Chapter 83
Chapter 83
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Ludendorff's Choice
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Cough, cough! The opportunity has finally come. Kill that chinky bastard!"
"Pardon...? Who am I supposed to kill?"
"Hans von Choi! That viper who's toying with His Majesty the Kaiser!"
Before Erich Ludendorff was dispatched to German South West Africa.
One day, Field Marshal Waldersee suddenly summoned him to his villa and blurted it out the moment he laid eyes on him.
To be honest, Ludendorff hadn't been thrilled about answering Waldersee's call.
After all, during that demonstration, he'd nearly died for real—not as a joke—and he had no desire to see Waldersee's face again.
On top of that, rumors had spread that Waldersee had it out for him, leaving him as an outcast in the military for a while.
'And now this nonsense?!'
He'd come only thinking it might be his last chance to see the face of one of the German Empire's great commanders, whom he'd once admired. Clearly, he shouldn't have bothered.
Out of nowhere, kill Hans von Choi?
Waldersee must have lost his marbles in his old age.
Even the Junkers had shaken their heads, saying it was a bad move.
"Your Excellency, but..."
"Cough...! I recommended to the Kaiser that he appoint that brat as the one in charge of suppressing the uprising in the South West Africa colony. And you'll be heading to Africa too, Ludendorff. Cough, cough! I still have some pull left at Army Personnel Command."
"Whaaat?!"
But before Ludendorff could respond, Waldersee's words—punctuated by coughs—made him doubt his own ears.
Putting aside the fact that Hans, that little punk, was being given such a heavy responsibility for quelling the rebellion, sending him to Africa as well?
For Ludendorff, who had been steadily climbing the general staff route as a capable officer on the home front, this was like a bolt from the blue.
Yet Waldersee's resolve was firm.
Even if it stemmed from the delusions and madness of a man facing death.
"Heh heh... The battlefield is a place where anything can happen. So kill him there. Make it look like the work of the African natives, or stage it as an unfortunate accident—whatever works!"
'He's lost it. Completely.'
Ludendorff felt the world spinning before his eyes.
Not content with shipping him off from his rising career on the mainland to some far-flung African colony, now he was supposed to kill Hans with his own hands.
'As if that's even possible!'
Ludendorff didn't like Hans von Choi, but the kid was still the Kaiser's favorite.
That was precisely why no Junker crossed the line into assassination, no matter how much they dismissed Hans as the Kaiser's pet or court jester.
Even setting aside the dishonor of dirty tricks against a mere "yellow" kid, the backlash was too frightening.
'And he expects me to handle that fallout?!'
But despite Ludendorff's face turning ashen, Waldersee was lost in his own world.
In the end, Ludendorff found himself in South West Africa against his will.
But he had no intention of actually trying to kill Hans von Choi just because of some "why not" attitude.
Ludendorff wasn't stupid enough to play along with a senile old man's schemes.
"But we still have business to discuss, don't we?"
'Oh, shit.'
Yet his hope of returning to Germany right after the Battle of Waterberg shattered the moment Hans von Choi dragged him to an empty lot with Lettow-Vorbeck and Hendrik Witbooi in tow.
Of course, the boy in front of him wasn't an idiot.
He'd surely sniffed out Waldersee's clumsy plot long ago.
"I won't bother explaining why. We both know Waldersee ordered you to kill me."
Ludendorff sweated bullets and exercised his right to remain silent.
But silence was as good as admission.
Hans von Choi opened his mouth slowly, wearing that signature arrogant, infuriating smile.
"So, what should I do with you now, Major?"
Ludendorff briefly considered just shooting Hans on the spot, but shook his head.
Behind Hans, Lettow-Vorbeck and Hendrik Witbooi glared at him fiercely.
The moment he drew his pistol, they'd overpower him and haul him off to a firing squad.
Of course, staying quiet wouldn't save him either.
Hans von Choi wouldn't let him off the hook.
Even if Hans dealt with him right here, no one would care.
Would the Kaiser give a damn about a mere staff officer like him?
If anything, he'd side with Hans.
'I'm done for.'
Ludendorff gave up, letting all his burdens slip away in resignation.
His career was over.
So was his dream of one day earning a formal noble title and being called Erich von Ludendorff.
Now, he'd either be buried quietly on the African plains or feel the full wrath of the Kaiser.
"No, why the long face?"
Hans said.
"Anyone would think I was about to kill you."
"Aren't you?"
It sure looked that way to anyone watching.
"Join me."
"???"
What the hell was this now?
Ludendorff couldn't process what Hans von Choi had just said.
But for some reason, the boy before him started to look like a savior.
A halo seemed to shimmer behind the baron's head—an illusion, but a vivid one.
"You never planned to follow Waldersee's orders from the start, right?"
"W-Well, that's true, but..."
"So ditch that old man—no one knows if he's even alive—and take my hand. It'd be a shame to waste talent like yours."
The baron whispered in his ear like the serpent in Eden tempting Eve with the fruit of knowledge.
"Of course, if you join me, the rewards will match. I have a bright future ahead. If you rack up some big achievements later, I can put in a word with the Kaiser—getting you a title would be easy."
"A t-title..."
Ludendorff swallowed hard.
It was an offer too tempting to resist.
"If you refuse, though... I won't have a choice."
"......"
As the baron spoke, Hendrik Witbooi eyed Ludendorff while fiddling with his pistol.
Ludendorff's decision was swift.
"I'll follow you, Baron."
"Good choice."
Hans beamed innocently at the bowing Ludendorff.
He looked just like a shady slave trader who'd snagged a promising slave.
"Baron, are you sure it's wise to let Major Ludendorff go like that?"
After the Battle of Waterberg.
I'd returned to Windhoek ahead of Governor Leutwein and the troops, and I chuckled at Lettow-Vorbeck's worried tone.
