Chapter 69: Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (9)
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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< German Civil War – Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (9) >
November 28, 1939
Northern Germany, Berlin Outskirts
The outskirts of Berlin had become a hellish landscape of whizzing bullets and exploding tank shells.
“Charge! Charge!”
Soldiers, emboldened by their comrades rushing forward, were cut down by machine-gun fire before they could even react, witnessing their comrades turned into mangled corpses.
Their courage became folly, their bodies forming a line of lifeless forms sprawled across the cold ground.
“You damned bastards! Dying for a criminal regime!”
“Shut up, you traitors! Sieg Heil!”
Engaged in fierce urban warfare, soldiers of the New Government and the Nazis exchanged insults and curses, their hatred burning bright.
Once the initial hesitation was overcome, the descent into brutality was swift.
“Commander, our casualties are too high. We’re being pushed back!”
The Reichswehr was attacking Berlin from all directions.
The outskirts of the city had fallen, and the Nazi forces were merely delaying the inevitable, inflicting casualties as they retreated.
General Walther von Reichenau, commander of the 10th Army, responded firmly to Chief of Staff Friedrich Paulus’s report, “I would rather fight to the last man for the Führer than surrender Berlin to those imbeciles who cannot comprehend his true vision!”
Friedrich Paulus bit his lip.
He had considered surrendering after hearing his close friend Walther Model’s broadcast, but Reichenau’s constant presence had prevented him from finding an opportunity.
Paulus shook his head. Ignoring Reichenau, who was staring at the map with a furious expression, he muttered as he left, “What a senseless waste of life for a Bohemian corporal.”
–
December 1, 1939
Northern Germany, Potsdam, Southwest of Berlin – Reichswehr Northern Army Headquarters (Forward Base)
Tyrol, on the verge of collapse under the Italian onslaught, had narrowly avoided disaster with the arrival of the Luftwaffe, which had flown to Frankfurt and rejoined the fight after regrouping, and the arrival of reinforcements from the Bohemian front, freed up by the surrender of the 14th Army.
After the retreat from Berlin, where more than half of the 10th Army surrendered,
The news of the Italian bombing of Tyrol, the prince’s death, and the Führer’s order for the Luftwaffe to bomb Frankfurt led to further defections from the Nazi ranks.
Those who remained were defending Berlin with fanatical determination.
We tried everything to encourage further surrenders, broadcasting appeals, dropping leaflets, and using every means at our disposal.
However, we couldn’t convince everyone to surrender.
“How many casualties…?”
“The current count is 27,323, State Secretary.”
I bit my lip at Chief of the General Staff Erich von Manstein’s report. The Battle of Berlin, which had begun on November 25th, had already resulted in tens of thousands of casualties in just six days.
And that was just our side, which was besieging the city with overwhelming numbers. How many casualties were there on the enemy side, and how many civilians had been caught in the crossfire?
The Nazis were using civilian buildings as cover, fighting a desperate defensive battle.
They hadn’t evacuated the civilians, and we couldn’t bomb or shell the city without causing massive civilian casualties.
We couldn’t use flamethrowers to clear buildings like in Stalingrad. The battle for Berlin was a brutal urban war, with German citizens caught in the middle, and the casualties were mounting rapidly.
Those damned Nazis were relentless.
“Why are they fighting so hard for him…?”
While I believed it was unavoidable, I was still one of the main instigators of this civil war. I knew there would be casualties, but the weight of it was crushing.
What were those Nazis fighting for, throwing away their lives? What drove them to such fanaticism?
Fanatical loyalty to the Nazi regime? Hatred of the New Government? Or simply blind obedience to orders?
“Ahem, ahem. State Secretary, your compassion for our soldiers is admirable, but the current casualties are significantly lower than our initial projections for the civil war.”
Manstein’s attempt to placate me, even in this situation, brought a wry smile to my face.
General Witzleben, standing beside me, placed a hand on my shoulder and added, “Indeed. Without your propaganda efforts, the casualties would have been far greater. Bloodshed is inevitable in a civil war. While it’s good to feel responsible, don’t burden yourself with things beyond your control.”
“…Thank you.”
My expression must have been truly awful for them to say such things. I tried to compose myself and focused on the operational map.
Berlin was surrounded, and almost all of its outskirts had fallen to us. At this rate, the city wouldn’t last more than a week.
But how many more lives would be lost in that final, brutal week? How devastated would the German capital become?
The brutal Battle of Berlin, fought between the Nazis and the Soviets in the original timeline, was now being reenacted as a German civil war.
My finger, tracing the lines on the operational map, moved towards Poland.
