"We will grind you revolutionists down under our heel, and we shall walk upon your faces. The world is ours, we are its lords, and ours it shall remain. As for the host of labor, it has been in the dirt since history began, and I read history aright. And in the dirt it shall remain so long as I and mine and those that come after us have the power. There is the word. It is the king of words—Power. Not God, not Mammon, but Power. Pour it over your tongue till it tingles with it. Power."
~ Jack London,
The Iron Heel
It was no surprise that Hitler’s criticisms of the Bavarian Soviet Republic in Our Struggle are in their most comprehensive and livid form when dealing with the Republic’s demise. It is always easy to talk about incompetence in the wake of defeats, though Hitler’s experience of Levine’s bureaucracy and its failings gained an ear not only because of his “fly on the wall” knowledge of events but also in the visceral nature of the retelling. Having barely survived the bloody battle for Munich, Hitler was adamant that he would never again have to take such risks because of bad planning.
Though it was not the greatest stir Hitler’s revolutionary programme would cause, the future leader’s defamation of so many “revolutionary martyrs” caused many dissenting voices despite his earnest efforts to analyse the situation based on Lenin’s own advice to the Bavarian Soviet and make comparisons whenever he could to situations where the Soviet Red Army had been victorious but where the KPD’s revolutionaries had been soundly defeated.
Naturally it was easy for Hitler to scold his former comrades, almost all of whom had died in the Spring of 1919, with the benefit of hindsight. These men and women were in no position to defend themselves, and those who had survived largely went along with Hitler’s analysis of events. Some sources argue that this was an exercise in ego, laying the blame on those who had already been slain whilst agreeing with the military man that more could have been done. To the east the Soviet Union had risen out of the ashes of the Russian Empire, the White Armies crushed and the Western Powers falling over themselves to open up relations. It is likely there was more than a hint of jealousy amongst those who had squandered their opportunity to join Lenin in his glorious victory on the basis of the KPD’s contemporary hope that military conflict could be avoided.
~ Geoffrey Corbett,
Hitler’s First Revolution
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The dry ground and paved roads of Bavaria had been far more accommodating than it had been in the Winter, the warm Spring weather had made the march a burden all the same. Reinhard liked to consider himself in good condition but even he was glad for the rest as the army halted outside the city they were preparing to besiege.
Though the Freikorps numbers would have been an insignificant fraction of the old Heer, the ongoing dismantling of the army had left the Freikorps as one of the most powerful military forces in the country, and Germany’s defenders. Now the two forces were marching in unison, the Heer ordered to crush the revolutionaries, and those who had sworn to protect Germany either out of duty or desperation.
For Reinhard and his fellow soldiers it was a self-proclaimed mission, though it was one that the new government had been quick to make official in the face of the revolutionary chaos spreading throughout the country. Reinhard had been one of the many who had been abandoned by the old army after his train home from the front had crossed the Rhine. He was penniless and the sight of the hunger around him made it clear that it would hard to turn that around any time soon. All he had was his rifle, his experiences of the last four years, and the nightmares that came with them. When the offer had come to put those prior qualities to use, he had had to bury thoughts of the darkness that lingered in his idle moments.
He had hated the war by the end, he hated the regime for losing it all the same, it was anger that had grown even stronger when he was discarded by those in charge with little more than an empty speech of thanks in a town hundreds of miles away from anyone he knew. He realised now that that had been the sort of delusional anger that drove drunk men to shout at the moon. He wanted to lash out at anything, without realising the true source of his ire. Germany had lost the war from within, it hadn’t been the fault of himself or anyone at the front. The military had been quick to make it clear it wasn’t themselves either. Many within his new group of comrades talked of the enemy within and as he dwelled on the idea, he realised there was something to it.
