I think you got your link wrong - it's leading to the first post of your thread.
8mm to the Left: If Hitler Died in 1923
- Thread starter KaiserKatze
- Start date
I think you got your link wrong - it's leading to the first post of your thread.
To be fair, one could argue the Germans fucked up their money making potential by letting private initiative handle it, more organized and planned exploration would generate more profits; but it doesn't matter, it is bad for the natives either way.
I don't know enough about the internal administration of the colonies to say for sure, aside from some reports from East Africa which supposedly stunned the British for how developed it was compared to much of theirs.
The colonies are a tricky point in this story, though, due to a variety of factors. But I will hold off on that discussion until later when it is actually relevant.
Unfortunately he probably won't live that long. IRL he died in 1930, only a couple months after befriending von Lettow-Vorbeck. I was really tempted to change that but given that 1) He was 80 at his time of death and 2) He was very pro-DNVP, it would be a poor choice to add him to the cabinet.
"It's me, ya boy Raeder." So things don't change much then; we know Raeder likes the surface fleet and managed to convince Hitler not to scuttle it late in the war. So he can maybe try a few things, but I can't really see if the Reichsmarine would differ that much from the Kriegsmarine since the context is mildly different.
Reader might not become the full leader since he was powerful but not undisputed until the Nazis reformed the Reichsmarine. I have to do some more research on the German navy in this era because my knowledge is limited to the likes of Dönitz, so anything you can tell me about major figures, goals, and strategies would be very much appreciated.
I don't know much either, they lost the capabilities of making 380mm guns (That's why the Scharnhorst class was completed with 283s) and Reader served as Hipper's Chief of Staff and the Dutch were trying to source guns from the Germans for their battlecruiser porject (design 1047). But is 1930 so big scale construction won't happen since the Great Depression is kicking in.
When in 1918, French soldiers advanced into Alsace/Lorraine, they were amazed at how developed it was compared to France, and even today, the dividing line of 1870 can be divined almost by sight, simply by an inspection of the infrastructure of the towns and villages. *
Seems like it's a KR thing.
* Alain Peyrefitte - The Trouble with France (Le mal français - Le Livre de Poche 1976), 27; trans. William R Bryon, NYU Press 1986
* Xavier de Planhol, Paul Claval - An Historical Geography of France (Géographie historique de la France - Fayard 1988); trans. Janet Lloyd, Cambridge U Press 1994
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He was never charged with ordering the break in. He apparently found out about it after the fact. He got in trouble for the cover up.*
*Nixon's own reaction to the break-in, at least initially, was one of skepticism. Watergate prosecutor James Neal was sure that Nixon had not known in advance of the break-in. As evidence, he cited a conversation taped on June 23 between the President and his chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman, in which Nixon asked, "Who was the xxxxxxx that did that?"
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Apksmartgang
Banned
Read the first posts of this timeline and a world where Germany is under the control of someone else other than Hitler or the Nazi Party is pretty interesting.
Thanks for the shoutout 💪 I really like where your story seems to be heading, keep at it!
3 - Berlin Battle Royale
8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler
"The years of my father’s Presidency are mostly reduced to a blur in my memory, a growing inaction and itch for change which he failed to capitalise on. He was a great man, and a phenomenal general, but I cannot deny that Father should never have been President.” - Excerpt from the memoirs of Oskar von Hindenburg, 1942
Berlin Battle Royale
As the world turned ever-closer to 1932 and the German Presidential Elections, so too did the upper echelons of power within German society begin readying themselves for the struggle which was to come. News broke in Autumn of 1931 of President von Hindenburg’s refusal to retake the position of President and a mad scramble erupted as the various parties began assembling candidates and lobbying funds.
It was apparent to everyone that the name of the game would be Economics. Following the collapse of the American Stock Market, Germany’s economy had crumpled like aluminium foil against a cannonball. The gravest effect was the retraction of American loans and the ensuing tariffs which were raised between the two nations. The loss of America's consumer market, one of the largest purchasers of German goods, cut industrial production in the Reich by over 40%. Chancellor Brüning had tackled this crisis with extreme austerity measures, even acquiring a temporary moratorium on Versailles reparation payments by the sympathetic Americans, but it had nevertheless caused a massive spike in unemployment and poverty. His popularity was so low that he affected change only by emergency decrees signed off by President von Hindenburg, and there was little to no chance that he would survive the federal election scheduled for later in 1932. This was a unique chance for opposition parties to seize control of both the Chancellorship and Presidency.
