30. Rubicon
Reichskanzlei
Berlin, German Empire
1 March 1939
Franz von Papen stretched idly, yawning and settling into Schleicher's massive wing-backed chair. It was supposed to be an idle day, with the naval parades of the past month complete and his pet project, the Guards divisions, running smoothly on its own. He rang a bell on his desk and one of the seemingly interchangeable Foot Guards pages appeared. "Tea, please," he asked, waving to dismiss the page. It was, to his way of thinking, a perfect day.
Perfect days have a way of not lasting. The secretary appeared at the door, clearing his throat. "Chancellor... Herr Brüning here to see you." Papen rolled his eyes - even if he had surpassed him, there was a certain danger in ignoring the Centrist leader. "Send him in," he grumbled, straightening in the chair. When Brüning stepped into the office, he did not stand, choosing instead to gesture for a chair. "Heinrich," he said, voice cool. "What brings you to my office?"
"Franz... I have come to ask whether you truly think the rearmament policy is wise." Brüning sat, eyes directly locked on Papen's. "I'm not alone, but I'm the only one you'd speak to." Papen shrugged. "Why not? After all, in July of 1914, we had forty-one battleships and seven battlecruisers, fifty-two
standing divisions and the Landswehr. Now we have... let's see... seven capital ships in service and twenty-odd divisions, with the Reichsheer likely to expand to thirty-odd. Surely you don't believe we're safer now than in 1914?" He waved a hand vaguely to the west. "France has almost twice as many divisions, and their Brest fleet alone is worth our entire navy!" Brüning sighed, shaking his head. "Yes, but they sit in fortresses - hardly an offensive posture, sir. Our forces are practically driving racing cars!"
Papen leaned forward across his desk, any mask of civility gone. "You listen to me, Brüning. Wishy-washy thinking, the lack of offensive spirit - those cost us in 1918! Stop living in this fantasy world where we can all get along and sit around a campfire singing songs. The only way to redress Germany's losses is from a position of strength!" His fist hit the desk, causing the silver service bell to jump.
Brüning stood, shaking his head. "That is what Wels said you would say. He also said to tell you that strength is not always measured by bayonets. Good day, Franz. And goodbye."
Papen watched the balding little man retreat, frowning at the disturbance to his day.
It was disturbed further; within hours, the chief of the banned Social Democrats had made a public speech for the first time since the SPD was banned at the end of the Rising. Wels spoke from the Berlin house of Otto Braun, former SPD Prime Minister of Prussia; it was the closest thing the SPD had to a headquarters since their official dissolution.
We condemn categorically the intrusion of any people into another's affairs. The current policy of His Imperial and Royal Majesty's government is, to say the least, folly in this regard. What use have we of colonies in Africa? What true claim do we have to Samoa? The people of Berlin - of Hamburg - of Kiel would surely object if ships appeared and disgorged Samoans, claiming this German soil as their own.
Just as we condemn the interference of one people into the lives of another, we believe that the age of war has passed, that any war, no matter how cloaked in "justification," is inherently immoral. The policies of His Majesty's ministers in this regard, with an eye to continued armament in the face not only of moral reason, but of simple economics - for eventually, even a machine such as the Army must be sated, and say, "enough!" And what then happens to the worker who has made his living serving the forges of war?
The people of Germany expected great things from the Chancellor and, indeed, from the Emperor. We await still positive benefits to ease the terrible economic crisis which grips not only Germany, but the world. It is not enough merely for the Chancellor to point to workers employed today - some day the road-building, the rail-laying, and the sword-forging must end. We must point to workers whose table remains full in five years, in ten years, in twenty!
Ladies and gentlemen! The conditions in Germany today are often portrayed in stark colors. As ever, there is no lack of hyperbole. As for my party, for all that we have been silent here, for all of our doubts, we have made no effort to call upon foreign aid from Paris, from Prague. We would gladly refute foreign criticisms, if we could but have a guarantee of rights for all, for equal franchise and voting by conscience, not by party.
We of the Social Democratic Party, and our allies throughout the world, hail the dispossessed, the downtrodden. We greet our friends and allies throughout the Reich, and throughout the world. Your steadfastness and loyalty in the face of doubt, in the face of intimidation, in the face of the oppressors deserve the highest praise. The strength with which you maintain your convictions and your unbroken confidence guarantee a brighter future.
Within hours of Wels's speech, it seemed that Berlin had begun to unravel. For the Socialist leader to break his silence was apparently the signal for general unrest. Papen found himself missing Schleicher - the old snake had, if nothing else, had nerves of steel for a moment like this. Nervous, he awaited the arrival of the Berlin garrison to the Potsdamer Platz, first to secure the "better" sort of people, second to fan out and restore order.
