Diverging Diplomacy
June 1935. Internally, national unity was complete, and the first round of Mefo bill payments was just around the corner. Even at that moment, Germany was being cited as a success story in overcoming the Great Depression while actually achieving insane economic growth. Massive investments poured into Germany, and the activation of its domestic market soon made it an enticing option for the world.
Britain and America, eager to sell cheap consumer goods to Germany, had no choice but to offer us all sorts of conveniences in return. As a result, Britain, America, and Germany were more closely linked than at any time since the World War.
"My Führer, imports of American foodstuffs are driving down meat prices. The problem is our farmers in the Third Reich—they're up in arms."
"Use domestic beef for military canned rations, and make sure German farms don't collapse. Keep the tariffs in place as well."
"Yugoslavia is seriously considering importing German agricultural machinery. They say German-made stuff is in short supply."
"Contact the Yugoslav ambassador. Let's discuss a trade agreement."
"British financiers are investing heavily in Germany, and it's causing concern back home. Parliament is debating new laws to restrict foreign investments."
"Summon the British ambassador. I'll talk it over with them."
The issue was that externally, there was still so much to handle. Diplomacy was proving tricky.
Hitler had basically thrown diplomacy to the winds, but I had no intention of doing that. Right now, Germany was a thoroughly sensible nation—not some madhouse dictatorship run by an Austrian-born corporal. So I poured time and effort into maintaining the status quo on the diplomatic front as well.
And whenever diplomacy came up, it always circled back to that country.
"President Georges Si hours of France has declared that he'll change the country's name to 'French International.' France is now the world's second communist state, after Soviet Russia, my Führer."
"Haa..."
I let out a deep sigh as I took the report on France's internal situation. Who would've thought it would come to this... France had gone fully communist. On top of that, as they cracked down on and expelled Jews, refugees were flooding into Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, and beyond.
Most League of Nations members, including Britain, expressed concern over France's actions, but at this point, the League held little real weight.
The one who voiced the greatest alarm was Ernst Hanfstaengl.
"Führer, I'm worried this political shift in France will have a negative impact on us. Communism might spread to us through the Netherlands or Belgium."
"Hanfstaengl, I'm on guard about that too. I fear the red plague might infect Germany as well."
The Treaty of Versailles already barred us from stationing troops west of the Rhine. Controlling the red plague's insidious creep across the border was no easy task. Sure, we were quietly suppressing it with the secret police system, but communism had a way of slipping through any crack and taking root.
The gaps would only widen over time... I'd have to organize militias through Hermann Göring somehow and make use of the secret police, but there were limits.
Heinrich Himmler had been the expert in this field, but as an anti-Semite, he'd relocated underground to the Bavarian Kim Lake after the Night of the Long Knives. How I missed Heinrich Himmler. He knew how to crush communists.
"Chancellor, I have an urgent matter to report."
Just then, as I was racking my brain over Hanfstaengl and the French problem, Foreign Minister Konstantin von Neurath entered the presidential office. He gave me a crisp Third Reich salute and stood before me.
"Minister Neurath, what is it?"
He was someone who'd collaborated with Nazi Germany in his original timeline and later served as foreign minister under Papen with Hindenburg's approval. Knowing he'd become a big Nazi shot and an SS bigwig made me want to cut him loose right then, but there was no one better suited for the foreign minister role. His abilities were the real deal.
"It's Italy. They've announced a joint anti-German pact with France and just declared plans to form an anti-German encirclement with a mutual non-aggression treaty."
"Italy?"
"Yes. Of course, it wasn't hard to guess why they're suddenly taking a hard line against Germany. They want to bury the Ethiopia issue under the surface. If things go south, they figure they'll have France's backing."
"Give me the report."
"Here you are, Führer."
I opened the diplomatic report on Italy that Neurath handed me. In summary, Italy's Duce Mussolini was openly designating Germany as the enemy and trying to build a bloc around that.
In international relations, the enemy's enemy is a friend. Italy was actively turning Germany into the villain to pull Germany's enemies into its camp.
Indeed, with France and Italy's interests aligning for the moment, it looked like a united anti-German front. But both Neurath's report and my own common sense told me this alliance was shaky and flimsy at best.
France and Italy had always had bad blood between them—maybe even worse than between Germany and Italy. Border disputes like Savoy, historical baggage—it all thoroughly divided them.
Even if they were teaming up now to check Germany's economic rise, no one knew how France would react once Italy's Ethiopia invasion actually kicked off.
"Führer, please set our diplomatic course. How should we handle Italy?"
"Maintain the status quo, Neurath. Let's avoid provoking Italy or France if possible. But if Italy sparks violence over the Ethiopia issue, come back to me then to discuss our response."
"Understood, my Führer."
For now, we'd stick to maintaining the status quo. But staying completely silent while France and Italy brazenly formed an anti-German encirclement would make us look like pushovers...
I instructed Neurath to impose light trade sanctions on the relatively softer target, Italy.
"That wraps up Italy for now. Good work on the report, Neurath."
For France, a protest note would suffice. But if they pushed their provocation of Germany any further, that would change everything.
Georges Si hours let out a hollow chuckle in front of the smirking Italian ambassador.
"Absolutely, it's high time France and Italy overcame their historical conflicts, Mr. President. However, there's a problem. Germany has expanded mutual trade tariffs with Italy in response to our anti-German encirclement."
The Italian ambassador phrased it as if Italy's troubles were our troubles. Fools who didn't even realize they were being humored.
Si hours curled his lip in faint disdain as he eyed the ambassador.
"That's one thing. But what about the communist comrades inside Italy? Didn't you promise in the non-aggression pact to ease up on persecuting communists? I'd like an explanation."
"Well..."
Si hours had bluntly shifted the topic, and now he clicked his tongue at the ambassador. Of course. He wasn't fool enough to believe this petty little Italy was seriously trying to use France. There was no reason for him to strain relations with Germany.
Setting aside his personal admiration for Falkenrain, it wasn't in France's national interest. In other words, if Italy wanted France to take the risk of irking Germany, it had to offer returns worth that risk.
Si hours asked himself: Were Italy's returns sufficient? No. Not at all.
From France's perspective, Italy had only been a temporary diplomatic outlet while relations with Britain soured. Now, with ties to the Soviet Union improving rapidly, Italy was becoming more of a thorn in the side.
"France is concerned about Italy's radical actions. Stop provoking Germany any further, Ambassador. Relay that to Prime Minister Mussolini."
"...Understood."
Georges Si hours dismissed the Italian ambassador by raising the issues of Italy's domestic communists and its aggressive anti-German diplomacy. The ambassador left the embassy empty-handed.
But Si hours knew that sooner or later, France would have to break with Germany.
"Things are chaotic enough internally, and now Britain's and Germany's moves are getting on my nerves..."
It felt just like Bismarck's era. France's diplomatic isolation wasn't good.
The moment France made Germany an enemy, it would strain relations with Britain and America, whose ties to Germany had warmed.
Like Mussolini, Si hours sensed the moment of choice had arrived. Enemy or ally—Germany?
And he chose.
"We'll have to clash with Britain eventually anyway. Sorry, Germany, but I think it's time to coordinate with the Soviets."
He believed friendship with Britain was impossible. During the Great War, they'd barely held together against the common enemy, Germany. Now it was capitalism versus communism.
With ideologies diverging, amity with Britain was a thing of the past. And allying with Italy? That wasn't the answer either.
In the end, France's only distant comrade in the east was the Soviet Union.