It's having a real resurgence in academia, the guy who ran my history module this semester was forever organising conferences on it.
"Our Struggle": What If Hitler Had Been a Communist?
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It's having a real resurgence in academia, the guy who ran my history module this semester was forever organising conferences on it.
Chapter LXXVIV
And as soon as the enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away abandoning their property, while the poorer remained and burned and destroyed what was left.
~ Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
~ Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
A flurry of panicked phone calls and hurried delegation left Gerda Muller with nothing else to do, and so she decided to put her own shoulder to the wheel.
The church bells were ringing all over the city of Hamburg by the time Gerda reached her destination. They were joined by the screeching of the ships horns in calling attention to the imminent threat approaching the city.
Travelling from the Hotel Furst Bismarck to the docks where the essential defensive strategy would be carried out the city was already full of signs of preparation despite only a few hours having passed. The celebratory atmosphere of red flags and slogans that had bedecked the walls and windows of many working class homes and streets were now the site of the impromptu building of barricades. Around the old city walls a small number of men were hastily trying to construct placements around the old siege defences and prepare others to fight with what little there was available, in case the worst happened. She knew if that were to happen it would be pointless but it seemed to be helping to keep the city calm. One figure who seemed the opposite of calm was the man leading the construction of one barricade, Erich Mielke had been known as a particularly enthusiastic member of the Red Front back in Berlin and the way in which he wore his People’s Guard jacket over his old party beige implied he was still struggling to adjust.
Gerda wondered if he had a point for it seemed the United Front might be beheaded within the next few hours. No mass flight from the city had broken out but in the face of such meagre defences it might soon become necessary.
On the docks the scene underlined the desperation of the crisis; stacks of explosives and flammable materials were being transported to and fro by hundreds of workers, directed by only a few who had offered their services as experts in shipbuilding or demolitions. It was an odd alliance but then again so was the United Front.
Ships of all sizes sat amongst the crowded scenes within the docks along with those now being towed to fill the port from the dry docks and shipyards. Many of these had been ships under construction before the general strike had erupted and the ongoing insurrection against the Third Reich had taken precedence for their workers. Now the forces of the Third Reich were coming to them each ship was to be used as a means of destroying the incoming threat, even if that meant launching uncompleted ships from the dry docks in earnest. Those with working horns continued to screech intermittently, warning anyone not essential to the ongoing operations that the docks would soon not be a welcoming place.
A truck’s horn joined the number of competing noises, causing her to ignore it at first before the driver shouted,“Muller, don’t just stand there!” Amidst the hasty echoes of construction and transport she hadn’t seen Hans Beimler pull up behind her, driving a truck laden with boxes marked hazardous by their labels.
“Any good with fuses?”
“I can change a Schuko.”
“How about storing munitions?”
“More in making sure they weren’t around when they weren’t supposed to be...” Gerda thought back to the games of cat and mouse the KPD would play with the police over the accumulation of munitions and explosives, it had been a simpler time then even in the background of planning insurrection. But nothing of this scale had ever been envisaged.
“Good, I just need someone who can do the opposite of that. Get in.” She stepped into the passenger's seat, the truck starting to move again before she could close the door.
The truck made its way down the line of ships being arranged, weaving its way unsteadily through the workers transporting similar loads onto other ships. Gerda tried not to think of what might happen if the truck and its cargo were to crash, especially when the man driving was more used to the ships in the docks.
Beimler had served in the Kaiserliche Marine, the Imperial German navy, in the Great War and had been one of the mutineers at Kiel who had helped bring it to an end. In 1918, when the sailors of the Imperial fleet had risen up in revolt after having been ordered into a suicidal charge at the British coast in the last days of the war from officers who are happy for them to die in pursuing their own glory. That had sparked a revolution in Germany back then and now the old revolutionary sailors were being called upon to defend another.
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“Herr Wennecker, I want you to begin shelling the reds as soon as we’re within distance of the city to disembark!” Captain Reinhold Knobloch barked, before turning his sights to the calmness of the river, the banks growing steadily more industrialised as the SMS Schleswig-Holstein guided the Reichsmarine flotilla towards its target.
Chief artillery officer Paul Wennecker affirmed the command before making the order to the various firing teams in the lower orders.
Knobloch then turned to the younger Communications Oberleutnant admiring the scene ahead of them, the young man had a glare in his eyes, perhaps indicating he was out for blood of his own. That suited Knobloch fine, as long as he did his job.
