8mm to the Left: A World Without Hitler
"Imagine… imagine a dinner party. A really big one. Crystal dishes, dozens of fancy foods… but instead of proper adults, everyone is three years old and really needs a nap. It would be utter chaos! And now you are the one who has to get them to sit down and eat their peas. That was what being a politician during the Republic was like. Does anyone miss it? Some masochists, probably, but certainly not me.” - Karl Hepp, former leader of the Christian-National Peasants' and Farmers' Party, Berlin, 1945
Wunderland
On December 5th, 1931, at 8:37 A.M., the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow exploded under the force of several hundred kilos of dynamite. This destruction was total, reducing the decades-old Orthodox structure to rubble in less than a half-hour. The ancient reliefs were spared, taken away to a nearby monastery for safekeeping, but the golden dome was seized by the state and melted down for funds and the rubble cleared away to make room for the planned Palace of the Soviets.
Christ the Saviour Cathedral, Moscow
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipe...ow_archive_img07_Christ_Saviour_Cathedral.jpg)
Destruction of Christ the Saviour Cathedral, Moscow
(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Christ_saviour_explosion.jpg)
To many Muscovites as well as citizens of the Soviet Union as a whole, the complete obliteration of this significant holy site by the Communist government—as well as the ensuing construction of the Palace of the Soviets—was a microcosm of the relationship between the Soviet Union and the Russian Empire which preceded it. For all that the leaders of the Soviet Union decried the tyranny of the Tsarist regime and the Orthodox church which supported it, more than a few cynics drew comparisons between the Cathedral which previously stood there and the new Soviet Palace which was to take its place.
Имена могут меняются, но лица всё та же (The names may change but the faces remain the same) would be a phrase frequently whispered in back-alleys and closed parlours of Moscow in the coming months.
The centuries-old devotion to the church of Constantinople had not been as easily smothered as the Soviets would have liked, though its strength was admittedly greatly diminished. The Russian people had not abandoned their faith, they were simply… tired. Tired of the war and chaos which had wracked their country, tired of the starvation and the poverty and the sons who never came home. The oppression of their faith was seen by many as a small price to pay for assurance, and for those who still resisted the secularism? Well, they would soon find a man standing at their door with an invitation which could not be refused.
The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was not the impenetrable fortress which many envisioned it as. Money, people, and of course information traveled in and out, albeit with greater difficulty than other states. As such, it was not long before news of the cathedral’s destruction reached the outside world. It certainly wasn't hurt by how proudly Stalin boasted of his triumph over "the superstitions of old".
The Orthodox nations of Greece, Bulgaria, Romania, and Yugoslavia (at least the Serbian part) were quick to decry this act as a monstrous offense against God, briefly united in their anger at this attack. Holy leaders of the Russian Church the world over wept at what was being done to their once-devout nation and within the Vatican even Pope Pius XI would offer mass for the souls of the Russian people and hope that “one day, Our Father will lead them back out of the darkness”.
Despite the general outrage among these varied communities, the news wouldn’t even grace the ears of most world leaders. “The Soviets being the Soviets” was how the average citizen in France or America would have described it, a brief shake of the head and then a continuation of their day. It was, after all, just one cathedral in a far-off nation.
Germany would be the outlier.
"Russia was a great nation, once," spoke Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, his loud, clear voice echoing around the chamber of the
Berliner Sportpalast (Berlin Athletic Arena) to touch every onlooker. "They fought to defend Christendom and to spread the civilising message of Europe to the far reaches of Asia. Even in war they fought with honour and there was never any doubt that the Russian Empire was an equal member of the Great Brotherhood of Nations." He paused, casting his eyes across the crowd. "And what has become of it? Betrayed from within by dissidents and criminals. The royal family imprisoned and murdered. The faith and freedom of the masses strangled by the Communist plague!"
Across the room a roar of collective outrage sounded, deafeningly loud in the space. Von Lettow-Vorbeck cast a glance behind him to his wife and the men of the
Kamarilla. Von Schleicher gave him a nod, lips upturned at the reaction which the words had garnered.
