8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler
"There is no great undertaking which does not require an absolute sacrifice of self and an understanding of the total loss which can occur through its failure. Marriage requires an abandonment of absolute independence. Parenthood is a decades-long commitment to a financial and emotional drain. Both of these were challenges I undertook with pleasure, and they prepared me like nothing else for the bitter work which awaited me in the years to come as President of Germany." - Excerpt from the autobiography of Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, 1956
The Quiet Presidency
"No rest for the wicked," the old saying goes, and this was doubly true for the new President of the German Reich. If he had hoped for a period of rest following his assumption of power, President von Lettow-Vorbeck would be sorely mistaken, as the hard work was only beginning.
1932 was always going to be a major year in Germany regardless which man held the reins, what with the Prussian election and immediately afterwards the Lausanne Conference to look forward to and the questions on the Treaty of Versailles which it carried with.
Fears of British or French opposition to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s Presidency turned out to be as unfounded as the rumours which swirled in 1925 when von Hindenburg rose to power. "The attitude of His Majesty's Government will be exactly the same as toward any newly named executive of a sovereign and independent State," newspapers in London declared, and that was all that was heard on the matter.
Congratulations were received from a number of other states. Missives from the Dutch, Austrians, Danes, and various other friendly powers were expected, but pleasant surprises came in the form of personal visits and gifts from the Bulgarian and Romanian governments, both of whose interest had been stirred by von Lettow-Vorbeck’s vocally anti-Communist, pro-Orthodox rhetoric in recent months, though time would tell if awakening German interests would align with one or both of theirs.
Within Germany the reaction was understandably more mixed. While government-run papers of the time spun this victory as a triumph of the German will, regional and party papers from the era tell a different story, either hesitantly optimistic at an obvious compromise or expressing outright concern at the willingness von Lettow-Vorbeck had possessed to crush a parliamentary opponent with the aid of dangerous paramilitaries. As one might expect, this divide was geographical; the Rhineland, Southern, and far-Eastern regions expressed positivity while the Central and Northern tended towards worry or outright protest against his handling of the KPD.
President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s victory in the 1932 Presidential Elections, coming off the backs of both the harsh KPD crackdown and the rise of the
Stahlhelm as a force for political intervention, sent shockwaves rippling through the German political scene unseen since the early years of the Republic. In what seemed like the act of a few moments prior norms and systems had been washed away, a decade of rote politicking and lobbying falling secondary to what many considered a more oppressive and Authoritarian alternative.
The SPD was hit hardest by this shockwave. In the months leading up to the election, they had grown content with their comfortable majority, and the reshaping of the system against their favour would come as a great surprise and leave them off-balance for more than a month afterwards. A large part of their political capital was spent attempting to win the remainder of the Communist voting bloc to their side, something which would prove to be only moderately successful as this attempt brought to light many of the internal divides within the party. For many within the SPD, the Communists were seen as dangerous extremists equal to Hugenberg and the NSFB and working with them was anathema. Many moderates and more Left-leaning leaders were sympathetic to the plight of the Communist cause, but not enough to try and undo what Chancellor Brüning had done for fear of their own party splintering.
In the same breath, the Communist cause in Germany was in turmoil. With the arrest or expulsion of prominent leaders, the voting bloc floundered, German citizens no longer knowing where to turn. In what may be surprising to some, a significant minority of the once-Communists would make their way to parties like the KCVP or Zentrum; not out of loyalty to Conservative ideals, but rather an interest in fermenting more aggressive change and seeing cooperation with such parties as the most promising way to do so. A similar minority within the party would find new homes among parties of a less-extreme Leftist slant, including the
Sozialistische Arbeiterpartei Deutschlands (Socialist Workers' Party of Germany), which had managed to avoid banning by playing up their “Socialist” elements as opposed to their “Communist” ones. Despite this, the vast majority would soon find themselves under the umbrella of the SPD, drastically increasing their voting bloc but also increasing the struggle between extremes that the party battled with.