"Someone like Ludendorff knows exactly whose side will benefit him most. Waldersee's already useless to him. Besides, I hold his leash."
"You mean the assassination plot."
If Ludendorff ever showed signs of betrayal, I could use it as an excuse to dispose of him.
I had the power and influence for that, while he was just a junior officer. His fame and rise to power in the German Empire wouldn't come until after Tannenberg in the original history.
Plus, Wilhelm II hadn't liked Ludendorff in the original timeline either, so the Kaiser's mercy was a long shot.
"Baron, we've arrived at the governor's residence."
Ludendorff, leading our group, spoke to me with far more deference than before.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"Here he comes!"
"Baron, is it true you annihilated the Herero and captured Samuel Maharero, the ringleader?"
The reporters waiting in front of the governor's office swarmed me like bees the moment they spotted me.
That was why I'd rushed back to Windhoek early.
"Time to work."
"Pardon?"
"Major Ludendorff, clear some space in front of the governor's office."
"Yes, sir!"
As Lettow-Vorbeck tilted his head, Ludendorff directed soldiers to push back the reporters, creating an open area by the main gate.
I dismounted and walked slowly toward it.
Step by step. Halt.
I stopped, turning to face the reporters staring at me in awe.
"I'm sure you all have lots of questions, but I've only got one mouth, so we'll take them one at a time. Shall we start with the gentleman in front?"
"Y-Yes. According to the courier who reached Windhoek, our German forces won a victory at Waterberg and captured Samuel Maharero, the rebellion's leader. Is that true?"
"Yes, it is."
Flash! Pop, pop!
As I gave my curt reply, camera flashbulbs exploded here and there.
I took a deep breath and continued.
"We Germans offered the Herero generous surrender terms, but they rejected the Empire's mercy and chose war. Under Governor Leutwein's command, our forces advanced on Waterberg and defeated the Herero who were holed up there."
"Ooh~"
"Everything went according to our battle plan. Samuel Maharero tried to flee into the Kalahari Desert with his tribesmen during the fight but failed due to our swift response and soon formally surrendered."
"So the rebellion in South West Africa is essentially over."
"Indeed. A few tribes influenced by the Herero are still causing trouble, but they're few in number and should be dealt with soon."
Flash! Pop, pop! Flash!
As I finished, reporters snapped more photos, and the German settlers cheered with relief that the uprising was finally at an end.
Then, a man I'd never seen before raised his hand from the crowd.
"What do you plan to do with Samuel Maharero, the ringleader, and the Herero?"
"You're not a reporter. Who are you?"
"Ahem. I'm Eugen Fischer, an anthropologist. As a citizen of the Empire, I felt I had to know."
Eugen Fischer?
The name rang a bell, and I tilted my head.
Then I remembered and grimaced.
'The original Josef Mengele.'
Anthropologist my foot—he was infamous for eugenics and human experiments to prove it.
Come to think of it, Eugen Fischer had conducted experiments on Herero and Nama prisoners during the Herero War right here in South West Africa.
I could already guess what he meant by that question.
He was surely planning the same atrocities again.
"Samuel Maharero and the ringleaders will face appropriate punishment under German imperial law. But most Herero will lay down their arms and return to their daily lives."
"......Isn't that too lenient?"
Eugen Fischer scowled, displeased at losing his pool of test subjects.
If it were just him, fine—but many German settlers nodded in agreement.
It was a tricky issue.
But one that had to be resolved.
Appealing to reason and intellect wouldn't help here.
So I decided to untie this Gordian knot another way.
"Have you all heard about the horrors unfolding in the Belgian Congo lately?"
"Pardon?"
Eugen Fischer gawked at me like I'd spouted nonsense out of nowhere.
But some reporters, already aware of the Congo truths, nodded gravely.
"Congo natives are having their hands chopped off and forced to labor like slaves under the brutal Leopold II. The death toll is already in the millions."
"Millions? Did he say millions?"
"That Belgian king's insane! Even Satan wouldn't do that!"
The German settlers buzzed in shock at Leopold II's atrocities.
Even Belgians themselves had been horrified and condemned their king—Germans would be no different.
If anything, they'd curse him even more.
The mood was good.
To squeeze out tears, I kept thinking sad thoughts and pressed on.
"Our merciful Kaiser wept over the Congo's misery and told me: 'At least in our German colonies, let no such horrors occur!'"
"Ooh......"
As I wiped tears thinking of the suffering Congolese, the crowd fell silent.
Even in a harsh era, emotional appeals always worked.
Doubly so with a child's tears.
Of course, Lettow-Vorbeck and Ludendorff stared at me like I was ridiculous.
Our soldier uncles must lack the feels.
"Esteemed citizens of Germany! Unlike the Belgians marching down the path of barbarism, we are noble Christians who know God's mercy—proud bearers of civilization. Unlike them, we can forgive the Herero, just as Jesus Christ long ago commanded us to love our enemies!"
"I-Is that so?"
"Yeah. At least we don't go around chopping off hands!"
"???"
As the settlers rationalized that they couldn't stoop to Belgian levels, Eugen Fischer's face was a sight to behold.
I drove the nail home.
"The German Empire is different from Belgium. We are the most generous and merciful leaders of civilization. As Belgium tarnishes Europe's reputation, our great Germany will step forward to restore it!"
"Hear, hear!"
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
The settlers applauded wildly in agreement.
This should do it.
It'd help the Empire's image too.
The easiest way to look like the good guys is to paint the other side as the villains.
And in that regard, Belgium and Leopold II were perfect foils.
"Tch. That inferior yellow mongrel sure can talk. Bah, I'm out."
Eugen Fischer muttered sourly and hurried off, unable to stand it anymore.
It was so comical I couldn't help laughing inside.