The strongest contender for the Presidency on party basis alone was the SPD. The past few years had seen tremendous growth in support for the Left, especially following the failures of Hugenberg and his ilk, and uncertainty had given way to confidence, confidence enough that, in late September of 1931, the SPD put forth their candidate for the German Presidency: Paul Löbe.
Löbe was an ideal candidate to direct Germany away from the Prussian Conservatism of von Hindenburg’s reign. A Prussian himself, Löbe would be an easy win for SPD-dominated Prussia, the dominant state within Germany. His only real weakness was his lack of participation in the Great War (owing to lung disease which rendered him unfit for service) but it was far from insurmountable. His platform promised an end to the most extreme of Brüning’s austerity measures (though not removing them altogether), less unemployment, and a reduction of poverty through social spending.
Following the SPD were the Zentrum and the Communist KPD, nearly neck-and-neck for second place roughly 30 seats behind. While the former had not yet committed to a candidate, the diversity of its party making such a decision quite difficult, the KPD had quickly offered up Ernst Thälmann, party leader, as their candidate, to the surprise of no one. Though the KPD held significant support within the German people, Thälmann himself was a more contentious figure. His fiercely pro-Stalin views, as well as his support for much of the violence between Right- and Left-wing militants in the streets, cost his party some of their support. Despite this, his high visibility and open backing from Moscow kept him from being dislodged by any opponents within the party.
Beyond these initial three there were no parties capable of providing a credible candidate. None of the regional parties bothered offering up a candidate and the only other legitimate contender, the DNVP, had no other option than its leader and chief financier Alfred Hugenberg himself, whose chances of becoming President were frequently compared to that of a snowball’s survival in Hell even when factoring in the votes of the only other party to support his level of extremism, the Nationalsozialistische Freiheitsbewegung (National Socialist Freedom Movement), or NSFB, led by Gregor Strasser. The NSFB was a fringe group amongst fringe groups and had little to no voice outside of the most virulent nationalists in East Prussia and the rump Posen-West-Prussian state.(1)
Von Lettow-Vorbeck stood as an outsider from this system. In keeping with the methods used by von Hindenburg, he had been announced as a candidate without the backing of a political party in hopes that it would keep him from being dragged into the muck which they continued to fling at one-another.
Not that this stopped his enemies from trying, of course. The earliest and most virulent attacks came not from the SPD or Communists, but from the DNVP, his old party. Hugenberg’s loathing for von Lettow-Vorbeck grew to new heights when he realised that the man had been preparing for a presidential run back when he threw the Freedom Act under the bus. Hugenberg shouted to the four winds that von Lettow-Vorbeck was a traitorous coward to the principles of the Right, though the effect was minimal, if not self-damaging, when in the next few months several major party members would abandon ship for the new KCVP (which openly supported von Lettow-Vorbeck).
That isn’t to say that he didn’t come under all manner of fire from the Left, because he most assuredly did. Ernst Thälmann and the Communists were quick to brand him as an enemy of the proletariat, using his well-publicised role in suppressing various uprisings during the 1918 German Revolution as well as his history as a colonial general. An easy target for both the Communists and the SPD, and really anyone who opposed him, was his role in the failed Kapp Putsch in 1920. Many saw him–not entirely unjustly–as an unwavering monarchist with no love or loyalty to the Republic. Much as had been done when von Hindenburg ran, papers across the Reich warned that a von Lettow-Vorbeck victory would lead to the return of Kaiser Wilhelm II and an invasion from their hostile neighbours.
The Kamarilla, von Hindenburg’s collection of advisors and, according to some, puppetmasters, had expected and planned for this. Franz von Papen used his influence within the Zentrum (of which he was a prominent member) to set von Lettow-Vorbeck up with several radio speeches in the Rhineland, one of the most densely-populated but also most distrustful regions. Several copies of these speeches survive, including the most famous one as transcribed below, given on November 8, 1931 and broadcast from the city of Düsseldorf:
“To the men and women of Germany. To the soldiers and veterans, the businessmen, the farmers, the craftsmen. To the educated and skilled whose livelihoods have been stolen from them. And the housewives.