Whilst Reinhard had been fighting for Germany the communists had avoided the call to defend their nation, preferring to sow discontent and harm the war effort. Their hope was that a German defeat would progress their fantasies of a Communist revolution which would put themselves and their Bolshevik allies in charge. Reinhardt had been informed by one of his soldiers that the outbreaks of violence at Kiel and subsequently across the Baltic Coast had been in response to Germany being within sight of victory. It had been rather odd to think they had been winning when they had been on the retreat in the last weeks of the war but the violence at Kiel was clearly communist inspired and who knew how long it might have gone for prior to German reversal on the front?
Reinhard had joined the Freikorps for a meal ticket but he had had to admit that he enjoyed the camaraderie all the same. Most of his fellow fighters had the same story as he had, veterans who had picked up a cause, though many seemed more than happy to sort out the reds. Reinhard was regaled with stories from ex-soldiers who had been spat at in the streets by communists and in one case even beaten up. He hadn’t experienced this himself, though as they had marched towards Berlin he had begun to notice the distaste on the faces of many who watched them march by. He had wondered how many of them might secretly have been working against Germany whilst he had been fighting to defend his homeland.
The communists they had encountered so far had been easy enough to spot for the most part, all banners and barricades announcing their revolution to the world as if they weren’t expecting a response from the people they had betrayed. By the time they had been dealt with Reinhard was almost glad they had stayed idle during the war. They were a passionate lot, even in captivity, but militarily useless.
A call rang out for food and a line quickly formed, as the aroma of fat and salt from the pot worked its way into the nostrils of the armed camp he could see Munich behind it. With any luck the communists there would be just as incompetent. The rumours were that they were starving as well, that always softened up an enemy. He wasn’t much of a historian but he reckoned that had probably always been the case, he could hear many in the line joking about seeing if the communists would surrender for a plate of stew. A nice thought but the wrong one, they had to be taught a lesson and if possible wiped out completely. There was no way of negotiating with an infection.
To share the stew would have been a crime in any case, Reinhard had been constantly hungry for the best part of his military career but he would have sworn it would have tasted good under any circumstances. No bits of sawdust sausage and underdone turnip floating about today, this was proper goulash. The cook was very proud of himself, boasting about how even the bread was fresh. This was no coincidence but Reinhard enjoyed it all the same.
As had been the case before many battles a fatty meal had been given out to raise morale and ensure greater stamina before their final advance, the figure now standing where the stew pots had been blocked out much of the view of Munich indicated that that time was shortly before them. Their commander always enjoyed a speech before a battle.
Captain Drumpf was not in overall command of the Lutzow Freikorps though the men treated him as if he were their friend and leader at the same time. Despite his monobrow, his sulky features and the almost comedic parting on his balding head many drew inspiration from him. Reinhard would have included himself in that number, Drumpf was always able to get them riled up and ready to fight, a friend and a leader who actively revelled in his appearance as if it were some sort of affront to the communists they were destined to rid Germany of. He raised his hand in the air as a sign of his intention to speak, the man quietened but he remained silent before he began to roar.
“This certainly is a hellish place to be stuck with all you grim bastards!” The crowd began to feign jeering, “I’m just glad I’m your side!”
There was a genuine roar of approval.
“The traitors who occupy Munich are not so lucky, they will die at your hands! The Americans, the English, the French, the Italians, they all sit round and cheer on the enablers of their victory. The foreign enemy honours the communists, for they were the ones who sold us out. Today they are going to pay for their crimes, today we shall cleanse Germany of their filth!”
“You grim bastards, you are the men who fought to defend Germany from foreign evil and on your return stepped forward to eradicate those who betrayed their nation. A hundred years ago the Lutzow Freikorps freed Bavaria from the French, today we embark on a new mission, to free Germany from all of her detractors who would sneer at German greatness."
“Today, we take back control!”
It was not a particularly eloquent speech but Reinhard didn’t need one, none of the men did. They were all on the same side and the time had come to kill.
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The woodcutting is from
God's Man by Lynd Ward
And for our American comrades: