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Since I know you asked about Lithuania before - no. Lithuania becomes part of the successor state to the United Baltic Duchy (which really existed, albeit briefly). Final end-result postwar Germany looks remarkably like prewar Germany, just like someone zoomed in on it at the expense of the rest of Europe.
... Which may be why there's precious little screenshot material from the Ottoman Front when the time comes.
The sooner you get out of Poland, the better. Dunno why German occupation of that country ends always in a bad way...
Daddy von Braun as Reichskomissar? Never saw that coming, even if the man has the credentials for the task. So I take it Poland will be kind of a protectorate until all the warfare is over?
Great updates BTW, couldn't comment on the last few.
Great updates BTW, couldn't comment on the last few.
Have you told Frederick the Great?
I will emphasize that Germany is no more in Poland to stay as occupiers than the United States remained in Germany to stay as occupiers. Germany's eastern territorial ambitions are along the Baltic coast. Germany's western territorial ambitions are similarly limited, for that matter.
Yes, and part of that is self-interest on the Germans' part. A Poland which has had its ability to defend itself utterly stripped away is just a corridor for the Soviets to advance to the German border. I chose Magnus von Braun because he was sufficiently obscure, sufficiently monarchist, and sufficiently acquainted with the problems, and the family did have a Silesian estate they lost OTL as a consequence of the Potsdam Conference.
Excellent, thank you for the answer!
I should have gone with my gut, on that, because thats what I figured would have happened.
It's not an Insane Germany just an autocratic one, it would have rather reasonable map correction for their interests, Puppets can hold the rest.
I should have gone with my gut, on that, because thats what I figured would have happened.
It's not an Insane Germany just an autocratic one, it would have rather reasonable map correction for their interests, Puppets can hold the rest.
Just read the whole AAR the last couple of nights - very good indeed!
Nice to see a Mod 33 AAR which is anything other than look at my tech tree
Nice to see a Mod 33 AAR which is anything other than look at my tech tree
Yeah, I played my first Kaiserreich game after I finished this one, and I looked at the map of KR Europe and went "Huh, this looks familiar..."
Just read the whole AAR the last couple of nights - very good indeed!
Nice to see a Mod 33 AAR which is anything other than look at my tech tree
Think you mean Mod34, Mod33's techtree is just heartbreakingly close enough to vanilla that I hoped to but was thwarted in grafting on the Cold War extension from Nomonhan's mod. Mod34's, on the other hand, is a ridiculous spaghetti bowl. It looks to me like an attempt to make HoI3's tech system four or five years before HoI3 came out. Good idea, bad outcome.
Anyway, glad to have you on board!
I wonder with no Poland
And Austria I assume Independent for a Year or less will Czechoslovakia be the start of World War 2.
And Austria I assume Independent for a Year or less will Czechoslovakia be the start of World War 2.
41. The Aftermath of Case White
Oberkommando der Marine
Kiel, German Empire
12 October 1939
Wilhelm Henningsen hesitated at Admiral Raeder's door. Lieutenants simply were not summoned to see the Grand Admiral under any circumstances; being summoned mid-leave made him even more worried. This was a deeply ingrained service taboo; the nod from the Admiral's aide-de-camp had not reassured him past that he was expected, that it was not some sort of paperwork error. The aide, after all, was a full Kapitän zur See - the highest-ranking officer Henningsen was likely to bump into on a regular basis.
He finally knocked, and a muffled, peremptory "Enter!" summoned him inwards. Inside, the Admiral was sitting behind his vast mahogany desk, surrounded by books, some of which Henningsen recognized - Mahan, Schlieffen's Cannae, and two in Raeder's own name that his eye caught as he came to attention. "Sir! Oberleutnant zur See Wilhelm Henningsen, reporting to the admiral as ordered!" Raeder raised his baton slightly in acknowledgement before returning it to the desk. He looked tired, Henningsen thought, but Raeder flicked his wrist to the side, gesturing at a wooden chair. "Henningsen. Sit." It was clearly the hotseat; the other guest in Raeder's office, a heavy man in a fresh new uniform, save for his ancient, weatherbeaten "Prince Henry" cap, and a Vandyke beard, sat in a comfortably upholstered chair and glared over at Henningsen as if resenting his presence. But for his new uniform, he looked for all the world like a refugee from those dimly remembered times before 1918.
"Leutnant Henningsen. This is Generalmajor der Marine -" Raeder's mouth quirked distastefully at the awkward rank - "Hermann Ehrhardt. He is interested in a report of your actions at Westerplatte." Raeder leveled his gaze on Henningsen and raised an eyebrow. "Proceed, Leutnant."
Henningsen took a deep breath before beginning his report. "Sir. At approximately 0500 on 29 August, the landing force, consisting of a company from Marineartillerieabteilung III, loaded from the cruiser Königsberg to three launches in order to secure the Polish garrison depot at Westerplatte. At 0600, we departed the ship for landing and were ashore by 0610. Once we had landed, I contacted the ship by prearranged directional light signal and they began bombarding the seawall to create a breach. We exploited the breach and advanced inland in column of three platoons. I was with the first platoon, which made it into the wooded region inside the seawall. Second platoon was enfiladed by Polish defenses along the seawall; once I had ascertained their location, first platoon and I attacked and dislodged them sufficiently to allow the advance of second and third inland. This occurred by local sunrise.