The Fatherland sits at the moment of its greatest change, perhaps greater even than on the day of our victory in Sedan when the French wave broke against the rock of German unity and strength. I call on you, the German folk, to remember the unity which our fathers and grandfathers exhibited on that day. Germany once again sits disunited and surrounded by hostile forces. Even within our borders there remains the threat of the traitors who stabbed us in the back, fat and happy while loyal citizens go hungry. Only together can we unite ourselves and bring a complete and lasting unity to all Germans near and far.
I do not come to you as a soldier or a servant of the throne. My war is over and the throne has crumbled. I come to you as a man who loves his nation and whose heart breaks at the sight of what it has been driven to and who would give anything to alleviate its pain.
Stand with me, people of Germany. One people, one voice, one Reich!”
This speech, and the others like it, was not without criticism, as can be expected. Many noted his reluctance to refer to the Republic and instead his preference for words like Reich, Fatherland, or nation. Likewise, he never gave assurances or even claims to have broken from his monarchist beliefs, and in fact seemed to reinforce them. Yet it was enough. The listeners were enthralled by his calls for unity and heartfelt pleas and found his message far more moving than the oft-rote memoranda touted by all major political parties. In a stroke of political brilliance later attributed to his wife, his young son was brought in for one such interview where he loudly and proudly declared that, if Germany asked nicely, it could “share his father”, earning laughs up and down the Rhine and the instant adoration of half a million loving parents. (The nickname “Father of Modern Germany”, despite only being endowed on von Lettow-Vorbeck decades later, is often attributed to this statement.)
Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck and his son Arnd, 1931
(https://wkgeschichte.weser-kurier.de/zum-tee-beim-general/)
However, despite this upsurge in popularity, it was not all sunshine and roses for von Lettow-Vorbeck and his goals. The German people had spent the past two years under the control of a Conservative Chancellor and President and many were dubious of whether or not von Lettow-Vorbeck would improve the situation. One problem in particular stood out:
Chancellor Heinrich Brüning.
___________________________________________
“Down with Brüning! Jobs for Germans! Brüning verordnet Not!(2)”
These cries had become frustratingly commonplace in the last few weeks and German Chancellor Heinrich Brüning rubbed his forehead in vexation as one of his personal guards quickly shoved the loudmouthed Saxon man away from the car, allowing the Chancellor to exit. A small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk in front of Wilhelmstraße 23, the former Schwerin Palace and now the residence of the German President, and upon seeing the target of their enmity the crowd began booing and chanting for his downfall. Surrounded on all sides by guards, Brüning quickly made his way into the building and did not risk relaxing until the doors had closed behind him and there was reinforced oak between himself and the angry masses.
“Bad day, Chancellor?” asked Therese Miller, the front-desk secretary, with a sympathetic smile.
Brüning scoffed. “Compared to some of the past few days this crowd was positively joyful! I would take them over the miners in Breslau any day.” He shuddered in memory of his recent visit to the Lower Silesian regional capital. He had never expected coal to leave such a bruise!
Theresa laughed, doubtlessly insincerely, but it was of no matter. Brüning gave a curt nod to the guards lining the room before heading for the stairs leading up to the formal imperial office. Though he’d visited the site dozens of times, he could never help himself from slowing his pace ever-so-slightly to observe the various paintings lining the wall as he passed. While much of the former royal art collection had been returned to the von Hohenzollern family, there remained here a wide selection of paintings, both originals and duplicates, depicting famous men from throughout the history of Prussia. Frederich the Great, the Great Elector, Kaisers Wilhelm I and Friedrich III, even a painting of Her Majesty Queen Victoria alongside her grandson Wilhelm II which could only be a recreation, as Brüning could not fathom such a priceless treasure being left behind upon the sale of the building.
“Disgraceful,” he thought to himself, remembering the German Revolution which had toppled the monarchy. He had never approved of the notion and the state of the Republic had not endeared him further to it. A weakened monarch he could have perhaps supported (especially after some of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s follies), or the reformation of the Reichstag along the lines of the British Parliament, but full removal of the ruling family? It was an insult to the great work that generations of von Hohenzollerns had undertaken to unite Prussia and later Germany, and indeed the loyalty which Brüning felt was owed to all dynasties whose kingdoms had provided the basis for the nations of the modern day.