"Germany was spared such a fate only by the slimmest of margins," von Lettow-Vorbeck continued once the noise had subsided. "The men of the
Freikorps and the military worked together with the Republican government to halt the red tide in Bavaria and others, but were unable to fully defeat it before their hands were tied by the victorious Entente. Ernst Thälmann and his brethren in the KPD would see us become a godless dystopia as well; no, worse! He would see us become little more than a puppet to Moscow! How long, then, until the Cathedral of Cologne is in flames? The Cathedral of Berlin torn down for a statue of Marx? Our great heritage snuffed out by the tide of internationalism?” He paused to take a breath.
This time the room was deathly silent, the crowd watching him with mute fascination.
“The time for infighting is over,” he declared at last. “In 1871 the German people were unified politically, but the process was left incomplete. It is time for us to finish what Otto von Bismark and Kaiser Wilhelm I began. One people, one voice, one Reich!”
He raised his fist in the air as he spoke those words, the words which had become his rallying cry. His heart lifted in exhilaration as, across the hall, men and women lifted their fists into the air and repeated the mantra, the words thundering out with the force to shake the building.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck stepped down from the podium, the intense energy which had filled him now vanishing and leaving him winded. He crossed to the chairs where the others sat and Martha rose to embrace him. “Well-done,” she whispered into his ear. “Let’s see Löbe top that.”
He chuckled into her hair before pulling away. He turned, expecting to see von Schleicher, but the man was at the other end of the stage talking with some of the supporters while the crowd slowly filtered out of the building. In his place stood Franz von Papen, and von Lettow-Vorbeck felt a stirring of annoyance as the man stepped closer.
Franz von Papen
(https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_von_Papen)
Franz von Papen was a member of soon-to-be former President von Hindenburg’s Kamarilla and a close personal friend of von Schleicher, having been brought into von Hindenburg’s government on the man’s recommendation. As a prominent member of the Zentrum party he had a wealth of connections and influence amongst the Catholics and Conservatives; it had only been through his politicking that von Lettow-Vorbeck had been able to arrange the meeting with Ludwig Kaas and earn the backing of the majority of that party.
Despite this as well as his general usefulness, von Lettow-Vorbeck could not bring himself to like the man very much. There was just something about him which the old general found… irritating. He would never say this to his face, of course, and von Schleicher respected him far too much to address it, but still…
“Masterfully done, Herr General,” von Papen said with a smile. “That speech was a work of art.”
“Only thanks to your help,” von Lettow-Vorbeck replied with a nod of thanks.
Von Papen waved a hand in dismissal. “A few ideas, nothing more.” He cast his gaze to the receding crowd. “The people here are desperate for someone to save them. All one must know is the right buttons to push. Don’t you agree, Otto?”
After Oskar von Hindenburg (who had not been able to make it to the rally), Otto Meissner was the fourth and final member of the
Kamarilla. A quiet, withdrawn man, Meissner was easily overlooked by the noble and ostentatious members of the Berlin elite. Wrongly so, as many would soon learn, because his unassuming appearance and diminished stature hid a brilliant bureaucratic mind capable of juggling the enormous burden which was the job of State Secretary.
Otto Meissner
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Meissner)
“It was very well-done, but this is Berlin, not Saxony,” Otto replied. “Winning a stadium of loyalists in the capital won’t do us much good if we lost Prussia.”
Von Papen raised an eyebrow. “Otto, you worry too much. Father Kaas has assured me that the deputies across the Rhineland know where their loyalties lie.”
Otto
harrumphed and rapped his cane against the floor. “Too much time has been spent on the damn Rhineland! If we cannot break their hold on Prussia it won’t matter how many Rhinelanders we have!”
A soft clearing of the throat drew the group’s attention. Von Schleicher had returned, a man in tow. “I believe we might have some help in that,” he said, nodded to his companion. “This is Hermann Göring.”
Hermann Göring, 1930
(https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermann_Göring)
Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not at first recognise the name, it was in fact his wife Martha who jolted his memory when, surprised, she asked, "The pilot?" and it clicked in his memory. Herman Göring had been awarded a
Pour Le Merite for his service in the Great War and had become so venerated as a pilot that, after the Red Baron was killed in action, Göring had been given command over the man's personal squadron. This man was a legend among German veterans second only to the likes of von Hindenburg and von Lettow-Vorbeck himself.
