Good update. Well worth the wait. It's still shocking to see Hitler acting civilized and rational, but we all know he'll become the monster we know in OTL. A more rational monster, but still a monster. Lieselotte's background is very tragic. The birth of the Austrian South Tyrol resistance and it's good seeing Lutjens finally get some good luck for a change
Der Kampf: The Rise and Fall of the Austrian Führer
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Hitler and the Sozinats view the Russians as Aryan cousins. So Hitler here doesn’t view them with racism to the degree of OTL. He’ll view German/Nordic “Aryaness” as higher but the Slavic people won’t be murdered due to race (except for Serbs). He views the Russians as useful to tear down Communism from the inside.
Hitler will have some… unique interactions in Japan, in ways that I hope will surprise y’all. Especially considering wider story implications.
Glad you like it.
Hitler here is “rational” because a lot of it is from
His POV or PoVs from his followers. Once we get closer to Führer Hitler you’ll start seeing more and more of the genocidal monster, either in actions or tone.
I don’t think we’ll have that famous Downfall scene about Hitler’s rant about Steiner’s counterattack. Hitler here didn’t get hit with gas. And I don’t know when Hitler got Syphilis, so I’m having to where he never got it. And Hitler here eats meat and doesn’t go vegetarian nor gets a crazy doctor pumping him full of drugs.
As a result we have a healthier and more stable Hitler, which means the whole “Hitler chewing on the carpet and keeping divisional markers on maps that are representing divisions that no longer exist” isn’t a thing here. Other nations will see him as a competent and dangerous adversary.
I’m having to “buff” Hitler here realistically to ensure he can make Austria a threatening European power.
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Aw no funny hand gestures?
but anyway he's still hitler and I hope we still see that especially when things come crashing down.
Great chapter! Nothing more frightening than a Hitler that isn't hamstrung by xenophobia.
Hitler likes to slam his fists, I’ve kept that at least. He does have his anger issues still.
Hitler here will have a more, umm, realistic mindset when things start to go sideways. There won’t be a “ah the Soviets are in Berlin, we are on the cusp of victory!”
Though Hitler will believe victory (of a sort) is around the corner when it clearly won’t be.
Oh Hitler is incredibly xenophobic. He may not detest Russians/Ukrainians/Poles etc like OTL, but he doesn’t want them in his country. They can nice little puppets in their own countries which Austria happens to either control or exert a lot of influence in.
He is still very anti-Semitic and anti-Serbian as well.
Clearly I’ve gone too far 😅
Just remember this moment when he orders the Holocaust to begin. Literally a flip of the coin in terms of personality. He’s a monster, but he may not appear a monster to everybody.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Herr Ambassador
Port of Funchal, Madeira
Republic of Portugal
January 1924
Herr Ambassador
Port of Funchal, Madeira
Republic of Portugal
January 1924
Garth Culpepper stepped off the cruise vessel, one man among hundreds. Behind him an American couple oohed and ahed at the sight before them, and Culpepper had to admit it was quite beautiful. The city of Funchal ascended up the gently sloping hill.
Almost as if in spite of winter, the city was void of ice and snow, and had a very fair temperature as if it were a Mediterranean island during spring. It was a far cry from cold and windy England, that was to be sure.
After passing through port security, he moved from the docks towards the city proper. He had a busy day scheduled but he couldn’t very well do it on an empty stomach.
Stopping outside a cafe he chose at random, he sat down at one of the exterior tables and ordered a light breakfast with some tea. The food came out hot, the tea steaming, and the staff was friendly and attentive.
Halfway through his meal a man in a dark suit sat down uninvited. But Culpepper wasn’t alarmed, he had expected such.
“And to think, I was having such a nice day.”
The man in the suit, who sported a pencil thin mustache and had far too much oil in his hair, frowned at him.
“Senhor, what is your business here?” The man’s Portuguese accent was pronounced but his English was quite good.
“And why should I answer that?” Culpepper retorted, cutting up his remaining sausage and taking a bite.
“My government would very much like to know.”
Culpepper took his time finishing his plate. If the man was rude enough to interrupt an Englishman’s breakfast, he could bloody well wait for him to finish.
The Portuguese official waited with growing impatience until Culpepper finally finished. Clearing his throat, he directed his attention back to the man.
“And might I ask your name, sir?”
The Portuguese man was silent for a moment but shrugged and leaned forward. “Tiago Ferreira.”