Such topics had been discussed at length with President von Hindenburg both before and after Brüning was appointed to the Chancellorship. Behind closed doors Brüning had broached the possibility of a von Hohenzollern restoration, abolishing the Presidency and consolidating greater power in the Chancellorship, but President von Hindenburg had shot it down–not out of a desire to control the power of the Presidency, but because of his oath to uphold the principles of the Republic and his honour refusing to allow such a defiance of duty. It was a noble sentiment, if quite misplaced in Brüning’s opinion. Such talk had been rendered moot by the collapse of the American Stock Market, anyhow, as Germany needed the sort of stability which a sudden shift in government–especially one which might bring them into an unwinnable conflict with hostile neighbours–would not contribute to.
Brüning drew to a halt before the door to the Presidential Office and rapped thrice on the door. Several seconds passed before a gruff “Kommen Sie herein” came and he stepped inside. It was a small-ish space compared to some of the newer buildings on the Wilhelmstraße, and decorated in the royal form. The space was dominated by two seating spaces, a formal dining table with several matching stiff-backed chairs and another, slightly cosier arrangement of leather armchairs gathered around a squat fireplace. A bookshelf sat at the back of the room and the decor favoured the final monarchist era under Wilhelm II; Brüning could only guess that such choices had been brought in or recovered from storage by von Hindenburg himself, as Brüning could scarcely imagine the first president and staunch democrat, Friedrich Ebert, to have kept such memorabilia about.
President Paul von Hindenburg sat at the formal dining table, small piles of papers neatly stacked around him and several wells of ink ready for usage. There was a neatness and a crispness to everything which Brüning, despite not being Prussian (at least not of the East-Elbian variety), could appreciate. Von Hindenburg himself was a powerful giant of a man, built like a soldier and carrying himself like one, even while seated retaining his perfect posture. Despite this, the weight of age could be seen, not only in the lines on his face, but also in the slowness of his hands and the occasional squinting of his eyes.
The Presidential Office, formerly belonging to the King of Prussia and German Kaiser
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reichspräsidentenpalais)
President Paul von Hindenburg, Second President of Germany
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_von_Hindenburg#1925_election)
Brüning came to a stop a few paces away from the table and assumed the traditional position of an infantryman, clicking his heels and standing ramrod-straight. While he, as Chancellor, was supposed to be von Hindenburg’s equal, years of military experience did not simply go away and his own immense respect for the man and his role in the war won out.
President von Hindenburg’s choice of seating arrangement played a pivotal role setting the mood for discussions. Talks in the leather armchairs were informal, often casual, while sitting across from him at the formal table carried with it a heavy seriousness. To Brüning’s relief, the former was the case, as von Hindenburg finally laid down his pen, rose, and beckoned the Chancellor over to the leather chairs. A brief call down to the maid and they each had a small glass of beer–a Danziger, Brüning noticed with some distaste, far too thick for his preference.
Von Hindenburg had downed his before Brüning had managed more than half of the syrupy brew. He chuckled slightly at the sight of the Chancellor’s ill-concealed grimace. “Would you prefer a Kölsch?”
It was supposed to be a joke, Cologne’s signature beer was widely-derided east of the Rhineland, but in that moment Brüning would have chosen a cold Kölsch over a Danziger. “Do I have a choice?” he quipped, but put it down anyway, now seeing that this was just the President indulging in a bit of humour at Brüning’s expense. He wondered if the man’s grandchildren had stopped by; they always seemed to get him in a playful mood.
“Anything to support the good Germans of West Prussia,” replied the old man, looking to the mantle where an enormous map of the old German Empire was displayed. Von Hindenburg’s own place of birth, Posen, was one of the many territories stripped from the Reich in the wake of the Great War, though by its inhabitants, not the invading powers. No, it was Poland, a state whose rebirth was a product of German generosity as they pushed back the Russians, which had swept in to seize the territory, aided by partisans in the state itself. It was a betrayal which the German people had not forgotten, made no less egregious by the other regions now under Polish occupation: West Prussia, Upper Silesia, and of course the Free City of Danzig, a nominal Polish puppet. All good Germans knew that these lands were as German as Hannover or the Rhineland and that it was only a matter of time until they were retaken, by hook or by crook.
