Chapter 18:

November 5, 1937

Northern Berlin, Germany, Führer's Residence The highest-ranking members of the German military were gathered in the conference room of the Führer's Residence.

“Have you been well lately, Field Marshal Blomberg?”

“Well, how could I not be, thanks to the Führer.

Colonel General Göring.”

Minister of Defense Werner von Blomberg responded with a jest to the inquiry from the Commander-in-chief of the Air Force, Hermann Göring.

After all, the two had developed a certain acquaintance through the early days of the Nazi Regime and the Night of the Long Knives (the incident where the Nazis purged the Sturmabteilung (SA) and anti-Nazi personnel).

Meanwhile, the Commander-in-chief of the Navy, Colonel General Erich Raeder, who kept a relative distance from the Nazis, remained silent.

“By the way, do you happen to know the reason for this unofficial meeting today, Colonel General Göring?”

“It is because our great Führer has finally come up with a solution to the problems Germany faces!”

“A solution…?”

The person who asked was the only one present not associated with the military, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Baron Konstantin von Neurath.

Baron Neurath's voice held a faint anxiety, betraying the thought of what mad scheme was next, but Göring, utterly oblivious, burst into boisterous laughter.

“Hahaha, that's right, it is…”

But Göring never got to run his loose mouth.

Because the door to the conference room opened, and the man himself who would provide the explanation entered.

As everyone present stood and saluted him, the man who entered, Hitler, smiled as if in a very good mood.

“Ah, I've kept busy men waiting, all for the sake of Great Germany. Thank you all for answering my call.”

Hitler gestured for them to sit as he took his own seat, and then confidently declared to the high-ranking German officials who were curious as to why they had been summoned to an unofficial meeting.

“We, the great Greater Germany, will invade Austria and Czechoslovakia.”

“Ohh, as expected of the Führer!”

“Wha… What?!”

Unlike Göring, who praised it as a great insight, the rest of the officials were horrified.

“Therefore, the Minister of Defense and the commanders of each branch of the military are to establish and submit an operational plan for this.

We plan to secure both within the next year.”

“W-Wait a moment, please, The Führer! I agree with the plan to secure Austria and Czechoslovakia, as they have belonged to Germany since the Holy Roman Empire.

But we have barely passed the three-year mark since officially declaring rearmament!”

“So? What's the problem with that, Minister of Defense?”

At Minister of Defense Werner von Blomberg's desperate interjection, Hitler asked back as if it were no problem at all.

Blomberg sought help with his eyes, but no one seemed willing to step forward, so he had no choice but to swallow dryly and open his mouth.

“Forgive me for saying this, but our Wehrmacht has only just begun to take the shape of a proper military. You must wait until 1942 for rearmament to be complete and for the German Military to regain its former glory.”

“What? 1942? You're telling me to wait another four years? Germany has been patient enough! Through the last great war, the Treaty of Versailles, and even the provocations of those Judeo-Bolshevik bastards! Now is the time for action, Minister of Defense.”

“B-But…”

“But, what now? The might of the German Military has already been proven in the Spanish Civil War! Neither the Commies supported by the cursed Soviet Union, nor the International Brigades of those democrats could handle the Condor Legion, could they? We are stronger than that steel army of Mussolini's!”

Blomberg lacked the courage to diminish the Führer’s military genius by pointing out that it would be stranger if the Condor Legion, a small unit that received the full backing of the home country, didn't perform well, so he shut his mouth.

“B-But, The Führer. Right now, the Army lacks even a single rifle or magazine to put in our soldiers' hands.

We are desperately short on time and equipment to arm all our forces…”

“Then tell the defense contractors to make more. We can just purchase them with MEFO bills and pay for it after winning the war, can't we?”

Hitler remained resolute even at the remark from the Commander-in-chief of the Army, Fritsch.

The MEFO bills were the work of Hjalmar Schacht, who had now been ousted from his position as minister.