“Heydrich! Stop dithering lad, communicate to Von Lettow-Vorbeck that we will be in Hamburg within the hour.” The Oberleutnant broke his gaze and replied obediently in his irritatingly high pitched voice before he went to carry out the order with a sneer that tried to cover his embarrassment. Knobloch didn’t even notice, once again casting his eyes down the river.
In 1918 he had been based at Wilhelmshaven on the SMS Kronprinz Wilhelm battleship whilst training to be a submarine commander, he had been proud of himself and his fellow submariners and had pined for the day when he would lead a U-Boat of his own into the Atlantic to strangle the British who had been strangling Germany in turn for so long. He had been outraged at the decision by the politicians in Berlin to surrender when the fleet had remained intact and undefeated but to his dismay, when the navy went out of its way in a determined action to reverse Germany’s fate, their own sailors mutinied first at Kiel then at Wilhelmshaven. It had filled him with rage to see patriotic appeals to reason shot down in the face of the Marxist rampage that spread from the sailors to throughout Germany, enabled by the politicians who would go on to impose the Versaillies diktat that left Germany broken and receptive to their Bolshevik manipulations.
Now the Crown Prince, the battleship whose namesake he had witnessed these actions unfold from, was in his proper place to save Germany from these same traitors and Knobloch had a battleship of his own to carry out that task in the Emperor’s name. Germany would rebuild itself just as the Reichsmarine had; professional, orderly, ideologically and spiritually clean. The Reichsmarine had spent the last 12 years undoing the humiliation of 1918 but those who had brought such shame in the first place had to be put down before that process could be complete and it was to his great joy that he would play a leading role in that action.
The crash modification of Reichswehr infantry into the old traditions of Prussian naval marines had been novel to witness but Paul Von Lettow-Vorbeck was the ideal instructor, his fame and natural charisma emboldening not only those who were to be directly under his command but for all of those taking part in the glorious strike against the traitors squatting in Hamburg.
The time for settling scores was soon to be upon them.
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“I need everything ready to go as soon as possible, we don’t have enough time to do this properly but that’s not a reason to panic,” Beimler’s reassurances to everyone hovered over the assembled workers whilst the contents of the truck were slowly p;aced within the receiving craft. The Savarona was meant to be the biggest yacht ever built and even though it was unfinished it seemed more elegant than many of the cargo ships around it.
“It was being built for some American heiress,” a docker informed Gerda, ``they were walking to and fro, trying to organise the demolition practically. “Hope she isn’t too upset with the adjustments we’re making to the plans.” The man was chipper even in the cold morning air, his irregularly large muscles flexing whilst heaving the crates of explosives into allotted positions amongst barrels of oil and stacked furniture. Gerda wondered if he had gained such muscles from a career at the docks or if these new exercise crazes were having some effect. She put it out of her mind, trying to arrange around him the materials which would allow the ship to burn for as long as possible without it being so intense it might disappear into the river immediately.
“Ten years on these docks,” the docker grunted before exhaling in dropping another dynamite laden crate to the ground, “never had a comrade as a boss before.” He slicked back his hair with his oil covered hands and grinned.
“No bosses any longer,” Gerda reminded him, “but I can shoot you for inadequate revolutionary vigour.” she waved her pistol into the air causing the docker to laugh. There was something about the scene, even under this great stress…
“Do we have time for a quick smoke, just before we get the rest of the stuff?”
“No,” Gerda tutted, the moment spoiled, “we literally have no time, we’d better-”
There was an explosion in the distance that quietened the shuffling around the yacht, then an eerie soaring noise as the shells of the Reichsmarine battleship flew overhead, landing inside the city with an earth shaking blast.
“That’s it! They’re here, we need to get ready to blow it immediately!” Hans Beimler emerged from the gangplank, running throughout the craft, swinging his arms and yelling for everyone to get out.
“We haven’t connected enough fuses!” Gerda protested, but Beimler waved the protest away.
“Get outside, you’ll see what I mean.”
From the yacht's exterior Reichswehr troops in small boats were being rowed ashore, clambering onto the concrete banks, some were already beginning to fire. The battleship’s guns bellowed again but she could hear orders being shouted in a much more orderly manner from the troops now landing.
“The charges are set, we need to hope it’ll be enough to ignite the whole thing, and hold them until we can find out.” Beimler shouted and Gerda turned from the alarming sight of so many troops now advancing towards them. He didn’t wait to see if he had convinced anyone, joining those workers who had already fled. Without any other way to react, Gerda and the others ran with him, ducking through the bullets now whizzing through the air, the vast artillery shells continuing to shriek overhead and shake the floor upon impact..