All good Germans, anyway.
“The SPD have chosen their candidate to succeed you,” said Brüning, drawing the focus back to politics. “Paul Löbe.”
Von Hindenburg’s brows drew together in thought.
“He tried to organise a border resolution with the Poles in 1927,” Brüning prompted, “but they refused to accommodate.”
The President sniffed, lip curling in distaste. “The only acceptable resolution is their complete acquiescence,” he declared.
This was a point which had initially divided Brüning and von Hindenburg and which made von Hindenburg less palatable to many members of the Zentrum. The President was a fierce defender of Conservatism, but oftentimes his fanatic devotion to the ideals of the Kaiserreich made him blind to practicality. On some level, Brüning could understand the unwillingness to compromise, especially when the city of the man’s birth lay deep within the new Polish state and had seen much of its German population flee or be expelled. On the other hand, many, including Brüning himself, felt that a certain level of pragmatism should take precedence. Claiming the German-speaking Danzig or the strategically-valuable West Prussia was one thing; demanding the return of a large, undoubtedly hostile, Polish-majority region based solely on historical claims was another. It was a similar split to the question of Poland itself, with some seeking an equal partnership, others a puppet buffer state, and some whose hatred of Poland was so great that they would rather see Germany expanded to the Vistula and share a border with the Soviet Union than accept a single kilometre of free Poland.
A similar debate emerged in discussion of a restored Kaiser. Brüning could see, in time, the formation of a constitutional monarchy akin to that in Britain, perhaps under one of Kaiser Wilhelm II’s children or grandchildren. Von Hindenburg, however, would accept nothing less than the restoration of Kaiser Wilhelm II himself, regardless of the international and domestic upheaval that this would cause as neither the ex-Entente powers nor the German people themselves would ever again tolerate the man in a position of power. Von Hindenburg was tactical, intelligent, and patient, but at times his rampant Prussian patriotism was simply too strong for his own good.
“If it is any consolation, he also serves as the chairman of the Austro-German People’s League,” Brüning added, half as a joke and half out of legitimate curiousity to the man’s reaction.
Another sniff, smaller this time, showing von Hindenburg’s thoughts on the idea of German union with Austria. “Catholics,” was all he said.
Brüning, a Catholic from Westphalia, refrained from commenting, though the thought “Damn Prussian stubbornness” might have crossed his mind. He himself had put great effort towards that goal, even coming close to establishing a customs union between Germany and Austria which would have paved the way for union, before the vile French stuck their long noses into it. “So does that mean that you approve of your son’s pick?” he brought up hesitantly.
Von Hindenburg drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, peering into the embers of the fire. "General von Lettow-Vorbeck is a capable leader," he said at last. "I would not see another unbloodied politician dictating the fate of Germany. While I find his tactics to be… unconventional, he has the qualities of a leader." Von Hindenburg was not the most trustworthy of public media. His own campaign had seen one single radio speech and to this day the only thing most Germans could say about him was that he had a moustache.
“Will he be willing to continue on the path we have set?” This was Brüning’s biggest concern. The Great Depression, as it was being called, had struck the fragile growth of the new German economy with the force of a meteor. What little progress had been made since the Dawes Plan had been nearly undone and Germany was floundering, and without a steady hand like Brüning had been using, it could all come crashing back down. In a twisted way, the extremists like Hugenberg had gotten their wish, as the collapse of the American economy made the Young Plan’s implementation impossible. He wondered what they thought of this.
Von Hindenburg shot Brüning a narrow-eyed gaze. “You have run too rampant with your restrictions,” he warned. “The people despise you. I am not convinced that your path is one which should be continued upon.”
“I have only ever done what is best for Germany! That some Communists starve is not my concern!”
Von Hindenburg’s fist slammed down on the arm of his chair. “You risk the support of the Right!”
Brüning had to pause and take a deep breath before he said something which would have cost him his office. “I do only what needs to be done,” he forced out with a voice trembling from frustration. “Better to tighten our belts for a few years than see future generations slave to the greed of the French.”