As military spending for rearmament continuously increased, the threat of inflation grew, and it became difficult to hide Germany's blatant rearmament from Britain and France, this was the solution he had come up with.

The financial statements had been manipulated by receiving munitions from defense contractors, but instead of paying for them immediately from the budget, the government promised to pay later by purchasing bonds issued by them.

This had been continued while ignoring Germany's economic capacity, to the point that it was now on the verge of collapse.

“My esteemed Führer. The total value of MEFO bills has already exceeded 20 billion Marks.

As Former Minister Schacht said, if we issue any more bonds, the government will be completely unable to handle it…”

“Enough! I've heard enough of such defeatist talk! That damn economy, economy! At this rate, when will we ever develop Germany's economy, rebuild the military, and create a Great Germany! Once we win the war, we can just seize their taxes and gold reserves to pay it all back!”

Hitler shouted with glaring eyes, silencing the Commander-in-chief of the Army, and turned his gaze to Göring.

“Of course, the Führer's will is correct! The Air Force will do its utmost to formulate an operational plan!”

“Yes, a commander-in-chief in charge of one of Greater Germany's armies should have this much resolve, shouldn't he? What about the Navy, Admiral Raeder?”

Erich Raeder, who was named next by Hitler, slightly narrowed his brow and opened his mouth.

“Both Austria and Czechoslovakia are landlocked countries, so it does not matter to the Kriegsmarine (the name of the Nazi German Navy), as it is not a battlefield where we would be directly involved, The Führer.”

Hitler, who had been smiling at Raeder's answer of non-opposition, frowned again at Raeder's next words.

“…However, if Britain were to intervene in that conflict, the Kriegsmarine has no way of seizing command of the sea from them. Plan Z is only in its beginning stages, The Führer.”

Plan Z. The Kriegsmarine’s grand and unrealistic plan to catch up to Britain's Royal Navy by mass-producing a surface fleet including cruisers, battleships, and aircraft carriers was, surprisingly, still in progress amidst the optimism of the naval high command, who still believed in the big gun-big ship doctrine, and Hitler, who liked anything big and flashy.

Of course, the reality was in the gutter. The battleship Bismarck, the symbol of the Kriegsmarine in World War II, had only just begun construction, and even the Scharnhorst-class battleships, which were to lead the German surface fleet before the commissioning of the Bismarck-class, had not yet been commissioned.

To this justifiable expression of anxiety from the Commander-in-chief of the Navy, who had no ships to take on the Royal Navy with, Hitler responded with an annoyed dismissal.

“Britain will not intervene.”

“Pardon? B-But, The Führer.”

This time, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Baron Konstantin von Neurath, jumped up, but Hitler was full of conviction.

“Just as they did during the Remilitarization of the Rhineland, they will not dare to stand against our Greater Germany. The plan will proceed as scheduled, Admiral.”

“B-But, The Führer. The situation is different from the Rhineland…”

“The Baron opposed it during the Rhineland too! Why can't you see that Britain and France are just cowards with a flashy exterior!”

Hitler shouted the Minister of Foreign Affairs into silence, and at that point, Raeder had no choice but to feign agreement.

“…If a war with Britain doesn't break out immediately, then the Navy has no reason to oppose.”

Hitler's gaze returned to the Minister of Defense and the Commander-in-chief of the Army, Blomberg and Fritsch, who would be the linchpins of an invasion of Austria and Czechoslovakia.

The two could do nothing but let out deep sighs.

-

“How did it go, Senior?”

Hermann Göring, Colonel General and Commander-in-chief of the Nazi German Air Force, smiled bitterly at his 'junior' who greeted him warmly as he left the secret meeting at the Führer's Residence.

“Blomberg and Fritsch opposed it to the very end.”

“Our great Führer must be very worried.

Still, now that they're on his bad side, they won't last long.”

Göring shook his head at the words of Heinrich Himmler, the Reichsführer of the Schutzstaffel (SS), who called him senior.

“Hmm, I don't think so, as the Führer is still quite fond of Blomberg and Fritsch.”