One of the many warehouses across from the ship was being used for some sort of cover, and the docker motioned towards it, the cigarette still in his hand. It seemed better than nothing and they hunkered down together inside, their bodies close together awaiting more bullets. Gerda saw that Beimler had drawn the Reichswehr troops towards himself for some reason, firing away at them, then at the last minute running towards the gangplank.
The windows throughout the warehouse shattered, a warm, irritating humidity flowed in. Gerda closed her eyes as a sonic wave rippled through her body, leaving her shaking, in the arms of a man who was doing the same. Her head ached and she realised she couldn’t hear anything. Everything was dark and for a moment she panicked at not being able to see either. Was this death?
The sun had just vanished instead, overpowered by the flames around her. Her ears popped at last, painfully ringing but allowing her to hear the roaring fires around her and explosions continuing to go off the background of the illuminated darkness. The docker’s arms were stiff and cold despite the warmth now rolling over them. The man was frightened, but alive, and she helped him up. They walked out together into the devastation.
The Reichswehr troops seemed to have disappeared behind a wall of flame but she could hear the ammunition going off in weaponry, popping away like a thick soup brought to boil. The naked flames stung the face but Gerda found herself transfixed at the sight of the Savarona’s silhouette groaning and cracking as it was dragged into the Elbe with so many other ships.
Gerda tried to process the scene but the scale of the destruction around them alongside the shock of the blast left her unable to do anything but raise her left fist in the air.
“My name’s Dieter by the way,” the docker shouted, presumably he was also now struggling to hear but he was shakily doing the same thing with his left arm.
“Are you a member of the Communist party Dieter?” Gerda shouted back.
“Communist Party of Germany...Marxist-Leninist of course...although now Thalmann’s gone missing I’m not sure we still exist as a party, or pre-party organisation-” Dieter started to cough and Gerda realised the fumes from the scene around them were advancing.
“That’ll do!” Gerda shouted between her own coughs. The pair turned to leave, Gerda covering her mouth with her left hand and wrapping her right around Dieter’s left.
---
Oberleutnant Reinhard Heydrich was still on the ground with a face full of broken glass when Captain Reinhard Knobloch arose from the floor. The man’s high-pitched voice had turned to a screech but it was only one in a cacophony of such screams.
A moment before the Captain had been in his zenith of glory, ready to finally do battle with the Communist enemy after years of waiting for such an occasion. The scene had been triumphant in the observation deck, the deck guns pounding the city whilst small boats decanted from the larger craft in the flotilla. He could have wagered that he could even make out Von Lettow-Vorbeck, the Lion of Africa’s Great War uniform making him stick out amongst the thousands now reaching the shore.
The docks surrounding the river were now on fire alongside the ships within the river. The city and morning blue sky were shrouded by the glimmer of the flames and black smoke pulsating in their wake. The force of the blast had carried the flames to the Schleswig-Holstein’s own deck and even though the crew were now putting up a desperate resistance towards it the river beckoned, its currents turned black and velvety by the inferno around it. Already it was beginning to swallow some of the smaller ships caught in the blaze.
The smoke from so many fires was making it difficult to see clearly.
Knobloch looked towards Wennecker who emerged from the smog via the depths of the ship's aging interior, his face blackened from the flames which were still advancing on the ship itself. Knobloch became conscious of the soot and glass covering his own uniform. It was all so undignified.
“Wennecker, I want your report on the damage to our main armament. I want to know when we can begin firing again.” The chief artillery officer looked at him incredulously.
“Captain, the crew needs to get out of these docks.”
“We’re on the river,” Knobloch retorted bitterly, “we just need to fight the fires that have spread on ship and then you can get back to your duty.”
“My duty is to be your artillery officer, and I do my duty proudly. One of said duties is to know how carbon monoxide works so I can keep artillerymen from the dangers of it. The entire crew is now exposed to such a danger” He began to cough and Knobloch thought he might be merely underlining his point before he felt himself needing to cough as well. There was ash in his mouth and throat..
“We don’t have any tugs at our disposal,” Knobloch complained despairingly, “the only option we have is to fight the fires on ship and hunker down, see if we can arrange some masks-”
“Our only option is to abandon ship before the air turns to poison.” Wennecker replied coolly, he had managed to avoid coughing, as though there were poison in his words already.
And the words were poisonous for Knobloch, mutinous. He had come to avenge the stab in the back of 1918 and now his own chief artillery officer was ordering him to turn tail. He had come for the glory denied to the fleet at the end of the Great War and now his own conquest was being snatched away from him. It was all very clear now, a third option had been opened up. Something more personal.
