German Civil War – Race to Berlin (5)

September 3, 1939 — Battlefield Near Potsdam, Brandenburg

Gunfire split the air, and the roar of engines shook the ground as armored vehicles surged toward Berlin. Orders crackled over the radio:

“Charge! Berlin is just ahead—For the fatherland!”

“Enemy defensive line sighted!”

General Oswald Lutz’s armored columns had nearly reached the capital. In the trenches, desperate SS soldiers hurled themselves at the advancing tanks with grenades, shouting,

“For the fatherland! Heil Hitler!”

Machine guns tore through the attackers; a dropped grenade exploded in the trench, showering blood and debris over the survivors.

The makeshift defensive line—comprised of Berlin auxiliary units, SS, and remnants of the police—lacked stopping power but managed to inflict losses. Lutz’s advance stalled amid heavy fighting.

“Stuka incoming!”

The dreaded Stuka dive bombers, screaming down with their “trumpets of Jericho”, turned tanks into blazing wrecks. The new government’s forces, lacking air cover, could only endure the terror and destruction. Morale plummeted under the relentless aerial assault.

Lutz pressed on, bloodshot eyes scanning the chaos. “Don’t falter! The victory is near! Panzer troops, press forward!”

But resistance was stiffening.

“Enemy armor on our flank—three o’clock!”

An explosion cut the report short.

“General! Tank Four hit! Our panzers can’t match their firepower!”

Lutz cursed. “They’ve arrived already…”

German army units—using shared radio frequencies—now addressed Lutz’s men directly.

“[This is Major General Georg-Hans Reinhardt, 4th Panzer Division, 14th Corps. Rebels, surrender immediately!]”

Lutz realized with dismay that these were fellow German tank crews, not foreigners. "If Reinhardt is here, the 10th Army must be close behind," he muttered. “Extend the line with the infantry!”

Though Lutz’s columns fought bravely—even with outdated tanks—they were stopped by the combined defenders and their air support, their path to Berlin blocked.

September 4, 1939 — Potsdam, 10th Army HQ, Brandenburg

For the 10th Army, which had just repelled the rebel armor, the situation remained tense.

Major General Walter Model, chief of staff of IV Corps, had convinced Brauchitsch to authorize movement of the 10th Army, and, together with Chief of Staff Friedrich Paulus, swiftly developed a strategy to intercept the rebels.

Yet Model sat with a furrowed brow, listening to the radio. A familiar female voice—a voice tied to his own subordinate, Dietrich Shacht—was interviewing a survivor.

“Thank you for your courage. What's your name?”

“Julia. Julia Bauer.”

“Frau Bauer, how did you end up in Buchenwald?”

“I don't know. I was just a housewife in Dresden. I’d heard my cousin hated Dr. Goebbels…”

The story was ordinary—and all the more harrowing.

“What did you go through there?”

“It was hell. We worked without rest, were barely fed or washed. I don't even know how many died—those who couldn't work died horribly…”

Model listened, his forehead pressed to the radio, as Bauer described torture and executions—an Austrian pastor crucified upside-down, women locked naked in cages with guard dogs. Her sobs filled the air.

“Why us? We weren’t Jews—only Germans…”

Claudia’s comforting words and the voices of survivors played out. Suddenly, a man’s voice rang out—Shacht himself:

“The Nazi regime always sought new ‘internal enemies’: first Jews and Communists, then Social Democrats. When no one was left, they launched war and began massacring regular German folk!"

“We must face reality—the Nazis themselves are Germany’s greatest threat! The new government fights not for power, but for freedom and the survival of our nation!"

Model reached for the radio button and smiled faintly.

“We’re at a crossroads—slavery under dictatorship or freedom from oppression. Those who choose freedom, join the new government!”

Model chuckled, turning off the broadcast. “Who knew that one had a talent for politics as well?” he joked, and his aides laughed nervously.

He’d recommended Shacht as a solid officer, but now he was a major spokesperson for the rebels. Oddly, Model felt no anger—he remembered what it meant to care for subordinates’ grievances, and considered it a soldier’s duty to listen.

Reichenau’s 10th Army had defeated the rebels marching on Berlin, but morale was low among the units ordered to counterattack; protests continued. The Wehrmacht—bound not by ideology, but by the suffering of civilians and journalists—were torn.

September 5, 1939 — Radio Station, Frankfurt, 9th Military District, Kassel

The Frankfurt Broadcasting Station, now controlled by the new government, ran non-stop interviews: survivors told their stories, politicians debated, and public opinion was shaped hourly.

“Konrad Adenauer, former Mayor of Cologne—an honor to meet you.”

“The Nazis took my position illegally, so I’m now Provisional Governor of Cologne-Ruhr for the new government.”

Between interviews of camp survivors exposing Nazi atrocities, powerful figures spoke of their own struggles.

“How did you get involved in the new government?”

“When Hitler became Chancellor, he wanted us to hoist their flag in Cologne—Hakenkreuz. I refused. So he came himself, didn’t like my answer. They dissolved the city council, seized my house, confiscated my accounts. Later, I was arrested on invented charges—released quickly, but then constantly threatened.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“It was. Rhinelanders aren’t known for our friendliness, but eventually I joined the new government just to spite them.”

Adenauer’s blunt stories matched the tone of the day, and laughter filled the room. Claudia quipped, “We social democrats weren’t fond of you in Weimar.”

Adenauer snorted. “I never thought we’d wind up in the same room, but now we’re united by a common enemy. I’ll give my support—to end the dictator who has put Germany on a warpath.”

“We cooperate for freedom—despite our differences.”

Applause followed each broadcast—there was no certainty we’d win against Goebbels, the master propagandist. But our advantage was raw truth.

The flood of Nazi victims willing to speak and growing support from all camps meant new volunteers and donations.

Even hardline conservatives fell silent as the Free Corps swelled with citizen volunteers. Ludwig Beck and Rear Admiral Canaris promoted me to major—stating that my rank needed to match my role.

The spectrum of leaders broadened; key figures from every ideology were featured, and old rivals like Kurt Schumacher and Adenauer shook hands on air.

Once enemies, now united. For me, knowing the history, it was astonishing.

The civil war entered a new phase. Military victory alone was impossible; our forces, though skilled and led by legends, simply weren’t enough for a blitzkrieg without air superiority.

But if the Ruhr swung behind us—and public opinion joined our cause—the Nazis’ armies would be powerless. Equipment from the Ruhr, support from the people—these would win the war.

Just then, branch manager Havenstein summoned me.

“Major Shacht, please report to headquarters.”

Why the sudden summons?

“Crown Prince Wilhelm is arriving in Frankfurt soon.”

So, the next chapter was beginning.