“Is that so…?”

Most high-ranking Nazi officials were famously on bad terms with each other, competing for power under Hitler, but Göring was rather fond of Himmler, who was always deferential to him, aside from his immersion in somewhat bizarre things like Norse mythology.

“It's a frustrating business, because the Führer is surprisingly sentimental.”

Uttering words that would horrify people of a later era, Göring began to walk with Himmler.

“…In that case, how about we lessen the Führer's worries a bit, Senior?”

“Is that possible?”

Göring’s face lit up at Himmler’s suggestion as he asked back, and Himmler replied with a grotesque smile.

“If we dig around, we'll find material for their downfall.

I have a rather competent friend among my subordinates these days. A fellow named Reinhard Heydrich, I'll introduce you to him sometime.”

“Ooh, that's reassuring. Then I'll put my trust in you.

If we get rid of those cowards who strut around just because they're field marshals, my dream of becoming a field marshal won't be a dream, and you too can build the SS into an organization on par with the Wehrmacht, can't you?”

“As expected, you know my heart, Senior. Hahaha!”

Thus began the conspiracy of the Blomberg–Fritsch Affair, the starting point for the purge of the German Wehrmacht's high command and the unraveling of Germany's deterrent against war.

-

December 10, 1937

Northern Berlin, Germany, Berlin War Academy

“The era of building trench lines and fighting a war of attrition, bleeding for small patches of land, is over, gentlemen.”

Despite it being a lecture by a figure who had recently started to become known among the young armored officers, the seats were more empty than I expected.

I suppose it was proof that the majority of the Army still viewed his theories with suspicion.

“An armored unit ambushes a weak point on the front line and swiftly breaks through.

A motorized mobile infantry unit follows behind and deploys on the breached front line, crushing the enemy before they can recover from the confusion. This will be the key element of mobile warfare on the new battlefield.”

The man speaking animatedly, Major General Heinz Guderian, was enthusiastically explaining the outline of the mobile warfare he was envisioning to the officers who would become the future of the German Military.

Later generations would commonly call it Blitzkrieg, but in this era, such a word didn't exist in the German military.

“To achieve this, we must boldly forget the common sense of past wars. The artillery corps, once praised as the god of the battlefield, is obsolete in terms of mobility and should be relegated to a defensive role.

The Air Force, the aerial artillery, will perform the artillery's role, and the commander must ride in a tank himself, to see and read the battlefield with his own eyes, making flexible and swift judgments.”

I wonder how many of the people listening to this lecture could actually follow Guderian's explanation and visualize it in their heads.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Guderian finished his lecture with a bitter smile.

“Well, it might seem difficult now.

Don't worry, this was merely an introduction. We'll get to the more practical theories bit by bit.”

As the officers let out something akin to a sigh, realizing the lecture was wrapping up, Guderian chuckled and concluded.

“Then, I'll see you next time, gentlemen.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you!”

Guderian, who would one day be revered as the father of German armored warfare but was now just a proponent of an adventurous theory, left, and I asked Captain Roger Michael, who was sitting next to me.

“So, did you… get any of it?”

“…No… I thought I was pretty smart, but I guess not…”

He was an officer who had been admitted to the War Academy on Colonel Model's recommendation, just like me, and since we held the same rank, we quickly became close.

Though not as close as I am with Klemens, my batchmate…

“Well, it’s a lecture Colonel Model strongly recommended, so we have to attend whether we get it or not.”

“Hahaha… I suppose so.

Well, see you next week, Captain Michael.”

“Yeah, have a good weekend, Captain Schacht.”

Time at the War Academy was passing quickly.

The War Academy often invited active field commanders to lecture in addition to its professors, so there were quite a few cases where famed commanders from history's World War II would visit and lecture for the students who would be responsible for the German Military's future.

Of course, if history played out, the General Staff candidates studying diligently here, dreaming of a rosy future, would face World War II before even finishing their course, and those who survived that hell would have to stand in war crimes trials or watch their fatherland be torn to pieces and the military they served in be disbanded.