“And tell me, Mister Ferreira, do you work with your government’s Foreign Ministry or perhaps another, more clandestine group?”
Ferreira’s carefully maintained nonexpression was answer enough. Interesting. Culpepper would report that to his superiors back home.
“I could ask the same of you, Mister…”
“Breckenfield. Alistair Breckenfield.”
It was, technically, not a lie. His passport did bear that name and his photo, carefully made by the SIS, was legitimate with falsified birth and dental records carefully crafted back in England. It was one of a half-dozen aliases Culpepper used.
Quex was nothing if not thorough.
Ferreira's face tightened. Mayhaps he knew that Breckenfield was a cover but less than a dozen people in the whole world knew Culpepper’s real identity.
“And where will you spend your stay on this lovely island?”
“I’ll be gone by nightfall, don’t you worry. I’m just going to go visit an old chap of mine.”
“I see.” Ferreira stood, flicking off non-existent dust on his cuff. “Mister Breckenfield, it would be of paramount importance to my government if yours would notify us that they were sending a spy to one of our islands. It is, after all, a common courtesy. I wouldn’t want our nations’ special relationship to become strained.
“Have no fear, Mister Ferreira! Portugal and the United Kingdom will remain close as ever. I am here merely to keep an eye on…”
“Your old chap?”
He raised his cup of tea in salute. “Precisely.”
Ferreira nodded. “Very well.” He stuck his hand out. “Até mais.”
“Até mais, good sir.” Culpepper grasped it and gave it a firm shake.
The Portuguese man left. Annoyed, Culpepper paid the bill, leaving a nice tip. After all, it wasn’t his money but rather His Majesty’s Exchequer.
Standing, he grabbed his briefcase and made his way to one of the nearby taxi cabs, choosing one at random. The cabby was leaning on his Ford Model T when he walked up to him, handing him a five pound bill.
“You’ll get five more when you drop me off,” Culpepper’s Portuguese was more than passable. His German, Italian, and Arabic were far better.
The man smiled toothily, taking off his cap in respect.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you!”
“Let’s go.”
Culpepper waited with patience as the man opened the door for him. Settling in, he gave his instructions. The Model T merged into traffic, weaving and darting into open spaces with the madness of any other taxi driver from Iberia.
It took a little over a half hour for the American-built car to pull up to the gates of Quinta do Monte. A servant opened the gates, queried them, but once Culpepper told them who he was and who he represented he was quickly whisked inside.
“Sit here, please, Mister Breckenfield,” said the majordomo, offering a cushioned chair in the annex. “Would you like some refreshment, sir?”
“Yea, Earl Grey if you have any.”
“But of course, sir.”
The majordomo withdrew and Culpepper admired the interior of Quinta do Monte. It was well-furnished, comfortable, and obviously had an aristocratic woman’s touch, but compared to where his host had come from it must have seemed absolutely impoverished.
A few moments later Culpepper heard footsteps and the clattering of silverware. He turned to thank the majordomo and froze when he saw the man bearing the tea and pastries.
Karl Franz Josef Ludwig Hubert Georg Otto Maria, Patriarch of the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine, and Emperor of the once mighty Austro-Hungary set the tray on a nearby table and poured tea into two separate cups.
“Sugar?” He asked politely.
“No thank you, Your Majesty.”
Karl I Hapsburg simply nodded and dropped two cubes of sugar into his tea, stirring it softly, before settling down into the chair opposite Culpepper.
“So, you’ve come to make sure I’ve been a good boy?”
“In a manner of speaking, Your Majesty. As per agreement with the Council of Allied Powers, you are to be subject to periodically random interviews and inspection by a representative of His Majesty’s government, with unhindered access to your communications log, both mail and telegraph, as well as unbarred access to your financial ledgers.”
Karl gave a humorless smile. “This is quite insulting, you know. To be reviewed and analyzed like some kind of product.” Karl’s fingers clutched a rosary, fingers running over the beads as the former Emperor-King lamented the state he and his family found themselves in.
“Insulting or not, Your Majesty, you were on the losing side. Many in Austria blames you for the war’s continuation-“
“I tried to end the damn thing in 1917!” Karl interrupted. “The war was a fool’s errand and did nothing but dissolve an already fragile empire.”
“Regardless of the facts, Your Majesty, the people of your country as a whole viewed the monarchy with distaste. Your Majesty, you are not even allowed to set foot in the land of your birth. Your children may, if they were to renounce all claim to the vacant throne.”
