Interwar Period – Sudetenland Crisis (6)

Time was moving quickly, and September—the month in which the Munich Agreement would be signed in the original timeline—was now fast approaching.

The Sudetenland crisis had become an issue of global concern.

Hitler boasted daily about “liberating” the Germans of the Sudetenland, while Czechoslovakia openly stationed troops there to suppress the local German population.

Even as rumors spread that France was considering a mobilization order, half the German officer corps was already in a state of near-panic.

Only when the situation reached this point did the conspirators’ discussions begin to accelerate.

August 25, 1938 – An apartment in Berlin, Germany

“Can’t you keep things as quiet as possible?” Ludwig Beck asked, sounding almost desperate.

Leutnant Colonel Hans Oster, the real instigator of the meeting, shook his head.

“We’re doing everything the Abwehr can,” he replied, “but Nazi agitation is blatant, well funded, and employs a large workforce. We’re even forced to cover our own tracks, which puts us at a severe disadvantage.”

Hitler planned to provoke the Sudeten Germans into an uprising, let Czechoslovakia crush it by force, and then declare war “to protect German blood.” He meant to seize the Sudetenland with the Germans’ own sacrifices.

Under the Locarno Treaties, however, France was obliged to guarantee Czechoslovakia’s independence, and the Czechs—still uneasy—held a mutual-defense pact with the Soviet Union provided France also entered the war.

A three-way conflict loomed, and the Wehrmacht, still deep in rearmament, tried to head it off. Oster ordered the Abwehr to urge the Sudeten Germans to remain calm and avoid armed demonstrations.

When that failed, the Nazi Party unleashed the SS to inflame the region. Reinhard Heydrich never bothered with subtlety.

The Abwehr’s effort to dampen unrest was reaching its limit.

“I’m sorry,” Oster said, “but large-scale violence in the Sudetenland is now inevitable—the pretext for war that Hitler wants.”

Sighs rose around the room. Beck seized on the last hope he could see.

“What about the British?” he asked.

Deputy Foreign Minister Ernst von Weizsäcker shook his head. “They’re not very active.”

“Cunning islanders!” someone muttered.

“What kind of nerve does that madman Hitler have to risk war?” another cried.

Voices broke into angry confusion.

“How can we defeat Czechoslovakia, let alone Britain and France?” Chief of Staff Franz Halder demanded. “That damned fortress line will tear apart any offensive!” Czechoslovakia had correctly predicted Halder’s planned thrust through southern Silesia and had fortified the approach.

Oster met my eye and I nodded. The decision lay at a crossroads: insurrection or war—at least, that was how it looked to those present.

“We must choose,” Oster said quietly.

Instant silence fell.

“If we don’t remove Hitler and the Nazis now,” he continued, “Germany will launch another great war.”

No one answered. Finally Beck spoke. “What…exactly do you propose?”

“I will mobilize former Stahlhelm men to raid Hitler's residence and arrest—or kill—him. Meanwhile, your divisions seize SS strongpoints and proclaim a new government.”

The Stahlhelm had been right-wing paramilitaries under the Weimar Republic: soldiers and Junkers turned political fighters after the First World War. Absorbed into the SA when Hitler rose to power, they had nevertheless stayed at odds with the Party.

Mobilizing such men made me uneasy, but choices were few; several senior generals had once belonged to those units.

“And how will you rally the Stahlhelm?” Beck asked.

“I still have connections,” Oster replied.

Those connections were Count von Blumenthal’s. Once a key Stahlhelm leader, he had seen many friends purged during the Night of the Long Knives. He had survived thanks to Göring’s protection and ties to Prince Wilhelm and Mussolini’s daughter, Countess Ciano. His motivation for revenge was… understandable.

“Will connections alone be enough? This is too important to rush.”

“These men watched their comrades slaughtered by the Nazis. They’ve known each other for years—there’s nothing premature about this,” Blumenthal snapped. His noble title and royal ties gave him weight even beyond his rank.

Halder, cowed, fell silent; noble lineage still carried weight. Some Freikorps veterans had drifted into the SS, but Blumenthal was vetting reliable survivors, and my father had agreed to provide funds.

“Next,” Oster said, “the regular division. Witzleben—can we rely on yours?”

“Absolutely,” answered General Erwin von Witzleben. “My corps still holds officers purged during the Blomberg-Fritsch affair; they’ll stand with us.”

“With approval,” Oster summed up, “we can be ready. Only a decision remains.”

The senior officers hesitated. No coup is perfect, yet delay can kill more surely than risk.

“What about Brauchitsch?” Beck asked at last.

Halder grimaced. “He’s…difficult.”

Army Commander-in-Chief Walther von Brauchitsch was indebted to Hitler and unlikely to join. Lacking the Commander-in-Chief’s signature, most generals would waver. Civil war seemed inevitable.

“Unless OKH issues orders,” Beck sighed, “we can move only after Britain declares war. Then Brauchitsch will realize there’s no escape and support us.”

But Prime Minister Chamberlain soon capitulated and signed the Munich Agreement—killing the plot before it started.

“Still,” Weizsäcker warned, “London will not guarantee support.”

“Then obtain it!” Beck snapped. “That’s what the Foreign Office is for. Even if they send no troops, let them at least recognize us!”

Weizsäcker’s protest died under Beck’s glare. Oster motioned to me; apparently I had to speak.

I swallowed. “May I say something, gentlemen?”

Halder rolled his eyes, but Beck nodded. “Go on.”

“Are we conspiring,” I began, “to become traitors?”

Outrage exploded.

Oster raised a hand. “Explain yourself, Captain—clearly.”

“Is Britain our ally?” I asked. “Has it recognized us as Germany’s legitimate government?”

“No,” Weizsäcker admitted.

“Then why depend on Britain? They fought beside France against us twenty years ago. Many of the same men now sit in Parliament.”

“If Britain declares war to stop Hitler, will they politely wait while we overthrow him? Hardly.”

“London tolerated revisions to Versailles not out of friendship but to prevent French dominance. When we were weak, the French occupied the Ruhr. Will they stay passive if Germany—under any rulers—threatens them again?”

“They’ll try to remove the danger forever, more ruthlessly than in 1918. Once they invade, we have two choices:

Wear the stigma of traitors who opened Germany to foreign troops; or

Fight for Hitler’s Germany and perish with it.”

“Depending on British action is a trap. War will finish Germany regardless.”

I looked around for support. None came. These veterans had considered the risk; they simply preferred not to face it.

Even Hitler clung to hope of negotiating with Britain until Dunkirk—proof that hope can be fatal.

“You can’t ignore reality any longer,” I concluded. “If war begins, Germany ends—one way or another.”