Chapter 67: Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (7)
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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< German Civil War – Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (7) >
November 21, 1939
Northern Germany, Southwest Brandenburg – 10th Army Defensive Line
[This is General Erwin von Witzleben, commander of the Reichswehr Northern Front! Soldiers of the Wehrmacht, surrender! Do not be deceived by Nazi propaganda! The New Government is not the enemy of Germany! I repeat, this is General Erwin von Witzleben, commander of the Reichswehr Northern Front! Soldiers of the Wehrmacht, surrender! Do not be deceived by Nazi propaganda! The New Government is not the enemy of Germany!]
“Hey, Captain Michael, I think we’re screwed, don’t you think?”
“Agreed.”
Captains Clemens Pfleck and Roger Michael, commanding their respective companies in the 10th Army, were in a difficult situation.
They had received a sudden order to retreat and were preparing to withdraw when the enemy launched an attack, urging them to surrender over loudspeakers.
“Captain, what are we going to do?”
“Don’t ask me, what would a mere company commander know?”
Clemens felt frustrated by his men looking to him for answers. As frontline company commanders, they weren’t privy to the overall strategic situation.
The war reports from the New Government and the Nazi regime differed drastically.
While they were more inclined to believe the New Government, with its seemingly just cause and the presence of their friend Dietrich, making a decision based solely on that was too risky. Their lives were on the line.
“What are you going to do, Captain Pfleck?”
Roger Michael, who had attended the War Academy with Dietrich, was usually more level-headed, but even he looked anxious.
“Ugh, that damned Dietrich!”
That bastard, Dietrich. If he had told them clearly beforehand, they would have switched sides immediately-
-Or would they? While he wouldn’t have betrayed his friend, Dietrich would have been understandably cautious as well.
He couldn’t blame Dietrich for not trusting him completely. Thinking back, Dietrich had actually asked him several times, albeit indirectly.
He had been the one to dismiss his friend’s questions out of annoyance and apathy, not realizing their significance.
“Ugh…”
Clemens scratched his head. His motto of living a comfortable and carefree life had come back to bite him.
As they hesitated, the Wehrmacht loudspeakers suddenly crackled to life.
[My fellow German soldiers, this is Lieutenant General Walther Model, Chief of Staff of Army Group South.]
“Huh?”
Both Clemens and Michael looked up in surprise.
[As Chief of Staff, I must, with shame, inform you of our dire situation. The enemy controls almost all of Germany, except for Berlin, Bohemia, and Silesia. They are currently launching a full-scale offensive against the 14th Army, which is surrounded in Bohemia-Moravia.]
The soldiers, who had been vaguely aware of the ongoing stalemate through Goebbels’s propaganda, began to murmur amongst themselves.
While Dr. Goebbels had boasted of their imminent victory and the suppression of the rebellion, few had believed him, especially since they were stuck in their positions, unable to advance and facing supply shortages.
However, if the Chief of Staff was to be believed, the New Government’s broadcasts had been truthful, and Dr. Goebbels had been lying.
As the soldiers and officers stood frozen in shock, Walther Model’s broadcast continued.
[The 4th Army, stationed in Stettin, has surrendered to the enemy and is now advancing towards Berlin from the northeast. We have no means of relieving the encircled 14th Army in Bohemia-Moravia.]
As Walther Model paused, the entire 10th Army held its breath.
After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice heavy with emotion.
[…We have lost the war. But this is not your fault. The responsibility lies with the leadership and with me, the Chief of Staff.]
The sound of footsteps and a door slamming open echoed through the loudspeakers.
[Model, what are you doing?!]
Ignoring General Brauchitsch’s shout, Walther Model continued.
[You have served loyally, upholding the Wehrmacht’s code of conduct, despite the immoral orders of a corrupt government. As Chief of Staff, I thank you for your dedication.]
[Walther Model!]
[You have served honorably as sons of Germany, fulfilling your duty as soldiers. There is no shame in defeat. Now, judge for yourselves, based on what you have seen and experienced. That is all.]
The broadcast ended.
“…General Model.”
As Captain Roger Michael solemnly removed his cap, looking towards the loudspeaker, Clemens took out his knife and cut down the Wehrmacht flag fluttering above their position.
As the flag, bearing the colors of iron and blood, fell to the ground, he turned to his men and asked, “Anyone object to surrendering?”
Seeing everyone shaking their heads, he scratched his head and said, “Alright, someone get me a white sheet or something. We need a white flag to surrender!”
“Why do you seem so excited about surrendering…?”
Captain Roger Michael muttered in disbelief, but he didn’t stop him.
–
“How could you do this! Betraying the Führer, betraying me?!”
Walther Model, despite Brauchitsch’s accusations, replied calmly but firmly, “Sir, I cannot allow innocent and loyal soldiers to bear the responsibility for the hopeless situation created by an immoral government.”
Brauchitsch collapsed onto a chair at Model’s words.
“I… I… I trusted you.”
Walther Model closed his eyes slowly, seeing his once-respected superior and mentor in such a pathetic state.
“I treated you so well, and this is how you repay me?!”
However, turning a deaf ear to his men’s pleas and forcing them to fight against their countrymen for a criminal regime would be a betrayal of his duty as their commander.
Instead of explaining himself, Walther Model bowed his head.
“I apologize. I believed they deserved to know the truth and make their own choice.”
But Brauchitsch, still in despair, shouted, “I protected you even when the Führer doubted your loyalty!”
“…I know.”
