Deleted member 92121
Splitter!
When did Goering really start to go of the rails in regards to weight? I've seen some pics of him in 1930 and he seemed a bit overweight, but no obese. And I do wonder why did he get so thin here instead.
"Our Struggle": What If Hitler Had Been a Communist?
- Thread starter The Red
- Start date
He was probably the third or fourth best speakers among the Nazis, Hitler and Goebbels being first and second but one of his speeches from the 1930's came back to bite him in the ass, he once said "If a single bomb ever falls on Germany, you can call me Mayir (not sure about the spelling there)", which was foolish character from German folklore.
I believe his weight problem came after the failed "Beer hall putsch", he was wounded and after receiving non professional medical help he got addicted to morphine and that led to the decline of his physical health.
Meyer - though I've also seen it spelt Meier.
“No enemy bomber can reach the Ruhr. If one reaches the Ruhr, my name is not Göring. You can call me Meyer.”
Said in Sept '39. The population of the Ruhr called air raid sirens "Meyer's trumpets".
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Deleted member 92121
Meyer was a extremely common name in Germany, while Goering was a aristocratic prussian. Therefore, He was saying that if a single bomb reached the Ruhr, he was no more than a commoner.
OK, I had read in several books that it was a simpleton-like character from German folklore but it wouldn't be the first time non-German authors got something wrong.
I read somewhere that other high ranking Nazis would refer to Goering as Meyer behind his back.
I really liked it, especially when you consider it was made by two film students in their late teens. I don't think the problem was it didn't go down well as much as they didn't have any money to market or release it at the time.
It's on youtube for anyone who hasn't seen it.
The main character even hits out with the "both sides" patter you hear a lot of these days, and this is whilst she's wearing a BUF armband.
It's amazing what avoiding a morphine addiction due to there being no Beer Hall Putsch ITTL can do for your physical fitness.
He was okay, nothing special but he could reportedly hold an audience's attention. Apparently the larger-than-life persona was partially due to him over-compensating for not being able to motivate a crowd on charisma alone.
That's it fixed, thanks!
He once gave a speech during the height of the Stalingrad crisis, only for there to be an air raid on Berlin as it was being broadcast.
Thanks!
Oh own up to the fact you have a daughter and help buy groceries if nothing else.
I don't think I've commented for awhile, but I'm still here and still enjoy this monster Red. Keep up the good work.
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One of the benefits of Ernst being so sanctimonious is that he never has to take responsibility for his actions because it's always someone else's fault.
Thanks, I'm glad you're still enjoying it. I always look forward to your comments.
I must admit I always thought that he was referring to a buffoonish character from German folklore as well but I've done a bit of cursory research and it does seem like the everyman explanation is closer to the point, similar to a British person calling an unnotable character "Joe Bloggs" or "John Smith". I've also come across an alternative explanation that Meyer/Meier was considered to be a "Jewish" name and as such Goering was essentially saying "If a bomber reaches the Ruhr then you can call me a Jew." However there seems to be some scepticism about that explanation for as @olavops says Meyer/Meier is a very common surname in Germany with Alfred Meyer being the Nazi Gauleiter of North Westphalia.
Regardless of the origin, as @cortz#9 says it became an increasingly popular joke to refer to Goering as "Herr Meyer" as Allied bombing only got worse.
The name "Meyer" did make me think of Meyer Wolfsheim. Maybe F. Scott Fitzgerald had the same idea?
Saw it many years ago. I was impressed: one of the best examples of no-budget film making ever.
Deleted member 92121
If I may offer any advice: Try to plan out at least the beginning of the story, but don't write it all in stone, you'l certainly change your mind about some aspects of it over time. Don't fell preassured to make changes however, if you have a vision and you think it works than follow it. Don't start more than you can handle at one time(like I did), and don't make promises that you'l probably fail to keep(like I often do). Hope this helps.
That's always great to hear.
I'd say the most important thing to do is to try and make sure you're invested in your idea and if you aren't its better to get over a dalliance with it and move on to something you're really committed to. Start writing before you post anything, don't write one update and then immediately post it, and preferably write several updates before posting any of them so that you're really sure you want to go forward with this idea over others. As @olavops said, don't try and write two or more TLs at once, at best one will take precedence over the other(s) and at worst you'll just lose interest in one or both. If there's an idea you really can't get out of your head but can't fit into your existng TL, write a vignette. That works wonders.
Do your research and take notes, preferably before writing anything. Avoid Wikipedia, especially articles that have no accessible sources. Always try and find something on Google Scholar alongside a basic Google search, there's almost always at least one free journal article on whatever subject you're after. Don't be daunted by ideas you feel might be too implausible, but actively try to make them work by finding out more about the situation. For example, the Soviet Union joining the Axis is definitely a stretch but the Allies were considering intervention during the Winter War and were actively preparing to bomb Baku before the fall of France. If either of those events happened is it that implausible to see the situation spiral into an all-out war where the Soviets find themselves co-belligerents with the Axis?