"It is an honour to meet you," greeted Lettow-Vorbeck said as he shook the man's hand. The grip he received was strong and firm, much like the man himself. Despite it having been over a decade since active combat, Göring did not seem to have lost his soldier's physique.(1)
"The honour is mine, to meet the only man to successfully invade the British Empire," returned Göring. "When I heard news of your speech I could not resist coming to hear what you had to say. I must say, you have not disappointed." He released von Lettow-Vorbeck’s hand. "Your speech was inspirational."
"Weren't you wanted by the Bavarian police?" Meissner broke in, eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "You partook in the NSDAP rally in 1923."
"I received amnesty a few years ago thanks to President von Hindenburg," Göring replied smoothly, shooting Meissner a dismissive look.
"But still," Meissner began, "a former criminal–"
"Like those of us who supported the Kapp Putsch?" Von Lettow-Vorbeck stared the man down. "How is
Commander Göring any different?" He stressed the man's military rank.
Meissner flushed and took a step back and out of the conversation.
"I have not heard anyone speak with that much passion and conviction in a long time," Göring continued as though the interruption had never occurred. "I had begun to fear that the fire which lit the Prussians of old had gone out."
"We may be old but we are not yet gone," von Lettow-Vorbeck joked, earning a smile in response. "I was uncertain at first myself, I must admit, but I could no longer stand by and bear the suffering of the Fatherland.”
“Especially not when the same ilk who betrayed it now hold power,” von Papen added.
“I still remember the day that I heard.” Göring’s gaze grew clouded and dark. “My men and I destroyed dozens of German planes rather than let our enemies claim them.”
“Germany’s time will come again,” von Schleicher said, “General von Lettow-Vorbeck is the only man I trust to make it happen. If we let the Reds succeed, Germany will remain little more than a puppet state forever.”
“And what of the others who oppose the Red flood? The DNVP and the NSFB do not trust you. Why is that?”
“Alfred Hugenberg and I have never seen eye-to-eye,” von Lettow-Vorbeck replied truthfully. “I find his methods crass and ungentlemanly; unbecoming of a German. Many of our goals align, but I have chosen to build upon the foundation which exists. He sees fit to tear it all down.”
“And the NAZIs?”(2)
Von Lettow-Vorbeck felt his mouth twist in distaste. From behind Göring, von Schleicher shot him a quick look which carried a subtle warning. “Frustrated men without an outlet,” von Lettow-Vorbeck settled on at last. “Their patriotism is admirable, but I cannot condone the methods to which they stoop, nor the methods they call for.”
“They border uncomfortably close to Socialism at times,” von Schleicher joined from behind Göring. “Strasser–”
“
Strasser,” Göring snarled, cutting them off, “is a traitor to the ideals that the party was founded on.” An ugly, sour expression took over his face for a brief moment before it vanished. “The party used to be different, before… but alas, it is what it is, and I no longer found myself at home there. The DNVP intrigued me, but, like you, I find Hugenberg to be appalling and unfit for leadership.”
“And so you came scouting for another option,” finished von Papen.
Göring nodded. “You inspire me,
Herr General. If you would accept it, I would like to aid you in your goals.” He stuck out a hand.
Von Lettow-Vorbeck did not hesitate for a second. “Lietenant Göring, it would be a pleasure.”
The connections and opportunities which the addition of Hermann Göring brought to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s circle, and later his own ministry, cannot be understated. More than simply a war hero and celebrity, Göring sat in the middle of a complex web of political and economic connections acquired both during his time in the military as well as in his later years and time abroad. The first and arguably most valuable of his achievements was the netting of several large industrialists, notably Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach (of the Krupp manufacturing and industrial empire), IG Farben (the largest pharmaceutical company in the world), and even securing the personal contribution of Dr. Albert Vögler (CEO of the
Vereinigte Stahlwerke, the world's second-largest steel firm). All of these individuals had one thing in common: Deep pockets and a vested interest in halting the spread of Socialism. It would not take long for them to be swayed to von Lettow-Vorbeck’s side and by early 1932 his party was positively swimming in funds, only made sweeter by the fact that such backing was now being denied to Hugenberg.
