Chapter 28: Interwar Period – The Sudetenland Crisis (5)
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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June 25, 1938
A Bar in Berlin, Germany
He was meeting with a welcome face after a long time.
“How have you been, Captain?”
“Same as always. How about you, Colonel?”
Oberst Wolfram von Richthofen raised his glass with a grin, “Couldn’t be better! Haha! How’s life at the War College?”
“It’s heaven compared to Spain. I’m grateful to you, Colonel.”
“Really? I’m starting to miss it.”
He hoped Richthofen wasn’t missing the incendiary bombings… Knowing Richthofen, he might be.
“Is that so? I thought you returned because the war was winding down.” The Spanish Civil War had shifted decisively in favor of the Nationalists after the Battle of Brunete. They had seized control of the northern regions, and the Republicans were constantly on the defensive.
Richthofen downed his drink and grinned, “Actually, I was dismissed.”
“What?” Richthofen? Göring’s favored subordinate?
“I didn’t get along with the new army commander who replaced General Thoma. Generaloberst Volkmann.” Thoma had been the army commander of the Condor Legion. He had a memorable, long face. Other than that, he was rather unremarkable.
Model had overshadowed him as Chief of Staff.
“General Thoma respected the Luftwaffe’s autonomy, but Volkmann treated us like his personal squadron. We had a huge falling out, and I was replaced. Haha!”
“I see.” The Condor Legion had been Luftwaffe-centric until the Battle of Brunete, but their success on land seemed to have shifted the balance of power.
Richthofen swirled his drink, “So, Captain, you remember why I supported you so actively?”
“Of course, Colonel. I’ve had several discussions with my colleagues on the topic. At least those close to me no longer view the Luftwaffe as mere ‘flying artillery.’”
“That’s good to hear.” This wasn’t just Richthofen’s request. It was a fundamental issue for the Luftwaffe.
Even if Germany lacked the industrial capacity to mass-produce strategic bombers like the Americans, the potential of air power in modern warfare was immense.
“Generalleutnant Model also shares your progressive views on the Luftwaffe, having witnessed their capabilities firsthand in Spain.”
“He’s reliable. Honestly, I was more disappointed about Thoma leaving than him. Well, at least I don’t have to endure his jokes anymore.”
“…Haha…” Model’s sense of humor was… unique. He could relate to Richthofen’s sentiment.
He raised his glass for a toast and took a sip.
“Oh, right. Captain. The Hs 123 production line will be maintained, as you suggested.”
“Really?”
The Hs 123 was an early biplane dive bomber, inferior to the Stuka in its intended role. However, it had proven surprisingly effective in close air support in the Spanish Civil War, thanks to its stability and low cost.
“Yes. It was designed as a dive bomber, but it’s being used for close air support. It’s reliable and cost-effective.”
He grinned, “Even if it’s outdated, having support aircraft overhead shows the army that the Luftwaffe is cooperating.”
“Damn it, I should have transferred you to the Luftwaffe. You understand their needs.”
“Haha, thank you.”
In the original timeline, the Hs 123 production line had been shut down prematurely, only to be regretted later. Its continued production would be beneficial. The success of the StuG III assault gun and the lessons learned in the Eastern Front demonstrated the value of reliable, low-cost equipment.
The meticulously engineered German tanks, like the Tiger and Panther, might have achieved impressive kill ratios and tactical victories, but their poor reliability and low production numbers limited their strategic impact.
He maintained contact with Richthofen, even though they couldn’t meet often. A connection to a powerful figure in the Luftwaffe was crucial.
Richthofen was a respected figure among German ace pilots, like Adolf Galland and Werner Mölders. His influence within the Luftwaffe was, in some ways, greater than Göring’s.
Most of the senior Luftwaffe generals, besides World War I heroes like Göring and Milch, had been transferred from the army. The younger, capable officers were dissatisfied with their leadership, a drug-addled, pompous former hero, and army generals who treated the Luftwaffe as a subordinate branch.
They naturally gravitated towards Richthofen, who had worked with them in Spain, listened to their concerns, and advocated for the Luftwaffe’s development.
He needed to prevent the Luftwaffe from siding with the Nazis in a German civil war, to avoid the nightmare scenario of German cities being incinerated by incendiary bombs.
“By the way, Colonel…”
“Yes?”
“What do you think about the plan to invade Czechoslovakia?”
Richthofen swirled his drink, took a sip, and replied, “Frankly, it’s a mess. I don’t know what the General Staff is doing. Just between us, the OKW is full of idiots. Keitel? He was considered incompetent even in the army. What does he know about the air force and navy?”
Was he drunk? Richthofen, being a powerful figure in the Luftwaffe, might have been privy to the invasion plans, but he, a mere captain, shouldn’t have access to such information.
He had simply asked for Richthofen’s opinion on the escalating Sudetenland crisis.
The OKW was just a figurehead. The actual planning would have been led by Chief of the General Staff Franz Halder.