"The interior of the seawall contained a wooded region and a series of dense wire belts. Attempts to contact the Königsberg to secure properly directed fire in order to disrupt the wire were unsuccessful. The ship was in artillery contact with the defenses, and all of our efforts to coordinate artillery more closely were inconclusive. Eventually they contacted the naval aviation group and we received air support, but directed gunfire proved inconclusive." He took a long, deep breath. "At this point, the positions between the Poles and my company took up a static character, and we maintained roughly this configuration until Generalfeldmarschall Bock's Army troops arrived to relieve us, at which point the Polish defenders surrendered."
Ehrhardt nodded and pulled a pen and a notebook, and Henningsen knew that what was coming, polite or otherwise, would be little more than an interrogation. "I see, Leutnant. And would you say that your men were well-trained and well-equipped for an amphibious landing?"
"No, sir." Ehrhardt gestured for him to elaborate, and Henningsen gritted his teeth, feeling that he was digging his own grave. "There is nowhere in Germany where we can conduct landing operations without serious security concerns, and the landing suffered the same drawbacks as the Gallipoli landings. The boats we had were less than ideal, but the Poles did not meet us at the beach. Additionally, we had no direct radio link or trained observer to provide naval gunfire support."
"Mmm. And would you say there were any other shortfalls in training or equipment?" There was a slight tinge of irony to Ehrhardt's tone, as if to say, But other than that, Mr. Lincoln, how was the play? Henningsen believed that his career was in a shambles now, so he continued. "Yes, sir. There was little initiative on the part of officers or other ranks. We... when we came under fire, and I mean we, sir, we all froze for a minute."
Ehrhardt suddenly smiled, waving a hand in dismissal. "A matter of practice, I assure you. It happens to every officer at least once - though you had best pray it is only once." That was the cue Henningsen had needed; his shoulders unconsciously slumped fractionally in relief. He was not to be cashiered and dismissed. "And I expect, Leutnant, that you were sent ashore with Mausers?" Ehrhardt asked, leading him. Henningsen nodded, perhaps a fraction too eagerly. "Yes, sir, Kar-98s and MG-34s."
"Mmm. Would you say they were a bit clumsy in the boats?" Henningsen considered the question for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes, sir, but again, that's the boat problem, the rifle bangs against your back the entire time you're loading and unloading." Ehrhardt nodded silently, then produced a slim manila folder, opening it and presenting it to Henningsen.
Henningsen, like Ehrhardt himself, was a naval officer first, an infantryman a distant second. "Sir? This looks like a Dutch-built river barge." Ehrhardt suppressed a guffaw and glanced at Raeder, who resumed the narrative. "This came from our people in China... General von Falkenhausen and his lot... from Shanghai a couple of years ago. It's been shelved since. Apparently it's called..." Raeder glanced down at his desk, frowning at the foreign pronunciation. "... a 'Dye-Hat-Sue?' In any case, it's their landing boat. There's a reason it looks like a Dutch river barge," he continued, acknowleding the description. "It is a river barge, with an engine. That odd construction at the front is a loading ramp. They can move all the way onshore and drop that ramp. We've had it filed away for a while now, no real use for it. When your initial report from Westerplatte arrived, it came forth from the archives."
"Sir? What does this have to do with me?" Henningsen asked, vaguely confused; it had been a long six weeks. Raeder smiled thinly. "Hauptmann - yes, Hauptmann - Henningsen, you report to General Ehrhardt now. He's the Inspector of Marine Troops."
---
Bendlerblock
Berlin, German Empire
15 October 1939
To describe Generalfeldmarschall Fedor von Bock as pleased with the outcome of the Polish campaign would be an understatement. In his severe, Prussian way, he was all but dancing with glee. He had arranged for extensive promotions for the most successful generals of the campaign - and even for a man who had thwarted him. In the warm afterglow of crushing Poland, Germany hailed a crop of new lieutenant-generals: Busch, Heinrici, and the "armored clique" of Guderian, Manstein, Model, and Rommel. More men had been marked out as suited to the high command - Weichs and Witzleben had performed miracles as corps commanders, but there simply were not enough new armies to justify the extensive promotion of officers grade General der Infanterie and up.
Bock was perhaps most pleased with the reserve call-up plans which he had spent years drafting prior to the war. They had functioned just as planned, and the reservists had mobilized precisely on queue. Many of them were helped along by the so-called "Freikorps Stahlhelm" veterans who had remained in uniform after the Rising, and provided a cadre of trained men who allowed the called-up divisions to achieve operational status much sooner than even Bock would have dreamed possible. The Stahlhelm troops had thus been honored by their own badge of recognition - the stripes of a long-service Stabsgefreiter on their right forearm.
If Bock could be said to have reservations, they covered were limited to Germany's armored forces. Poland had showed that German armor was vulnerable. Fast-moving armored strikes did well enough until they met counter-strikes; the fighting between Lwow and Lublin had proven that conclusively. He disliked the fact that they had lost one in ten of the tanks they had fielded, against an opponent that he had confidently expected would roll over and show his belly easily. Against the Soviets' BT-7 tanks, the French S-35, or the rumored British heavy tank, he felt uneasy. The armored force was superbly trained, but there were niggling doubts: were they superbly equipped?
These were the thoughts that ran through his head as he brooded behind his rarely-used desk in the War Ministry building. A hurried knock at his door was followed by the duty officer, a red-tabbed General Staff major, sticking his head through the door with an apologetic look on his face. "Sir," the duty officer said, clearing his throat nervously, "the Chancellor is here." Irritably, Bock stood, brushing out his tunic. "He's got a military aide, can't the man be bothered to send a runner?" Bock demanded of the hapless major, before adding with a wave, "Never mind, send him in."