Even from Spain, Colonel Model would occasionally send letters to me and Michael, whom he had recommended for admission, suggesting lectures or asking how we were, and he mentioned he would be returning to Germany early next year.

I had told him that even I, who was quite interested in him, didn't know he had participated in the Spanish Civil War, and it turned out he hadn't stayed for very long.

Come to think of it, didn't Walther Model get demoted along with Army Chief of General Staff Ludwig Beck when he resigned in the aftermath of the Blomberg–Fritsch Affair?

Walther Model had been building a solid career as a rising star in the Berlin General Staff Headquarters, even being dispatched to the Spanish Civil War as a Chief of Staff.

I'd wondered why he became a key player so late in World War II, and I guess that was the main culprit…

Now that I was a party to it, the flow of the German military's state of affairs, which I hadn't thought about too deeply when I only knew it as a third party from a later era, was becoming visible to me.

Ludwig Beck is a central figure in the anti-Hitler conspiracy, so it's something that must happen for him to develop an animosity towards Hitler, but…

My father, Hjalmar, has been dismissed, and Colonel Model, who could be my connection in the military, will soon be demoted… Will I be okay like this, me…

At least my relationship with my father, Hjalmar Schacht, was recovering to a decent state, thanks to me visiting every weekend while attending the War Academy to look after my mother and earnestly showing him how much I've changed.

I don't know exactly when the von Kleist Group will contact my father, but I do know it will be before the Munich Agreement.

I know that they went as far as being on the verge of staging a coup d'état, led by Major General Hans Oster, during Case Green—the invasion plan for Czechoslovakia—and that Hjalmar Schacht also had a hand in it.

I have to follow the General Staff Course as best I can and wait for that time.

As I was lost in thought while walking, an astonishingly beautiful woman who drew everyone's gaze was walking toward me.

A beauty with vibrant blonde hair and blue eyes. The Nazis would be dying with joy, calling her the perfect image of an Aryan.

Well, it's none of my business.

Thanks to her, I'm just reminded of Klemens, who betrayed his comrade by leaving for some dating shenanigans in Spain.

But, why is this woman walking straight toward me?

“Hello. Good afternoon.

Excuse me, but are you by any chance Captain Dietrich Schacht?”

“Good afternoon. Yes, that's me.

…Excuse me, but who are you?”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Claudia Jung from the Frankfurter Zeitung.

If you're not busy, could you spare me a moment?”

The woman who introduced herself, Claudia, asked with a charming smile.

How should I put it, she had the stereotypical looks of a beautiful white woman that men fantasize about, so much so that she felt unreal.

I had only ever seen beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed white women like Hollywood actresses on screen; they are actually quite rare even in Europe…

So, my answer is.

“Sorry, but I'm a bit busy.”

Claudia blinked with a blank face, as if she hadn't expected to be rejected, and I smiled at her and added.

“I'm sorry, Reporter.

I've had my share of troubles since Spain, so I tend to avoid interviews.”

The Frankfurter Zeitung is a German newspaper with a long tradition.

It's obvious. An interview about the Spanish Civil War, or an interview about my dismissed father.

Or both.

Am I walking around exuding some kind of pheromone that attracts trashy reporters? Why do I keep getting entangled with reporters over every little thing?

As I tried to pass by the dazed woman, I suddenly heard a chuckle from behind me.

This is not the reaction I expected.

“Aha, I'm sorry.

Oh, my. I apologize.

Hmm, you're exactly as Mr. Habenstein described.”

Habenstein? I've heard that name somewhere before. …Ah.

“…Julius Habenstein?”

The person who served as the 3rd Platoon Leader in the Condor Legion and then took a military discharge?

“Hehe, yes. That's right.

Are you a little more willing to listen to my story now?”

This time, Claudia asked again, not with a reporter's typical business smile, but with a mischievous one.

…No, what is he doing popping up here?