Spanish Civil War, July 1936
Eventually, what had to come in Spain did come. After the Republicans won the recent Spanish general election and the atmosphere turned ugly, the Nationalists finally launched a coup. General Emilio Mola of the Nationalists was the first to raise his army, and all the right-wing parties and groups that had participated in the Anti-Revolutionary National Front joined the Spanish Nationalists en masse, causing the situation to spiral out of control.
On the surface, it looked like the kind of civil war we'd seen in Germany, but it wasn't. "No compromise with the reactionaries!" In most countries, when the nation splits in two, they'd reach some agreement beforehand. That's common sense—at least in Germany. Otherwise, the overwhelmingly stronger side would just snap the weaker one's spine in half and establish the pecking order. But the Spanish Republicans weren't particularly weaker than the Nationalists, and they had no intention of compromising.
Just like that, the country descended into chaos from violence on both sides, and within weeks, it had evolved into a full-blown civil war. Each faction formed command structures, organized armies, and began waging war professionally. Spain sold everything it had—gold or no gold—to import war materiel like a sponge sucking up water.
And as I watched that horrific history unfold, I saw my opportunity.
"Call the Minister of Defense for me, Hess."
"Yes, my Führer."
I asked Hess to summon the Minister of Defense and Commander-in-Chief of the Wehrmacht, Walther von Brauchitsch. Traditionally, the Minister of Defense at this time should have been Wilhelm von Keitel, but he'd been purged during the Night of the Long Knives and had moved next door to Heinrich Himmler. With him out of the picture, his successor, Walther von Brauchitsch, had taken the post.
"You summoned me, my Führer?"
And unlike Keitel, he was a man of considerable talent. On the day I ascended to the chancellorship, he'd sworn loyalty to me as a Wehrmacht officer—and his devotion was strong. He was also a vehement anti-Pole. Compared to the legendary German generals of history, though, he was just an ordinary joe. Meaning, I planned to replace him later.
"Brauchitsch, it's been a while. How have you been?"
"Very well, my Führer. Thanks to your gracious care."
"Let's get straight to the point. If you've read the papers, you know something's happened in Spain. Gunfire's echoing across Europe again after all this time."
"I've heard the news, Führer."
"France and the Soviet Union have stepped up to support the Republicans. Italy's staying neutral for now. Brauchitsch—what do you think about dispatching an air legion to aid the Spanish Nationalists?"
"You mean intervene?"
"Not intervene. Volunteers. We're not sending our army officially into war; we're disguising them as Nationalist forces to gain combat experience."
"Let me think on it."
Brauchitsch said that and sank into the sofa in the corner of the presidential office, deep in thought. Since it seemed to be taking a while, I decided to give him a nudge.
"Don't we need to test our new Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighters in combat? And while we're at it, verify the Ju 87's stability?"
"You're saying put our men on the line in Spain as guinea pigs?"
"No. I'm saying send them to Spain to train, prepare for real war. We could send army volunteers too. What if we dispatched my seniors from the Berlin War Academy—Generals Manstein and Guderian—for a year?"
"If that's the Führer's will, I'll draw up a detailed volunteer deployment plan. But we must tread carefully. This means sending our men to spill blood not for the fatherland, but for another country."
"The blood they spill will strengthen the fatherland's foundation. If even Spain falls to communism, we'll be Europe's outcasts. I know your sentiments well, Brauchitsch. But this is undoubtedly for the fatherland."
"Understood, Führer."
"Oh, and when you send Generals Manstein and Guderian to Spain, load them up with plenty of our new light tanks. You know how the Rapallo Treaty has changed the face of warfare, right?"
"Blitzkrieg, you mean. Spain's not the ideal testing ground for blitzkrieg. The front lines are too convoluted."
"Guerrilla warfare will be an issue... But trust me, Brauchitsch. With Manstein and Guderian, your concerns won't come to pass."
The moment the Spanish Civil War broke out, I moved swiftly to dispatch volunteers.
Falkenrain didn't just send volunteers to Spain. Germany made contact with Francisco Franco, the key Nationalist figure who, in the original timeline, would become Caudillo through a pyrrhic victory after his comrades mostly died off. Since he was commanding on the ground, most communication went via telegram, but those wires carried some crucial content—namely, arms sales.