Papen strode in in the black uniform of a Guards infantry colonel. Bock's mouth twitched slightly; the Guards uniform had practically become a style of court dress around the Kaiser. He made it a point to wear the standard field-gray instead, and he was half-tempted to follow Rundstedt's example and dress like a plain colonel! Papen beamed. "Splendid in Poland, Bock. Absolutely first-rate." Bock clicked his heels and neck-bowed politely, lips skinned back against his teeth. "Thank you, Herr Reichskanzler, is there anything which I can do for you?"
Papen sat without invitation, letting out a deep, comfortable sigh. "Yes, well. The political situation is favorable for us to start considering the Greater German solution in its entirety. I want you to prepare an estimate... call it Case Otto." A slow, crafty smile crept across Papen's face. "I think it's time for poor Otto von Habsburg to go home, no?"
Oberkommando der Marine
Kiel, German Empire
12 October 1939
Wilhelm Henningsen hesitated at Admiral Raeder's door. Lieutenants simply were not summoned to see the Grand Admiral under any circumstances; being summoned mid-leave made him even more worried. This was a deeply ingrained service taboo; the nod from the Admiral's aide-de-camp had not reassured him past that he was expected, that it was not some sort of paperwork error. The aide, after all, was a full Kapitän zur See - the highest-ranking officer Henningsen was likely to bump into on a regular basis.
He finally knocked, and a muffled, peremptory "Enter!" summoned him inwards. Inside, the Admiral was sitting behind his vast mahogany desk, surrounded by books, some of which Henningsen recognized - Mahan, Schlieffen's Cannae, and two in Raeder's own name that his eye caught as he came to attention. "Sir! Oberleutnant zur See Wilhelm Henningsen, reporting to the admiral as ordered!" Raeder raised his baton slightly in acknowledgement before returning it to the desk. He looked tired, Henningsen thought, but Raeder flicked his wrist to the side, gesturing at a wooden chair. "Henningsen. Sit." It was clearly the hotseat; the other guest in Raeder's office, a heavy man in a fresh new uniform, save for his ancient, weatherbeaten "Prince Henry" cap, and a Vandyke beard, sat in a comfortably upholstered chair and glared over at Henningsen as if resenting his presence. But for his new uniform, he looked for all the world like a refugee from those dimly remembered times before 1918.
"Leutnant Henningsen. This is Generalmajor der Marine -" Raeder's mouth quirked distastefully at the awkward rank - "Hermann Ehrhardt. He is interested in a report of your actions at Westerplatte." Raeder leveled his gaze on Henningsen and raised an eyebrow. "Proceed, Leutnant."
Henningsen took a deep breath before beginning his report. "Sir. At approximately 0500 on 29 August, the landing force, consisting of a company from Marineartillerieabteilung III, loaded from the cruiser Königsberg to three launches in order to secure the Polish garrison depot at Westerplatte. At 0600, we departed the ship for landing and were ashore by 0610. Once we had landed, I contacted the ship by prearranged directional light signal and they began bombarding the seawall to create a breach. We exploited the breach and advanced inland in column of three platoons. I was with the first platoon, which made it into the wooded region inside the seawall. Second platoon was enfiladed by Polish defenses along the seawall; once I had ascertained their location, first platoon and I attacked and dislodged them sufficiently to allow the advance of second and third inland. This occurred by local sunrise.
"The interior of the seawall contained a wooded region and a series of dense wire belts. Attempts to contact the Königsberg to secure properly directed fire in order to disrupt the wire were unsuccessful. The ship was in artillery contact with the defenses, and all of our efforts to coordinate artillery more closely were inconclusive. Eventually they contacted the naval aviation group and we received air support, but directed gunfire proved inconclusive." He took a long, deep breath. "At this point, the positions between the Poles and my company took up a static character, and we maintained roughly this configuration until Generalfeldmarschall Bock's Army troops arrived to relieve us, at which point the Polish defenders surrendered."
Ehrhardt nodded and pulled a pen and a notebook, and Henningsen knew that what was coming, polite or otherwise, would be little more than an interrogation. "I see, Leutnant. And would you say that your men were well-trained and well-equipped for an amphibious landing?"
"No, sir." Ehrhardt gestured for him to elaborate, and Henningsen gritted his teeth, feeling that he was digging his own grave. "There is nowhere in Germany where we can conduct landing operations without serious security concerns, and the landing suffered the same drawbacks as the Gallipoli landings. The boats we had were less than ideal, but the Poles did not meet us at the beach. Additionally, we had no direct radio link or trained observer to provide naval gunfire support."
"Mmm. And would you say there were any other shortfalls in training or equipment?" There was a slight tinge of irony to Ehrhardt's tone, as if to say, But other than that, Mr. Lincoln, how was the play? Henningsen believed that his career was in a shambles now, so he continued. "Yes, sir. There was little initiative on the part of officers or other ranks. We... when we came under fire, and I mean we, sir, we all froze for a minute."
Ehrhardt suddenly smiled, waving a hand in dismissal. "A matter of practice, I assure you. It happens to every officer at least once - though you had best pray it is only once." That was the cue Henningsen had needed; his shoulders unconsciously slumped fractionally in relief. He was not to be cashiered and dismissed. "And I expect, Leutnant, that you were sent ashore with Mausers?" Ehrhardt asked, leading him. Henningsen nodded, perhaps a fraction too eagerly. "Yes, sir, Kar-98s and MG-34s."