The question of the German Communist Party would be the first one tackled by von Lettow-Vorbeck, reaffirming his predecessor's ban and expanding it to the Opposition Party as well. This was paired with an arrest warrant for Ernst Thälmann as well as many of the party leaders in the KPD; while the majority would soon be rounded up and sentenced to life in prison, Thälmann would escape with the help of sympathisers and make his way to the safe bosom of Moscow.
In this step President von Lettow-Vorbeck and Chancellor Brüning worked as a team, united in their mutual distrust of Communism and desire to minimise the power of the SPD and the other Leftist parties. But before the dust had even settled on the election, forces were conspiring to undermine the new government. No amount of speeches and hand-shaking could change the abyssal unpopularity of Brüning among the people of Germany and it was a matter of when, not if, he was stripped of his office.
Many politicians criticised the Weimar Constitution for drawing too much inspiration from the Prussian Constitution which formed the basis of the German Empire and the election of the Chancellorship was a fine example of that. Unlike in other systems where political leaders were chosen by popular vote either directly or via electorates, Weimar Germany had kept a system of appointment akin to how the Prussian King and German Kaiser would select a party leader and request the formation of a government under them, only with the President standing in for the Kaiser. During the formation of the German Republic it had been assumed that the President would take parliamentary majorities and coalitions into account but no legislature had been set down to confirm that. What this meant in practical terms was that the President could potentially select anyone he chose as Chancellor. Brüning’s Chancellorship had been a fine example of this, with von Hindenburg choosing a candidate from a minority party over the actual electorate majority due to political bias. Now, opposite an angry and uncooperative SPD, the question arose as to whether von Lettow-Vorbeck would attempt the same.
“You have to remove him. It is simply the only option.” Kurt von Schleicher turned away from the large painting of the sunrise over Zanzibar to look upon the new President. “I am not saying that it is a choice with which I personally agree, but it is the only one.”
President von Lettow-Vorbeck sighed, the sound of his pen scratching away loudly in the office. Von Schleicher had visited the Office of the President several times before its handover to von Lettow-Vorbeck and there was not much change. Both men favoured the Wilhelmine style, only a few desk portraits of the von Hindenburg grandchildren swapped out for von Lettow-Vorbeck’s family, and of course his collection of paintings from the colonies.
“It was in large part thanks to the contributions of the Zentrum that I was able to win the vote,” von Lettow-Vorbeck pointed out, placing down the pen and sliding the letter into a waiting envelope. “How would they take it were I to remove one of their own so soon after they boosted me into power?”
Von Schleicher scowled at the reminder of the Zentrum’s hold over the Reichstag. He, like von Hindenburg, had never been comfortable with the predominance of the Catholics, but they had proven the only non-Liberal party capable of keeping themselves in one piece and were therefore an invaluable ally, though von Schleicher had his eye on the new KCVP and their future potential. “Have you spoken with Kaas on the matter?”
“Father Kaas has expressed nothing but support for Chancellor Brüning. He told me that he has already planned to hand over party leadership to him should he find himself without a job, which means that any plan of doing so will only cause us further problems in the long-run, and we are in no position to rock the boat.”
Von Schleicher drummed his fingers on the side of his thigh. “I suppose offering von Papen as a counter is out.” Kaas had never made secret his distaste for von Papen, considering him too loyal to the gears of power over his Catholic brethren.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck shook his head. “From the way Father Kaas spoke of him, I half-expected him to demand the man’s removal from government altogether.”
“
Plagegeist.”
A reprimanding look was sent his way as the President moved on to the next pile of documents. “I don’t know why you find his inclusion so abhorrent. Our policies align and he was a considerable aid in our crusade against the Communists.”
“His policies are not the issue, the problem is his inability to handle the Depression and the supreme loathing held for him which will soon trickle down into the rest of your government.”
The writing hand paused and the pen was lowered to the desk. "Do you believe that you could have done better?"
