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The success of the General Strike had been a decisive victory for the democratically elected government of the Republic, but there was more than a little concern at what had actually been achieved. It was a victory that did not only belong to the government, and Marx's influence once again cast a shadow over the party he had helped inspire for so long.

Having encouraged the workers to defend the new democracy with their own labour power, a consensus formed in the party's higher echelons that the threat to the republic now came from the left as it had the previous year. Having sat idly by as the Kapp's failed putsch played out, Von Seeckt now threw his weight behind the government and ordered the Reichswehr to march on Munich, the centre-left and reactionary right had once again found themselves a common enemy to unite around.

The putchsists looking for a way out now negotiated an agreement with those government ministers who had remained in Berlin. Gustav Bauer was replaced as Chancellor by Herman Müller, who oversaw the final end of the Ruhr Revolt, brought about a large offensive of Reichswehr and Freikorps troops in the area. The reactionary right could be seen as both beginning and ending the Spring chaos, some of the militia who had marched into the Ruhr had held Berlin hostage only a few weeks beforehand.

In this way the Kapp Putsch was far more of a success than a failure for its perpetrators, they had failed to topple the Weimar regime but they had exposed how tenuously it survived, reliant on elements of a conservative establishment who occasionally saw it as a means of keeping the working classes at bay, a constituency the Social Democrats existed to represent.

This was a betrayal that many saw as unforgivable, and whilst the left splintered the right-wing forces remained largely intact and unprosecuted. The Social Democrats would lose a third of their seats in the elections that Summer and for the first time since the birth of the republic, the new government would be led by those who had tacitally supported the putsch only a few months beforehand. Gradually all the achievements in social policy and worker's rights gained over the previous fifteen months would be whittled away at, until a new crisis threw the nation into chaos yet again.


~ Veronica Carlston, From Underground to Exile: The History of the Social Democratic Party

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The crowd was coming close to a crush on the streets of Berlin, Gerda instinctively wrapped her hands around her bump as the man ahead of her temporarily lost his balance, he looked behind only to see her and awkwardly apologise, soon his head was turned back to the sight up ahead, the loud instruments and the roar of engines in a vicious, downtrodden symphony.

It had only been a few weeks since those same drums and flutes had inspired terror in the city, especially to Gerda. The march of the Freikorps into Berlin had all the echoes of the previous years massacre, and though she was no longer at the barricades she was also with child. She wasn't only responsible for herself any longer, when she had first heard that martial music she had begun contemplating whether a pregnant communist would be spared, or whether her baby was just a future communist ready to be thrown into the Landwehr canal?

It had been a paralysing fear, but not one that she couldn't get over. She had remembered the time that she had tried to hold off a tank with a kitchen knife, and that that same person still lived within her. She had lost her job a few months beforehand, apparently those in the new Germany who were willing to tolerate women working did not extend their good nature to pregnant women. Apparently she was fit only to carry a child, now that the reactionaries had marched into the city once again, she couldn't be worthless to herself. What sort of mother would that be?

Gerda had marched in the streets with the vast columns of striking workers, unemployed or not she was still one of them. Christina marched with her, whenever she wasn't finding odd jobs to keep their flat. They had been glad to see many of her party comrades in the crowds, they had also ignored Levi's idiotic orders to do nothing. Gerda had been worried about her baby, but the clique that claimed to run the central committee were merely worried about their own hides. A general strike was a general strike, and Gerda couldn't help but agree with Comrade Lenin that German communism was headed in the wrong direction. This was an opportunity to change that.

Many of the striking workers seemed keen to join despite the official party line on their activity, Gerda supposed that many would assume that the Communists were for direct action against Kapp because for it to be otherwise would be ridiculous. She hoped that the fact some communists were keeping the red flag flying would be encouragment enough, although the news from the Ruhr sounded too good to be true. The workers were rising up once more, and apparently more organised than ever.

There had been violence in Berlin as well, although nowhere near at the same level. Freikorps and workers were natural enemies and large groups of both in the same area was never going to be anyone's idea of day out. The tension had escalated into the odd brawl and scuffle, and though the reactionaries who had claimed to be the government had threatened to shoot striking workers, she had not heard any gunshots. She had had enough of that for a lifetime.

Now the game was up, Kapp had fled, and the Freikorps had decided their Spring holiday had lasted long enough. The workers were still out on the streets, if only to wave them off. They had won, and it seemed that the disgruntled militamen knew it to. As they began to march past a new noise joined the symphony, one of thousands of jeers as the putschists marched by, parading for themselves rather than the hostile crowd.

The palpable sense of anger in the crowd had grown with confidence as it had become clear that they had been triumphant. It was clear that this could be the start of something new, the government had called for the workers to save them, surely it could now become clear that it was the government that needed them, and not the other way around? The rabble marching by seemed to have the same prospect back, as they cursed back at their hecklers. Many of the milita still had the good luck symbols that they had painted on their coalscuttle helmets, making them seem all the more ridiculous as they followed the band out of the city. The humiliation seemed to be too much for some of them, as they started to argue with each other, momentarily it only added to the farce.

And then the band stopped playing.

The growl of the armoured cars seemed to follow the band's cue, settling down from a roar to hungry growl, even the jeering died down, as a confused silence settled over there streets. Those who had been marching fumbled around impatiently, as uncertain as most of the crowd as to what was going on. Gerda, however, was the same person who had been at the barricades. As she began to push through the crowd she noticed others doing the same, she wondered whether they had been there in 1919 as well, or whether they had simply realised the reactionaries had decided that the working classes wouldn't be allowed to have this victory. She could no longer see what was going on as the went deeper into the crowd, but it only took the sickening click of rifles to turn the jeers into screams.

The gunshots were deafening even as the screams grew louder. Gerda had no choice but to join the stampede of people as more rounds were fired sporadically. Some chose instead to stand, and began to throw projectiles, a policeman whistled helplessly before opening fire himself, as the Freikorps began to flee without order and a fresh riot broke out along the Bundestasse, once again she saw conflict break in Berlin from the relative safety of an alleyway, as smoke began to emerge from Bebelplatz square. Furious men and women piling on the fleeing militamen, their anger blinding them away from fear, the police imploring helplessly for calm. Somewhere a lonely child began to wail for its mother, and once again Gerda clasped her hands around her bump.

It was a very different version of the future than the one she had hoped for.

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The painting is Invalids of War Playing Cards by Otto Dix.