"Mmm. Would you say they were a bit clumsy in the boats?" Henningsen considered the question for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes, sir, but again, that's the boat problem, the rifle bangs against your back the entire time you're loading and unloading." Ehrhardt nodded silently, then produced a slim manila folder, opening it and presenting it to Henningsen.
Henningsen, like Ehrhardt himself, was a naval officer first, an infantryman a distant second. "Sir? This looks like a Dutch-built river barge." Ehrhardt suppressed a guffaw and glanced at Raeder, who resumed the narrative. "This came from our people in China... General von Falkenhausen and his lot... from Shanghai a couple of years ago. It's been shelved since. Apparently it's called..." Raeder glanced down at his desk, frowning at the foreign pronunciation. "... a 'Dye-Hat-Sue?' In any case, it's their landing boat. There's a reason it looks like a Dutch river barge," he continued, acknowleding the description. "It is a river barge, with an engine. That odd construction at the front is a loading ramp. They can move all the way onshore and drop that ramp. We've had it filed away for a while now, no real use for it. When your initial report from Westerplatte arrived, it came forth from the archives."
"Sir? What does this have to do with me?" Henningsen asked, vaguely confused; it had been a long six weeks. Raeder smiled thinly. "Hauptmann - yes, Hauptmann - Henningsen, you report to General Ehrhardt now. He's the Inspector of Marine Troops."
---
Bendlerblock
Berlin, German Empire
15 October 1939
To describe Generalfeldmarschall Fedor von Bock as pleased with the outcome of the Polish campaign would be an understatement. In his severe, Prussian way, he was all but dancing with glee. He had arranged for extensive promotions for the most successful generals of the campaign - and even for a man who had thwarted him. In the warm afterglow of crushing Poland, Germany hailed a crop of new lieutenant-generals: Busch, Heinrici, and the "armored clique" of Guderian, Manstein, Model, and Rommel. More men had been marked out as suited to the high command - Weichs and Witzleben had performed miracles as corps commanders, but there simply were not enough new armies to justify the extensive promotion of officers grade General der Infanterie and up.
Bock was perhaps most pleased with the reserve call-up plans which he had spent years drafting prior to the war. They had functioned just as planned, and the reservists had mobilized precisely on queue. Many of them were helped along by the so-called "Freikorps Stahlhelm" veterans who had remained in uniform after the Rising, and provided a cadre of trained men who allowed the called-up divisions to achieve operational status much sooner than even Bock would have dreamed possible. The Stahlhelm troops had thus been honored by their own badge of recognition - the stripes of a long-service Stabsgefreiter on their right forearm.
If Bock could be said to have reservations, they covered were limited to Germany's armored forces. Poland had showed that German armor was vulnerable. Fast-moving armored strikes did well enough until they met counter-strikes; the fighting between Lwow and Lublin had proven that conclusively. He disliked the fact that they had lost one in ten of the tanks they had fielded, against an opponent that he had confidently expected would roll over and show his belly easily. Against the Soviets' BT-7 tanks, the French S-35, or the rumored British heavy tank, he felt uneasy. The armored force was superbly trained, but there were niggling doubts: were they superbly equipped?
These were the thoughts that ran through his head as he brooded behind his rarely-used desk in the War Ministry building. A hurried knock at his door was followed by the duty officer, a red-tabbed General Staff major, sticking his head through the door with an apologetic look on his face. "Sir," the duty officer said, clearing his throat nervously, "the Chancellor is here." Irritably, Bock stood, brushing out his tunic. "He's got a military aide, can't the man be bothered to send a runner?" Bock demanded of the hapless major, before adding with a wave, "Never mind, send him in."
Papen strode in in the black uniform of a Guards infantry colonel. Bock's mouth twitched slightly; the Guards uniform had practically become a style of court dress around the Kaiser. He made it a point to wear the standard field-gray instead, and he was half-tempted to follow Rundstedt's example and dress like a plain colonel! Papen beamed. "Splendid in Poland, Bock. Absolutely first-rate." Bock clicked his heels and neck-bowed politely, lips skinned back against his teeth. "Thank you, Herr Reichskanzler, is there anything which I can do for you?"
Papen sat without invitation, letting out a deep, comfortable sigh. "Yes, well. The political situation is favorable for us to start considering the Greater German solution in its entirety. I want you to prepare an estimate... call it Case Otto." A slow, crafty smile crept across Papen's face. "I think it's time for poor Otto von Habsburg to go home, no?"
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Looks like Raeder isn't half as ignorant as he looks. Specialized barges will improve the capability of his men. Random trivia: in WW2 the Germans did try to use Dutch river barges for operation Sealion. Unfortunately they had planned to let these ships take their men from France to Britain, while each Dutchmen living near a river could have told you that these ships weren't exactly seaworthy...
Looking forward to the Habsburg adventure. Just wonder if Archduke Otto becomes the head of the Reichs newest memberstate or if Kaiser Otto can look forward to his restauration in Hungary too.
Looking forward to the Habsburg adventure. Just wonder if Archduke Otto becomes the head of the Reichs newest memberstate or if Kaiser Otto can look forward to his restauration in Hungary too.
Aren't that nigh on all of them?
You confuse river and swamp - which coincidentally means the Dutch make the world's best waterways engineers.
As for the Habsburg situation... like I said, what is coming is a situation which will make most people long for the rational, clear-headed solution that was the Dual Monarchy and Austro-Hungarian "understanding" with ten-year renegotiations.