The President and Chancellor stared each other down for a long few moments. “I wash my hands of this,” von Hindenburg declared at last, looking away.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No more.” Von Hindenburg shook his head, suddenly looking incredibly old. “I never wanted this power. I was not born for it and I can not continue.”
“What are you saying?”
“I disagree with your methods. I fear that you will force the people to turn to the Reds for hatred of you. Thus… I will no longer authorise Emergency Decrees.”
Brüning jerked back in shock. “You would remove me?” he demanded.
“No. I leave that to General von Lettow-Vorbeck. If the fates are kind, he will become Germany’s President, and you may chart a path together or apart. Either way… I am done.”
Fists clenched and positively trembling with rage, Chancellor Brüning rose to his feet. “Very well, Herr Präsident,” he ground out through gritted teeth. With a curt, disrespectful nod that the old man didn’t even notice, Brüning whirled on his heel and stormed out, one word burning in his mind.
Coward.
______________________________________
It was telling, as well as a bit concerning, how much of his campaigning took place in the Rhineland, von Lettow-Vorbeck found himself thinking as he made his way down the crooked side-streets of the Cologne Old Town. The Rhineland had always been a problem for Prussian officials–they had a strong cultural identity and a deep-rooted Catholicism, both of which chafed under the rule of their Eastern Protestant cousins. Various attempts at winning loyalty, such as the completion of the Cologne Cathedral (left unfinished for hundreds of years preceding Prussian rule) or the construction of the Hohenzollern Bridge, had failed to properly endear the regime to the locals, many of whom still pined for the days of being a Free City unbeholden to anyone. Now, despite the removal of the Prussian King, they remained a problem, hating the liberal-dominated Prussian government perhaps even more than they once hated the King and Kaiser.
The twin spires of the Cologne Cathedral were visible above the gabled roofs and it was there that von Lettow-Vorbeck headed. The clock in a nearby window told him that he still had fifteen minutes until thirteen, meaning that he would be comfortably but not unprofessionally early.
He went up the steps and crossed to the side entrance. A few eyes followed his form, likely recognising him from the increasingly-frequent photos in national papers, but without his trademark hat he was difficult to identify, which he banked on. Despite this he knew that he looked like a soldier. Once the mannerisms of the Prussian military were drilled into you, they were not easily forgotten.
Upon entering the cathedral the background noise of the busy city fell away, the enormous wooden doors creating a seal between him and the world beyond. He passed through the heavy red curtain insulating the interior from the winter cold and paused for a moment to take in the sight, breath escaping him. Even a dyed-in-the-wool Protestant could not help but marvel at the grandeur and beauty which typified the cathedral, the beauty and detail in every metre of hand-carved sandstone and beautiful stained glass.
Cologne Cathedral Interior
(https://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/cologne-cathedral-nave-germany.html?sortBy=relevant)
Von Lettow-Vorbeck took a seat in one of the wings off to the side, as he had been directed to do, and waited. He was not alone but the other visitors kept to themselves, mostly women and elderly who did not have to work and had the time to attend the noon mass. He let himself relax, breathing in the smell of incense as he waited for his appointment to arrive.
And waited.
…and waited.
The general was not an impatient man but he put immense value in punctuality, as all good Prussians did. The ringing of the hour came and went but he remained alone even five minutes after it had passed. He had grown bored of trying to name the various royal houses whose crests decorated the stained glass and was nearly ready to depart when a figure appeared beside him.
“General von Lettow-Vorbeck,” greeted Father Ludwig Kaas, sliding into the pew and taking a seat beside him.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck nodded, not letting his annoyance at the lateness show. Rhinelanders, he thought derisively. “Father Kaas.”
“I apologise for the delay, I was performing my post-service routine and lost track of the time.” Kaas smiled genially in the way that religious folk did. When speaking to him like this it was strange to remember that he was simultaneously the head of one of the most powerful Conservative parties in all of Germany, the Zentrum. “I should have remembered that I was meeting with a military man, not a local layman.”
There was an insult veiled there which von Lettow-Vorbeck did not have the energy nor will to suss out. “Retired military,” he corrected. “No amount of Prussian strictness could break my sons of their untidiness.”