“Poland…”
The Soviet Union had declared a counter-offensive against Finland, claiming that Finland had shelled their territory, reminiscent of the Nazi’s Gleiwitz incident. The Winter War had begun.
We had immediately contacted Poland, proposing a non-aggression pact and offering to discuss cooperation against the Soviet threat.
While the military remained hostile towards Poland, they didn’t object to the non-aggression pact proposal, given the ongoing civil war and the war with Italy.
Unlike their previous immediate rejection, Poland had responded that they would consider our proposal.
Perhaps it was because the Soviet threat had become real, or perhaps it was because our civil war with the Nazis was nearing its end, faster than anticipated.
How would Poland act? I hoped for a positive outcome.
“Once the civil war ends and we deal with the Italians, we should reclaim Danzig and the Corridor from those arrogant Poles.”
Manstein, misinterpreting my gesture of pointing at Poland on the map, spoke as if it were a foregone conclusion.
“We have no intention of antagonizing Poland, at least not yet.”
Danzig. That damned city. As the gateway to East Prussia, the spiritual homeland of the Junkers and the mainland, it was understandably a desirable territory for Germany.
But how many German lives had been lost, and how much had Germany suffered, for that city?
“We need time to recover from the civil war and the war with Italy, and we have no desire to fight a nation that could serve as a bulwark against the Soviet Union.”
“Ahem, of course, State Secretary.”
While he said that, Manstein couldn’t hide his displeasure. He wasn’t the only one. Most of the German military leadership, dominated by Junkers, shared his sentiment.
Of course, I also wanted to reclaim Danzig if the opportunity arose. Every German who knew their history yearned for it.
However, there were too many variables to consider. Having already taken so many risks, I didn’t want to gamble further.
And hoping for a diplomatic solution to the Danzig issue was unrealistic, given its strategic importance as Poland’s only access to the sea.
“Let’s focus on the Nazis and Italy for now.”
While I said that, I was already thinking about how to not only postpone a war with Poland but to establish a cooperative relationship with them.
What good would it do for the German people to reclaim Danzig and the Corridor?
Most of the German soldiers dying in this war would never even set foot in those territories, and the Poles were also human beings.
We weren’t Nazis, who considered Slavs as Untermenschen (subhumans) and sought to exterminate them.
A strong nation was desirable, of course. But even Germany, after its devastating defeat in World War II and the loss of vast territories and population, had managed to become a leading European power. Was it worth gambling with the lives of our people?
“In any case, we need to end this civil war as quickly as possible.”
My gaze returned to Berlin. The countless blue flags were slowly, inexorably advancing towards the city center, but their progress was agonizingly slow.
With the casualties mounting and the city being reduced to rubble, while Poland’s intentions remained unclear, I was growing increasingly anxious.
We had to deal with those damned Nazis quickly.
But at this point, with the conflict escalating from propaganda to bloodshed, all I could do was trust the generals.
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–
When the news reached Hitler that Jeschonnek, the Chief of the General Staff of the Luftwaffe, who had been tied up and left alone at the airbase, had been abandoned by Richthofen and the Luftwaffe personnel, who had flown to Frankfurt in every available aircraft and surrendered, he flew into a rage and dismissed both Göring and Jeschonnek.
Not that it mattered much. The Luftwaffe, without its pilots and aircraft, was effectively non-existent, save for Kurt Student’s paratroopers, currently defending Berlin, and a few administrative staff.
The bad news for the Nazis didn’t end there. Following Prince Wilhelm’s death and the Italian bombing of Tyrol, large-scale riots erupted in eastern Austria, which was still under Nazi control.
Prominent Austrian Nazis like Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, and Josef Bürckel were lynched by the enraged populace while trying to quell the unrest.
The Austrians, having driven out the Nazis from the east, chose Leopold Figl as their leader. Figl pledged Austria’s allegiance to the New Government in exchange for a post-war referendum on whether to remain part of Germany.
Three months after the start of the civil war, and just fifteen days after the New Government’s deployment ceremony,
As neighboring nations watched in stunned disbelief at the rapid collapse of Nazi Germany, no one could deny that its downfall was imminent.
Not even the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, the Nazis, themselves.
–
December 3, 1939
Northern Germany, Berlin, New Reich Chancellery
Night.
Richard Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg echoed through the grand but eerily empty New Reich Chancellery.
The orchestral music from the gramophone was punctuated by the distant rumble of tank fire.
Hitler stood before his desk, arms outstretched, as if conducting the orchestra.