I don't think it's that Raeder was particularly ignorant on the subject of amphibious invasions, and the Daihatsu's essentially a slightly more seaworthy Higgins boat (it still needs a mothership, in other words). The problem with Germany's "plan" to invade Britain is that it wasn't a plan at all. Until the late summer of 1940, no German leader in their wildest dreams believed that they would ever be tasked with invading Britain, so when the order came down, they scraped together whatever shipping they could and hoped for the best. The difference here is that Westerplatte showed the weaknesses of Gallipoli-style unsupported beach landings with no NGF support, and there are a couple of years to take advantage of these developments.
Coming up: "Wait, aren't you supposed to be in Weissruthenien?"
Btw, we can be certain that the RN would have sacrificed even the last of it's Capital Ships to attack the German Invasion Convoy, and at night the LW had even less of a foggy CHance in hell to keep the Channel clean.
When the time comes, that gets dealt with. That's still in the distant future, but I will say this... German submarine production ITL has put out about as many Type IX boats by late 1939 as the U-Waffe had in the entirety of the war. The price of this is surface construction, which other than event-driven construction didn't really get up to steam until March-June 1941... just in time. The explanation in the AAR is going to be the Scharnhorst-Gneisenau explanation, that the ships are off the slips but have serious teething problems and thus from 1939 to 1941, they get to drive around the Baltic trying to iron out all the problems. Given Germany's dearth of experience with large capital ships in the last twenty-odd years, and with carriers at all, this seems reasonable.
And what about Habsburgische Erbländer?
You mean Bohemia and Hungary? This, too, shall be answered. Like I said, longing for the simple days of the Dual Monarchy.
42. Five Years
Charlottenburg Palace
Berlin, German Empire
4 November 1939
Charlottenburg was ablaze.
The fifth anniversary of the Coronation, the victorious war in Poland, the laying down of King Wilhelm's regency in his son's stead, and the thirty-second birthday of Kronprinz Ludwig Ferdinand all combined to make the most splendid event of the social season. Speer, fresh from rebuilding the Reichstag into a monumental Baroque edifice, had been called upon once more, and he did not disappoint. The great gardens of Charlottenburg were once more decorated for a ball that simply could not be contained within the admittedly vast palace interior, and the wings of the palace were draped in alternating red-white-black tricolors and "Gott Mit Uns" Hohenzollern banners. The high table was flanked by a display of the massed colors of the units which had participated in Poland; the display of battalion-and-up colors created a dense forest of banners that almost blocked the entrances to the palace itself.
Everyone of any significance was present, and many who were otherwise insignificant; the Volkmann clan had closed ranks to protect Wilhelm, who found himself an unwanted celebrity thanks to the Kaiser's surprise visit in the Invalidenhof. They had quickly and efficiently created a small fortress in one corner of the gardens, though Ernst and Lise, and Peter and Hanna, had to sortie forth occasionally to dance, in order to appear hospitable. Ernst, for his part, was in splendid form, with the red-and-gold lobed collar tabs and shoulder boards of a Generalmajor, bestowed at the same time that General Thomas had given him his new orders, orders which left him distracted, apparently constantly calculating in his head. Peter was frankly envious of his brothers, as the fleet's role in the campaign had been so minor and he had been in charge of a shoreside school during that time anyway. Johann was worried that he would lose his company, now that his guardian angel had been promoted and raised from division to corps commander. The creation of the Memel Badge, with Kaunas Bar in his case, seemed one more irrelevancy on old King Wilhelm's part. Wilhelm was walking now, stiffly and with a slight limp, but was more bothered by his unexpected and undesired celebrity, and a desire to return to duty away from the foolishness of Berlin. The one thing that united the three brothers was an unrelenting stream of teasing for their mother - "the General's wife" now, as in "Would the General's wife care for more wine?" Lise, who had seen the massive swing from Depression-era engineer's wife to general's wife in the space of ten years, and had unexpectedly traveled from Berlin to Istanbul in the course of it, bore it with complacent good humor, swatting her sons with a fan occasionally. It was the closest thing to the prewar Volkmanns that they had seen in a long time - Johann's impudence, Peter's seriousness, and only Wilhelm not quite the same.
It was, however, at the high table that the most important events were occurring. Three generations of Hohenzollerns gathered here under the aegis of old King Wilhelm, though he did not sit at the center of the table - after all, he was not Kaiser. He did, however, sit immediately to Kaiser Wilhelm's right, with Kaiserin Cecilie to the Kaiser's left and Kronprinz Ludwig and Kronprinzessin Kira beyond her. Ludwig glanced down the table, frowning, trying to place some of the figures on the far right wing. There was one in naval uniform, a tanned, serious-faced man perhaps ten years older than him... and he thought he recognized all of the full captains in the fleet after being immersed in the fleet for a year...
In any case, his reverie was interrupted by the Kaiser coming to his feet, his left arm still immobilized, mirroring the little-known palsy in old Wilhelm's left arm. It was covered by a black pelisse, the Guards uniform fitting the Kaiser's slim figure as if inspired by it. Wilhelm looked grave and determined, a suited expression for a man who had survived five years on the throne, an assassination attempt, and the worst economic crisis in Germany since the 1880s.
As Wilhelm stood, the gathering below fell silent, the small orchestras Speer had set around the grounds setting their instruments down and a discreet Foot Guards page placing a microphone on the table before him. Wilhelm cleared his throat, frowning at the microphone until he remembered that his unamplified voice could not be heard at the other extreme of the gardens. In homes across the Reich, voices murmured apologies for interrupting routine programming and announced the address of the Kaiser on the fifth anniversary of his coronation.
