Interwar Period – Sudetenland Crisis (7)

September 6, 1938 – Hjalmar Schacht’s mansion, Berlin, northern Germany

When the Abwehr finally pulled back—fearing that further sabotage risked exposure by the SD—signs of unrest began surfacing in the Sudetenland.

It felt as if the ground beneath our feet had caught fire.

“How about mobilizing the Stahlhelm?”

“We still need more time. At least another week or so—”

“Cut it down to a week,” Oster said flatly.

“…I’ll try.”

The leadership was busy aligning schedules and contingencies.

“How’s your side, Colonel?”

“As you said, Captain—data on Nazi corruption is so easy to find it’s absurd, but…”

Corruption alone wasn’t enough.

To shake the Nazis’ massive popular support, we needed evidence so revolting that any ordinary person would recoil on sight.

“Yes, I know. We can only get that sort of proof on the day of the operation itself.”

“…You’re certain it exists?”

“Yes. I’m sure. We’ve cross-checked with the staff working there.”

Of course, that certainty came from my knowledge of the future—not from anything they could confirm in 1938.

Oster studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine. I still have doubts, but we don’t have the time. I’ll trust you.”

“Thank you.”

The Holocaust—the “Final Solution” to the Jews—had not yet begun.

Revealing the extermination camps now was impossible, but there were other Nazi crimes, still in their infancy and poorly understood even within the regime, that could be exposed to devastating effect.

While Oster, Count Blumenthal, and I reviewed our plans, Director Erich Kort—usually a calm, wry presence—stood staring off, looking strangely distracted.

“Are you all right, Director?”

“Huh? Oh—yes. Yes, I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

His flustered tone was not convincing.

“We’ve secured agreement from Frankfurter Zeitung headquarters,” reporter Claudia Jung announced, smiling confidently. “Once you give us the material, we can distribute it across Germany within a day.”

“You mean… you were approaching the Foreign Ministry as a spy? You got along so naturally with Minister Ribbentrop I thought you were one of his supporters… and it turns out you’re just… an attractive woman—” Kort trailed off, still bewildered.

Claudia leaned over to me and whispered, “So naïve. Is your Foreign Ministry always like this?”

I barely kept from laughing.

Inviting her into the operation had been my idea. It was better to have the press prepared in advance than to blow Hitler’s brains out and then pray the German people understood afterward.

Above all, I wanted to avoid the military seizing power after Hitler’s fall and handing Germany over to the royalist militarists intact. The participation of civilian forces was essential.

Oster had hesitated to involve a liberal journalist, but after I arranged a personal meeting, he agreed—though to the conservative leadership, she was introduced as “a typist.”

“Leutnant Colonel Tresckow, how’s our deployment?”

“I’ve spoken to the Berlin Chief of Staff. At least our operatives will remain in Berlin while the plan proceeds. You’re my aide now, Schacht.”

“Thank you!”

With the invasion of the Sudetenland imminent, units were already deploying to the front. My classmate from the War College, Captain Mikhail was already at the front lines.

If I were sent there as well, the operation would collapse before it began. Fortunately, Tresckow secured my position in Berlin as his assistant.

“…It seems to be going smoothly, Leutnant Colonel Oster.”

“We’ll proceed without setbacks, General Witzleben.”

Infantry General Erwin von Witzleben, commander of the Berlin–Brandenburg Military District’s defense division, was central to the plan. The success of our coup—and of suppressing the SS—depended on how effectively Witzleben acted once Hitler’s residence was stormed.

At this stage, Hitler was not especially concerned about his personal safety. When planning campaigns against Czechoslovakia or Poland, he often assigned generals who opposed him—or were lukewarm toward the Nazi regime—to rear areas.

From his perspective, it was a way to keep loyal commanders at the front and potential rivals in positions where they could do little harm. In doing so, however, he created a fatal security gap.

It was only later—once the SD began focusing inward after the war started—that Hitler became paranoid, shuttling only between his villa and the Wolfsschanze.