“It is their right by God to have those titles. God is with me, Mister Breckenfield. I may have tried twice to resume my rightful place on the Hungarian throne, but failed only due to Allied intervention. My people need me, sir. And as the old adage goes, ‘third time's the charm.’”
Culpepper winced. “Your Majesty, it is the policy of my government to not allow that to happen. You yourself may be a good and godly man, but it cannot be denied that you were in fact head of state of a nation that helped perpetuate the deadliest conflict in human history.”
Culpepper sipped the cooling tea to collect his thoughts.
“Your Majesty, before I go through any and all records you have on this estate, I must first ask you directly: have you had any contact with any pro-monarchist factions within former imperial lands?”
Karl’s face morphed as if he had bitten a sour lemon. “Other than kind condolences from supporters that I survived pneumonia nearly two years ago, I have heard nothing since I arrived in Madeira. This island is such a gilded prison. I wonder if this is what Napoleon experienced on Elba?”
Culpepper leaned forward. “Remember Napoleon’s ultimate fate, Your Majesty. A gilded prison is better than a cold grave. You would do well to keep that in mind.”
Karl Hapsburg tilted his head slightly in what might have been a nod.
“Very well. Now if you would show me your logbooks and ledgers, Your Majesty. The faster I finish the sooner I can be out of your way.”
Moscow, Russia
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January 1924
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January 1924
Andrei Fyodorrovich Kolganov rarely thought of himself as Fyodor Stefannovich Petrovnik anymore. He had lived as his adopted persona for so long that memories of his previous life as a spoiled minor nobleman in southern Russia seemed a dream from another life.
He had killed his father, the Bastard Baron as he thought of him nowadays, and had escaped his home’s destruction. Joining the Communist movement fully under the tutelage of the cell leader known only as the Bull, he had advanced steadily, and his commitment to the Revolution never wavering.
The years since the Bull’s death had been hard but Fyodor’s rise in the Communist Party had taken a near meteoric rise. Now at the age of thirty-one he held much trust and high standing in the Joint State Political Directorate (OGPU), the much reformed and expanded secret police than what had been the Cheka years prior.
Not only was he a powerful commissar, he was also one of two adjutants to the Deputy Director of the OGPU, Josef Stalin, Lenin’s Man of Steel. Whereas Stalin was the enactor of policies decided upon by Director Felix Dzerzhinsky, Kolganov and his fellow commissar Davydov were Stalin’s enforcers.
Admittedly it was bloody and oftentimes thankless work, but it ensured that every death ordered and carried out was but a martyr’s stone in the foundation towards the paradise the Soviet workers and peasants marched so fervently towards. Sacrifices had to be made to safeguard Communism in Russia. This had been stressed by both the Bull and Stalin.
Fyodor was working in the annex leading to Stalin’s office in the Kremlin, across him was the Deputy Director’s personal secretary, Ivan Tovstukha. Both were working through the mountains of paperwork that were the true life blood of governance.
Though the OGPU kept itself concerned predominantly with interior affairs of the Soviet Union, Fyodor was reading a report by Soviet agent Richard Sorge. In it Sorge described an up-and-coming speaker in the German Communist Party, whose propagandist talents were winning significant sway amongst the workers in the industry-heavy North Rhine-Westphalia.
Sorge mentioned that the speaker was a man of talent and recommended that the Soviets should ‘encourage’ the KPD’s Central Committee to bring in the speaker to better advance the Communist cause amongst the masses as whenever the man spoke, people listened.
Attached to the report was a photo of the speaker and a woman, he in his best suit and her in a white bridal dress, though obviously pregnant. She was smiling, while the man looked almost solemn. To Fyodor’s eyes, the man was almost ghoulish in appearance, with a large forehead and ears, and a rat-like face, but even through the photo he could sense the man’s intensity. On the back of the photo was written some text by Sorge.
Dr. Paul Joseph Goebbels and wife Else Goebbels, née Janke. Rheydt, Germany, October 1923.
The door to the annex opened and Sergei Mikhailovich Davydov, OGPU Commissar and the man who had saved Fyodor’s life in Kresty Prison at the start of the Revolution, walked in, seemingly harried. Fyodor dropped the photo onto the report and half-stood.
“Is the Boss in?” Davydov asked, moving swiftly to the double doors that led to Stalin’s office.
“Yes, he is. What’s going on, Sergei?” Fyodor called out.