“Get out!” He yelled at Hennecker, “Do want you want, abandon ship if you must, but you won’t get the order from me. All of you, out!” Those who could still move in the observation deck helped those who couldn’t out and soon the sailors fighting the fires were instead preparing the lifeboats, with their captain’s reluctant permission.
Knobloch for his part took down the Reichsmarine flag from its place in the corner of the observation deck and wrapped it around himself. He felt warmer in its covering even if the old Prussian standard had been stained by the republican banner. It wasn’t the flag he wanted, loading his sidearm and placing it to his temple.
But it would do.
---
The painting is Tightrope Walk by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner
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Heydrich: what a piece of work. Someone said that while the typical Nazi couldn't envisage a Third Reich without Hitler, Heydrich was quite prepared for such a thing. What he couldn't envisage was a Third Reich without Reinhard Heydrich.
He was SIGINT. Himmler, somewhat uninformed on the meaning of this, offered him the SD on the assumption that he was an intelligence specialist.
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Huge defeat for the Third Reich and a morale boost for the Communists. I'm guessing within a year the Third Reich will be overthrown by a mix of Communists, Social Democrats and those tired of the constant infighting.
So when the Communists assume control I wonder if Hitler will allow a "vote" to legitimize his rule and make the German Workers' Republic appear to be a legitimate successor to the Weimar Republic. The vote would be very one-sided and biased, but it may help with international acceptance since the Communists overthrew a monarcho-fascist regime that came to power via a coup and won an emergency "election" that cemented their power.
So when the Communists assume control I wonder if Hitler will allow a "vote" to legitimize his rule and make the German Workers' Republic appear to be a legitimate successor to the Weimar Republic. The vote would be very one-sided and biased, but it may help with international acceptance since the Communists overthrew a monarcho-fascist regime that came to power via a coup and won an emergency "election" that cemented their power.
Considering this is a coalition, I imagine there will be plenty of votes.
Excellent!
He evacuated with the rest of the crew so he has a chance of surviving although I'm not sure the new reality in Germany will offer many opportunities for fascists, at least in regards to the mainland.
Oh that's interesting, any particular reason?
Thanks!
Well he seemed like a brave soldier if nothing else and he was robbed at the last moment of what felt was a justified revenge for the 1918 Mutiny.
The fact that he went down with his ship is also something I have to respect.
I wonder what mischief Heydrich will get into next?
This is, as ever, written with pretty and evocative language. But it's so vague that I'm not sure what they just did. You show the lead-up to it, and some vague mentions of explosives, and the smoky aftermath full of CO and wounded men, but you never show what they actually did. Did they pack the American heiress's yacht full of explosives, somehow manoeuvre it to be right next to the Kaiserliche Marine ships without being shot by them (and thus ignited too early), and then set it on fire? Have they set lots of their own city on fire? If Hamburg is aflame, they might have won the battle against the monarchists but they'll have a huge firefighting operation on the same scale as an actual battle that they'll have to carry out if they want to live to see the victory.
Sorry to be kind of negative, I do like the story, and character-focused narrative writing instead of dry bulletpoints of events is a good thing. I just feel that this has gone so narrative that it hasn't managed to make clear what's happened. At least to readers as dull as me.
Sorry to be kind of negative, I do like the story, and character-focused narrative writing instead of dry bulletpoints of events is a good thing. I just feel that this has gone so narrative that it hasn't managed to make clear what's happened. At least to readers as dull as me.
The impression I got was the Reds blew up the yacht and all the buildings on the dock setting off a chain reaction that engulfed the invading marines and the Schleswig-Holstein in smoke and flames.
Please don't regard this as being negative, constructive criticism is always wecome and appreciated. It's not a matter of you being dull either, your posts are always very perceptive, it's my fault if the narrative is too vague. Basically the United Front have loaded the docks with ships, including the yacht, filled them with explosives and flammable materials and then blown them up. The chain of so many explosions was meant to make it impossible for the Reichsmarine to land and this worked even if they had already partially landed by the time it was ready to go but as you say, it also means blowing up your own city centre.
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Thanks for the clarification.
Poor Hamburg. I was there less than a year ago, it's harsh to imagine it on fire. Yes Hitler & co. have got their glorious victory but I wonder if this act has turned a whole bunch of ordinary apolitical people in Hamburg into diehard enemies. Hitler & co. have literally "burnt down the village in order to save it".
Dito! During the war I'd like to see him sent to the UK to train Union militants in guerilla warfare.