Interwar Period – Sudetenland Crisis (4)

May 21, 1938 – Berlin, Northern Germany

It has been a week since I attended the von Kleist meeting.

The Nazi German government and the Czechoslovak government continued to hurl accusations at each other, with Goebbels and the Nazi Party eagerly exploiting the conflict to deepen the rift between the peoples of both nations.

War was now clearly spreading across Europe.

Czechoslovakia’s President, Edvard Beneš, declared an initial mobilization and began deploying reserve forces to the border. Even now, the fortress line in the Sudetenland—built to stop the Germans—had to be completed at all costs.

Just walking along the roadside, it was easy to find people worried that war was truly on the horizon.

It was true that the Nazi regime enjoyed strong support among the German public. But that did not mean the Germans of the interwar period desired war.

What they admired in Hitler was his ability to make Germany strong again, expanding its territory one after another without shedding blood. They were still outraged at the humiliation Germany had suffered after its defeat in the First World War, yet they also remembered its horrors.

Few people wanted an all-out war in which they themselves would be conscripted, risking their lives and futures.

The German people had cheered the Anschluss and later the Munich Agreement not only for territorial expansion, but because these events showcased Germany’s influence without plunging the country into war. Without such outcomes, a treaty contradicting the fascist and Nazi slogans of non-aggression would not have been embraced so enthusiastically.

But now, with Britain and France having each guaranteed Poland’s independence, and Hitler crying out for “Danzig or war,” a sense of crisis was sweeping across Germany.

The non-aggression pact had briefly reassured the public, making them believe that Britain and France would hesitate to act, and that, at worst, a two-front war could be avoided.

Nevertheless, when Britain and France declared war, Hitler and the Nazi leadership panicked. Even the generals feared an uprising within the army during the invasion of France.

It was only after Nazi Germany crushed France in six weeks that the notion of a national all-out war became possible—and only then did the people become intoxicated with Hitler’s supposed military genius.

Later, after the defeat at Stalingrad, Goebbels finally admitted the scale of the crisis and called for total war, warning that the homes of all Germanic peoples would be destroyed if the war was lost.

My only hope lies in the contradictory mindset of the Germans of this era: they yearn for a powerful fatherland, yet do not want to see themselves or their families sacrificed for it.

"So? How was the meeting?"

Claudia’s question made me laugh.

To be honest, I hadn’t expected much. Yet even that faint expectation had been disappointed.

The members of the resistance group later known as the “Black Orchestra” were giants in Germany. But I wondered why the instigators of their resistance were, at most, Major General Hans Oster (currently a leutnant colonel) and Colonel Stauffenberg.

Perhaps those with much to lose had grown too cautious—or too afraid.

"Well, I didn’t expect much, but even that hope was betrayed."

I could see why those two became the central figures of the conspiracy. They seemed to act out of urgency, unwilling to wait for high-ranking men to move.

"Really? Leutnant Colonel Oster said it was a little different, though."

"He couldn’t come—he had a mission."

"Mm, that’s a pity."

Claudia sipped her coffee, twirling her pencil with a teasing smile.

"Still, I had a good talk with Director Cort. Thanks to you, Captain."

"Ah, I came to know him after meeting Minister Ribbentrop. He was fine."

Erich Cort had managed to salvage the meeting. He agreed to cooperate with Sir Kleist-Schmenzin to keep unnecessary noise down when he came to England on behalf of the insurgents. Even that old knight wouldn’t risk going back to the embassy to spread his personal opinions.

"By the way, what will you do now?"

"…I need to see Colonel Oster."

Leutnant Colonel Tresckow initially resisted my request to meet Oster separately, chain-smoking in thought, but eventually agreed.

I felt a twinge of guilt, but I didn’t have the luxury of time. I had to make use of those in the resistance who could speak my language.

"Mm… what can I do to help?"

I looked at Claudia. She was a journalist from a liberal paper that had not yet been shut down, walking a tightrope between survival and danger. An outsider, yes—but she knew enough about the resistance, which was largely made up of nobles and military men, and she had given me useful information through contacts I would never have found on my own.

"Right now, the media’s ability to help is limited. It would be more useful if you simply keep doing what you are doing."