Industrialists were not the only ones to be aggressively courted by von Lettow-Vorbeck and Göring. Not long after financial backing had been secured the duo would turn their sights on a shared interest: The
Stahlhelm.
Flag of the Stahlhelm
(https://www.nuw-versand.de/en/interior-decorations/flags/fahne-stahlhelm-bund-der-frontsoldaten)
The
Stahlhelm (German for “steel helmet”) began as a veteran’s organisation founded in 1918 following the end of the Great War. From the group’s inception it was composed predominantly of revanchist, nationalistic, and monarchistic elements loyal to the fallen Empire and the deposed von Hohenzollern monarchy. Already thousands strong by 1920, its numbers would surge following the dissolution of the
Freikorps, another right-wing paramilitary organisation which had opposed the Republic in its early days only to be dissolved following participation in the failed Kapp Putsch.
Up until this point the
Stahlhelm had refused to officially take a side in the upcoming election. Though historically a supporter of the DNVP even in its more radical moments, the rise of von Lettow-Vorbeck as a candidate had given many pause. Given the groups overwhelming composition of veterans of the Great War, the idea of joining together in opposition to such a revered war hero—especially one whose political ideology seemed so close to their own—chafed at many members and more than a few scuffles had broken out over the rightful leader of a new Germany.
It was therefore with some trepidation that
Stahlhelm leader Franz Seldte and his deputy Theodor Duesterberg met with the Lion of Africa in his home in Bremen one chilly day in late January, 1932. By all accounts the duo had steeled themselves for
General der Infanterie Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, a man oft-described as “very difficult to refuse”.
They would be vastly underprepared.
Göring was sitting on the edge of the large oaken table, one foot dangling off the ground, wine glass in hand as he regaled them with one of his tales of valour from the skies over the Western Front. Today it was a story about the time the Red Baron took down a dozen planes with as many shots. True or not, it was a grand tale.
Franz Seldte swirled his own wine gently, eyes sliding over the others at the table as he tried to work out the game here. To his right sat none other than President von Hindenburg’s son, Oskar, both thoroughly enraptured in the tale. To his left was Kurt von Schleicher, Franz von Papen, and Martha von Lettow-Vorbeck. The Lion of Africa himself was at the head of the table beside his wife, and though a flit of his gaze betrayed his notice of Seldte's own, he kept his focus on Göring, laughing at the appropriate moments.
Strange. Very strange.
Directly across from the table was Theodor Duesterberg, Seldte's deputy and, at times, rival. Like the younger von Hindenburg, he was wholly enraptured in the tale, eyes gleaming with the hero-worship which had not faded since they had stepped out of their car. Duesterberg, it was apparent, would not be much help today. As expected.
The story was finally wrapping up and all present clapped as Göring gave a silly little bow and returned to his own seat. The informality of the get-together, the little anecdotes here and there… it felt like a dinner party, not a political meeting. Was this part of their plan? Woo him with drinks and tales of the good old days? It might work on Duesterberg but it wouldn't on him.
"How about you, Seldte?" Von Schleicher's voice cut through his pondering. "Do you have any stories from the War?"
"I could tell you about the time I lost my arm," he replied dryly, rolling his shoulder to make the wooden replacement at his side twitch.
The customary awkward silence fell as the others tried to decide if it was a joke or not. All but Göring, who waited not a moment before bursting out with laughter. "Ah, and here I thought some Jew nicked it off of you one night in a bar!"
This drew laughs from everyone except for Duesterberg, who scowled and declared, "It is no joking matter. If we don't take them seriously, they'll do to us what they did to Russia!"
This was as good of a segue as Seldte could find to bring the focus back to the reason they had been invited here. "You have to understand, General," he directed at von Lettow-Vorbeck himself, "that I have the utmost respect for you and would welcome your leadership of our nation, truly. However, not all among the
Stahlhelm feel the same."
"What do they offer up as an alternative?" Von Papen demanded with a scowl. "Hugenberg will never win."
"They are afraid that he will be another President von Hindenburg. Impotent." Göring raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong?"