The Wehrmacht was rearming with cutting-edge weapons while scraping together obsolete ones to flood Spain. Of course, nothing came free. The Nationalists had to pay in valuables like gold and silver. Plus, we could acquire some of their naval assets. In return, Spain got hundreds of thousands of rifles, hundreds of towed guns, trucks, and liquified coal.
But France and the Soviets supported the Republicans in much the same way. "Mussolini's sticking to neutrality all the way, huh..." Unlike the original timeline—where Italy, cozy with pariah France, stayed out—this time Italy didn't back the Nationalists, throwing in a wrinkle. Despite German aid and arms sales, the Nationalists began to falter bit by bit. History diverging.
It wasn't just the lack of Italian volunteers turning a winnable war into a loss. The real problem was the French volunteers.
"Fight for the comrades! Vive la commune!"
The French International poured massive support into Republican Spain. Sharing a land border gave them huge logistics advantages. A Republican victory meant—Italy and Germany aside—every major Continental power would be communized.
And in November 1936, as the Nationalists were getting hammered by the Soviets, French, and Republicans amid Spain's cooling weather, two men set foot on Spanish soil.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Lieutenant General Erich von Manstein."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Colonel Heinz Guderian, here to aid Spain."
Two figures destined to etch their names in history arrived in Spain—with 20,000 volunteers.
Charles de Gaulle. With France communized, he'd headed to Algeria—but he saw the Spanish Civil War as his chance. To normalize France again.
"Today, from here in Algeria, I proclaim the establishment of the 'Free France' government to reclaim my homeland, stolen by the communists and Soviet puppets. Soldiers of the fatherland, armed with French spirit—return to France!"
De Gaulle launched Free France years ahead of the original timeline. Then he contacted Franco of the Nationalists. His demand was simple: support the war, and in return, help reclaim France. Specifically, after a Nationalist victory, recognize the provisional French government and keep pressing the communists. Franco, desperate for aid, accepted. Free France raised a provisional unit called the "Anti-Socialist Freedom Legion" from Frenchmen and Algerians in Algeria. Just 8,000 strong—but enough to claim credit for aiding Spain.
Thus, in mid-November 1936, Free France's Anti-Socialist Freedom Legion arrived in Spain, giving the Nationalists a total of 28,000 foreign volunteers. The tide, once favoring the Republicans, began to turn.
The father of blitzkrieg, Heinz Guderian, drew on his Rapallo-era training with the Soviets to pull off impossible advances. Manstein shored up the rear, smashing Republican forces. But they didn't overextend.
"Orders from the Führer. Don't reveal our strategies too much... They'll increase shell supplies, so pour on the artillery."
"Falkenrain's an artilleryman—doesn't he get it?"
"No, there's logic. This isn't our war. No need to take risks on foreign soil."
Guderian wanted to push further, but Manstein reined him in. War is the extension of politics, after all. Can't get too immersed. Both knew that. Once they'd shone enough, they pulled back. The front lines fell to the Spanish Nationalists and French legion. The Germans shifted to maximizing air and artillery power.
German Bf 109s lifted off from Nationalist airfields, escorting Ju 87s into formation. That day, Heinrich Ehrler—future top German ace—took to the skies for the first time. Not an official German war, but true to their Prussian and Teutonic Knight blood, the troops rampaged like fish in water.
Artillery targeted Republican weaknesses to aid advances; in the air, they racked up kills against Soviet I-16s. They couldn't secure air superiority due to numbers, but they cleared paths for Ju 87s to hit key Republican positions. Supply convoys ambushed, Manstein holding the line—the Republicans crumbled fast. Internal rifts they couldn't seal only worsened it as they fell back.
"Aragon? That old Kingdom of Aragon?"
"Peasants in the Aragon region have launched an anarchist uprising."
The "Aragon Regional Defense Council." It existed since October 1936, but full anarchist action kicked off now. Just as headaches from German and Free French volunteers mounted, internal fractures undid the Republicans, sending them plummeting downhill.