His fellow enforcer stopped at the door to Stalin’s office and turned back to Fyodor and Tovstukha. There was a look of uncertainty, of fear even, on the typically cold and impassive face of Commissar Davydov.
“Lenin is dead.”
Tokyo Bay, Japan
Empire of Japan
February 1924
Empire of Japan
February 1924
The small cutter skipped across Tokyo Bay, lurching as it did so. Adolf Hitler swallowed sour bile and tried to look composed, despite having a thunderous headache thanks to the go away party thrown by the crew of Shans i Dyte the night before. Ever since the oh so tragic death of Crewmate Arridhaois, Hitler’s and Lieselotte’s relations with the crew improved by leaps and bounds.
Furthermore, while in port in Singapore, word reached them of Vladimir Lenin’s death. While Soviet radio lamented the loss of Lenin, reporting the widespread weeping of millions of workers and peasants across the USSR, the crew of Shans i Dyte had celebrated, the Russians more so than anyone else.
It was during that night in Singapore that Hitler had taken Lieselotte out for dinner. Not as a boss would his secretary, but rather a man taking out a woman he had feelings for in a night out on the town.
Despite some private reservations about the whole thing, he found Lieselotte charming, intelligent and above all someone who shared a vision of a strong Austria. He had been hesitant that a romantic relationship would have distracted him, his drive towards what he knew had to be done, but instead he had found someone who he could envision as a partner.
Their relationship was still in its early stages, barely past the first tentative step, yet it did bring a smile to his face.
A smile quickly removed by another violent lurch. Hitler bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from throwing up everywhere.
The cutter flew the Japanese red sun on white field. The crew was cordial, with its commander conversational in German, but had left Hitler and Lieselotte alone. Behind them, further into the Bay, sailed the Shans i Dyte which made way to its designated port to unload its remaining cargo and to take on fresh cargo for the trip back west to Europe.
After several more minutes, the small boat docked, coming to a rest alongside a pier. Hitler led the way off once the ship was secured. And what he found waiting for him was a disappointment, to say the least.
He had expected a welcome party, perhaps several Japanese military officers or government officials to be in attendance to welcome the newest foreign ambassador to their country, yet all that awaited him was a sole man in a business suit.
Hitler covered up what he knew was a irked frown by turning and aiding Lieselotte out of the cutter. Turning back, he moved with purpose towards the man. Behind him he heard Lieselotte direct the crew into gathering their luggage.
Hitler stepped up to the dirty blond-haired man. A casual look told Hitler much. The man was young, possibly twenty-five or so, yet had the bearing of a soldier.
“Herr Ambassador,” the man stuck out his hand, “an honor to meet you, sir.” Hitler took the preferred hand and he was surprised by the man’s firm grip which he returned in kind. The man seemed to appreciate that with an approving nod before releasing his hand.
“Thank you…”
“Konrad Leichtenberg, sir. I was part of the advance team sent last year to reestablish our embassy here in Tokyo. I’ve been appointed the embassy’s First Secretary.”
“I see,” Hitler replied neutrally. He looked around the dock, still seeing no reception beyond Leichtenberg. A few Japanese onlookers watched with mild interest while two men nearby were writing furiously in their notepads, cameras around their necks.
Leichtenberg saw them too. “Local newspapers, Herr Ambassador. It is not everyday they get to witness a former enemy nation reestablish full diplomatic relations.”
“I see,” Hitler repeated. Lieselotte moved up to stand next to him, three Japanese men from the cutter walked by hauling their luggage towards a parked car sporting the Austrian flag. “Herr Leichtenberg, this is my personal secretary, Lieselotte Aigner.”
Leichtenberg clicked his heels together. “Ma’am,” he said bowing slightly. “If you would follow me, please, Herr Ambassador, Frau Aigner.” Leichtenberg gestured towards the parked car.
“Lead the way, Herr Leichtenberg.”
“Jawohl, mein Herr.”
Hitler looked at his secretary. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” she said with utmost certainty, ready to get to work.
The two walked towards and entered the car. The luggage was stowed in the rear compartment and the cutter crewmates withdrew back to their ship.
Leichtenberg was in the driver’s seat. He looked back at them, seeing them settled, and started the car, putting it into gear and drove off, masterfully weaving into traffic and smoothly changing gears as he accelerated away.
Hitler got his first good look at Tokyo. It was strange. It seemed to be a city of conflictions. Much of it was built in traditional Japanese architecture, most of which was wooden, though some buildings were of stone, glass and metal, while only a fraction of those were built in Western designs. The automotive traffic was full of cars from a half-dozen nations, honking and nearly crashing into one another.