Halder’s pre-Manstein plans, before the successful Sichelschnitt (“sickle cut”) plan that had crushed France in six weeks, were hardly brilliant. If it hadn’t been for the Munich Agreement, they would have attacked Czechoslovakia’s fortified lines head-on, potentially losing the war before it even began.
The purge of the General Staff after the Blomberg-Fritsch Affair was clearly having negative consequences, though it was hardly comparable to Stalin’s Great Purge.
“I’m just a captain, so I’m not…”
“The Führer is a strong leader who united Germany, but I’m afraid those sycophants around him are blinding him.”
He was silenced by Richthofen’s words. Richthofen swirled his drink and chuckled, “Well, that’s just my opinion. We’re both just soldiers, following orders. We don’t need to think too deeply about politics.”
“…Right.” He had considered trying to sway Richthofen, but his admiration for Hitler made it seem unlikely. It was a shame. Richthofen was a patriot, and while he respected Hitler as a strong leader, he hadn’t shown any support for the Nazi Party’s ideology.
He hoped Richthofen wasn’t the type to incinerate German cities.
He looked at Richthofen’s flushed face, “Colonel, do you drink often?”
“Occasionally.” His face was red. He didn’t seem to handle alcohol well. Hadn’t Richthofen died of a brain tumor towards the end of the war?
He didn’t know the exact cause, but excessive drinking couldn’t be good for a brain tumor.
“Perhaps you should cut back a little…”
“Hahaha! I never thought I’d hear that from you.” Richthofen chuckled, “Alright, alright. My subordinates have been saying the same. I’ll try to cut back.”
They enjoyed their time together, despite their differing views, and stood up to leave. Richthofen, who had just promised to reduce his drinking, added, “How about we have our next drink in Prague?”
“…Haha…” He hadn’t realized this during their time in Spain, but… a light drinker with a fondness for incendiary bombing… What a combination.
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July 9, 1938
Hjalmar Schacht’s Residence, Berlin, Germany
He was receiving guests at his father’s residence. Hjalmar might have been dismissed as Minister of Economics, but he was still the President of the Reichsbank and a wealthy man.
He was grateful for his wealthy father, who could afford multiple residences, including this one for entertaining guests.
“The negotiations between von Kleist-Schmenzin and the British went as you predicted, Captain. Only Winston Churchill showed any interest. Undersecretary Vansittart attended, but he wasn’t interested.”
“That’s to be expected. They’re not likely to consider us equals.”
Erich Kordt nodded. Winston Churchill… Hearing the name of the iconic wartime leader of Britain filled him with mixed emotions.
He was grateful for Churchill’s interest in their cause, but Churchill was currently powerless, and if they succeeded in seizing power, he could become a dangerous adversary.
He hoped Churchill would remain a political has-been, despite his heroic status in British history.
“As you requested, my brother ensured that territorial claims weren’t discussed.”
“That’s good to hear. Thank you for your consideration, Director Kordt. It was just a suggestion…”
“Not at all. The Foreign Office agrees with your assessment.” Kordt smiled, “Frankly, having the son of former Minister Schacht express such views in the military lightens our burden. State Secretary Weizsäcker also holds you in high regard. We intend to continue our cooperation.”
“Thank you. That’s reassuring.” The Foreign Office officials, at least, seemed to have a realistic perspective. Claudia’s efforts to create a positive impression of him had clearly paid off. He was grateful for her help.
As they were chatting over coffee, the main guests arrived.
“It’s been a while, Captain.”
“It has, Lieutenant Colonel.” Oberstleutnant Henning von Tresckow extinguished his cigarette before entering the house. He was a heavy smoker.
“Come in, Lieutenant Colonel.” He turned his attention to the two men who followed Tresckow. A handsome man in his thirties, and a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and an intense gaze. An odd pair.
“Welcome. I’m Dietrich Schacht.”
“It’s a pleasure, Captain. Hans-Jürgen Graf von Blumenthal. I’m also a lieutenant in the army, but…” The handsome man, Count Blumenthal, introduced himself with a friendly smile.
“Count Blumenthal, it’s an honor to meet you.” Blumenthal was the one who had planned to storm Hitler’s residence during Operation Green.
That meant the middle-aged man was…
“Hans Paul Oster. A pleasure, Captain.”
Oberstleutnant Hans Oster. The mastermind behind the Oster Conspiracy, the plot to assassinate Hitler during the Munich crisis. A man who had tirelessly resisted the Nazis, despite Hitler’s string of successes. He extended his hand with an intense gaze.
“…It’s an honor to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel Oster.”
Oster shook his hand firmly, then smiled, “It’s a bit rude to ask this right away, but we’re short on time, so I’ll get straight to the point.”
“…Please, go ahead, Lieutenant Colonel.”
Oster looked at him intently. He immediately understood the accolades bestowed upon Oster by the surviving members of the resistance after the war.
Oster’s gaze was unwavering, filled with conviction. “How much are you willing to sacrifice to defeat the devil that rules this Germany?”
He couldn’t help but smile, despite the gravity of the situation, “…Everything.”
This was the man he had been searching for.
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