September 11, 1939
A mansion in the city of Frankfurt, 9th Military District, Central Germany Colonel Henning von Tresckow stood by the window, puffing hard on his cigarette as he looked down at the city of Frankfurt, where twilight was descending.
Many told him to cut back on the cigarettes, but he just couldn't bring himself to smoke less in this damn world.
The mansion was filled with Junkers, those with the "von" in their names, and monarchists led by Doctor Goerdeler.
"Is it true that His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince had a secret meeting with Major Schacht?"
"Yes. It's a report from the guards we assigned to protect him from a potential Nazi terror attack. They said he went alone, carefully, dressed in a suit to go without our knowledge."
At Doctor Goerdeler's words, the monarchist Junkers' faces grew quite displeased.
"How could His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince set us aside, who are so devoted to the imperial family!"
"Even if we understand his lack of enthusiasm for our proposal to bring back His Majesty the Emperor, given the circumstances, this is going too far."
All they wanted was to revive the class system and aristocratic privileges, but in any case, the Crown Prince's actions, which should have been a good thing for the imperial family, greatly offended them.
"The situation is not looking good. The numbers of their so-called Freedom Corps, that ragtag bunch, are already nearing the strength of our army!"
It was because the new government's army was small to begin with, and there was no comparison in terms of quality, but the fact that the numbers on paper were becoming similar was making the monarchists increasingly anxious.
When Abwehr Chief Canaris first agreed to sponsor Captain Dietrich Schacht, they merely thought of it as support for an operative in their conspiracy.
They thought of him as just a mere captain, and since he was the son of the economic magnate Hjalmar Schacht, they tolerated him as a necessary evil.
When he asked Ludwig Beck for authority over the broadcasts, they let it be, thinking it was only natural since he was the point of contact with the press. However, the impact of the broadcasts they had taken so lightly was beyond their imagination.
The German people were enthusiastic about the anti-Nazi and freedom banners mentioned in the broadcasts, and the flood of volunteers and donations was directly strengthening the position of the republicans.
The monarchists wanted to pressure him and the journalists to broadcast content that suited their tastes, but that arrogant major, under the tacit approval of Beck and the protection of Canaris, didn't even pretend to listen.
"The name of a mere major who just chatters on the radio is becoming more famous than ours! Do those foolish people not even know who is at the center of the new government!"
This was the monarchists' biggest complaint. The hosts who appeared on the broadcasts almost all day had already secured immense recognition among the public.
Among them, Major Dietrich Schacht, who was in charge of the broadcasts as the new government's spokesman and frequently delivered speeches to the nation, had become more famous to the people than higher-ranking soldiers, even generals.
"What's the difference between him and Hitler! Isn't he just riding on the popularity of those commoners to revive a government of commoners!"
The fact that Schacht and the republicans were contributing greatly to the new government's growth was true, so for the monarchists who had been tolerating it, the Crown Prince's secret meeting with him was the trigger that made their dissatisfaction explode.
"This leaves us no choice. We must act before their power grows any larger."
The Junkers nodded at Doctor Goerdeler's words.
In the time they had taken him too lightly, initially thinking of him as a mere captain, he had become far too dangerous.
All eyes turned to the most authoritative man among the Junkers gathered here, despite being in the reserves: Field Marshal August von Mackensen, dressed in a splendid hussar uniform and cap.
After Ludwig Beck ascended to the position of Imperial Regent and showed signs of distancing himself from the hardline monarchists, Doctor Goerdeler had recruited the retired Mackensen to serve as a new focal point.
"Trying to push us, who have served the Empire our entire lives, into the back room like old geezers.
Such a brazen brat. What's your plan?"
To Mackensen's question, Doctor Goerdeler replied with a confident look.
"They are, after all, a group with differing interests and ideologies. If we eliminate their focal point, Major Schacht, and seize the broadcasting station, they will easily collapse. After that, if we conduct more 'appropriate' broadcasts and bring back the Kaiser, we can lead the people under his strong leadership and wipe out the Nazis."
Mackensen stroked his magnificent mustache and asked again.
"Will Beck agree? We'll need the regent's consent to bring back the Kaiser."
"He's already being half-swayed by that brat and lacks decisiveness. If we take control of the new government, he'll have no choice but to follow."