“Seems people drive crazy in every country,” Lieselotte muttered. Her hand clenched as there was a near miss from a reckless driver, who poked his head out and shouted in Japanese, shaking his fist maddeningly.
Hitler grabbed her hand, giving it a comfortable squeeze, before letting go. He noticed Leichtenberg’s watchful eyes in the rear view mirror.
Observant that one, he thought of his new ambassadorial First Secretary, effectively the number two at the embassy.
As they drove towards the embassy, Leichtenberg seemed to want to explain the recent history of it.
“During the war, our embassy was shut down by Japanese authorities. The Austro-Hungarian ambassador was allowed to return home but diplomatic engagements with our country were severed for the war’s duration. Since the war’s end we have been warming the Japanese up for our official return, finally arriving here last year to begin laying the groundwork for a resumption of full ambassadorial services.”
He took the car into a left turn and proceeded down a slightly less crowded street. “We’ll be in Tsukiji District in a few minutes. It’s a sort of hotspot for us ‘round eyed foreigners.’ Several other embassies are located there, as are some European and American businesses.”
The car drove past a block where half the buildings were in various states of disrepair. Two of which were fully demolished, only their foundations remaining.
“This part of the city was hit hard by the Great Kantō Earthquake five months ago. Even now repairs are still underway. Our old structure was heavily damaged. But as a result, our embassy was rebuilt almost entirely brand new.”
He flashed them a winning grin which Hitler found himself mirroring and nodded politely in response.
Within moments they pulled up to a gated building off the busy street. Part of it was three stories tall while a majority of it appeared two stories. It was a uniform orangish-brown color. Overall, it was undeniably bland, unimpressive.
Yet it had become home for the foreseeable future.
The gate was closed as the car pulled up. A guard in Bundesheer gray walked up to the car, rifle held across at the ready.
“Papiere, bitte.”
Leichtenberg handed the soldier his papers who methodically inspected Leichtenberg’s identification, then did the same for Hitler and Lieselotte. After confirming their identities, the soldier stepped back and came to attention.
This was a signal for another guard inside the embassy grounds to open the gate to the side, allowing the vehicle entry. The soldier on the inside of the gate held a submachine gun spun over his shoulder.
“A lot of firepower for an embassy,” Hitler remarked.
“An unfortunate necessity, Herr Ambassador. There have been several incidents in Japan as of late.” The car was parked in the front of the embassy where two soldiers stood. One of the soldiers opened Hitler’s door for him and came to attention.
Hitler exited the vehicle, Leichtenberg and Lieselotte following. The other door guard opened the embassy doors and Hitler walked into a well built, albeit fairly spartan building. Staircases led up into the next storey. The only items on the wall were countryside paintings of Austria, an occasional flag of the republic, and the state portrait of President Hainisch.
Leichtenberg led them upstairs and down a hallway. About a dozen clerks watched their new ambassador arrive.
“We’ll do an official introduction later this afternoon. Right now I want to show you your office.”
Leichtenberg led Hitler towards the end of the hall, taking a right and passing through a room with several bookcases, a large but plain desk with a typewriter and telephone on it.
“This will be Frau Aigner’s office. To get to yours they must pass through here first. And yours, Herr Ambassador, is right through here. He opened a door to the room within.
The Ambassador’s Office was barren but for Hainisch’s state portrait behind the large wooden desk, and an Austrian flag pole in the corner. In the opposite corner was a small table with four chairs around it, a nearby window overlooking the street below.
Hitler walked in and turned around, taking it all in. He noted Leichtenberg stood there, waiting.
“This will do just fine, Konrad. May I call you Konrad?”
“Of course, sir.” Leichtenberg looked relieved. “I’ll let you get settled. My office is across the hall if you need anything.” Leichtenberg turned to go but stopped at Hitler’s next words.
“Just one moment, Konrad. Please, sir.” Hitler took a seat behind his desk, privately enjoying the chair, and gestured towards one of the two facing his desk. Leichtenberg did so after a moment’s hesitation.
“Sir?”
Hitler leaned back, intertwining his fingers.
“Tell me more of the incidents you mentioned earlier.”
Leichtenberg nodded. “In your top left hand drawer, sir, you’ll find a concise report over political events in this country from the past two decades.”
Hitler opened the stated drawer and drew out a hefty ensemble of papers, neatly divided and color coded. He laid it on the desk, unopened.