The question was not accusatory in tone but von Schleicher nevertheless tensed at it. “I think that he relied too much on the slow wheels of Capitalism,” he said after a moment of thought. “He should have taken direct action like Mussolini did in Italy. Create new jobs and projects to stimulate the economy. Ally the large business owners and remove those who refuse to comply.”
“You would emulate the Fascists?”
Von Schleicher still could not tell if he was being set up, for von Lettow-Vorbeck kept his face perfectly blank. “Industrialisation was a British conception, yet it was us who came to master it. I am not a Fascist—Mussolini strays too close to Socialism and thinks himself immune to its poison—but that does not mean I am incapable of learning from his successes and failings.”
Von Lettow-Vorbeck rubbed his chin, eyes defocusing for several seconds as he thought. “You make an interesting point,” he finally declared, returning to his work.
Von Schleicher could not shake the feeling that a great predator had passed overhead and he had only noticed in the moments after.
In keeping with German law, the next federal election in order to determine the balance of the Reichstag was scheduled to take place in 1934, four years after the preceding one in 1930 which had brought Brüning to power. However, there was some debate over this due to the irregularities, given that the previous election had been a result of a premature Reichstag dissolution by Brüning himself. Many, led mainly by the SPD but also including some of the smaller parties like the BVP, were pushing for the election to take place this year on the basis of it having been four years since the 1928 elections which were, in the eyes of many, more democratic. The fact that the banning of the KPD had drastically upset the voting bloc was certainly of importance, too.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck was caught in a quandary, his first of the many which this sort of power came with. On the one hand, the current Reichstag was far more to his favour than any ensuing one was guaranteed to be. The combined forces of his allies were roughly equal to the SPD and there was a fair chance of him pushing through some desired legislation if he kept the status quo for two more years, especially with Brüning’s help. On the other hand, Brüning was profoundly unpopular with the German people and even with many of the other party members within the Zentrum. Keeping Brüning had a high chance of damaging von Lettow-Vorbeck’s credibility or, worse, of undermining the coalition which had brought him to power. In the end he chose to favour the 1934 interpretation until such time as he was forced to make a choice, but in truth there was no right answer.
And the SPD knew this, too.
April 24th had been the date of the Prussian state election, almost two weeks to the day from von Lettow-Vorbeck claiming the Presidency. Paranoia had been strong about the new President interfering but all had been quiet from the Wilhelmsstraße and the election day had come and gone without a hitch. The SPD retained their comfortable majority—it grew, in fact, with many former KPD votes coming their way—but a weather eye was kept on the Zentrum votes pouring in from the Rhineland and Upper Silesia, not to mention the DNVP and NSFB's control of Pomerania, East Prussia, and the
Grenzmark (the remainder of Posen and West Prussia which had been fused in 1922).
Otto Braun, initially considering a retirement from the Minister-Presidency of Prussia, had been all but forced to remain following the new, more Right-wing slant growing like a shadow within the German government. The fear within the party was that a new candidate would be unable to win the people’s trust and cost them control of Prussia and so Braun, well-liked within the largest state of the Reich, could not possibly say no.
This was indicative of the unintentional three-way power struggle inherent in the governance of the Weimar Republic. While on paper the Chancellor and President were the undisputed heads of governance and state, the simple fact of Prussia’s size relative to the other Free States of the Reich meant that the power of the Minister-President of Prussia was comparable to either of the former. Adding to this was the SPD’s years-long investment in Prussia, enforcing and enshrining democratic (and Left-leaning) ideals within the populace.
Once their position in Prussia had been reaffirmed, the SPD kicked off Summer of 1932 with a series of offensives against the new President, and they certainly had enough material to do so. The shock of the Communist crackdown had given way to a growing public discomfort with the aggressive stance taken by the government, worse in regions to have experienced that crackdown firsthand and oftentimes inflamed by anti-von-Lettow-Vorbeck politicians. The industrial regions in Prussia and Saxony certainly saw the worst of it, but several of the smaller Free States, including both Mecklenburgs and the Hanseatic Cities, would suffer such intense protests that it would risk collapse of their regional governments, to which the Stahlhelm would respond with equal, or even disproportionately greater force.
