Germany's Giuseppe Garibaldi
November 9th, 1923, in the pre-dawn hours. We launched our final "March on Berlin."
Having already seized the communication facilities and military headquarters in advance, no arrest squads could stand in our way. There was occasional resistance, but rather than slowing us down, our procession only grew larger with time. Not just the DDRAP—ordinary citizens dissatisfied with the state of the nation began joining in. It evoked the image of a true revolution.
The march of the people was swelling into an unstoppable wave.
Why is this working so well...? Honestly, I hadn't expected it to go this smoothly. Sure, we'd prepared meticulously for exactly this outcome, but still...
"Esteemed citizens of Bavaria, fellow Germans! Our voices have finally united as one! Raise the third wave! For our glory! For victory! For a Germany reunited with our lives—and for the comrades in the Ruhr!"
Amid the street procession, I rallied the crowds time and again, boosting their morale. It seemed no one could stop the march now. Even some of the police and soldiers who were supposed to arrest us defected to our side, swelling our ranks beyond control.
It was nothing like the bungled second-loop fiasco of Hitler's.
"..."
Crumple!
Friedrich Ebert stared at the newspaper published by the Bavarian Workers' Newspaper, then irritably crumpled it up. He tossed it into the trash bin and lit a cigarette.
"Mr. President Ebert, you've heard the news, I presume?"
"Foreign Minister."
Standing before him, someone glanced over their documents. Gustav Stresemann, Germany's eighth Foreign Minister.
"They've begun their street march. Destination: Berlin, apparently. They say once they seize it, they'll topple our spineless government and rescue the compatriots in the Ruhr."
"Arrogant fools... Do they think we're doing this because we want to? So, what do you propose?"
"We handle family matters within the family first. Crush them."
"Can't we negotiate their demands?"
"Are you serious, Mr. President?"
Stresemann sighed in genuine dismay at the president's mention of "negotiation" from the outset. Did Germany truly have no room to maneuver? To the point of discussing talks with a far-right rabble from some Bavarian backwater?
Any attempt at overthrowing the state demanded suppression by force, followed by execution of the ringleaders. This was common sense, timeless across East and West, ancient and modern alike. Challenge the nation, and your head rolls. Precedents must accumulate.
"Stresemann, I understand. This is blatant sedition. They deserve execution. But hear me out—it's an emergency. Sometimes, to minimize bloodshed, we must resolve things through dialogue."
Yet reality was unforgiving. If they crushed Falkenrain's march by force and executed them, what would domestic opinion do? Moreover, he was a Junker and a hero of the Great War. Obscured by Hindenburg and Ludendorff, perhaps, but an ace pilot with a stellar war record nonetheless. Suppressing him carried massive risks.
"What do you intend to do? I'm just a mere Foreign Minister. I'd like to know your thoughts."
"Find out their demands."
"We already have them. Active support for liberating the Ruhr nationals. Price stabilization. And finally, entry into central government for parties in the 'German Struggle Alliance,' including DDRAP."
"That's all?"
"Yes. And German national unity."
"Do they know nothing of realpolitik? Unity? This isn't child's play."
Ebert chuckled wryly at Stresemann's explanation, then sighed. Unity? Who puts such a vague, fluffy abstraction in their "demands"? Stresemann genuinely worried if DDRAP and the German Struggle Alliance were just plain stupid. "Central advancement for parties" didn't even require permission in the democratic Weimar Republic—if they had support, they'd handle it themselves.
"Grant their demands. But we push ours in return."
"What demands?"
"Attempts at overthrow warrant punishment. Stresemann, you deliver our terms to them."
Demand weren't one-sided, naturally. Negotiations meant mutual concessions. To make a nearly successful march fold, the government would have to concede most points anyway... Ebert instructed Foreign Minister Stresemann to convey their sole demand to the mob: for political survival, stage "Falkenrain has been arrested." In essence, Falkenrain must surrender voluntarily.