Identical convulsions occurred throughout Germany, as the telephone exchange reported from all over the country - save in the naval cities. In Kiel, Bremen, Wilhelmshaven, and Hamburg, Raeder acted decisively, without any orders of his own. The specter of 1918 was strong in the Navy, and Raeder, who had once been forbidden entry into Berlin for fear that his train had been contaminated by revolutionary spirit, would not let that specter rise. In the Ruhr, blue-uniformed Kruppianer police cracked down just as hard, and a "Krupp dismissal" rapidly came to mean a blow to the head with a truncheon. Wels himself called for calm in the face of the rising violence, and for that alone, Papen held back from arresting him as an agitator. Brüning stayed silent through the entire debacle, refusing even to see the Chancellor when Papen tried to visit him at home. He claimed ill health, and certainly the last few years had aged him badly, but he was not so far-gone that he could truly be
that ill!
For three days the country teetered on the edge of a general strike; only Schleicher's apparently prescient move of dissolving the unions and replacing them with the Labor Front kept that from happening. The agitators slowly died away, the workers grumbled that they had been kept from their jobs for three days, and Germany returned to a semblance of normalcy. For Papen, the main result was that he now knew who his enemies were in Germany: Brüning, Wels, and the Schacht-Goerdeler clique. Papen would remember them, and after days without rest, he savored the thought of their ruin.
---
Charlottenburg Palace
Berlin, German Empire
22 March 1939
A full battalion of the First Foot Guards had deployed to Charlottenburg in the three-day protest; they had remained stationed there afterwards, as long as the Kaiser's safety was possibly in doubt. Thus, when a Foot Guards private knocked at his office door, bowing to him, Wilhelm was not terribly put out. "Yes?" he asked, barely glancing up from his work. "All-Highest... sir... a messenger from Königsberg." The messenger, in the black-and-white livery of the King in Prussia, stepped forward, saluting sharply, black-and-silver Pickelhaube tucked under his arm. "Sir! I bear a message from the King!" The words sounded as if summoned from some comic opera, but the messenger's heavily moustached face was in deadly earnest. "Well," Wilhelm said drily, "it doesn't do you much good if you don't deliver it, does it?" The messenger marched forward, thrusting an envelope towards him; he opened it and scanned its contents, eyes widening. He grabbed the telephone on his desk, ornate and rarely used; Wilhelm preferred messengers generally. "Get me the Marshal. And the Admiral.
Now!" he barked into the receiver.
---
SMS Königsberg
Off Memel, Lithuania
24 March 1939
"Majesty," Field Marshal (in Prussia) Werner von Blomberg asked nervously, "Are you certain of this?"
Wilhelm II, former German Emperor and now King in Prussia, cast his right arm out toward the city of Memel. "I am, Marshal. I have heard the cries and petitions of the people of Memel, the
German people of Memel, and I would be remiss in my duties as King had I failed to heed them! Let the Lithuanians beware if they believe that they can prevent the rightful reintegration of the city to the nation to which it rightfully belongs!" Blomberg coughed, unsure of Wilhelm's sanity at this very moment. He, too, had attended the Hossbach conference, so he knew that Wilhelm could have argued his case much more persuasively, at least as far as Berlin was concerned, in Danzig than Memel. Nevertheless, he obeyed orders. "Lower the boats, Leutnant."
Leutnant zur See Wilhelm Henningsen saluted, then roared out, "Boats away!" Around the
Königsberg, launches dropped into the water, each one carrying twenty or so of Henningsen's troops. He barely vaulted into the bow launch, gripping his rifle tightly. This was, technically, the first foray of German troops in German uniform on foreign soil since 1918, and he was as nervous as everyone else involved. With two hundred men, he was to secure the docks and let the former Kaiser come ashore in state to demand the return of "his" city. If even the customs officials protested, the operation was a total failure. As they approached the docks, the rifle came up unconsciously, dreading the coming response.
To his surprise, the customs officer at the dock grinned and offered him his hand, pulling him up onto the dock. Henningsen looked around, dazed as the harbor erupted in cheers. As the gig carrying Wilhelm himself approached, an impromptu band struck up "Preussens Gloria," which struck Henningsen as the least offensive possible choice, a more sensible choice than the potential of "Deutschlandlied" or "Die Wacht am Rhein." Wilhelm waved, stepping regally onto the dock in the uniform he had favored during the War, a little damp from spray but none the worse for wear. "People of Memel - we have returned!"
---
Over Memel, Lithuania
24 March 1939
"Any word on resistance, Vogt?" Peter asked; he was unused to his former navigator being a wingman now. "Just a brass band," came the laconic reply. Peter's mouth quirked. They had been scrambled because Admiral Raeder currently rode higher in the Kaiser's eyes than General Goering, and now it looked like they were unneeded. "Well, least we can do is give them a show. Red flight, on me, roll in for low-slow pass, flaps down, ready, and-here-we-go." The constant patter helped maintain rhythm, and the four Stukas rolled in unison, swooping in from the Lagoon toward the city.
Peter fancied he could hear the band as they swept over the harbor, wings waggling. "Could be worse," he murmured, not realizing the circuit was still open. "Yes. Could be another Almeria," Vogt replied grimly.
NEVER!!! The man was an avowed pacifist and would never have supported an anti-democratic Hohenzollern restoration regime. He was deeply pacifist and moralist, the anti-communist card is not going to turn him into a supporter of rearmement.
