Interwar Period – Sudetenland Crisis (1)

The Austrian referendum had passed with a staggering 97% approval.

German soldiers stood guard at every ballot box. Given the blatant intimidation, the fact that 3% still voted against it was even more surprising.

Austria was now, without question, a part of Germany. The Austrian military had been fully absorbed into the Wehrmacht.

With the majority of German troops withdrawn from Austria—no longer needed to maintain occupation—I was finally able to return to Berlin.

At the upper echelons of the Wehrmacht, there were many troops from Alpine nations, men well-versed in mountain warfare. The mood among them was vibrant, almost celebratory.

Leutnant General Heinz Guderian had gained significant acclaim for pushing his vanguard cavalry all the way to Vienna, cleverly refueling at civilian gas stations during the chaos of the Anschluss. He had done this while leaving the slower armored units behind—an achievement in logistics, planning, and improvisation.

This success silenced the older conservative generals who had long harbored doubts about the armored corps. It also solidified Hitler’s favor toward Guderian, bolstering his aggressive doctrine of armored warfare.

Interest in the armored divisions surged among young officers. Mikhail and I, having attended Guderian’s lectures early on, were just as enthusiastic. We weren’t tankers by training—but now we were assigned to the Panzerwaffe.

Perhaps our curiosity had been worth it after all.

Meanwhile, Colonel Wolfram von Richthofen had returned from Spain around the same time I arrived in Germany. I managed to meet with him, and we finally put to rest a few lingering issues regarding the Condor Legion.

The stage for the Second World War was being set.

And then—it came. An invitation from Sir Ewald von Kleist-Schmenzin, the host of the Kleist Circle. I was to attend their May meeting, alongside my father.

May 1, 1938 – Berlin, Northern Germany

Since the annexation of Austria, Germany had fallen into a whirlwind of nationalist euphoria.

Hitler and the Nazis were now hailed as heroes. They had created Großdeutschland—the greater Germany that many had dreamed of since the days of the Prussian Kingdom. The darker chapters—the Beer Hall Putsch, the Night of the Long Knives, the escalating persecution of Jews—were all but forgotten in the public mind.

Attention now turned to other former German territories: the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia, Danzig in Poland, and Memel in Lithuania. Regions carved away after the last war were now loudly calling for reunification.

When Hitler declared that he would “liberate” the Germans of the Sudetenland from Slavic oppression, the people roared in support.

Ironically, national self-determination—the very idea used by the victors of World War I to dismantle Germany and its allies—had become the Nazis' newest political weapon.

“Welcome, Captain Shacht. But… don’t expect too much,” Claudia said, opening the door.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I replied. “Then, if you’ll excuse me…”

A beautiful woman inviting you to her home on a quiet Sunday—it should’ve been heart-pounding. But thanks to Claudia’s warning, the mood evaporated about five minutes after I stepped inside.

“Well… this place… really captures the spirit of a journalist,” I said, hesitantly.

“You can just say it’s a mess.”

I couldn’t help but nod at her honesty.

There were newspapers, books, clippings, folders, more newspapers, photographs—and did I mention newspapers?

It was a fire hazard made of paper. The only clear paths were where Claudia walked regularly.

“Do you clean… at all?”

“Mm… once a week?”

“...More than I expected.”

Her eyes shifted.

“My conscience stabbed me in the chest for lying just now. Once a month.”

“…Haha…”

I settled at a table—only half-covered in documents—and quickly gave up trying to make sense of the room.

She clearly only slept here. Wake up, run out to chase stories, collapse back in bed late at night.

A true workaholic. If she'd been born in 21st-century Korea, she’d probably be thriving.

After a few minutes, Claudia returned with a thick folder and dropped it on the table.

“This is the material you asked for. About the Sino-Japanese War.”

“Thank you.”

I flipped it open immediately.

It made sense that Europe paid little attention to Far East Asia at the time. Even within Germany, barely anyone talked about the war between China and Japan. I myself had nearly forgotten it was ongoing.

When I’d tried asking around, no one knew anything. So I came to her.

The documents Claudia provided were shockingly detailed—from the Lugouqiao Incident that sparked the war, to Germany’s failed mediation attempts through Ambassador Trautmann, and even the atrocities of the Nanjing Massacre.