"Germans! Germany today is not the Germany of five years ago. Today, we have weathered great crises and regained much of our pride and strength. Germany's strength remains her people, my people, as recent events have shown, for when I was struck down, the banner did not waver, you did not falter, you advanced to avenge the slight to our nation. I have never been so proud to say 'I am a German' as I am today." Wilhem swallowed, and below him, General von Fritsch lifted his glass in silent toast across the "Lichterfelde table" that he shared with Generalleutnant Rommel. The two of them had disagreed violently enough that Rommel had left Lichterfelde; this was a relatively gracious admission of Rommel's subsequent success.
"However, if we believe that the hour of decision has passed, we are mistaken. Germany faces many more challenges in the years ahead. We need every ounce of our strength and every aid which we can find in the coming days, for the task of German greatness is an ongoing one, which cannot be completed simply by squabbling with one of our neighbors, no matter how justified. One of the tasks which we must finish is to arrest the diaspora of fine, strong German hands and minds overseas. To you, the Germans who have gone abroad, I say: 'Come home, you are welcome, your motherland needs you!'
"As an example of this, I hold up my dear cousin Sigismund." He gestured to the serious-faced man on old King Wilhelm's right. "Prince Sigismund has returned from the New World, to bring what he learned there working with his own hands - and let no man say that my family will not labor in service of their goals, after meeting him! He has graciously agreed to serve, as his father did, in Our fleet, and I believe it fitting that he command our newest aircraft carrier, the Prinz Heinrich.
"Prince Sigismund is, of course, but one man, but he is an example, a man who has heard the call. It shall be the policy of Our government, as personally directed by me, to bring together any and all who wish to say 'I am a German!' under one roof. This is not the task of five years, or even of a decade. This is the noble work of a lifetime and beyond, and one to which I enjoin all of you to set your hands and hearts with a will."
At the "naval table," Raeder smiled complacently, hands folded over the hilt of his sword. Sigismund's appointment, and the appointment of the Kaiser's brother Prince Adalbert to command one of the new battleships, had been two of the levers he had pulled to get a naval construction program mobilized. It was fortunate that Sigismund himself had chafed at the explosion of his family's German fortunes; offered the choice between being ambassador to Costa Rica, or commanding a ship named after his father, he had practically exploded at the chance. To meet Raeder's plans, he needed every lever he could find - a proper corps of marines under his own control, a fleet to rival Britain's in the North Sea, and to show the German flag beyond, and Dönitz and his incessant calls for more submarines on top of it...! If things had just gone better at Helgoland, Raeder reflected sadly, Dönitz would have no leg to stand on, and the surface fleet would have its full steel quota. As it was, though... submarines were so much cheaper that Dönitz could make a little empire of his own over as BdU.
Down the line, General Goering looked disgruntled and frustrated with his share in the never-ending funding battle. He had just returned from a tour of the south German factories which were the majority of Luftwaffe production, and the never-ending complaints about the scarcity of aluminum were starting to become maddening. Even the Turkish supplies, by way of Greece, were problematic, though the Sultan was quite willing to supply the ore in exchange for the purchase of German aircraft - he had personally made a tidy fortune off the sale of the Heinkel competitor to Messerschmitt's fighter. And now some idiot naval officer - Vogt, was it? - was putting a bee in old Messerschmitt's bonnet about radial engines! Probably Tank's fault over at Focke-Wulf, with that new superfighter of his. Certainly Milch was in favor of it... but then Milch hated Messerschmitt with a passion... but if it would ignite a fire under wild Willy's feet, why not fund the Focke-Wulf people? Goering belched unexpectedly at the thought, and swiftly covered his mouth, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had; Grauert and Udet were arguing over level versus dive bombing, with Grauert forcefully saying that the experience he had in Poland was that dive bombers were too vulnerable in the dive, and besides, the stability requirements for dive bombers were too strict for a twin-engined force. Each of them had a blue cross at their throat, so Udet's vaunted combat experience was no longer an overwhelming argument. Goering left them to their argument and turned back down to his plate.
Elsewhere, the generals of Poland had their own table; Brauchitsch had the tabs of a Generaloberst now, and rumor had it that the only reason he did not have a baton was that he had not technically satisfied the requirement of a great field victory. He looked pale and ill; the stress of the Polish campaign had resulted in a mild heart attack, and he was only partially recovered, but he was able to look about at the armored generals and smile at his "children." Rommel and Guderian were arguing heatedly with Manstein in his white Garde du Corps uniform about the benefits of an attack from the march, as opposed to an intricately planned offensive; Rommel, who had wandered over from his official seat next to Fritsch, was at the moment tapping the Kaunas Bar on his chest and asking whether Manstein would perhaps have preferred to wait a few weeks until all the pieces were in place, and let the Red Army roll through? Manstein flushed at the suggestion, and down the table, dour Model chuckled at the argument. At the other end of the table, Brauchitsch turned to see Student and Heinrici comparing notes about their respective assaults; the two had a great deal in common, not least a ferocious determination to protect their men from their superiors as well as their enemies. They also were not as passionately involved in the great armored revolution sweeping the army.
It was precisely on this armored revolution that their chief had buttonholed old Baron Krupp. Bock's face was flat, his eyes hard, as he approached Krupp. "You promised me that we would have the third-generation vehicle ready by now, Herr Krupp," he said, sitting without invitation. Gustav Baron Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach looked as wan as Brauchitsch at the generals' table; running the Economics Ministry and the Krupp empire together had taken a fearsome toll on his health. Alfried, already being styled "Krupp" as he ran the company in his father's absence, smoothly placed himself between the two of them. "And you do, Marshal. However, we can hardly meet the requirements you place on us by ourselves. Have you asked Henschel or Rheinmetall... no? Well... we hardly have sole control of the armored production program, Marshal." He leaned forward. "If we did have a central armored production coordinator, we could probably speed this process immensely." Bock looked doubtful, but Alfried reached out, clapping him on the arm. "And besides, Poland went swimmingly, no?" Bock nodded slowly, and Alfried continued, determinedly sunny, "It's not like we're planning on going to war again any time soon, you'll have your tanks in time!"