Thirteen-year-old Helmut Schmidt watched through the curtains as the wave of people passed by his home in Hamburg, many of them carrying torches, signs, or red flags with stars or hammers on them. The vast majority were just marching and chanting but he saw several young men throwing bottles at nearby buildings and screaming things he couldn’t make out through the class.
“Helmut!” his mother Ludovica called out, voice quivering, “Get back from the window!”
Scowling, the boy complied, drawing the curtains closed and going back to sit with his mother and little brother Wolfgang on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace. Wolfgang was playing with cards and trying to get their mother to join, though she kept shooting glances at the door and wasn’t paying much attention, frustrating the boy.
“Mama!” Wolfgang exclaimed in frustration when their mother let her hand lower and unintentionally showed him her cards.
Ludovica shushed him quickly. “Keep quiet, both of you!” she reminded them in a whisper. “We are going to sit here until they are gone.”
“When will that be? I want pasta,” moaned Wolfgang, flopping onto his back. “Why can’t you cook now?”
“Because they would see the smoke, idiot!” Helmut chastised the other boy. It was a sign of how distracted their mother was that she did not make him apologise.
“Are they the bad guys?” Wolfgang asked. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide with worry. “Is Papa gonna be alright?”
Helmut made a gesture with his hands reminding his brother to keep it down. “Papa will be fine. These guys don’t hurt normal people, they’re not bad. They just go after bad bosses.”
“Then… why are we hiding from them?”
“We aren’t hiding from them, we are just… hiding,” Helmut finished a bit lamely, suddenly realising that he wasn’t actually sure why they were hiding. His father always said that the workers would protect each other, didn’t he? Didn’t that make worker families protected too? Mama couldn’t work, she was a woman! He shot a glance at Ludovica, wanting to ask her now himself but unsure how to not look stupid in front of his brother. “We are hiding in case the real bad guys show up,” he settled on finally, feeling quite proud of himself.
“Who are the real bad guys? Will they hurt Papa?”
“No one will hurt Papa!” Their mother all but yelled, making them jump. She shot them both harsh glances and took a breath. “Papa will be home later and everything will be fine. These people are just… a bit confused. That’s all. They aren’t going to hurt us. They aren’t. They are just… marching. That’s right.”
Helmut had a bad feeling in his stomach and he didn’t like it. Wolfgang, though, looked appeased, and began gathering up the cards again to try playing another round. “I’m going to the toilet,” Helmut declared. His mother didn’t even look up.
Helmut was not going to the toilet. After going up the stairs he walked past the bathroom and to the window overlooking the front lawn, directly above the one a floor below. The crowd looked much bigger from here, and very red. It didn’t seem nice, but it didn’t seem terribly dangerous, either. He didn’t entirely understand some of their banners and posters (Who were Lenin and Marx?) but his father had a book with pictures and words like that so he trusted that they weren’t too bad.
He pressed his cheek against the window so that he could see further down the street and realised that something was going on in the distance. Further up the street the crowd had stopped moving forward, and now was shifting and writhing like some giant animal. He couldn’t see or hear it very well, so he slid the window open and stuck his head out, the warm wind blowing his hair to and fro.
Yelling. Someone was yelling. A lot of people were yelling, and there were loud bangs like gunshots going off… but it couldn’t be that, not on their street, not in Hamburg. The crowd was backing up now, people coming back towards his house and the entire procession seemed to be inverting to go in the opposite direction, and in the distance a wave of grey was parting through the red…
Helmut slid out onto the windowsill and grabbed hold of the drainpipe, shimmying down it like whenever he snuck out to go see his friend Udo. He crouched down once he hit the damp dirt, checking to see that the ground-floor curtains were still drawn—they were—before watching the crowd rushing by just a few paces away. The cries were getting louder, the faces of the people more panicked, and suddenly Helmut felt that coming down here had been a very very bad idea.
