German Civil War – Harbinger of the Storm (1)

September 5, 1939 — Frankfurt, Provisional Capital of the New Government, 9th Military District

Despite troop shortages, the new government mobilized forces from Bavaria to create a respectable welcoming ceremony for Prince Wilhelm.

"Heil Kaiser!" "Long live Hohenzollern!"

Scattered citizens cheered—some genuine royalists, others hired by the monarchists who had learned theatrical staging from the Nazis.

Technically, Germany had abolished the monarchy, making Wilhelm a claimant to the throne rather than Crown Prince. Of course, saying this aloud would provoke the extreme monarchists to riot.

Crown Prince Wilhelm and his wife, Princess Cecilie, descended from the train, waving to the crowds with satisfied expressions.

"Thank you for coming, Your Imperial Highness," Ludwig Beck greeted the prince with formal courtesy befitting his role as regent of the new government. "It is an honor to serve you."

Initially, the new government had tried to bring Wilhelm from Oleśnica Castle in Silesia before the coup, but he had refused. Only after the government stabilized and General Lutz's armored forces reached Potsdam did Wilhelm finally arrive from Cecilienhof Palace.

"Thank you for the welcome, Herr Regent. The House of Hohenzollern appreciates your efforts."

His words suggested appreciation, but Wilhelm had clearly waited to see which way the wind blew. I wondered what Beck—so polite on the surface—truly thought beneath his diplomatic facade.

"It is our honor, Your Highness. Allow me to escort you to headquarters."

"Please."

My knowledge of the Crown Prince was limited. Expelled after Wilhelm II's abdication, he had returned to Germany during Weimar, promising non-interference in politics. Beyond that... perhaps he was simply another would-be Kaiser.

"What's the Crown Prince like?" I asked Colonel Tresckow, who was approachable and well-informed.

As part of the promotion—the leadership felt my rank too low for public broadcasting—both Tresckow and Leutnant Colonel Oster had been elevated to full colonels. The generals avoided promoting themselves to prevent discord with Wehrmacht units still loyal to the Nazis, but all major conspirators had gained one rank.

Tresckow fidgeted with an unlit cigarette—unable to smoke before the Crown Prince—and answered thoughtfully.

"You'll meet him soon enough. He's not terrible—active in the last war, competent in military and political matters. He had supported the Nazis before Hitler showed his true nature, but then, most of the Wehrmacht had."

Tresckow's expression turned bitter. Most current military leaders in the new government, including himself, had initially supported Hitler's promise of a strong Germany that would break Versailles and rearm.

I couldn't judge anyone—even Dietrich Schacht had sworn loyalty to the Führer, volunteered for the Condor Legion, and served in Spain.

"During Weimar, the Crown Prince cooperated with the Nazis, believing Hitler would restore the Empire. But after the Night of the Long Knives—when Hitler murdered General Schleicher and royal supporters—the Crown Prince became disillusioned and withdrew from politics."

"I see."

So Wilhelm had pinned his hopes on imperial restoration, been exploited by Hitler, and learned the hard way. While concerning if he still dreamed of absolute monarchy, perhaps his experience with Hitler had taught him to come to terms with reality.

"Colonel, you should moderate your smoking," I observed as Tresckow continued playing with his cigarette.

"I'm concerned because you brought me into the new government. It's bad for your health."

Awareness of tobacco's dangers was minimal in this era, but Tresckow was clearly a heavy smoker. He smiled wryly, then moved closer and spoke quietly.

"Don't worry about my health—worry about yourself."

"Pardon?"

"I know Dr. Goerdeler hates you, but lately others are growing wary of your faction's activities."

Hmm, so it had been noticed. We hadn't been overtly political, but our broadcasts represented the new government without ever mentioning imperial restoration or absolute monarchy. Instead, we promoted democratic voices, hoping to gradually influence both people and leadership.

"The Foreign Ministry and Abwehr value you highly, and your contacts with Britain favor the democrats. But many others populate the new government."

"Understood, Colonel. I'll be careful. Thank you for the warning."

Tresckow chuckled, patted my shoulder, and pocketed his cigarette.

If General Model was my ally in the military, Colonel Tresckow was my ally in the new government. His direct warning suggested the far-right royalists were indeed taking notice.

I would need to tread carefully.

September 8, 1939 — Paris, France

Prime Minister Édouard Daladier of the French Third Republic met with British Foreign Secretary Viscount Halifax.

