The Triumphal Return (1)
The time was ripe. Having made his decision, Ludendorff finally presented his resolution to the Kaiser.
"I shall personally go to Frankfurt."
"But are you not... the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Army and the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Cooperative Alliance? The burden on your shoulders is far too heavy to send you to the front lines."
"That is precisely why I have held back until now, Your Majesty. But the fate of the Empire hangs by a thread. If the Empire falls, what use is a Chief of Staff or the Armed Cooperatives?"
Naturally, it was a blatant lie. The true protagonist always makes their entrance at the very end. The German soldiers had fought with suicidal resolve, throwing their lives away to hold back the French army. Now that the battle was grinding to a sluggish stalemate, Ludendorff was stepping forward to deal the finishing blow!
"Oh, you are indeed my truest, most loyal subject. Those incompetent Junker officers cannot even wage war properly—the one thing they claimed to excel at! I truly do not know whom I can trust in this Empire anymore."
Of course, Wilhelm II himself deserved immense credit for the fact that the Junkers could no longer even wage war properly. He had played a massive role in the complete collapse of the Western Front and the eventual siege of Frankfurt, the very heart of the Empire. Yet, Wilhelm II had completely forgotten his own culpability.
"Your Majesty, do you not have me? Leave it in my hands."
"How fortunate I am to have you, Ludendorff..."
"And how fortunate I am to have you, Your Majesty!"
This statement, at least, was entirely true. The time had finally come to execute the Stahl Project that Ludendorff had been planning for ages. The Austrian Kaiser had been content to delegate most of his duties to parliament, spending his remaining days indulging in his hobbies. After all, he had spent a lifetime navigating power struggles and complex diplomacy. In a way, it was a win-win situation for everyone. One had to wonder what kind of hobbies the German Kaiser would enjoy. At any rate, the German Kaiser and Ludendorff shared a hearty laugh.
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
And so, Ludendorff set out for Frankfurt, leading the elites of the Armed Cooperatives.
"The time has finally come to avenge our humiliation! I shall decapitate Ludendorff, push all the way to Berlin, and then go meet Stahl!"
"...General Dubail?"
"General Foch, General Pétain. Do not stop me! The meeting of Richard the Lionheart and Saladin is nigh! Bring me my horse! I shall decapitate Ludendorff myself with my cavalry saber."
"Please, stop this! This is the twentieth century, not the tenth!"
"Even if you did engage in a duel, considering your age, you would lose without a doubt, General Dubail. Please, calm yourself."
Though his other arch-nemeses, Stahl and Trotsky, were absent, Ludendorff marched onto the battlefield leading four hundred thousand troops of the Armed Cooperative Alliance! It was just like that fateful day in Alsace-Lorraine. Naturally, this completely triggered Auguste Dubail. Regardless, the life-or-death clash between Dubail and Ludendorff was truly a sight to behold.
General Dubail had sharpened his blade to a razor's edge. He utilized the Hutier tactics—once considered the specialty of the German army—with absolute mastery. The moment a trench line showed even the slightest vulnerability, a devastating, concentrated strike rained down upon it. Artillery fire, precise to within a few meters, swept the trenches clean. Immediately after, combat bulldozers and a massive wave of infantry poured in.
"They are certainly formidable. Then how about this?"
Ludendorff was a commander of no less caliber than Dubail.
"The 4th Brigade, directly under the Armed Cooperatives, will immediately redeploy to the southern sector of the trenches! The Electronics Cooperative will flank the attacking forces at once. A counteroffensive will relieve the pressure on our trenches."
He instantly maneuvered his forces to reinforce the collapsed trenches and even threatened a counterattack. With two master strategists clashing, Frankfurt, which had been on the verge of falling to the French, was once again locked in a fierce, balanced struggle.
"At this rate..."
"...there will be no end to this."
Both Ludendorff and Dubail realized that this sluggish, grueling battle would drag on indefinitely. Flawless offense meeting flawless defense. If such a battle continued?
""It will become a war of attrition to see who can endure longer.""