“Helmut! Helmet, what are you doing!?”
The boy shot to his feet, eyes wide. “Papa?”
“Helmut!”
The crowd parted for a moment and he saw his father’s bulky figure coming through the crowd, his brown work uniform blending in perfectly with the workers around him.
“Get back inside!” the man roared, fighting to get to the door as the crown turned to anarchy.
With a series of explosions the red-and-brown crowd split down the middle and a wave of men in grey military uniforms surged forward, guns in their hands and many of them on horseback. They were attacking the march like ants onto a carcass, smashing the butts of their rifles into anyone running past and even shooting—shooting!—when people tried to fight back. It was nothing like the dramatic, beautiful combat Helmut pictured in his schoolbooks and he realised that he was screaming as one woman tripped and was soon trampled under the fleeing horde.
“Death to the Communists!” roared one grey-clad man as he passed close enough for Helmut to see the wild look in his eyes. The thirteen-year-old just stood there, frozen, looking for the face of his father now lost in the increasingly-grey flood.
Helmut didn’t know how long he stood there watching the chaos unfold, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute until the fighting had progressed further down the street as the protesters fled. In its wake the street was ravaged, bits of flags, burnt-out torches, bottles, and all manner of debris littering the street.
And bodies. Bodies of all shapes and sizes, most of them dressed in worker-brown, their bodies bruised and misshapen from the hundreds of feet running over them. Helmut’s eyes quickly locked on one of them, instantly recognising the wide shoulders and curly brown hair. The figure was not moving.
“Papa?”
It wasn't long before the nature of the
Stahlhelm began working against von Lettow-Vorbeck and the reputation of stability and order which he had been carefully cultivating. Violent overreaction during a series of peaceful protests in Hamburg and Schleswig-Holstein was muzzled only thanks to generous bribes and it did not stop the gossip from spreading. While the intimidation wrought by them as a paramilitary group was not without its perks, rule through fear was neither this president's style nor preference, and the leverage that it gave the SPD to use against him pushed the President to begin a series of reforms which he had initially planned to hold off until 1933 or later.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck's plans had a great deal to do with the army, diminished and restricted though it might have been. The Treaty of Versailles had seen the German Army restricted to a meagre 100,000 men and their movements limited by the Rhine, effectively neutering them if war were to be declared. While von Lettow-Vorbeck was conscious of the shifting winds which blew ever-more in Germany’s favour, turning the British and Americans against the reparations and subjugation of their former foe, he was also not so foolhardy as to simply dismiss the Treaty outright. No, he had a better idea.
The
Stahlhelm had proved instrumental in von Lettow-Vorbeck’s acquisition of power and would be the first ones to reap the rewards of it. A decree in late April (the first to come out of the new government) would see the
Stahlhelm officially elevated to the status of national police within the Reich, granting them legal backing and a not-insignificant flow of funds. This act was protested by Braun but largely supported outside of Prussia; until this point, all police had been regional, answering to their cities or Free States and not to the central government. The failure of the SPD in efficiently culling the KPD riots had opened the door for von Lettow-Vorbeck to change this and he would not miss his chance. As a government organisation, von Lettow-Vorbeck now had the power to force changes within the
Stalhelm, which he undertook immediately. Uniforms were distributed, salaries were organised, and certifications and training became a necessity for full membership. This saw a marked increase in professionalism, albeit at the cost of a third of the participants who did not make the cut (including many of those drunk on power and wreaking havoc in the cities). The reorganisation process was lengthy, delayed so as to not hinder the far more important economic recovery, but by Summer 1933 it would come into full effect and Germany would have a national police force hundreds of thousands of men strong and answerable to the central government alone.
The various opposition parties in the Reichstag were aware of this but, with the Presidency and Chancellorship currently aligned in their goals, there was little that they could do. Despite this, von Lettow-Vorbeck did not push for more radical change from the beginning. His plan, according to later sources, focused on a solidification of his power followed by a slow increase of pressure upon the regime until it was reshapen or simply broke. Concessions were acceptable, and even preferred in the interest of the German middle class, but what exactly he had in mind as concessions, and what as goals, remains unknown.