“This is incredible. All this is public knowledge… but the press says nothing?”

She shrugged.

“Yeah. The Republic of China is an old ally. And Japan signed the Anti-Comintern Pact with us.”

Right—the anti-Communist alliance. It wasn’t a full military treaty yet, but it was already drawing Germany and Japan together against the Soviet Union.

Of course, that was all on paper. In the future, Japan would go rogue and attack the United States instead of the USSR.

“The Nazi regime doesn’t like newspapers pointing out that two of our 'friends' are at war. And our foreign ministry failed to stop it.”

Bitter. That’s the taste in my mouth.

While Europe’s own fires smoldered, Korea was already burning—dragged into the war as a Japanese colony.

The Korean independence movement was struggling. China, its only supporter, was too busy trying to survive.

“There was someone who tried to tell Hitler what really happened in Nanjing,” Claudia said.

“Wait—Hitler didn’t know?”

“Apparently not. His name was John Rabe. He worked for Siemens. He sent Hitler a letter from Nanjing—describing everything. But it never reached him. He came back, tried to tell the press. The Gestapo picked him up.”

John Rabe. Siemens. That rang a bell. Wasn’t he the one who helped save civilians during the Nanjing Massacre?

Germany and Japan would eventually form the Axis after the war started, but… If we ended up as enemies of both China and the U.S., wouldn’t it be wise to build bridges with the Republic of China?

Perhaps something here could help Korea.

“Oh—and by the way. Ambassador Trautmann and the German military advisors in China are being recalled.”

I nodded. That included General Alexander von Falkenhausen, who had close ties to Chiang Kai-shek.

Falkenhausen had been instrumental in helping the Chinese army modernize. Chiang deeply respected him.

Unlike Stilwell—the arrogant, backstabbing American the U.S. would later send.

“…How do you know all this?” I asked.

Claudia smiled—just a little too slyly.

“...Don’t tell me. Ribbentrop?”

She placed a finger to her lips, smiling playfully.

Wait—she got this information from Ribbentrop? The Nazi foreign minister?

He was often mocked for being a perfume salesman turned diplomat, but still—he managed the Munich Agreement and the Nazi-Soviet Pact. Was he a bumbling fool? Or was she just that good?

At this point, shouldn’t she be working for military intelligence?

“…Isn’t this dangerous?” I asked.

“Hmph. I’m not so immature that you need to worry about me, Captain. This is my domain.”

“…Right. My apologies.”

She hadn’t asked why I wanted info on the Sino-Japanese War.

I shouldn’t have asked where she got her intel.

That was a small mistake. Because part of what she told me was likely classified.

Still—how much could I trust her?

“Are you trying to get me to confess something?” I teased.

“Pfft—!”

She burst into laughter.

“Ah, well. Captain Schacht is quite the charming man. But in this setting?” she said, waving a hand toward the paper chaos around us.

I smirked.

Her flustered reaction helped break the tension.

To be honest, she was attractive.

But I remembered something from my meeting with Leutnant Colonel Treshkov: Don’t trust easily. But don’t hesitate when you do choose to trust.

There’s no such thing as a 100% safe way to oppose a regime like this.

“…There are officers who want to rebel against the Nazi regime,” I said.

Claudia’s smile faded.

“But most of them are royalist aristocrats. Old-school Prussian militarists. They think if they just remove Hitler, Germany can go back to the Kaiser's empire.”

She nodded slightly.

That was the problem.

As if reinstating the Kaiser would magically restore peace. As if the people would celebrate the return of an empire.

Germany’s brief experiment with democracy had been sabotaged from the start—and crushed by the Nazis before it had any real chance to take root.

Even so, the seeds were planted. The people wouldn't blindly accept rule by nobles and emperors again. Not anymore.

The real strength of the Nazi dictatorship wasn’t the military or aristocracy. It was the people.

“I believe if we want real change, it has to start with the people. Not just soldiers plotting coups. This has to be civilian-led.”

I looked Claudia in the eyes.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Perhaps… she had been waiting for this.

“…I need your help,” I said. “We’re still weak. And we’re risking our lives. But can I count on you?”

This time, I offered my hand first.

She stared at it. Took a deep breath.

Then she placed her hand in mine.

Her smile lit up her whole face. Not just because she was beautiful. But because she believed.

“Yes,” she said.