The Siege of Frankfurt unfolded in a manner entirely different from traditional trench warfare. These were not long, linear trenches stretched across a border. Instead, a colossal ring of trenches encircled a massive metropolis. For both the attackers and the defenders, the logistical demands were astronomical. Having advanced deep into the German heartland, the French army was facing severe supply difficulties of its own. The German forces, tasked with sustaining a massive city, also required an immense amount of provisions.
"The Steel Cooperative and the Chemical Cooperative will mobilize to raid the railway network leading west!"
"Even at this very moment, German reinforcements are pouring in endlessly. Sever the railway lines leading to Berlin!"
Neither the French nor the Germans would yield to the other in terms of offensive spirit and maneuverability. They raced to outmaneuver one another, constantly striking at supply lines and shifting to the flanks. Thus, the Siege of Frankfurt dragged on into a protracted war of attrition.
Britain had thrown its forces into Tallinn, losing its greatest asset—its navy. Germany and France were locked in a grinding war of attrition, dragging the conflict out. Italy, faced with the daunting task of crossing the Alps, naturally found any offensive exceedingly difficult. The Austro-Hungarian Empire, having enthusiastically pushed back the Russians, had reached a point where it needed to pause and catch its breath. The Russian Black Army had also expended a surprising amount of energy fending off Britain and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. As for the Russian White Army, they were an even more chaotic hodgepodge of factions than the Austro-Hungarian Empire; despite possessing a massive pool of manpower and talent, they could not even utilize a fraction of their potential. The course of the war had plunged into a labyrinth of uncertainty.
The war is going to drag on sluggishly for a while.
About a year and a half had passed since the outbreak of the war. During those eighteen months, every nation had poured every ounce of its strength into destroying its rivals. Take me, for instance. From Alsace-Lorraine to Serbia, and then to Poland—I, who was supposed to have nothing to do with battlefields, had survived three massive campaigns. Come to think of it... it felt as though we had only ended up doing a favor for the United States and Japan. Especially the United States, which seemed to be profiting far more than it had in my original history.
In the original timeline, the United States had only sold war materials to Britain and France. But this time, they were selling astronomical quantities of supplies to France, Britain, and even Germany! Britain, in particular, had seen its fleet so thoroughly shattered that its domestic shipyards could not keep up, forcing them to purchase battleships directly from America. They always said that Russia and the United States were the two nations you must never provoke. Setting aside Russia, which had become completely crippled, the United States was truly shaping up to be the final boss! Though, to be fair, there was never a single moment in the entire twentieth century when America wasn't the final boss. At any rate, it was time to build up our strength for a while.
"Ah, Chairman Hitler. How is the establishment of the Warsaw Agricultural Cooperative coming along?"
"It is still a bit difficult to call it a proper nation... but we have at least set up the basic framework."
"Is that so?"
While Germany or Russia might have done so, it would be highly awkward for Austria-Hungary to simply swallow Poland whole. Therefore, the best approach was to establish a pro-Austro-Hungarian puppet government, much like the United States had done in the original history. Besides, Poland was a rather awkward, double-edged sword of a territory. The Polish people possessed an incredibly fierce pride, making them prone to rebellion at the slightest provocation. They had revolted constantly during the Russian Empire, and even during their time as a Soviet satellite state, they were rebellious enough to produce a Pope from a communist nation. To make matters worse, Roman von Ungern-Sternberg had reduced the entirety of Poland to ruins. Even if we took it, the cost of reconstruction would vastly outweigh any potential profit.
"It cannot be helped. We have no choice but to leave General Stalin behind."
"Sta...lin?"
"Yes. Stalin is a war hero now, is he not? He seems to be quite popular in Poland."
Hitler wore a look of utter dismay.
"Stalin is a dangerous man! He might run off with Poland entirely!"
"Trotsky is also in Poland, so they will be too busy locked in a power struggle to harbor any treacherous thoughts. To defeat Trotsky, Stalin will ultimately have no choice but to rely on Stahlism and the authority of our Empire."