Just as Mackensen was about to nod at Doctor Goerdeler's confident tone.
"I object."
Doctor Goerdeler furrowed his brow.
"General Witzleben!"
General of the Infantry Erwin von Witzleben, who among the generals had stayed close to the operatives of Operation Widerstand, continued speaking despite Doctor Goerdeler's attempt to stop him.
"In the end, is he not a man who has contributed greatly to the formation of the new government? He is competent for his age and has shown the power to actually sway public opinion.
And it's not as if he has revealed any unbefitting ambition or demanded a high-ranking position, has he?"
"That's what he shows on the surface, but who knows what he might have discussed with the Crown Prince in secret!"
At another general's rebuttal, Witzleben narrowed his eyes slightly.
"In any case, he is ultimately a member of the military.
I cannot agree with the idea of eliminating a promising young officer when we could be trying to win him over. His father is the finance minister we desperately need, and he himself has become famous among the people.
Isn't it likely to backfire if we act rashly?"
"I also agree with General Witzleben. We are, after all, a new government that has risen against the Nazis and has the support of the people. Subduing a mere major with force? It looks bad, and if we act rashly and lose the people's support, it's we who will collapse, not the Nazis."
With Colonel General Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord, who was co-in-charge of the frontline troops with Witzleben, chiming in, Doctor Goerdeler also took a step back.
"In that case, Colonel Tresckow."
Tresckow, who had been smoking by the window as if the conversation had nothing to do with him, heard Goerdeler call his name, crushed out his cigarette with his foot, and returned to his seat.
"Yes, Doctor."
"You are acquainted with him.
Do you think you can win him over?"
Tresckow unconsciously reached for a cigarette, then frowned and opened his mouth.
"From what I've seen, he has little ambition for power.
His goals are just different, but his objective of liberating Germany from the Nazis and strengthening the new government is the same as ours, so I don't see why we must…"
"Enough!"
Tresckow fell silent at Doctor Goerdeler's shout. As Witzleben shook his head and the atmosphere soured, Mackensen began to chuckle.
"Haha, hahaha. That fellow must be quite something.
Let's do this. I heard he was in the middle of the General Staff course? We'll promote him to Lieutenant Colonel and order him to finish his training at the War Academy.
If he truly has no excessive greed and no intention of being hostile to us, he'll accept, won't he?"
"Oh, what insight, Your Excellency, the Field Marshal!"
The old field marshal's proposal drew the admiration of the Junkers.
"If he refuses, it means he has other intentions.
Then we'll place him on the retired list as a Lieutenant Colonel in nominal gratitude for his service and place him under arrest. His father is a necessary figure, and there might be backlash, so we'll do it as a bit of insurance.
How does that sound?"
Witzleben and Hammerstein had ambivalent expressions, but as they had to return to the front anyway, it was difficult for them to press the matter further.
"Well, how about it, Colonel Tresckow.
Since you are acquainted with him, you should be able to win him over with such a generous offer, right?"
Tresckow felt a desperate urge to light a cigarette right away.
"Excellent, that's excellent! Then let's draw up a detailed plan at once."
Of course, whatever he was thinking, Doctor Goerdeler and the Junkers excitedly began to formulate a plan among themselves.
-
September 13, 1939
Wewelsburg Castle, an SS training facility, Hanover, 11th Military District, Western Germany The sounds of gunfire and cannons had ceased, but the hideous scars of bombardment left on Wewelsburg Castle testified to the fierce battle that had taken place.
The offensive of General of Panzer Troops Lutz, which had been heading for Berlin, had been halted, but the commander of the new government's army, Colonel General Wilhelm Ritter von Leeb, was slowly starving them out while maintaining an airtight siege on the training facility.
"Oh, ooooh…!"
As a transport plane flew overhead and a box attached to a parachute passed above their heads, the SS members scrambled over to open it.
But contrary to their expectations, the box was filled with Iron Crosses.
"Fucking hell! Why the hell are they sending this crap!"
The Iron Crosses, sent from high command to praise the valor of the SS members engaged in a heroic struggle for the Fatherland and the Führer, were in reality worth less than scrap metal on site and were thrown to the ground by the soldiers.
Right before the eyes of those SS members, a box fell near the enemy lines, and the enemy took out combat rations from it and deliberately waved them around for this side to see.
"You sons of bitches!"