“I’ll read that later. Tell me the key details that relate to the now.”
Leichtenberg nodded. “To put it simply, sir, Japan is in a bit of a bind, politically. Relations between the military and government are strained at the best of times, while the hatred between the Army and Navy goes far beyond simple interservice rivalry. And the Kōtoku Incident may have happened over a decade ago but has led to increased fear of anarcho-socialist groups in Japan, a sort of Red Scare if you will. Because of this-“
Leichtenberg delved further into what would become a very informational lecture, surprising Hitler with the man’s memory for detail. Hitler leaned back and listened, learning, strategizing how to take advantage of it all.
Moscow, Russia
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
February 1924
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
February 1924
Fyodor carefully placed folders containing vital governmental documents before each of the fifty-one seats. He had brought a ruler and ensured each was located precisely between the glass of water on the right and the ashtray on the left. He replicated this for all fifty-one spots.
It might have seemed foolish to an outside observer, but today had to go well. It must go well. Stalin had stressed it and whenever the Man of Steel wanted something done, you did it the way he desired as failure to do so was a quick earmark for execution or a one way trip to the gulag.
Others were in the large meeting room, similarly readying the chairs, the refreshments and more. Today was a day of great import. Everything needed to proceed as planned.
At 10:00am on the dot the doors at the end of the room opened and in marched nearly a hundred people. Fifty stood before the chairs marked for them,twenty-five on either side of the table, a name placard resting above their document packet. The other went against the wall where chairs resided, being aides, secretaries and adjutants and therefore not important enough to be included among the men seated at the table. Fyodor and Davydov were behind where the Director and Deputy Director would sit.
Fyodor watched Stalin walk in with Dzerzhinsky, both going over last minute reports. Arriving at their designated chairs, they put down the paperwork and waited like all the others, heads turned towards the entrance. A minute had passed when a thin and bookish looking man walked in. Yakov Sverdlov looked more like a librarian or an accounting clerk rather than the single most powerful man in the Soviet Union following Lenin’s death a couple of weeks ago. Sverdlov reached his chair and promptly sat down, signaling for the others to do the same.
“This meeting,” began Sverdlov, “is to codify the recommendations put forth in Comrade Lenin’s will and last verbal testimony. The founder of this great union has passed, but we cannot, we will not, let the people’s paradise succumb to external or internal threats. Our years of toil and blood will not be in vain, nor will the course set out by Lenin waver though he is no longer here at the helm himself. We shall present to the world a united government, strong in its composition and focused in its goals.”
The men around the table nodded their agreement to that. Today would not be the day to appear disloyal.
“Lenin was a great man of many talents and strengths. None of us here could hope to mimic his individual greatness. As a result, this government is to be divided into spheres of influence to better manage and coordinate, all under the auspice of my premiership.”
Sverdlov looked around the room.
“Comrade Dzerzhinsky.”
“Comrade Premier?” The rail thin secret police chief looked back unflinchingly.
“You shall remain as Director of the Joint State Political Directorate. You have proven yourself able and ruthless in neutering counter-revolutionary movements within the warmongering Cossacks and the vampiric kulaks, among others.”
“Thank you, Comrade Premier.”
“However,” Sverdlov raised a figure. “My esteemed predecessor was a man of great vision yet that vision was more focused on our union than what occurred within our neighbors. We are a nation surrounded by imperialists, capitalists and fascists that despise our proletariat revolution.”
Sverdlov leaned back in his chair.
“I aim to correct that. Lenin wanted the Revolution to sweep across the world like a cleansing fire to burn away the old order and herald the new upon its ashes. He believed Communism to be a natural remedy for the capitalist plague. However, with revolutions failing in Hungary, Germany and elsewhere it seems we need to take a more active role in fostering relations with Communist groups across the world, increasing their funding and access to means to defend themselves.”
Fyodor translated that last sentence as enough money and guns to overthrow governments.
“As a result, Comrade Director Dzerzhinsky, I want a status update on any and all Communist or far-left groups worldwide. I want dossiers on their ideology, methodology, key members, and the difficulties they face in their nations and local levels. I want this on my desk in the next six months.”
“Yes, Comrade Premier.” Fyodor saw Stalin writing notes down. Fyodor could feel his workload doubling for the next half-year and shared a knowing look with Davydov.
Sverdlov continued. “Are there any nations, Comrade Director, with promising Communist movements that could exploit any opportunity that arises, or at the very least destabilize their home country so as to secure our borders and foreign interests?”