Kaas gave a toothy smile. Von Lettow-Vorbeck wondered if the man was capable of smiling in a convincing way. “Children are little miracles. But that is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”
“Very well.” He resituated himself. “The Zentrum has yet to provide a candidate for the next election cycle. Your party is the strongest outside of the SPD and could very well win the Presidency if you so desired, but are refraining from doing so. What do you want?”
This was why von Lettow-Vorbeck had insisted on coming himself instead of allowing one of the others, such as Franz von Papen, to come in his place. Von Papen was a Catholic Zentrum man himself and would have deferred to Kaas’s authority. Von Lettow-Vorbeck was neither a Zentrum member nor did he have any intrinsic respect for the priestly office beyond that which simple courtesy demanded. Perhaps such directness would offend Kaas, but at least this way there would be nothing lost in communication.
Plus, on a solely personal level, von Lettow-Vorbeck did not want to give up too much power to the Kamarilla. They had already handled much of the lobbying effort for him and, aside from von Schleicher, he did not entirely trust them…
Father Kaas smoothed down the front of his robe, snapping von Lettow-Vorbeck back to attention. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well. As you undoubtedly know, our party is as diverse as Germany herself. Catholic Poles, Bavarians, Rhinelanders, even quite a few Protestants whose distaste for the more extreme parties overrides their distaste for the Vatican.” His lips quirked in amusement and von Lettow-Vorbeck noted it as the first real emotion he’d seen. “To choose one of these would risk alienating the other groups. It could be done, but why bother when God has already presented a fitting candidate?” He nodded at the general.
“Why would such a diverse party support me?”
“Because you can give us all what we want. Because you can at last break the hold that the godless socialists hold over us all.” Kaas’s face twisted as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “You have heard the plans which Löbe touts as his party’s goals?”
Von Lettow-Vorbeck took a moment to grasp the significance of what the old man meant. Kaas wasn’t speaking about the various worker protections, industrial limitation quotas, or plans to weaken the power of the President which were the SPD standard. No, he was talking about goals unique to Löbe. “The Prussian Experiment,” he realised, and everything became clearer.
Das Preußische Experiment, as coined by Löbe himself, was a damning bit of political jargon that von Schleicher had warned was an indication of how cocky the SPD had become with their majority. For almost a decade Prussia had sat as a democratic bulwark within the Reich, opposing attempts at takeover from the various Conservative factions by grace of the Grand Democratic Coalition which governed it. In many ways Prussia’s sheer size relative to the other states worked in the SPD’s favour, with many of the regional or religious parties drowned out by the number of their opponents. This had brought a level of stability to Prussia which no one could deny, but now Löbe and his ally Otto Braun, the Minister President of Prussia, were planning to take it a step further. “The Prussian Experiment has proven a success beyond what words can convey,” Löbe had been heard saying in one radio interview. “The time has come for Prussia to once again lead its little brothers into the future! Prussia’s success will be exported and will become the basis for a stable, unified, democratic Reich!”
The Weimar Republic and constituent states, the Free State of Prussia in blue.
(https://www.zeitklicks.de/weimarer-republik/politik/typisch-weimar/die-laender-der-republik)
There was obviously more to it than this, but the core principle was enough to get the job done. Left-leaning politicians in the lesser states were in awe and keen to jump on board the Prussian train; for the Conservatives, regional leaders, and religious, this bordered on an act of war.
“What will come next?” Kaas demanded, hands twisting furiously into the fabric of his robes. “The abolishment of the Free States? Secularism in our schools!?” He crossed himself quickly, muttering a short prayer. “This ‘experiment’ proves what I have always said: The good people of the Rhineland have no place within Prussia.”
Von Lettow-Vorbeck had been warned by the Kamarilla of this being the obvious demand but had been hesitant to believe it. Yet here it was being presented to him. “You wish to break Prussia?” The loyalist in him was tempted to demand a duel of honour for even suggesting it.
“Not break, surely not,” Kaas was quick to clarify, seeing the no-doubt thunderous expression on the old general’s face. “Merely… a limitation. The removal of the Rhineland from Prussia would benefit all involved. My people would achieve the representation and self-governance long denied them and the leaders in Berlin would no longer have to spend precious government funding asserting control over a city far, far older than theirs.”(3)
Von Lettow-Vorbeck forced himself to not react from emotion and to consider the pragmatism of the thing first. Kaas was not demanding a true Rhenish Republic independent from the Reich as had been attempted in the early days of the Republic, he merely desired regional self-governance. Not an unjust request, if von Lettow-Vorbeck was being honest with himself, but the request nevertheless rankled. Prussia was the rightful land of the von Hohenzollern family, the Rhineland earned with blood and steel against the might of Napoleon himself, and to break that sacred holy endowment could be seen as an affront to the work of God himself.