The SS members were about to burst with rage. The food at the Wewelsburg SS training facility, which was nothing more than a training center and a castle in the middle of nowhere, had long since run out.
SS-Lieutenant General Paul Hausser was on the phone with Himmler in desperation.
"When the hell are reinforcements coming? Of the supplies the Air Marshal boasted about, we're not even receiving half! And half of that is useless!"
[The Wehrmacht dogs are using public opinion as an excuse not to move, so we have no options! The Air Marshal said the supplies are getting through just fine, but we'll find another way soon, so just hold on a little longer!]
"What do you mean it's going well! If you don't believe me, tell the Air Marshal to fly here and stay for just one day! And please, stop sending those damned Iron Crosses!"
[No, General Hausser, what nonse—]
Hausser slammed down the receiver angrily, not caring what Himmler was blabbering about.
"Sir, General. It's your meal."
Seeing the watery canned soup offered by his adjutant, who had been waiting for the call to end with an apologetic face, Hausser let out a hollow laugh.
If the food coming to him was this bad, he didn't even need to see what the other members were eating.
"You eat it. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in who knows how long."
"No, sir, General.
How could I."
"Eat. I have no appetite."
Hearing Hausser's words, the adjutant was about to say more, but when his stomach growled, he left with an apologetic look on his face.
In the eyes of the enemy right now, were he and his men nothing more than the evil minions of the Nazis trying to ruin Germany?
"It's fine for an old man like me, but the young men are suffering because of what the old folks started."
Hausser rose weakly from his seat and went outside.
"Heil Hitler!"
"Heil Hitler, General!"
There was a time when he, too, proudly shouted "Heil Hitler," believing this path was truly for Germany. What about now? What were they thinking as they shouted that?
As Hausser walked along the defensive line, casually accepting his subordinates' salutes, a radio began to broadcast, as it must have been broadcast time.
[Proud people of Germany, do not be swayed by the incitement and fabrications of those traitors who call themselves the 'New Government'! Those vile traitors of Germany, instigated by Jews and Bolsheviks, are no longer German!]
There was a time when the members here would also wait with pounding hearts when Doctor Goebbels gave a speech in his characteristic shrill voice.
Not to be outdone, the radio in the opposing enemy camp began to emit static, as if preparing to broadcast.
[True Aryans, true Germany, arise! Remember the achievements of our great Führer! Remember the Greater Germany he built! Austria! The Sudetenland! Bohemia! What other German could have achieved such a feat!]
As if to counter Goebbels's speech, a young man's voice came from the resistance radio.
[Good day, citizens.
I wish you peace, but that is not the situation. The Nazi Party still claims their regime is the master of Germany.
]
Compared to the shrill, ear-piercing incitement, the new government's side began calmly.
[That great Führer! That great leader sent by God to make Germany great again, has been attacked by that vile and wicked mob! As true Aryans, all who are loyal to the one and only, absolute Führer and his Fatherland, you proud Germans.
Take up your arms at once!]
The sounds echoing from the radios on both front lines gave the illusion that the Nazis' Paul Joseph Goebbels and the new government's Dietrich Schacht were engaged in a war of words.
[But! What nation can deny its people! The only reason they claim that we, the new government, and the people who support the new government are not German is because we do not obey them!]
Under the same sky, the same people were in a standoff, and everyone was listening to both broadcasts.
[Fight bravely against those corrupt and depraved dregs who have refused to be German! The Germany of the great Aryan, the true German, will not fall to a mere band of traitors! Now, rise and create a storm! Sieg Heil!]
[We have already tasted freedom, and we will no longer be subjugated by them! They have always cried out for an enemy to hate, but who is it now that incites you to kill your compatriots! How long will you sacrifice your lives for the glory they speak of! The German people are not their weapons, not their consumables!]
Paul Hausser smoked a cigarette and watched his starving men, who couldn't muster any enthusiasm even for Goebbels's captivating speech.
[Let us wash away these stains on Germany! The great Germany shall reign over the world!]
[You are Germany! Fight for your own freedom, not for the greatness they shout about!]
After the broadcast ended, Hausser saw signs being raised from the enemy lines reading 'We are compatriots,' 'Don't die for a dictator,' and 'We have plenty of food to share.
' He let out a deep sigh, crushed out his cigarette with his foot, and turned his back.