Dzerzhinsky pondered the question and privately conferred with Stalin. “There are promising seeds in Germany, France, Austria, Japan, Yugoslavia and China. I will ensure they are nurtured to be ready for when the Revolution beckons.”
“Excellent.” Sverdlov looked to his left where another bespectacled Jew sat. “Comrade Trotsky, you will retain authority over the People’s Commissariat of Military and Naval Affairs. Your leadership during the Civil War struck the correct balance between political reliability and martial achievement. I see no reason why that should change.”
“What about the commissars, Comrade Premier?” Trotsky asked innocuously. The room went beyond quiet on that. Conflicts over who controlled the military’s commissars had been ongoing even before Lenin’s death.
Yakov Sverdlov was not a physically intimidating man, but the withering glare he gave the People’s Commissar of Military and Naval Affairs could have blistered paint off a battleship.
“The commissars will remain, as I still believe there are too many Tsarist factors in the military and they need to be watched.”
“Of that I concur with completely, comrade. I, however, am asking specifically about the supervising authority of these commissars. If they are to watch the Red Army and Red Navy, then they need to be recruited and trained by my Commissariat as our knowledge of military tactics and affairs surpasses that of other Commissariats.
Sverdlov gave a cold humorless smile. “As has been standard procedure for years now, the commissars that are to ensure the loyalty of the armed forces will be of a political nature, and therefore will come from OGPU. After all they have the training to root out wreckers and counter-revolutionaries, wherever they may be.”
Trotsky nodded at the premier’s veiled warning though Fyodor thought he saw a flicker of annoyance on the face. Trotsky’s eyes flicked to Dzerzhinsky and Stalin, his face hardening in contempt but said nothing. Fyodor understood the political machinations at work. The secret police would watch the military while the military had the numbers and weapons to keep the OGPU in check. Sverdlov wanted to keep the two powerful Commissariats at each other’s throats, fearful and greedy of the other so as to cement his position as premier. It made sense and would allow Sverdlov to survive long enough to become undisputed master of the Soviet Union.
Divide and conquer rang through Fyodor’s mind as Sverdlov continued to announce the appointments of other key government officials. Nearly three dozen were named, almost exclusively of key or integral facets of government.
Yakov Sverdlov, having already been officially designated Premier of the Soviet Union the day before by an emergency session of the All-Union Congress of Soviets, confirming his interim premiership following Lenin’s death, also retained the offices and responsibilities of General Secretary and Chairman of the All-Union Communist Party. This made him by all accounts the head of state, head of government and head of the party. Many of the men he retained or put into power supported him in one way or another, while those that opposed him such as Trotsky were saddled with deputies who were fervent Sverdlovists and would act as watchful eyes for any disloyal activities.
Grigori Sokolnikov became the People’s Commissar of the National Economy, his embracement of the New Economic Policy was hoped to act as a salve to strengthen some of the weaker aspects of the flailing Soviet economy that was still rebuilding from the ravages of the civil war. In time, Sverdlov had explained, the Soviet economy would evolve to what he had called ‘Total Communism’ of a monolithic state-run command economy, but it would have to wait until a semblance of economic stability established itself. Nikolai Bukharin was to act as his second-in-command in reining in the faltering economy and bring it back from the brink it had found itself nearing.
Mikhail Kalinin would remain as Chairman of the All-Union Congress of Soviets and of the Central Executive Committee, though they were reorganized, renamed and streamlined into the Supreme Soviet and the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet.
Foreign Affairs remained with Georgy Chicherin, as was expected. His quiet support of Sverdlov the past half-decade had been notable. The two were of the same mind in establishing a strong, albeit subservient, Communist regime in Germany to thwart any aggressive imperialism in Europe on the part of the French, Italians or British.
To end the meeting, Sverdlov announced the merging of several different commissariats into an umbrella organization called the People’s Commissariat of Culture, Education and Truth. A powerful amalgamation of state control, education and propaganda. This was to be headed up by Pavel Lebedev-Polianskii. This would ensure the youth would be brought up as dutiful and hardworking Soviet citizens while everything the nation read or listened to would cement Communism in the minds of its people.
Sverdlov stood, signaling the end of the meeting. People began to shuffle out, in murmured discussions with one another. Many were energized by the new course, while others like Kamenev were privately disappointed. Yet it did not matter whether they were pleased or not. The reign of Yakov Sverdlov had begun.
