The Third Reich Workers' Party Takes Shape

The German Third Reich Workers' Party (DDRAP) Bavarian Workers' Newspaper was Catalina's latest venture, modeled after her success in the Ruhr. And its hallmark? Extreme political bias.

Beyond the usual news, the paper featured DAP speech reports and excerpts from addresses, making it essential reading among DAP supporters. Subscription fees funneled partly into Catalina and my pockets, partly into DAP funds. With Ernst Hanfstaengl's arrival, the operation expanded like it had grown wings.

"Better to replace this machine—don't skimp on funds. And we'll need to revise the manual. Rearrange the workflow between machines, and you can print more papers with less labor. Oh, and don't fire any workers. Skilled printers are hard to find, now or ever."

He grasped and optimized the industrial setup faster than Catalina, fresh from her Ruhr triumphs, or our seasoned German printers. This was innate genius at work. Thanks to him, the Bavarian Workers' Newspaper swiftly became Munich's most renowned publication. They even accepted payments in goods, just like in the Ruhr—no one wanted carts loaded with marks rolling around.

"This is... incredible."

The paper even reached a young man in distant Elberfeld, in the northern Rhineland. He pored over it, lost in thought. Their ideology differed from his. But it was magnificent. He loved Germany enough to call himself a patriot. To him, ideological divides paled before Germany's hope.

"Unbelievable. It's so crystal clear!"

The paper pinpointed Germany's core affliction: division. Every action, deed, ideology pitting communists against capitalists, left against right—it was all the enemy. Calling both left and right betrayers of Germany, yet claiming not the middle but an entirely new path. At this group's existence, the young man—Paul Joseph Goebbels—smiled.

"The Third Reich..."

He bolted from his seat straight to the station.

Mid-July 1921. I decided to rename the German Workers' Party—Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, or DAP. It became the Deutsche Dritten Reiches-Arbeiterpartei, shortened to DDRAP. The moniker "Third Reich" had been added. The German Workers' Party was now the German Third Reich Workers' Party.

Under Hanfstaengl's lead, we upgraded our symbols and emblems. The crude party symbol gained polish, and the Wave Corps uniforms got a redesign. Membership exploded. DDRAP was now Munich's hottest party. Even our affiliated industries grew, improving finances—no more total reliance on Hanfstaengl's backing; we could sustain operations independently.

"We're in stable territory now. Growing us from a minor party to Munich's largest? That's largely your doing, Falkenrain."

"Strasser, thanks—but that's too much flattery. I couldn't have done it alone. We all played our parts."

"Of course. And the eye to spot us all? That's your merit too."

Gregor Strasser. A Wave Corps man under Yahn Krichz, yet he stuck closer to me than the busy Krichz. He'd appointed himself my secretary. No reason to stop him. Strasser craved power. He'd be expendable eventually, and sidelining him would only brew trouble. Better to feign indulgence while milking his talents.

"Oh, and a young man from Elberfeld sent a letter for you, leader. He insists on meeting."

"Someone remarkable?"

"Not especially, but screening the letters, his passion stood out."

"You have it here?"

"Yes. Right here."

A passionate youth Strasser endorsed? Rare praise from him. Curiosity piqued, I took the letter he handed me.

"Paul Joseph Goebbels... Goebbels, huh..."

I couldn't help chuckling. Some people you just end up meeting. I had no intention of inheriting the Nazis—they doomed Germany. My all-out second loop ended in disaster partly because of them. Yet all these entanglements were Nazi figures. Sure, I'd preemptively eliminated Hitler, but...

"Know him...?"

"Nah, don't. Just... his name radiates something extraordinary."

Who was Goebbels? The Nazis' top agitator, Hitler's favorite to the end. He adored Hitler till death. His fanatic loyalty was genuine—almost cultish. He suicided in the bunker post-Hitler, after poisoning his own children.

"What can I say... the name screams fanaticism, doesn't it?"

"Not really getting it."

"Enlist ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him. Start at the bottom."

Of course, I wouldn't waste a former Nazi name just anywhere. Strasser started low, Krichz effectively did too. Most key DDRAP figures—bar Hanfstaengl—began at the bottom. Goebbels could handle it. Not out of spite for his Hitler loyalty. Absolutely not...

October 1921. Chaos reigned inside DDRAP headquarters. Since DAP days, we held party congresses thrice yearly: January, June, October. Policies were debated, executives appointed or elected, speeches delivered—a showcase of our vitality to members and guests.

I was the star, naturally. Hence the frenzy. On Hanfstaengl's advice, we rented an entire grand opera house. Crowds poured in. I reviewed our new DDRAP members one by one.

"Heard? That Paul Joseph Goebbels kid's speaking. The passionate one I mentioned."

"Started at the bottom and still here? Good eye, Strasser."

"Too kind."

This congress was unprecedented in scale, with many speakers: American businessman Hanfstaengl; me; holdover honorary chairman Drexler; Max Amann, who took over Catalina's Bavarian Workers' Newspaper and joined leadership; and young Goebbels as youth rep, recommended by superiors for his zeal.

He's capable, at least. Didn't like him, but talent was talent. If using him, squeeze every drop. Too valuable to waste.

"Ah, there you are, Falkenrain."

"Hanfstaengl. Speech ready?"

"Not bad. Who'd have thought I'd dive so deep into the German Third Reich Workers' Party... Don't worry—won't match yours, but no disappointments."

"No grand expectations. Just an appetizer. Main course is mine. Dessert for Chairman Drexler and our new youth rep Goebbels."

"Appetizer... nice phrasing."

"Not too bland, not too heavy. Your specialty."

Hanfstaengl nodded, then stepped out as time came. Spotlights hit him. Cheers erupted as he approached the stage. He spoke.

"German people. Bavarian patriots. Greetings."

Silence fell. His role wasn't stirring hearts—that was mine. He outlined our evolution, fitting the congress theme.

He gestured back. Three Wave Corps men in crisp new uniforms ascended.

The new uniforms traded some comfort for style—Hanfstaengl's idea, for recruitment boost. Pre-WWI Austro-Hungarian army uniforms proved him right.

His speech stayed light, captivating briefly. Perfect appetizer. Minutes later, my turn.

"Exterior checks out fine, leader."

"Time to begin."