The light of the candles bathed von Lettow-Vorbeck's office in a warm, flickering glow. The house was wired, of course, but he found the natural light of a flame more natural and relaxing, harkening him back to long nights planning strategies to use against the British.
Was this really that much different? Perhaps not. Both times he had been planning a strategy for combat, both times facing down an enemy who could not be tackled directly, but had to be whittled away through a war of attrition. Though the political battlefield was not one to which he was well-accustomed, but he was learning… by jove, he was learning…
The President of Germany set down his pen and rubbed his eyes before shooting a glance at the clock. Well past midnight. Again. With a heavy sign he refocused on the documents in front of him, a chronicle of thoughts which he could not keep in the office for fear of it falling into the wrong hands.
A gentle knock came at the door and let out another sigh, shooting a tired smile at the figure now entering. "I'm sorry, my dear."
"Sorry usually means that you won't do it again, and this is the seventh time." Despite her words, Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck's eyes were soft with understanding. "What is it this time?"
"Take a look." He pushed his chair back and offered it to her.
Martha took a seat, raking her eyes over the torrent of seeming nonsense. "Rhenish separatism, educational secularism, the return of the monarchy…" It didn't take her long to connect the dots. "Which of them are on the list?"
"Some of them. All of them. I am honestly unsure." He pulled over another chair and sank into it beside his wife. "I feel that I am beginning to understand why von Hindenburg chose not to retake the mantle of President.”
Martha turned, placing her hands on either side of his face. “If you chose to abandon all of this today, I would not think less of you.”
He felt himself smile. “Does that sound like something I would do?”
“No, not at all. But there is a first time for everything. Like this.” She dropped her hands and picked up one of the papers he’d been working on. “You would really keep the unions?”
“I am not wholly inflexible, my dear.” He wrinkled his nose slightly as he plucked it from her fingers. “I do not see unionisation as… utterly unpalatable. The old union federation proved a powerful force in keeping them in-line. I would rather they be given limited freedom under our control than form independently and run rampant. I will not recreate Bismarck’s mistakes and underestimate them.”
Martha's expression shared the same distaste as his but she nodded in agreement. “The illusion of freedom is far more effective than active oppression. It works on children; it will work on everyone else.”
Von Lettow-Vorbeck smiled, pleased that she saw what he intended. “There are many moderates who choose the SPD for a lack of better options. If I can peel some of the workers away, that will cost them much.”
“It will cost you the Junkers, though,” she reminded him, grabbing another sheet. “How will you deal with them?"
"Their demands are comparatively simple. They want tariffs on goods, financial aid from the government, and political privileges."
"And you are prepared to give them?"
"The demands are simple, not reasonable. No," he shook his head, "they will have to be won over in other ways. I am working on it." He gestured to the papers. "It is an ongoing affair. I've already failed to secure the Rhineland. My next step needs to be a successful one."
"Paul, you cannot win them all over," she said, placing the sheets down.
"Of course, my dear. But I can try. That way, when I crush the dissenters, the others will know that I first approached with an open hand and will be more keen to listen the first time."
Martha smiled. "I do believe you are becoming a proper politician, my love."
"Oh, please don't say that," he all but whined, face twisting sourly. But then he smiled when she stood and wrapped her arms around him.
"Enough planning for the night. You need sleep."
"Very well, my dear. Just for you."
The period of Weimar History during the first few months of President von Lettow-Vorbeck’s rule is commonly referred to as the Quiet Presidency. This name derives from the apparent inaction and relative “silence” of the administration to the general public, especially in comparison to how vocal and ever-present von Lettow-Vorbeck had been during his campaign. It is generally understood to have been a time of gathering allies, both by von Lettow-Vorbeck's government as well as against it, and an anxious anticipation for a conflict many believed to be on the horizon of 1933.