"Foreign Minister, their demands are now unstoppable. In exchange for granting them, let them spread their political wings."
Ebert was no lightweight in politics. He knew his position well. What was needed now was negotiation, not suppression. And his prediction proved spot-on.
I deliberately listed only naive, heartwarming demands befitting a "national salvation" cause and sent them to the government. I even publicized it widely. Thanks to that, the march from Bavaria was seen as a righteous crusade for justice and Ruhr compatriots. The power of the press.
Fighting us now looked like rejecting justice and the greater good.
As it should.
"Halt! Stop the march immediately!"
November 10th, 1923. Around 11 a.m. In Nuremberg, northern Bavaria, as we prepared to cross into Thuringia, the deployed troops finally trained their guns on us.
Krichz's Wave Corps drew weapons in opposition, erecting barricades to shield the civilian marchers. A powder keg. One itchy trigger finger, and it'd erupt into civil war-scale carnage.
"They stayed quiet till now, then suddenly block us... Brother, what do we do?"
"Wait. Get my hat."
"Here you go, brother."
I donned the cap that had once been part of my uniform, straightened my clothes, then strode out through the standoff with the Wave Corps. Opposite me, as if by appointment, two figures emerged.
One I knew well: former Chancellor and current Foreign Minister, Stresemann. The other seemed a soldier guarding him—a captain, probably the military police company commander.
"Do you know why we've halted your march?"
Foreign Minister Stresemann immediately grilled me. Thus began the abrupt negotiation.
"I haven't a clue, but our procession includes innocent Bavarian citizens. They've come forward voluntarily for the nation—don't fire on them."
"That depends on how you play it. The central government has agreed to your demands."
"If you grant them, we'll cancel the march and disperse the crowds immediately."
"Naturally. But it's not just your demands. We have ours too. Fair exchange in 'mutual negotiation,' right?"
"Hmm... Let's not rush. By the way, you're a captain? No respect for superiors?"
I flicked my gaze from Stresemann to the captain beside him. The man scowled.
"Manners for rabble? You, kicked out of the army?"
"Did you serve in the Great War?"
"Of course."
"Looks like rear-echelon staff duty. Frontline vets have a certain look."
"..."
"Falkenrain, enough games. I'll state our demands—think it over."
With that, he produced a document outlining them. Two main points.
First: Arrest of German Struggle Alliance ringleaders. Me, Ludendorff, Yahn Krichz, and other top brass. But no real punishment—just the optics of arrest. Except me, the top dog. Play WWE for the cameras, huh?
Second: Dissolution of the German Struggle Alliance. In exchange, support DDRAP's entry into central government. Normally, parties sparking illegal unrest lose electoral rights, but here they'd get political cover. Fight with words, not violence.
A virtual white flag. But it opened room for our counter-demands.
"Hold the trial in Bavaria."
"Bavaria? Fine. Bavaria's local court it is."
Trial in Bavaria's local court equaled amnesty for "treason." Treason went to Berlin's central court. Local jurisdiction favored me hugely. Plus, I needed that trial—to catapult me to stardom. It aligned with real history too, for stability—Hitler got his in Bavaria.
Now, time to become Germany's Garibaldi. The great hero sacrificing himself to avert civil war.
"And one more: Let me address the masses who trusted and followed me, and the soldiers serving the fatherland."
"Do that, and you'll honor the terms?"
"Of course."
The deal was struck. The two withdrew; I returned to the march. The standoff troops lowered weapons first; we followed suit.
Krichz and Strasser asked for the outcome.
"How... did it go?"
"They'll grant demands in exchange for arresting German Struggle Alliance leaders. The Ruhr will be saved."
"Brother...?"
"Everyone, stand down. Oh, lend me this one thing."
I grabbed a plank and chair from the barricade, returned to the no-man's-land center. Stacked the plank on the chair, climbed up. Makeshift podium.
"Comrades. Friends. Citizens. All Germans I hold dear."
I began my final speech.