Hitler, at this point, was almost cute. Stalin, however, showed no signs of ever becoming cute. That was why I had wanted to keep him close under my wing if possible.
"Sigh... I was the one who drafted all the guidelines for post-war reconstruction. Why on earth is that fellow Stalin more popular than me?!"
Hitler was usually a crowd-pleaser wherever he went. Whenever he spoke, people fell under his spell as if they had been brainwashed by some hypnosis app. But now, for the first time in his life, Hitler was tasting the bitter dregs of defeat. For the first time, the absolute first time, he had been surpassed in popularity! And by Stalin, of all people! I thought I knew the reason why.
There's something about Stalin's way of fighting... it's much more stylish than Hitler's. Even his face is stylish.
Stalin, now a war hero, had sworn off vodka and rode around majestically on a white stallion. Thanks to this, he had transformed into a sexy, middle-aged gentleman with a sharp, chiseled jawline! Clad in a dashing black Revolutionary Guard uniform topped with a stylish star-emblazoned beret, he looked for all the world like Che Guevara. He had become the number one dream husband for local young women, and the number one choice for a son-in-law among the older generation.
If I say this out loud... Hitler will probably burst into tears.
Unable to bring myself to say, "It's because Stalin is handsome," I merely offered an awkward smile in response. My next appointment was with Stalin.
"General Stalin—ah, or should I say Chairman Stalin from now on."
"I was worried that half-baked fellow Hitler might abandon Hungary to stay in Poland, so this is a relief."
"..."
As expected, Stalin was a psychopath. He gouged right into Hitler's insecurities without batting an eye!
"Just in case, please refrain from making any comments about faces to Hitler. I beg of you."
"I do not think I could bear it if he started whining about appointed positions versus elected ones."
"...At any rate."
Stalin's role was to leverage his handsome looks to boost the popularity of the Austro-Hungarian Empire locally. We planned to assign a swarm of journalists and photographers to him, creating and distributing a Stalin photo book. Furthermore, considering the "special mission" I intended to carry out in Poland, Stalin was the most suitable candidate. It was a task that could only be accomplished by Stalin—a paranoid workaholic buried in paperwork who drew a crystal-clear line between public duty and private interest.
"As you are well aware, Chairman Stalin, Poland has been completely devastated. This means that, quite apart from the destruction of land and buildings, the landowners themselves have entirely vanished."
"Yes. Reconstruction will be no simple feat."
"Reconstruction is something Trotsky will handle well enough on his own. More importantly, there is a crucial role that only the Agricultural Cooperative can perform."
"And that is...?"
It was a venture that every leader of a newly emerging nation attempted at least once. If they were lucky, they would be revered as the father of the nation for centuries, bringing prosperity to the land. If they were unlucky, they would be condemned for generations as the villain who ruined the country.
"Land reform."
"Hmm..."
Just as we had done in Hungary, we planned to route all of Poland's land through the Agricultural Cooperative. The moment this land reform succeeded, the Polish people would find themselves deeply indebted to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Of course, if this was mishandled, it would spell absolute disaster. Distributing land—a vital and astronomically expensive resource—unfairly would instantly trigger a revolution in Poland. Therefore, land reform demanded immense administrative capability coupled with an almost obsessive sense of fairness. It was a task tailor-made for Stalin.
And so, after appointing Stalin as the Chairman of the Polish Agricultural Cooperative, I returned to Vienna. Of course, the journey back to Vienna was far from peaceful.
"We are not a defeated army! Do you think it is acceptable to march in such a slovenly manner just because the war has dragged on?"
"Hey, 3rd Battalion Commander! I think your troops are the most undisciplined of the lot. You think no one will notice? Maybe I won't, and maybe Vice Chairman Stahl won't. But let me tell you, His Majesty the Emperor will know! He will! He'll notice even the angle of your legs!"
For the first time in a long while, Hitler had to step up in his true calling: a professional mass games artist. Having achieved an overwhelming victory, he had to constantly coordinate with the authorities and the Social Democratic Workers' Party, throwing himself entirely into the preparations for the triumphal return.