"Their civil war is unlike anything we've seen—very different from Spain," Halifax observed.

Daladier nodded. "I never expected to witness such a phenomenon in Germany: a civil war where ideologically diverse camps unite against dictatorship, fighting through public opinion rather than purely military means."

When the new government first contacted Britain, expectations were low. Hitler's domestic support seemed overwhelming, and military-led resistance appeared no better than the Nazis themselves.

Britain and France had hoped for mutual bloodletting to weaken Germany. But even after the initial offensive stalled, the rebels had secured advantage through sophisticated propaganda that surprised even veteran democracies.

As the new government's prospects for victory emerged, Britain and France needed serious discussions about their response.

"What is Britain's position?" asked Daladier. Despite his nickname "Bull of Vaucluse," the stocky politician couldn't hide the fatigue of a leader nearing the end of his tenure.

"We prefer to wait," Halifax replied. "Whether this new government seeks anachronistic imperial restoration and renewed war, or represents a negotiable partner, remains unclear."

Daladier frowned. Britain consistently frustrated France with ambivalent positions—neither fully committed ally nor neutral party. Even during August's Danzig crisis, France had anxiously sought assurance that Britain would actually enter any war.

"What if we demand implementation of Versailles terms—which Hitler unilaterally cancelled—as conditions for recognizing the new government and providing equipment?"

Halifax shook his head. "They haven't secured Germany yet. Realistically, discussing Versailles implementation is premature."

"As conditions after securing Germany?"

Daladier was desperate. The French Third Republic faced extreme chaos.

Unlike Germany, which had recovered from the Great Depression through Hjalmar Schacht's economic policies and Nazi expedients, France still struggled. The 1936 strikes by the Confédération Générale du Travail and the resulting Matignon Agreements had further destabilized the economy.

Former Finance Minister (now Foreign Minister) Georges Bonnet argued that rearmament would worsen France's economic problems, insisting on avoiding war through unconditional concessions.

Bonnet was Daladier's enemy within the Radical Party. Keeping him in cabinet seemed safer than allowing him to conspire from outside, but he constantly pressured Daladier with his views.

Even after Hitler withdrew from Munich, Bonnet claimed German aggression stemmed from economic problems rather than ideology, attempting economic cooperation despite Nazi intransigence.

"Viscount, haven't we been partners throughout this crisis?"

France, hastily rearming after Munich, now faced worse internal divisions than when preparing for war with Germany.

Foreign Minister Bonnet and leftist anti-war factions pressured Daladier daily to halt rearmament and reduce the army. But stopping rearmament faced fierce opposition from the French military and far-right, who had endured drought-like conditions.

Proud French citizens blamed Daladier and the Radicals for creating "shameful times" when Europe's most powerful army had to watch German expansion helplessly.

The Radicals would certainly lose April 1940's general election. For Daladier, securing Versailles promises from the new German government offered salvation—showing their policies had succeeded.

Moderate rearmament would appease military and conservatives; arms to the new German government would embody French Revolutionary ideals of supporting liberty; reparations would restore the economy.

A narrative satisfying both French pride and pragmatism.

"Otherwise, the Conservative Party may have to work with that far-right Social Party instead of us."

The French Social Party, led by Colonel de la Rocque, resembled Hitler in Daladier's eyes—agitating with slogans about "French racial greatness" and "France must regain grandeur."

They had once operated political thugs called Croix-de-Feu resembling the Nazi SA. Though now claiming moderation and congressional compromise, they were reorganizing paramilitary forces as "Mobile Corps."

Daladier feared they might follow the Nazi path to power.

"I'll relay this to Prime Minister Chamberlain," Halifax replied noncommittally.

Though Daladier and the Radicals struggled, Britain didn't need to worry about French regime change.

Britain's election was in November—five months before France's. The Conservative Party's position was shaken but not fatally.

Moreover, "British-style rearmament" meant naval supremacy and financial support for allies, not massive ground forces like France. Britain traditionally earned modest profits while providing military funds to cash-strapped allies.

Creating variables by demanding Versailles implementation seemed unnecessary.

Even if the Radicals fell, cooperation with whoever firmly controlled France remained preferable.

De la Rocque's France First policies concerned British politics, but he had moderated from extreme positions, now advocating national reconciliation and social justice.

Surely there couldn't be two Hitlers in one era?

Viscount Halifax maintained this optimism as he responded to Daladier's entreaties.