“I’m finished, completely finished…”
While the sight of his mentor blaming him filled him with guilt, he had no regrets.
“…I’m sorry.”
As the officers in the room, witnessing Brauchitsch’s despair, whispered amongst themselves and began to leave, Walther Model remained, standing guard before his former commander.
After an unknown amount of time,
The sound of boots echoed through the building, and Reichswehr soldiers poured into the broadcast room where Brauchitsch and Model were.
Walther Model kept his eyes fixed on his mentor, who was still sitting on the floor.
The slow, steady sound of footsteps approached, and General Erwin von Witzleben entered the room.
“Colonel General Walther von Brauchitsch, commander of Army Group South.”
“Witzleben…”
Brauchitsch, hearing his name and title, finally looked up at Witzleben, his face blank.
“You are under arrest for collaborating with a criminal regime, a regime that has brought our nation to the brink of war, and conspiring with traitors.”
Brauchitsch, still sitting on the floor, was pulled to his feet by the soldiers and dragged away.
Walther Model kept his eyes on him until he was out of sight.
“Lieutenant General Walther Model, Chief of Staff of Army Group South.”
Erwin von Witzleben looked at Model, paused, and then continued, “State Secretary Dietrich Schacht was quite concerned about you. You were instrumental in the surrender of a significant portion of the 10th Army without bloodshed. Why don’t you surrender as well?”
Walther Model smiled wryly at Witzleben’s words, but he shook his head.
“I appreciate the offer, but…”
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He glanced at the hallway where Brauchitsch had been taken, then looked back at Witzleben and spoke, “I am his Chief of Staff.”
“…I see.”
Witzleben sighed softly and said, “Lieutenant General Walther Model, you are under arrest for collaborating with a criminal regime, a regime that has brought our nation to the brink of war, and conspiring with traitors. …Treat him with respect.”
With the arrest of Walther von Brauchitsch, commander of Army Group South, and his Chief of Staff, Walther Model, Army Group South effectively collapsed.
Walther von Reichenau’s 10th Army, having lost more than half of its strength through surrenders, retreated towards Berlin, and Wilhelm List’s 14th Army surrendered the following day.
–
November 22, 1939
Central Germany, 9th Military District, Kassel, Frankfurt
I arrived at the Emperor’s residence early in the morning.
As I waited for the attendant to open the door, the telegram in my hand, a single sheet of paper, felt incredibly heavy.
“Welcome, State Secretary. You said it was urgent. What is it?”
I bit my lip, looking at the smiling Emperor.
“…Your Majesty.”
Wilhelm III, sensing my seriousness, raised an eyebrow and straightened his posture, having been lounging casually.
“You must have heard about the Italian offensive in Tyrol.”
“Indeed.”
I took a deep breath and spoke, “Yesterday’s bombing raids destroyed over 50% of the major cities in Tyrol, including Innsbruck, the regional capital. We are still counting the casualties, but it will take time.”
While I knew, rationally, that we couldn’t have done much more to defend Tyrol, I couldn’t shake off the guilt.
We had underestimated Italy, lulled into a false sense of security by the reports of their military incompetence, which I had so readily dismissed from my modern perspective, and by the Austrian border guards’ unexpected success in repelling their initial invasion.
“Tyrol is on the verge of collapse. And…”
The Emperor watched me expectantly.
For the first time since launching the coup, I felt a sense of dread.
What was I afraid of?
“Prince Wilhelm… has been killed in action.”
The Emperor’s eyes widened slightly. I continued my report.
“His body was recovered and returned by their Deputy Commander, Giovanni Messe. Count Ciano, the Italian Foreign Minister, expressed his regrets, claiming it was an accidental death during the battle.”
A long, heavy silence followed as I handed him the telegram. Finally, the Emperor spoke.
“Count Blumenthal will be devastated.”
He looked at me, his face impassive, having regained his composure.
“It is regrettable. However, the death of a member of the royal family at the hands of the Italians will galvanize the nation. This is your area of expertise, so I trust you will handle it appropriately.”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Is there anything else to report?”
“…How shall we proceed with the Prince’s funeral arrangements?”
The Emperor nodded.
“Of course. Hmm, we shouldn’t make it too extravagant, given the ongoing war. We should summon Cecilie. She will play the role of the grieving mother perfectly.”
I realized I had been clenching my fists and forced myself to relax.
“What about the Prince’s family?”
“Family? Ah, yes… them.”
The Emperor, who had shown a flicker of humanity at the harbor where the Kaiser’s grand fleet had been lost, seemed indifferent to the death of his own son.
Was I mistaken in thinking he saw this as a political opportunity?
“They are not members of the royal family. Well, perhaps this is a good opportunity to present a heartwarming tale of the royal family taking in the family of a prince who sacrificed himself for Germany?”
“…I will request approval from the wartime cabinet for their royal pension.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
“Then, I will take my leave, Your Majesty.”
He smiled faintly as I bowed.
“I trust you will turn the royal family’s loss into a rallying cry for the nation. Good luck.”
I turned and left.
Public opinion in Austria was already shifting towards the New Government, which was defending them against the Italian invasion.
Hitler, an Austrian himself, had sold out Tyrol, while a German prince had died fighting for Austria.
The Emperor was right.
It was perfect propaganda to garner support in Nazi-controlled Austria and bolster morale against Italy.
But what made our actions any different from the Nazis’ methods?
< German Civil War – Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (7) > End
ⓒ Carcassonne
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