, if my father, the Chancellor, had opposed it, there would have been nothing I could do. I was grateful for that.
My father, who had been staring at me, opened his mouth.
“I still remember when you followed Hitler, joined the army, and then flew off to Spain.”
Why is he suddenly bringing up Dietrich Schacht’s dark past…
Strictly speaking, it was before I entered this body, but since I possess all the memories and emotions from that time, it feels like a rebellious phase I’d rather forget.
“That damn Hitler was already ruining the economy, and then Luise was crying and making a fuss. It was exhausting.”
“...I’m sorry.”
When he brought up my mother, I truly had nothing to say, so I simply bowed my head in apology.
My mother, who was very gaunt when I first met her, regained her health after I treated her well while I was in Berlin and my father began to work energetically as Chancellor.
Though these days, whenever I visit, she fawns over Claudia far more than me, which is a little… well.
“Well done. The good-for-nothing brat has finally become somewhat useful.”
“...Thank you…?”
I offered a slightly hesitant thanks, wondering why he was suddenly praising me, and my father responded with a scoff.
I’ve been relentlessly worked to the bone, but well, maybe I’ve earned a little recognition?
-
March 19, 1940
Reims Air Base, Northeastern France
In the sky, fighters of the French Air Force were performing, flying in formation and turning in unison.
French Prime Minister François de La Rocque applauded the sight, while Air Force Chief of Staff Joseph Vuillemin watched with moved eyes.
“Excellent. Absolutely excellent, Chief of Staff. Let’s step up the pace of the Air Force’s training and aircraft production.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister! Thanks to your generous budget support for the Air Force and its independence from the Army, morale is sky-high!”
La Rocque smiled at the Air Force Chief of Staff’s remarks and asked.
“Our new fighter is the Dewoitine D.520, correct?”
“Yes, Prime Minister! If production volume and training budgets remain as they are now, we will be more than a match for the German Luftwaffe!”
La Rocque gave a satisfied smile at Vuillemin's pride-filled answer.
“As you wished, we are also accelerating the production and training for the Latécoère 298 torpedo bomber!”
The French Air Force was mass-producing not only fighters but also torpedo bombers. This was at La Rocque’s request.
La Rocque nodded to Vuillemin and reiterated his charge.
“Good. Please proceed without any setbacks. As you can see from Germany’s war, this is now the age of tanks and air power. My expectations for the Air Force are high, so please demonstrate capabilities worthy of the great nation of France.”
“Yes, sir!”
The French Air Force was expanding rapidly, both in quality and quantity.
Military support, which had nearly ceased under the Radical Party government, had exploded under the La Rocque administration, with investments pouring into the army, navy, and air force alike.
Thanks to this, the French military forgot its past frictions and, with one heart, swore loyalty to the La Rocque government. However, such matters naturally have their light and dark sides.
“Prime Minister, the stockpiling of oil purchased from the United States and other colonies is proceeding smoothly, but the total amount of patriotic bonds is increasing rapidly.”
To the report from his finance minister, Jacques Doriot, La Rocque replied simply.
“Don’t worry too much. A time of crisis calls for special solutions. When everyone is happy, what’s the use in worrying about a little thing like the budget?”
The driving force behind the La Rocque government’s massive military spending was simple. They were using a near-exact copy of Germany’s MEFO bills, rebranded as “patriotic bonds.”
Thanks to massive munitions investments, where the government promised future payment and issued bonds instead of cash, French industry, still floundering in the late stages of the Great Depression’s aftermath, began to stretch its limbs with a joyful scream.
Just as with Nazi Germany, jobs exploded and the economy began to circulate, making it seem as if the country was enjoying a boom.
“But at this rate, our government will eventually go bankrupt, with no way to pay off these bonds.”
“Don’t worry. Why should we have to pay it back? We can just cut open another goose’s belly to make up for it.”
La Rocque gave a deep smile. France’s rearmament, which had already been underway, was rapidly nearing completion. Within a few months, a military force capable of shaking all of Europe, like that of Napoleon, would be ready.
He made the bold decision to abandon Poland for the sake of a populace that did not want to shed blood for it, and simultaneously revived a failing economy while rebuilding a weakened French military.
The La Rocque regime, having achieved this, gained immense support in a short period and was using it to smoothly neutralize opposition groups deemed ‘unpatriotic’ by the government's standards.
“Although we took a step back in the war with Germany, it would be shameful to stand by and watch while another country writes a new chapter of history, wouldn’t it?”
La Rocque continued speaking to the slightly anxious-looking Jacques Doriot.
“We must recognize that our true enemies are the filthy opportunists who only used and then betrayed France. They are the source of Germany’s ability to act as it pleases.”
Jacques Doriot seemed a little uneasy, but he soon nodded.
“The people harbor considerable anger toward the filthy British, who sided with Germany twice.”
Hearing Doriot’s words, La Rocque smiled and turned his gaze to the northwest as he spoke.
“Fortunately, they have no idea what we are planning. The very ones who insisted on defending Poland with French blood are now openly disarming, watching the European war unfold, and thinking only of how to profit from it.”
La Rocque, who had been staring northwest toward the distant Isle of Britain with cold, sunken eyes, turned back and spoke.
“Germany may believe they are the protagonists writing the history of a new era, but when our plan is realized, they will find that to be a grave miscalculation.”
“But for that to happen, the Italians will have to buy us some time. Do you think they’re capable of that?”
At Jacques Doriot’s question, La Rocque’s expression became slightly displeased.
“Well, for the sake of the precious fools who are shedding blood against Germany in our stead, it would be best to show them some leniency. We also need to test our military equipment.”
La Rocque clasped his hands behind his back, seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and then said something out of the blue.
“Shall we call it the ‘Falcon’ (faucon)?”
“Pardon?”
To Jacques Doriot’s query, La Rocque added with a grin.
“Since the force Germany sent to Spain was called the Condor, let’s call ours the Falcon.”