Dr. Goebbels and Erwin Rommel stood on either side of him, watching the Führer of Nazi Germany.
As Act 1, depicting the escalating conflict and the protagonist’s despair, ended, Hitler lowered his arms and turned to Dr. Goebbels, his long-time confidant and propagandist.
“We’ve been together for a long time, haven’t we, Doctor?”
Perhaps sensing the end, or perhaps briefly freed from the pain and the effects of the medication,
Hitler, who was known to be charming and affable in private, smiled gently at Dr. Goebbels.
“Yes, mein Führer. …We have come a long way together.”
Goebbels, his face filled with emotion, looked at Hitler as if trying to memorize his every feature.
No further words were exchanged between them.
As Act 2, depicting the protagonist’s failed attempt to elope with his beloved, played on, Dr. Goebbels, watching Hitler quietly, spoke, “Mein Führer, shouldn’t you escape while you still can?”
“I miss the beer hall.”
Instead of answering, Hitler simply muttered the words, and as Act 3 began, he turned to Rommel.
“General Rommel.”
“Mein Führer.”
As the music depicted the protagonist, having overcome his despair with the help of a friend, preparing a song filled with hope, Hitler, his face gentle, took Rommel’s hands in his.
“You saved my life. Thank you for staying by my side, even now.”
“I was merely fulfilling my duty as your chief of security.”
While Rommel’s expression was more somber than proud, Hitler held his hands tightly.
“Thank you again, General. …Now, do as you wish.”
“…Understood, mein Führer.”
Goebbels, watching them from behind, closed his eyes slowly.
As Act 3, Scene 5, the climax of the opera, depicting the protagonist’s triumphant song, played on, Hitler released Rommel’s hands and turned away, muttering, “Wagner’s music will live forever. So will National Socialism.”
Dr. Goebbels, tears welling up in his eyes, approached his Messiah and said, “You will live forever in the hearts of true Germans, mein Führer.”
Hitler smiled warmly at his loyal follower.
As the majestic music, celebrating the greatness and eternity of German art, reached its crescendo, Hitler, his voice cold and emotionless, muttered, “But those who don’t deserve to live… must be eliminated.”
As soon as the music ended, the door to the Führer’s office burst open, and Franz Halder, Chief of the General Staff, entered.
While Hitler had considered dismissing him, he had been forced to keep him due to the lack of qualified replacements.
“Mein Führer, we cannot hold on any longer! We have three days at most! We need to make a decision!”
Despite Halder’s abrupt and disrespectful entrance, Hitler simply clapped his hands.
“You’ve arrived just in time, Chief of the General Staff.”
“S-Sir?”
Even Halder, who had been prepared to assassinate Hitler and escape if necessary, was taken aback. Hitler continued, his voice calm, “There are still those who were arrested for treason.”
“Y-Yes, mein Führer.”
Rundstedt, Hoeppner, Leeb, and others who had been arrested for treason or insubordination were still imprisoned.
“Execute them all. And all the prisoners in the jails. They cannot be allowed to stain Germany.”
“S-Sir? B-But…”
“Indeed. God has given me the sacred mission to guide Germany, and those who fail to recognize that don’t deserve to live.”
Hitler, muttering as if possessed, glared at Halder with bloodshot eyes and added, “Demolish the Reichstag. And the Brandenburg Gate. They are unworthy legacies for traitors. And this Chancellery is no longer needed, so demolish it as well.”
Franz Halder, pale with terror, stared at Hitler, speechless with horror.
“I will never leave Berlin. I will be buried here, with my Chancellery, as the eternal leader of Germany!”
As Hitler turned and shouted-
“Mein Führer!”
Goebbels lunged towards Hitler.
A gunshot rang out.
“Doctor!”
“My Führer, my Messiah… Forgive my… insolence…”
Goebbels, shot in the chest, collapsed, his words cut short. Hitler glared at Halder with bloodshot eyes.
“You dare-”
“I-I didn’t…”
But Franz Halder’s hands were empty.
Hitler stared at him in confusion, then slowly turned his head.
His gaze fell on the pistol in Erwin Rommel’s hand.
“R-Rommel… Why? Why would you…?”
Rommel glanced at the frozen Halder, then looked at Hitler and spoke, “My apologies, mein Führer. You told me to do as I wished.”
His voice, which had wavered slightly, became firm.
“If I had to choose between betraying Germany and betraying you…”
His expression hardened with resolve.
“I would betray you.”
“Rommel-!”
Hitler’s roar was cut short by a gunshot.
< German Civil War – Iron and Blood, Golden Freedom (9) > End
ⓒ Carcassonne
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