alternatehistory.com

The news of the truce mixed with rumour whilst it spread out from the Hotel Furst Bismarck throughout Hamburg. Meanwhile, the Communist party staff within the hotel waited to hear the news from the horse’s mouth.

Gerda Muller tried to keep herself busy. There was much to be done given the more pressing demands of United Front business over the last few months but in reality she was there so she would be best placed to hear the results of the negotiations with the Third Reich. She had no doubt that was why the office was far busier than normal. In spite of the optimism of some of her colleagues she had little doubt the Third Reich’s proposals would be rejected out of hand. However the nature of the enemy making such a move and the content of their proposal might provide a better window into their desperation and how to best achieve a final victory.

She thought back to the beaten Reichsmarine sailor making the radio broadcast allegedly of his own volition and of the many former Reichswehr personnel being made to labour in the reconstruction of Hamburg. The news that the leaders of the Third Reich had begun to fight amongst themselves had already helped to demoralise them, to make them more pliable. If they were to hear their former masters were offering peace in a desperate attempt to save their own skins, the results could be electric.

There were potential recruits in those ranks, potential Communists, she was sure of it. If she could just be given some time to work on it…

She was taken away from such thoughts with the appearance of Adolf Hitler and Willi Munzenburg within the offices. Both looked worn out but seemed to acknowledge the need to explain what had happened as the party staff instinctively gathered around them in anticipation of such. Hitler stepped forward to speak, clearing his throat he began the to address them somewhat hesitantly:

“Comrades and friends, Comrade Munzenburg and myself have just been involved in a historic undertaking, one full of significance for the German worker. For it is the result of their achievements. Your achievements.

Four months have passed since the beginning of that great insurrection against fascism which in the meantime has been giving a new aspect to German life. This is the period of four months in which we asked the German worker to fight alongside us and our allies in the United Front. Hence at the present moment nothing could be more opportune than for me to render you an account of the guarantees we have attained.

These guarantees have assured the quickest end to the fascist tyranny by the surrender of the defeated Reichswehr. They will abandon their futile coup attempt and make way for a democratic outcome.

This is an agreement that will ensure the progress that has been made during these four months will continue, for the welfare of the German worker. But within the limits of our alliance I have to make it clear that it would never have been entirely possible to achieve all of our aims within a time centered primarily on the antifascist struggle. And as such we must focus on what was possible and what has been achieved.

During a time which may be looked upon as the most astounding epoch in the life of our party we have achieved much. And we shall build on that in the peace we have agreed. That task belongs to us now to prepare to maintain the revolutionary momentum into the next period. Moreover, during the course of the next year there will be elections across Germany, in which we shall maintain the United Front organized for the purpose of a comprehensive and detailed plan for the immediate recovery of Germany and the German worker.

Many of you may feel disappointed or perhaps even misled in only a partial victory from this great sacrifice but the results that have been obtained and the projects on which work will soon begin, are cause for much excitement and pride. All of which can be explained better within the coming days than I could do it within the limits of a brief explanation.”


To this there was some ironic laughter which Hitler seemed to encourage, continuing to justify his actions.


“Therefore we shall utilise the opportunity afforded to us by this historic alliance of the Marxist parties to call attention to some of the new knowledge that we have gained, some of the experiences which we have been through, and the consequences that have resulted therefrom. It is important that we should understand them clearly, not only for our own sake but also for that of the generations to come.

For the German Ideology we will apply in building this new society will allow for victories that shall outlast us all.”


Hitler seemed to be trying to achieve a definitive conclusion to his vague speech. There was some applause but it was muted and the mix of confusion and shock regarding the news of a seemingly negotiated peace made it hard to determine how it was going to be received in the long run. The members of the Red Front present began to clap loudly and holler, perhaps upon recognising it would not happen spontaneously but Gerda could only feel a building sense of betrayal.

Even as Hitler raised his fist in salute and the others in the crowd joined she stepped back from the scene, unable to look at the man.

There were certain threads forming in her mind.

Hitler’s first act as General Secretary had been to quell calls for an immediate revolutionary attempt in the wake of his success in the Ruhr. Back then, with the republic collapsing in the face of hyperinflation and with Communist popularity at its peak he had stated it was too soon and slowly purged those who had felt otherwise. Ruth Fischer and Akrkadi Maslow sent packing due to too much revolutionary vigour on their part and in their place, Paul Levi.

Hitler had been eager to ally with the Social Democrats even as the global market crash prophesied by the Communists made the conditions for revolution ripe once more. He had convinced the party, and her, to break with Moscow and with Ernst Thalmann in the name of conducting the German revolution in a German manner at the time of greatest opportunity. He had warned them that to do otherwise would make the party mere puppets of Stalin. He had said they needed a chance. Now the fascists were on the brink of defeat, fighting amongst themselves, and the time for revolution was put on hold again. She felt like she had been dangling from strings for some time but was only now realising it.

Was this how it felt to be stabbed in the back?