Oskar von Hindenburg made to rise in defence of his father but a sharp gesture from von Schleicher stopped him.
Duesterberg spoke this time. "
We believe in you," he stressed, "but many feel that Hugenberg has a more trustworthy legacy of opposition. They are fools, of course."
Duesterberg you coward, Seldte cursed silently.
You were one of the ones backing Hugenberg unconditionally! Now one look from your heroes and you roll over like a dog! "Until you are actually in power, you cannot guarantee us that it will be any different than before. Regardless of my own personal opinions on you or Hugenberg, I cannot in good conscience risk the fracturing of the
Stahlhelm so carelessly."
Von Schleicher and von Papen shared a look. "That is always the problem, isn't it?" the former mused, "the fracturing of our would-be allies. They have no unifying leader."
For a moment Göring looked out the window, expression wistful. Then he snapped back. "Bollocks."
All preset started slightly at the curse, with von Lettow-Vorbeck turning to scowl at the man. "
Herr Göring!"
"Forgive me, Lady von Lettow-Vorbeck," Göring bowed in brief apology to the Lady of the House before turning back, "but I meant what I said. We provide you a solution, a leader, one who has already earned the trust and support of millions of Germans, and you would place your own petty fears above the betterment of the German race? What kind of German are you?"
All eyes turned to Seldte. “A practical one,” was his reply. “The
Freikorps were rash in their support of Kapp and it saw them crushed; I cannot risk that happening again. I am not sure we would survive it.”
“Those who sit on the sidelines of history should not be surprised when it passes them by,” Martha spoke softly. “If you cannot find a cause worth fighting for, what, indeed, is the point of the
Stahlhelm at all?”
“Well-said, my dear.” Von Lettow-Vorbeck wrapped a hand around his wife’s. He then turned to the
Stahlhelm duo. “I was a member of the
Freikorps. It was what cost me my commission in the Reichswehr. Despite that, I would do it again, indeed a hundred times over, just as I would have fought in East Africa for an eternity before I let my Kaiser down. I know what I fight for. Do you?”
For the modern reader it may be difficult to understand what a
coup de main the acquisition of these three separate groups–first the Zentrum under Ludwig Kaas, then the coalition of major industrial conglomerates, and lastly the powerful paramilitary
Stahlhelm–was for von Lettow-Vorbeck and his associates. In the span of two months he had gone from a reasonably-popular figurehead to a true force to be reckoned with and all of Germany was sitting up and taking notice.
In early February, roughly a month before the election, Ludwig Kaas made a public statement supporting von Lettow-Vorbeck’s presidency, citing him as “Germany’s only salvation from the Godless Socialists” and claiming that the SPD had abandoned Germany as a whole in favour of Prussia. He spoke of how Prussia was no longer a democratic bulwark and had become a bludgeon with which the Reds planned to beat the rest of Germany into submission. The cry “
Bürde, nicht Bollwerk!” (Burden, not bulwark!) would become a common rallying cry against Löbe and the SPD as a whole in the Rhineland and outside of Prussia.
As the pressure grew, more political parties began coalescing around von Lettow-Vorbeck, some due to the influence of partisan groups, others who simply knew which way the wind was blowing. The Hannoverian and Bavarian parties were both drawn in by his pro-regional rhetoric and though he had flatly refused to consider a Hannoverian breakaway akin to the Rhenish one, he had nevertheless promised greater regional autonomy. The feudal-esque nature of the old Kaiserreich was firmly dead, he said, but Germany’s strength came from the tapestry of German-ness rather than from any one corner. It was a pretty bit of rhetoric that most agree he did not truly believe in (once a Prussian, always a Prussian) but it certainly won him friends in the south despite his Protestantism.
Despite all of this popularity and influence, von Lettow-Vorbeck’s victory was far from assured. The parliamentary system which governed Weimar Germany demanded a true majority (51%) to achieve total victory and, if that was not possible, a plurality. Despite the backing of the Zentrum as well as various smaller parties, the undisputed ruler of public trust was the SPD. The Communists and Zentrum were neck-and-neck, all other parties trailing a significant amount behind.