Even if she unearthed something damning about the Nazis, publishing it would be suicide—for both her and her paper. It was naive to think the government would change if only Hitler were killed. As long as the Gestapo and the Nazi apparatus remained intact, an exposé war would be reckless.

By staying where she was, Claudia could maintain her connections with foreign journalists like Theodor Heuss, while also gleaning information from Nazi officials like Ribbentrop.

"Come now… I know that, and you know it, don’t you? Who wouldn’t?"

Claudia chuckled softly.

"To be honest, I’m curious—what makes journalists like you take such risks?"

"Hey, I thought my inclinations were already obvious?"

"Not everyone risks their life just because they dislike dictatorship…"

She only smiled at my words. I decided to drop it.

"…If you’ve said that much, can I ask you a favor?"

"I’ll hear it first."

"Have you heard of the Confessing Church?"

"Um—no. I’m not very interested in religion."

For the first time, she gave a clear note of disapproval.

"Do you… support materialism?"

"No. I just get angry when I see gentlemen claiming Adolf Hitler is a savior sent by God."

Her hostility was brief but unmistakable. Noticing my reaction, she softened.

"Oh, I’m sorry, Captain. That’s just my personal view."

"No, it’s fine. I’m not especially interested in religion either."

Still, I was surprised. Even as a communist who once called religion the opium of the people—and remembering the 21st century, where religion’s influence had faded—I knew that in this era, faith still held deep sway. Many Wehrmacht officers were devout. Even my old commander, Walter Model, was a practicing Lutheran who attended Sunday services when not on operations.

"Well, the Confessing Church isn’t a group that praises Hitler. It’s an underground Protestant movement opposed to the Nazis."

Hitler, though baptized Catholic, had sought to reshape Christianity to strip away its Jewish roots and mold it into a faith for Aryans, with himself deified. Many German churches, both Catholic and Protestant, had fallen under Nazi influence. But where there is oppression, there is resistance—resistance rooted in faith is often unshakable.

The Nazis’ continued harassment of anti-Nazi pastors such as Martin Niemöller and Dietrich Bonhoeffer showed how seriously they viewed the threat.

"I think they could work with the liberal forces—they are a civilian group against the Nazis. If possible, I’d like you to make contact with them. But… if you dislike religion—"

To my surprise, Claudia smiled.

"No. Let’s do it. Strange that someone who was posted in Spain knows about them, but…" She gave me a knowing look. "Everyone has a secret they keep. Right?"

"…Haha, yes."

She didn’t press further, and I was grateful.

"Someday," she said, "if the day comes when you tell me your secret, I’ll tell you mine."

After that, we sat quietly, sipping our coffee. Eventually, I stood.

"Then… it’s late. I should go. Thank you, as always, Reporter Jung."

"No, it’s me who should thank you. You’ve made life far more interesting lately. Thrills are life’s energy."

I smiled and nodded.

"Good night."

"Good night, Captain."

Leaving Claudia’s home, I walked back through Berlin, now familiar yet still unsettling. The evening sun turned the city red, the swastika banners along the roads glowing like blood in the fading light.

Hans Oster… Historically, he had prepared a plot against Hitler even after the successes of Munich, Poland, and France. Yet he feared that a coup would cost tens of thousands of German lives.

I know better. Overthrowing Nazi Germany without bloodshed is impossible.

I am no philanthropist. I can mourn my fallen comrades in Spain and my homeland under Japanese rule, but I have never been one to shy away from blood if it served my purpose.

I was the one who ordered anti-aircraft guns to tear apart Republican fighters in Spain. I’ve pulled the trigger myself.

In this era, there is no happy ending for all. My plan—to overthrow the Nazis and prevent the Second World War—is both impossibly difficult and brutally simple.

The Black Orchestra of history failed because they believed killing Hitler and Himmler together would be enough. But with Nazi support high, the Gestapo vigilant, and men like Göring or Himmler ready to take power, nothing would change. Even if a coup succeeded, Germany’s vast war machine—already built—would demand use.

I doubt Germany can become a normal, peaceful nation without passing through the fire of disaster. More likely, it would rearm for a few years, then wage war under a new regime.

In the end, there is only one way: Germany must go to war now, bleed now, so that it will be too weak to start the greater war to come.

What would Claudia say if she knew?