Over all of it, flanked by Meissner, Hugenberg, Neurath, and Braun, Papen watched, toying with his food, smiling darkly. Poland, Papen thought, was a beginning, not an end, and for all the Kaiser's calls for a German repatriation, more concrete measures were needed.
Charlottenburg Palace
Berlin, German Empire
4 November 1939
Charlottenburg was ablaze.
The fifth anniversary of the Coronation, the victorious war in Poland, the laying down of King Wilhelm's regency in his son's stead, and the thirty-second birthday of Kronprinz Ludwig Ferdinand all combined to make the most splendid event of the social season. Speer, fresh from rebuilding the Reichstag into a monumental Baroque edifice, had been called upon once more, and he did not disappoint. The great gardens of Charlottenburg were once more decorated for a ball that simply could not be contained within the admittedly vast palace interior, and the wings of the palace were draped in alternating red-white-black tricolors and "Gott Mit Uns" Hohenzollern banners. The high table was flanked by a display of the massed colors of the units which had participated in Poland; the display of battalion-and-up colors created a dense forest of banners that almost blocked the entrances to the palace itself.
Everyone of any significance was present, and many who were otherwise insignificant; the Volkmann clan had closed ranks to protect Wilhelm, who found himself an unwanted celebrity thanks to the Kaiser's surprise visit in the Invalidenhof. They had quickly and efficiently created a small fortress in one corner of the gardens, though Ernst and Lise, and Peter and Hanna, had to sortie forth occasionally to dance, in order to appear hospitable. Ernst, for his part, was in splendid form, with the red-and-gold lobed collar tabs and shoulder boards of a Generalmajor, bestowed at the same time that General Thomas had given him his new orders, orders which left him distracted, apparently constantly calculating in his head. Peter was frankly envious of his brothers, as the fleet's role in the campaign had been so minor and he had been in charge of a shoreside school during that time anyway. Johann was worried that he would lose his company, now that his guardian angel had been promoted and raised from division to corps commander. The creation of the Memel Badge, with Kaunas Bar in his case, seemed one more irrelevancy on old King Wilhelm's part. Wilhelm was walking now, stiffly and with a slight limp, but was more bothered by his unexpected and undesired celebrity, and a desire to return to duty away from the foolishness of Berlin. The one thing that united the three brothers was an unrelenting stream of teasing for their mother - "the General's wife" now, as in "Would the General's wife care for more wine?" Lise, who had seen the massive swing from Depression-era engineer's wife to general's wife in the space of ten years, and had unexpectedly traveled from Berlin to Istanbul in the course of it, bore it with complacent good humor, swatting her sons with a fan occasionally. It was the closest thing to the prewar Volkmanns that they had seen in a long time - Johann's impudence, Peter's seriousness, and only Wilhelm not quite the same.
It was, however, at the high table that the most important events were occurring. Three generations of Hohenzollerns gathered here under the aegis of old King Wilhelm, though he did not sit at the center of the table - after all, he was not Kaiser. He did, however, sit immediately to Kaiser Wilhelm's right, with Kaiserin Cecilie to the Kaiser's left and Kronprinz Ludwig and Kronprinzessin Kira beyond her. Ludwig glanced down the table, frowning, trying to place some of the figures on the far right wing. There was one in naval uniform, a tanned, serious-faced man perhaps ten years older than him... and he thought he recognized all of the full captains in the fleet after being immersed in the fleet for a year...
In any case, his reverie was interrupted by the Kaiser coming to his feet, his left arm still immobilized, mirroring the little-known palsy in old Wilhelm's left arm. It was covered by a black pelisse, the Guards uniform fitting the Kaiser's slim figure as if inspired by it. Wilhelm looked grave and determined, a suited expression for a man who had survived five years on the throne, an assassination attempt, and the worst economic crisis in Germany since the 1880s.
As Wilhelm stood, the gathering below fell silent, the small orchestras Speer had set around the grounds setting their instruments down and a discreet Foot Guards page placing a microphone on the table before him. Wilhelm cleared his throat, frowning at the microphone until he remembered that his unamplified voice could not be heard at the other extreme of the gardens. In homes across the Reich, voices murmured apologies for interrupting routine programming and announced the address of the Kaiser on the fifth anniversary of his coronation.
"Germans! Germany today is not the Germany of five years ago. Today, we have weathered great crises and regained much of our pride and strength. Germany's strength remains her people, my people, as recent events have shown, for when I was struck down, the banner did not waver, you did not falter, you advanced to avenge the slight to our nation. I have never been so proud to say 'I am a German' as I am today." Wilhem swallowed, and below him, General von Fritsch lifted his glass in silent toast across the "Lichterfelde table" that he shared with Generalleutnant Rommel. The two of them had disagreed violently enough that Rommel had left Lichterfelde; this was a relatively gracious admission of Rommel's subsequent success.
"However, if we believe that the hour of decision has passed, we are mistaken. Germany faces many more challenges in the years ahead. We need every ounce of our strength and every aid which we can find in the coming days, for the task of German greatness is an ongoing one, which cannot be completed simply by squabbling with one of our neighbors, no matter how justified. One of the tasks which we must finish is to arrest the diaspora of fine, strong German hands and minds overseas. To you, the Germans who have gone abroad, I say: 'Come home, you are welcome, your motherland needs you!'