A tally conducted at the beginning of March, less than two weeks before the election, guaranteed von Lettow-Vorbeck roughly 35% of the popular vote, roughly equivalent to his support in the Reichstag. It was certainly respectable, yet it still was not enough for what they wanted, as it still fell well into what had been deemed the “risky sphere”.
The crux of the problem were the Communists, the third-largest party in the Reichstag and the one most hostile to everything that they were trying to achieve. Under Ernst Thälmann, the KPD had taken a stand against what they called “Social Fascism”, in essence urging their voters to oppose both the Centre- and Right-leaning parties as well as the SPD. However, the possibility remained that, in the event of a possible von Lettow-Vorbeck victory, they would throw their weight behind Paul Löbe and net the SPD victory, especially since many of their voters were not hard-line Communists like those in the Reichstag. Far better would be a firm majority win, but this did not seem possible, especially when the DNVP continued to support Hugenberg and no other.
March 13th rolled around at long last and von Lettow-Vorbeck sat with the other members of the Gentlemen’s Club waiting on the results, though undoubtedly very little sitting was done. In a surprise turn of events during the last hours Gregor Strasser, leader of the NSFB and previously uncertain about von Lettow-Vorbeck’s trustworthiness, threw his weight behind the general, citing him as a superior option to even the possibility of a Red president. It was not much but the East Prussian and Pomeranian votes it garnered certainly did not hurt. The same could not be said for Hugenberg who refused to change his stance in the final moments. When the results at last came back they were predictable, if not frustrating, with Löbe achieving a comfortable 41% and von Lettow-Vorbeck falling behind with 38%.
Without the minimum 50% to achieve majority, no candidate came out on top and runoff elections were scheduled for the 10th of April, just under a month later. In these runoffs the candidate with the plurality of votes would achieve victory and it was already clear that, without a significant change, it was unlikely that Löbe could be stopped.
Unluckily for him, significant change was exactly what was coming.
A solitary brick sailed through the air, crashing through the window of the Dresden Bank with a loud crash. Moments later a flurry of other assorted heavy objects joined it, shattering it completely and sending the bank director ducking under his oaken desk to avoid falling class.
“Down with the Capitalist dogs!” cried the brick-thrower on the street below, receiving an answering cheer from the crowd around him. A wave of men and women surged forward, forcing their way past the guards and into the bank proper, stealing anything not nailed down and breaking anything which was. The same event was mirrored across the city, as well as in nearby Leipzig, with banks being torn open, shops ransacked, and citizens fleeing for their lives.
Saxony was aflame. And it was not the only one. In Düsseldorf and Duisburg Communist riots battled the Prussian police and even in Frankfurt protesters had blocked off the city centre as they demanded the removal of the Chancellor and President to make way for Communist representatives. Though it was not a proper united attempt on the government, it certainly felt like one.
In far-off Berlin Chancellor Brüning paced the length of his office as he debated the best option to deal with this insurrection. His sources had already confirmed that this had been triggered by Ernst Thälmann. This wave of violence was supposed to win him support through fear and show the people the weakness of the current government, especially in Prussia where their federal police were supposed to handle matters such as this. And it was working, at least partially—it had been 4 days and the Minister-President of Prussia Otto Braun had yet to put down the riots, only to keep them from spreading. If something was not done soon it would begin taking a serious toll on the economy (Saxony and the Northern Rhineland were two of Germany’s most industrialised regions) and that could trigger the absolute worst case scenario: French intervention. If that were to happen he would drive home, take his service weapon from the third drawer of his writing desk, and end it all then and there.
No, he would not let this break him.
A knock on the door came and he whirled. “What is it?” he demanded, hoping for good news.
His secretary poked her head in timidly. “You have a visitor, sire.”
“Unless they have an army behind them, I am not interested!” He turned away.
Behind him the door creaked open. Brüning whirled, ready to yell at whichever poor soul had the misfortune to be standing there, but the words died in his throat. Von Lettow-Vorbeck–no, General von Lettow-Vorbeck stood before him in full military dress, trademark hat in hand, and gave him his famous jaunty smile.
“As it happens,
Herr Kanzler, I might just have that army.”