Away from the gathering she went to return her focus to the busy work she had been conducting. Previously it had been her excuse to get access to the news she had wanted, now it was an attempt to escape from it.

She heard someone approaching her from behind and felt read to turn and snap at them about how busy she was, she didn’t care if it was Hitler. When she did turn she realised that it was Willi Munzenberg, smiling bashfully. His look of innocence with his untidy hair and crumpled suit made it hard for her to figure him as part of a revisionist conspiracy but the anger ticked over in her nonetheless. Perhaps he had also been misled but still hadn’t realised it?

“I know it’s hard. We haven’t got everything we wanted but we’ve got an end to the Third Reich. We can build on this, if we stick together.”

“This just feels wrong,” she stated softly, “we know this sort of reactionary takeover attempt has been put down before only for it to resurface. And to believe the Social Democrats are anything other than allies of convenience…”

“We can’t allow ourselves to believe that,” Munzenberg remarked candidly, “but we do need them for the moment. We’ll see how this plays out and do our utmost with the chances it does provide for us in the meantime. And believe me, such chances will become apparent.”

“I’m sure they will.” She replied absentmindedly, looking away from Munzenberg towards the early afternoon sunset of December. She felt very tired.

“I can understand if you want to go,” Munzenberg commented perceptively, “and that’s understandable. This is big news, it’s going to affect different individuals in different ways. But it would be good to know you’re still onboard.” It wasn’t necessarily a question that demanded an answer but Gerda nodded all the same.

“I’ve come too far to give up now,”

Munzenberg smiled at that and she smiled back. It was a struggle to not make it look too forced. Excusing herself she made her way out of the hotel into the outside world. Snow had fallen earlier, bringing great delight to the children of the derelict city. Those still focused on the rebuilding kept to themselves but it was clear their luck was about to change as well.

She felt as if she were about to be sick and hurried back to her flat, hoping to fall into a deep sleep and forget about the betrayal that was unfolding.

The church bells began to ring once again throughout Hamburg, not in terror-inducing warnings of impending attack this time but in celebration at the deliverance of peace. She aimed to put a pillow over her ears to block it out when she got home. She would scream to remove that sound if needed. For Gerda the bells tolled for betrayal, a jangle of mockery for the sacrifices of those martyrs who had died for the cause over the years. Her daughter was likely one of them now, and that was her fault as well.

That was just another burden she was keen to sleep away. Mercifully she finally arrived at the small flat she had been allocated in the city centre. She wondered how long she would keep it now that peace was in the air. No doubt the old landlord would be assisted in taking it back. She twisted the key but the door didn’t move. Gerda punched it angrily before realising she had turned the handle the wrong way and rested her head on the door. Trying to get a grip.

“I think that maybe I got the wrong idea.” Gerda jerked her head back and saw a broad shouldered man neatly dressed in a cheap suit and heavy overcoat. In his hand was a less-cheap bottle of schnapps. His hair was combed back as well causing her not to notice Dieter, the docker she had been alongside when they had both taken part in the destruction of the Reichsmarine flotilla . The few times she had seen him since that day he had carried the same bravado he had had whilst staring into death but now he could only grimace awkwardly.

Gerda remembered they had agreed to meet this afternoon, something she had forgotten about amidst the flurry of news around the peace negotiations. She wanted to reconnect her head with the door but decided it would be best to try to explain.

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“It’s not a problem,” Dieter interjected, “you don’t seem like you’re having a good day so I won’t keep you.” He raised the bottle towards her.

“Hopefully this’ll help.”

She took the bottle from him before grabbing his coat with her other hand, pulling him towards her.

“I think this will work.” She whispered before guiding him into the door. The handle worked this time.



Afterwards Dieter lay dozing on the bed but Gerda felt more awake than she had all day. It was as if the fire had been rekindled inside of her and new possibilities did indeed open up in her mind. She went to the mirror in the bathroom and leant on the sink underneath. She twisted the nozzle on the tap unthinkingly. To her surprise there was an affirming gurgle and water began to pour, red with rust at first but then clear and clean.

In recognising the small miracle she turned to her own face in the mirror. It was dirty and coarse, not properly washed in weeks. Suddenly she felt the motivation to cover it and grabbed for a dusty tub of cold cream. She had meant to take one dollop in her hands and even it out but instead she began to lather it on her face, so that it wouldn’t be hers. Instead the face looking back at her was lumpy, and chalk white. This was in contrast to her dirty blonde hair, grey with dust she had never been able to properly get out since the fires. She picked up the coal scuttle lying empty by the fireplace and rubbed her hands around it, before running them through her hair, complimenting the ash. She had spent all this time trying to get the dust out of her hair and now she felt like embracing it. She wouldn’t be weary or coarse any longer. She could change.

She saw a different face staring back at her. One hideously deformed by cream and charcoal but one that could be refined. She knew she was still herself but could those who knew her have recognised? Would they recognise such an aesthetic change in the Communist party?


State power. She thought to herself, increasing the strength of the tap and putting her head underneath it.


This could work.


---

The painting is Theatre box logic by Dodo