The Soviet Heptarchy was born.
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Hope y’all enjoy this one! This one was quick to write. Hitler is finally in Japan, Yakov Svedlov becomes the Premier (dictator) of the USSR, and the introduction of a new character, Garth Culpepper, who I hope to use frequently in the future, especially during the 30s and 40s.
I hope the Soviet Heptarchy part makes sense. Those seven men are the most powerful in the government and though Svedlov is in command, he has to delegate a lot. I was going to have a spot for Koniviev but I’m keeping him as President of the Communist International.
This Heptarchy is made up of members form the both the Left and Right in the Communist Party, as Svedlov is trying to maintain a United government. Not all those mentioned will make it through the First Great Purge, much less the Second.
Make sure to leave a like and a comment. Feedback is always important.
I hope the Soviet Heptarchy part makes sense. Those seven men are the most powerful in the government and though Svedlov is in command, he has to delegate a lot. I was going to have a spot for Koniviev but I’m keeping him as President of the Communist International.
This Heptarchy is made up of members form the both the Left and Right in the Communist Party, as Svedlov is trying to maintain a United government. Not all those mentioned will make it through the First Great Purge, much less the Second.
Make sure to leave a like and a comment. Feedback is always important.
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Karl surviving eh? Blessed Karl's peacemaking efforts were what arguably made most of the Hungarian populace otl in favor of him at best and indifferent at worst during the restoration attempts. Certainly adds to the possibilities of a Habsburg led anti-Sozinat movement among Austrians. IOTL, there were ~10,000 to ~15,000 Austrian resistance fighters associated wth the Habsburgs Legitimist front. I wonder if that number will grow exponentially higher ittl.
Another good update. Hmmm a Hapsburg led anti Sozinat resistance that is possibly British funded? Culpepper giving us a British pov is gonna be cool. Goebbels as the speaker of the German Communist Party brings up interesting possibilities. Hitler not only being romantic, but also taking advantage of the tensions in Japan. This Heptarchy is gonna be interesting
What happened, ITTL, with the Komintern? Given that OTL, along with organizing the world congresses, what the new Soviet Heptarchy leader was asking, was one of its main functions...
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for the record that's when I knew
this will be interesting
felt bad for Karl but looks like he might end up In a better place then OTL
can't wait to see hitlers actions in Japan.
Might be possible that will he realize that 'd be extremely useful for his own and Austria interests to start to learn Japanese and/or get to know in depth his host country culture?
Can I just say how awesome this interaction was?
As a portuguese speaker Ferreira is my spirit animal here and the small bits of it here and there reminds me a lot of my interactions with my best friend where sometimes I say something in my mother tongue to her as a show of affection, which definitely is not what they are doing here, but still, polite asf and you can feel the never-escalating tension here
Karl does survive and he will have a role to play in the Austrian Resistance. I haven’t quite figured out how this will affect Hungary just yet.
Something tells me Herr Hapsburg won't wind up like Napoleon.
Here Goebbels is already part of the KPD. With no Nazism/Hitler around, he has gone more and more to the left. It’s by pure coincidence that he wasn’t pulled in by Strasser’s FDAS. Ironically enough Goebbels is married to a half-Jew. Else Janke was a half-Jewish school teacher who Goebbels had a physical relationship with OTL and even kept in contact with her off and on for a few years after she told him. Here she gets pregnant and Goebbels marries her. He doesn’t care for Jews, but isn’t rabidly anti-Semitic like OTL.
Stalin is Deputy Director (Deputy People’s Commissar) of the OGPU but Dzerzhinsky will not be around for long. Once Iron Felix is gone, Stalin takes over and reorganizes the OHPU into the NKGB.
The British will emerge out of this WW2 far, far better than OTL. And they may never use Karl, but they want to have their options open, especially with far-right National Liberals a part of the government and with a rising Communist movement in Austria they are keeping an eye on it.
He (Goebbels) will go far in the KPD. And will have a major role to play in the German Civil War.
The Heptarchy is held together by natural hatred between its members and Sverdlov’s iron control and manipulation.
The Comintern exists here, as per OTL, but under Sverdlov’s premiership it is going to be more aggressive/militant internationally, more hands on in fostering Communist movements worldwide. I feel the Comintern was more of a paper Tiger in OTL, more of a potential threat than actual. Here it isn’t.
Thank you! Glad to see people got where I was going with that reveal. Hitler will be to something very soon.