At daybreak on March 23 the Saxon Protestors awoke to a very unpleasant surprise. This surprise was several thousand
Stahlhelm members strong and led by a man on horseback in the dress of an African colonial officer.
The Communists stood no chance.
The “Liberation of Dresden”, sometimes referred to as the “Dresden Massacre”, had a very significant effect on the German psyche in Spring 1932, less for the event itself than for what it symbolised.
First and perhaps most important was the galvanising of the Conservative establishment under von Lettow-Vorbeck. Before this day many had seen him as a compromiser unwilling to take a hard stand against the Communists, or at the very least one too willing to grant them free reign, largely due to associating him with von Hindenburg who had done the same. Many of those same detractors were members of the
Stahlhelm; it is hard to call someone “Communist-friendly” when you have witnessed him crushing a Red uprising on horseback like some kind of medieval crusader, and they would return home raving of the noble Prussian elegance they had witnessed that day, “Like something from 1871”.
Second was the collapse of the unified Communist cause within Germany, struck as it was by two-fold attacks both external and internal. Chancellor Brüning had long desired the eradication of the Communists but had been forbidden from doing so by the mechanisms of the Constitution. This act of aggression gave him the excuse he needed and even President von Hindenburg broke his refusal of new Emergency Acts to sign off on the “Maroon Law”, officially banning the KPD across the Reich.
Stahlhelm groups were posted in all major cities and while this banning did see protests and riots in many major cities, they were quickly suppressed. They couldn’t have known it, but such a choice was not even necessary–in the wake of the riots the KPD suffered a series of internal haemorrhages between Stalinist and anti-Stalinist forces. Many within the party would, in later years, come to see Thälmann’s refusal to support the SPD (in keeping with Stalinist rhetoric which portrayed Socialists as the greatest danger to Communism) as the reason for its failure to win the Presidency and in the coming years the exiled and underground German Communist community would align far more with the Opposition than the KPD.
Lastly was the emergence of a greater spirit of national interventionism. Had things been left to the Prussian police, many would say, Germany might have fallen to Communism! (This was a wild exaggeration, and in fact the Prussian police contributed at least as much as the
Stahlhelm, but the lie was useful to leaders at the time.) Von Lettow-Vorbeck was both a breath of fresh air and a return to an increasingly-idealised stability associated with the days before the war. No longer did people remember the Kaiser sending troops against peaceful protesters in Alsace or the Rhineland; now they painted the Empire as a beacon of stability and progress envied by all around it, and the phenomenon of (oftentimes undeserving) nostalgia towards the German Empire and especially the Kingdom of Prussia, shorthanded to "
Preußtalgie" (a fusion of the German words for Prussia, "
Preußen", and nostalgia,
"Nostalgie"), would rise to become a significant cultural force.
The runoff elections became the zeitgeist of the era. The banning of the Communists completely shifted the balance of power in the Reichstag and many voters jumped ship from that side altogether. The majority of KPD party leaders were arrested in the aftermath and the few that remained were not yet willing to break from the anti-SPD tradition ingrained in them, keeping them from throwing their weight behind Löbe. The fear of Communist influence within their own party further wore away at the internal harmony of the SPD and the trust of the voters and it was with heavy hearts that Otto Wells and the other party leaders watched the votes roll in. With Communism in Germany now cut-off at the knees, the
Stahlhelm surging in support, and the SPD having been unable to affect any of it, the people's choice was clear.
On April 11th it was declared. With a close but still very solid lead, the Centre-Right coalition had won. Germany had a new president and his name was Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck.
- I decided to go with the idea that Hitler was hit by the bullet meant for Göring, and as a result Göring survived unscathed and without a morphine addiction.
- Like IRL, the term “NAZI” exists as a shorthand for the NSFB as it did for the NSDAP. However, I will try and avoid using it except in specific circumstances to differentiate it from our historical bias.
I did not like the scene with the Communists and the Stahlhelm and wanted to actually depict the suppressing of the riots but all my attempts to expand that turned out horribly, and since it was the only thing keeping me from considering this chapter "complete", I have decided to give it a few weeks and return to touch up the scene then.
petrolicious.com
en.m.wikipedia.org