"As an example of this, I hold up my dear cousin Sigismund." He gestured to the serious-faced man on old King Wilhelm's right. "Prince Sigismund has returned from the New World, to bring what he learned there working with his own hands - and let no man say that my family will not labor in service of their goals, after meeting him! He has graciously agreed to serve, as his father did, in Our fleet, and I believe it fitting that he command our newest aircraft carrier, the Prinz Heinrich.
"Prince Sigismund is, of course, but one man, but he is an example, a man who has heard the call. It shall be the policy of Our government, as personally directed by me, to bring together any and all who wish to say 'I am a German!' under one roof. This is not the task of five years, or even of a decade. This is the noble work of a lifetime and beyond, and one to which I enjoin all of you to set your hands and hearts with a will."
At the "naval table," Raeder smiled complacently, hands folded over the hilt of his sword. Sigismund's appointment, and the appointment of the Kaiser's brother Prince Adalbert to command one of the new battleships, had been two of the levers he had pulled to get a naval construction program mobilized. It was fortunate that Sigismund himself had chafed at the explosion of his family's German fortunes; offered the choice between being ambassador to Costa Rica, or commanding a ship named after his father, he had practically exploded at the chance. To meet Raeder's plans, he needed every lever he could find - a proper corps of marines under his own control, a fleet to rival Britain's in the North Sea, and to show the German flag beyond, and Dönitz and his incessant calls for more submarines on top of it...! If things had just gone better at Helgoland, Raeder reflected sadly, Dönitz would have no leg to stand on, and the surface fleet would have its full steel quota. As it was, though... submarines were so much cheaper that Dönitz could make a little empire of his own over as BdU.
Down the line, General Goering looked disgruntled and frustrated with his share in the never-ending funding battle. He had just returned from a tour of the south German factories which were the majority of Luftwaffe production, and the never-ending complaints about the scarcity of aluminum were starting to become maddening. Even the Turkish supplies, by way of Greece, were problematic, though the Sultan was quite willing to supply the ore in exchange for the purchase of German aircraft - he had personally made a tidy fortune off the sale of the Heinkel competitor to Messerschmitt's fighter. And now some idiot naval officer - Vogt, was it? - was putting a bee in old Messerschmitt's bonnet about radial engines! Probably Tank's fault over at Focke-Wulf, with that new superfighter of his. Certainly Milch was in favor of it... but then Milch hated Messerschmitt with a passion... but if it would ignite a fire under wild Willy's feet, why not fund the Focke-Wulf people? Goering belched unexpectedly at the thought, and swiftly covered his mouth, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had; Grauert and Udet were arguing over level versus dive bombing, with Grauert forcefully saying that the experience he had in Poland was that dive bombers were too vulnerable in the dive, and besides, the stability requirements for dive bombers were too strict for a twin-engined force. Each of them had a blue cross at their throat, so Udet's vaunted combat experience was no longer an overwhelming argument. Goering left them to their argument and turned back down to his plate.
Elsewhere, the generals of Poland had their own table; Brauchitsch had the tabs of a Generaloberst now, and rumor had it that the only reason he did not have a baton was that he had not technically satisfied the requirement of a great field victory. He looked pale and ill; the stress of the Polish campaign had resulted in a mild heart attack, and he was only partially recovered, but he was able to look about at the armored generals and smile at his "children." Rommel and Guderian were arguing heatedly with Manstein in his white Garde du Corps uniform about the benefits of an attack from the march, as opposed to an intricately planned offensive; Rommel, who had wandered over from his official seat next to Fritsch, was at the moment tapping the Kaunas Bar on his chest and asking whether Manstein would perhaps have preferred to wait a few weeks until all the pieces were in place, and let the Red Army roll through? Manstein flushed at the suggestion, and down the table, dour Model chuckled at the argument. At the other end of the table, Brauchitsch turned to see Student and Heinrici comparing notes about their respective assaults; the two had a great deal in common, not least a ferocious determination to protect their men from their superiors as well as their enemies. They also were not as passionately involved in the great armored revolution sweeping the army.
It was precisely on this armored revolution that their chief had buttonholed old Baron Krupp. Bock's face was flat, his eyes hard, as he approached Krupp. "You promised me that we would have the third-generation vehicle ready by now, Herr Krupp," he said, sitting without invitation. Gustav Baron Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach looked as wan as Brauchitsch at the generals' table; running the Economics Ministry and the Krupp empire together had taken a fearsome toll on his health. Alfried, already being styled "Krupp" as he ran the company in his father's absence, smoothly placed himself between the two of them. "And you do, Marshal. However, we can hardly meet the requirements you place on us by ourselves. Have you asked Henschel or Rheinmetall... no? Well... we hardly have sole control of the armored production program, Marshal." He leaned forward. "If we did have a central armored production coordinator, we could probably speed this process immensely." Bock looked doubtful, but Alfried reached out, clapping him on the arm. "And besides, Poland went swimmingly, no?" Bock nodded slowly, and Alfried continued, determinedly sunny, "It's not like we're planning on going to war again any time soon, you'll have your tanks in time!"
Over all of it, flanked by Meissner, Hugenberg, Neurath, and Braun, Papen watched, toying with his food, smiling darkly. Poland, Papen thought, was a beginning, not an end, and for all the Kaiser's calls for a German repatriation, more concrete measures were needed.
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