The urge struck him to call upon the exiled Kaiser Wilhelm II in the Netherlands to ask for his permission for such an allowance, much as President von Hindenburg had once done before running for President. Despite his personal failings, the man was and remained the God-ordained monarch of Prussia and thus the liege of Lettow-Vorbeck himself. The general still retained hope for a future restoration of the imperial family and he struggled to imagine facing them when he had traded away their lands as political favours.
And yet…
And yet what other option was there? Without the support of the Zentrum, von Lettow-Vorbeck had no chance. The SPD would continue to grow and assert itself over Germany until they or the Communists at last transformed her into a red state like Russia. Once that point had been reached, the soul of Germany would die and even the remotest chance of a Kaiser upon the throne would be dead. Was it not better, then, to gamble with limited risk while he still held cards to play?
There had been a story passed down to him through the various networks of the imperial army back in the days of the Great War. It claimed that the Italians, already allied to the Central Powers, had double-crossed them and dared to demand lands from Austria-Hungary as payment for upholding its treaty obligations. Kaiser Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary had, of course, refused this request, and the Italians had turned on them as Italians were wont to do. All had cheered this at first… but as the war turned on Austria, they found themselves wondering… would it not have been better to give freely a pittance to spare the loss of everything?
Von Lettow-Vorbeck supposed that he must feel very much like the old Austrian Kaiser in that moment, sitting in a Catholic church and contemplating what he was willing to sacrifice for his nation. He had already given much, fought a losing battle and seen his comrades and friends in East Africa ripped away from him. There were things he would not sacrifice, deals which he would not sign, but this… this was not one of them.
“Very well,” declared the general. “If I become President, I swear on my honour that you will have your Freistaat Rheinlands.”
Father Kaas blinked, seemingly surprised by the brevity of this decision, and then a full, real smile split his weathered face. “At long last,” he declared, kissing the crucifix around his neck and bowing to the tabernacle. “Germany has the leader she needs.”
Von Lettow-Vorbeck dearly hoped that the man spoke the truth.
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- - This was the temporary name of the Nazis following Hitler’s arrest, until he returned and reformed it into the NSDAP. With his death, the temporary name sticks. I don’t see the party fizzling out completely without Hitler but I imagine it being the least-palatable of all the Rightist parties to the average voter.
- - Brüning verordnet Not (Brüning decrees hardship/emergency), a common slogan opposing the emergency decrees used by Brüning and von Hindenburg to bypass the Reichstag and enact laws directly.
- - The author lives in Cologne and can testify that a rather stunning amount of people base their superiority and dislike for cities like Berlin on the fact that Cologne is much older.
I am sick today and had time to finish the chapter I was working on, meaning that I was able to post this one (as I am trying to stay 3 to 4 chapters ahead at all times). Normal chapter updates will be every week or two, but it will vary and of course may change as time progresses and the chapters likely grow longer.
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Aside from Strasser, what figures are prominent in this rather more "revolutionary" NSFB?
At the moment I don't have an in-depth list, the only characters whose presence in it is definite are Strasser and Göbbels. Recommendations or ideas as welcome, though. At the moment the NSFB does not have a major presence, but they will become... not important politically, exactly, but they will still be a factor which the government will have to handle.
Does anyone have a good understanding of the broader royalist movement in Hungary in the 30's? Both the idea of a monarch as a whole and also the specific options. For example, I know Charles I tried his "March on Hungary" in the 20's and that it failed, but did that completely kill Habsburg support?
I think that every Hungarian monarchists or at least good majority of them where still pro-Habsburg. But important question is what plans Horthy had for Hungary after he is gone or had him any ideas over succession.
Well, IOTL, he named his son Istvan the “Deputy Regent” before he died in a mysterious plane crash, which indicated he had some sort of succession plan to make the Regency a hereditary office,