We could not waste this moment. While Heydrich and the SD were blinded by dreams of territorial expansion, we had our best chance.

Witzleben nodded to Oster, then turned to me. I straightened and saluted.

“Captain Schacht…”

My arguments at the last meeting had worked—halfway. I’d expected to be thrown out and limited to a minor role, but instead we won permission to prepare a plan that could proceed without waiting for a British declaration of war.

It wasn’t a green light to act, but it was a massive improvement over before.

Still, to men like Halder and Gördel­ler—who disliked me from the start—I was just a “cheeky captain.”

Witzleben stepped forward and tapped my shoulder.

“Plenty of people say you’re arrogant, but… it’s clear to me you understand the importance of this moment. Keep working hard.”

“Thank you, General!”

He gave a curt salute, shot Claudia a look of mild distaste—which she deflected with a dazzling smile—and left.

Later, Witzleben would join Stauffenberg’s Operation Valkyrie and hang for it.

That was the reality. If we succeeded, we would free Germany from the Nazi beasts. If we failed, we would all die.

“…Captain?”

Even as a civilian, Claudia was willing to risk her life. If we failed, she might suffer horrors worse than death. The same was true for all of us in that room.

We could not fail.

“Oh—sorry. Lost in thought. Let’s get back to work.”

She smiled softly. “For a moment there, I thought you were admiring my face.”

The room erupted with snickers. Even Oster laughed.

“Hmph… get to work, reporter.”

“Yes, yes—”

Up to that point, everything still seemed on track.

September 13
Massive German protests erupted in the Sudetenland. Czechoslovakia responded with martial law and crushed them within a day.

Hitler, ignoring desperate opposition from the military, ordered the invasion of Czechoslovakia. The crisis deepened when France declared it would intervene the moment German troops crossed the border.

We immediately requested permission to launch our operation.

The hesitant leadership gave it only at the end of the evening—forcing us into a frantic rush to meet the timetable.

The next day brought disaster.

September 14
News broke that British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain would visit Germany for negotiations. By midday, Chief of Staff Franz Halder ordered the operation suspended.

September 15 – Berlin Chief of Staff’s Office

“Halder, you cowardly bastard!”

“Schacht, this is the Chief of Staff’s office! Calm yourself!”

I’d stormed in, furious, only for Tresckow to grab me by the arm.

That fool Chamberlain was on his way to beg Hitler for the Sudetenland!

“Do you see this? Look at it!”

I shoved the written order into Tresckow’s hands.

Halder—this damned pig—had transferred me to Silesia, far from Berlin. He wanted me out of the way before I could act without his permission.

“Schacht, I know it’s an illegal order, but—”

“Halder, you swine! Come out here!!”

The one chance to stop the Second World War—to prevent Germany’s ruin—was being thrown away.

But Tresckow, fearing I’d say too much in front of witnesses, punched me hard in the face.

“Schacht. This won’t help us.”

“…Damn… Halder… damn it…”

I knew he was right. The only way forward now was to obey orders.

And yet no one seemed to grasp the catastrophe this cowardice would bring.

Tresckow pulled me out into a side alley.

“…Schacht, I know how much this means to you. But you’re a soldier. As long as the order stands, you have to obey it.”

“Ha… I’m sorry, Colonel.”

“The plan is almost complete. Trust the others.”

I’d thought we were just one step away. I never imagined we’d be blocked like this.

“Schacht—I remember what you told me in Vienna. You’d rather die than see our country destroyed. You’re not the only one who’s made that vow.”

“…I’m sorry, Colonel. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“No. You’re the one I brought in. Though, thinking about it now, I wonder why I picked such a troublesome bastard…”

He smiled faintly, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry it’s ending like this. You’ve done your best. Leave it now.”

In history, Oster’s conspiracy ended here—collapsing into inaction. The leadership froze, and the plan died.

“Tell Oster this: whatever happens, it must be done.”

“I will.”

But the operation was already out of my hands.

If there’s a God who brought me here—just this once, please—

We’re only one step away. All I can do now is pray.