Of course, “quiet” does not mean “inactive”. Under pressure from the new President, Brüning would soon incorporate the members of the Kamarilla into his Cabinet, including von Schleicher as the Minister for Defence and Göring as the Minister of the Interior. After much deliberation the position of Vice-Chancellor was handed to von Papen, though sources agree that this was seen by the man as a slight rather than a privilege, given the relatively powerless nature of the Vice-Chancellorship. It was, however, reflective of his relative political anonymity.
The failure of the new regime to secure von Lettow-Vorbeck’s promise to Kaas would inspire the President to begin building bridges between Berlin and the various regions outside of Prussia, already foreseeing the potential conflict which could emerge between himself and the leading parties. Göring would prove instrumental in this, becoming known as the most active Minister of the Interior in German history; arranging visits between Minister-Presidents of smaller states and the President; establishing a new newspaper, the
Reichsblatt, ostensibly a mouthpiece for the government but in reality for Göring himself; and of course the most infamous creation of the regime and the man himself, the
VoSiSt.
The
Volkssicherheitsstab (People’s Security Staff, often shortened to
VoSiSt) was in many ways a successor to the
Sicherheitspolizei (Security Police) first employed by the Weimar Republic to keep order in the months following the Great War. However, while the
Sicherheitspolizei had existed to tackle threats as they emerged, Göring’s
VoSiSt would formulate a new goal: Solving problems before they became actual threats.
VoSiSt would begin as a small collection of agents answering only to Göring himself but, within just two years, would have expanded into an organisation eclipsing the Ministry of the Interior itself. Prominent jobs of
VoSiSt agents would include digging up dirt on SPD politicians (frequently exploiting or fabricating connections to Communist organisations abroad), collection of blackmail, and identifying potential “social and political dissidents” who might one day prove a threat to the stability of the Reich.
Just like Göring, von Schleicher would also begin expanding his power and reach. In conjunction with Brüning as well as Günther Gereke, the head of the public works sector, he would set the groundwork for an expansive public works program to help bring jobs back into the German economy. Most prominent were the plans for a high-speed road network, the future world-famous “Autobahn”, but also railroads, schools, and other public use buildings. Though expensive and arguably unaffordable for the government, it was not without a point: Leading economists at the time believed that a surge in jobs would help trigger a surge in consumer good sales and, in time, shock some life into the economy as a whole. It was a risky venture and used funds which, frankly, the government did not have, but time would tell if it would succeed. Not irrelevant to the nature of these public works programs is that many of them targeted more rural and underdeveloped regions in Pomerania and East Prussia along the Polish border, both in hopes of increasing the quality of life in the area and, in the event of conflict with Poland, allowing for faster deployment and logistics to the front.
Slowly but surely, the cogs of the new government were beginning to turn, and a wave of change and new-ness was rising like a new dawn over the German Reich. No one knew what these changes would become, and many did not like it, but it was undeniable that things were going to be very different from now on.
Author's Note: I am not very happy with this chapter but I was reaching the point of constant rewrites and simply had to post it to get out of my own head.
The public works program oft-attributed to Hitler was begun by von Schleicher shortly before the Nazis took power, and I see von Schleicher having the same idea and von Lettow-Vorbeck being supportive. One difference is that a great focus in investment will go into the Eastern regions, which, while not benefiting the economy as much in the next few years, will help bring some of the underdeveloped Eastern regions to a higher standard.
If anyone can find a better name for the new secret police, let me know. "Vosist" isn't as pithy as "Gestapo" and won't be as extreme, but it WILL be a powerful and, often, frustrating and dubiously-moral force to deal with. But it will be a while still before it becomes anything major.
This chapter also represented my attempt to curb SS-ism before the Stahlhelm grew too violent or out-of-control, and, in the way that military men have always done, I see von Lettow-Vorbeck solving this by incorporating it into the preexisting structure. It won't solve all the issues but paramilitarism is going to be on the sharp decline from here on out.