Keep researching even as you write, make sure you keep your TL structure detailed but loose as it's almost always the case that you'll come across something you hadn't before and will want to include in the TL. Try to avoid contrivance. Don't be afraid of the butterfly effect, be wary of going off on tangents but trying to see where the trends are going rather than determining them allows the TL to flow much more freely. Engage with comments, postive and negative, and be open to discussing the work with readers. History is an amalgamation of differing viewpoints after all, and AH is always better when the writer is open to other points of view.
Finally, don't feature paintings in the TL. That's my thing.
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One final thing I'd add is do things in a way that work for you. Your methods and writing style don't have to be a carbon copy of The Red's, or Olavops, or mine, and if you tried to make them such you'd probably drive yourself nuts. So try and find a way of working you're happy with.
Chapter LIV
"Man and fascism cannot co-exist. If fascism conquers, man will cease to exist and there will remain only man-like creatures that have undergone an internal transformation. But if man, man who is endowed with reason and kindness, should conquer, then Fascism must perish, and those who have submitted to it will once again become people."
~ Vasily Grossman, Life and Fate
~ Vasily Grossman, Life and Fate
A stahlrute is a device made up of telescoping springs encased in a metal shell, each layered within the other, allowing a cigar shaped object concealed within a fist to become a baton with the flick of a wrist. For the wielder’s opponent, this usually isn’t long enough to cover one’s face or ones legs or any part of the human anatomy for that matter.
In the Berlin stadtpark, this example was playing out again and again and again.
The triumphalism of the Volkisch Bund rally and the bravado of their cause had been torn apart by the sudden clash between Red Front and Blackshirt. Heinrich Himmler had been preparing for this battle ever since he was a teenager, ready to defend Germany from enemies within and without, but he hadn’t expect this glorious stand to be taking place in a park, nor to see his comrades be swatted down on all sides by the batons of the Red Front. For a split second he tried to calculate how many actual veterans there were in the ranks of the Volkisch Bund, and how many of their Red Front assailants might have fought against the French.
The conclusions he came to made it evident that it was time for him to run.
Himmler noticed that Goering, the lead speaker for what had been meant to be another successful event, had made a similar calculation. He was still standing on the assembled stage, moving to and fro as several blackshirts and a handful of confused police attempted to prevent the communist militia from joining them. He was blowing a whistle over and over again and motioning to the assembled trucks at the edge of the park. The noise was piercing and caused Himmler to wince, it was the signal for the trucks to come to their rescue as quickly as possible. The war hero had been full of bravado a few moments beforehand, and his spirit had been infectious. Now both men had realised how outnumbered they were, even as the assorted ranks they had proudly led into the park fought a losing battle.
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Johann kicked the gibbering mess in front of him one last time before narrowly avoiding getting thrown to the ground himself by another fascist. The man’s arms were still hugged around him as he struggled to keep his posture before trying to inflict as much pain as possible on his opponent until he yielded to fend off the blows from the stahlrute with his arms. This entire battle had been ordered from the top, and the point was to inflict a defeat so humiliating on the fascists that their movement would never be able to recover.
Most of Johann’s comrades had been enthusiastic about the chance to finally flex their muscles after being reined in so long, but he saw it far more as a job that had to be done. This wasn’t violence for the sake of violence after all.
“Knock them out, make sure they’re down, and keeping moving forward. We will finish off this rabble once their leaders are on the floor.”
The voice beckoning the protracted chaos further towards Goering and the other leading fascists was that of Eric Mielke. The man was a relative newcomer to the Red Front, but his enthusiasm for cracking skulls had apparently made him a lead candidate for this sort of job, one that Johann couldn’t help but feel was rather uncharacteristic of the Zentrale to order after years of keeping their powder dry and playing along with the Weimar game.
Apparently the time had come to finally show their strength.
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The thuds and screams had begun to contort into noises of bone cracking and the sickly smacking sound of batons hitting against open wounds. It was a symphony that most would rather avoid hearing, if it wasn't so important to retain control of one’s senses.
Ernst thanked God for having survived the initial charge. He didn’t believe in such a being, but he was too exasperated to care all that much.
The hurricane of violence taking place around him had seemingly left non-participants in the eye of the storm for now. He would almost have credited the KPD with some tact if he hadn’t just seen them turn central Berlin into a battlefield. All the same he realised that being an SPD deputy was likely a worse crime than being a blackshirt in the eyes of many of these men. He hoped he wouldn’t be recognised by either side, it was a feeling that hadn’t been as visceral since the Freikorps had taken over Berlin in 1920, as the Red Front thugs continued to lay into their fascist contemporaries. Amidst the violence, the pretty brunette he had tried to help get out of the scene continued to take photographs, as if she was enraptured in the scene.
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It wasn’t that Eva Braun didn’t know fear, it was more that something inside of her responded to it as if it were the most ambrosial feeling one could have. Power had its charms as well of course, but where was the thrill when it didn’t exhibit itself? The chaos that was unfolding was power being ripped to shreds and then reformed on the basis of a blood soaked weapon held in a shaking fist, surely that was true bliss?
These were mere subconscious urges, irrational and unfathomable, but they led her on to record the scene capriciously, already she was trying to work out what newspaper might buy them and how she would explain to her boss that there was a missing roll of film from the new Leica that she had borrowed. It was these less pressing concerns that put her mind off of the fact she was grinning as two men with red armbands bludgeoned a blackshirt half to death right in front of her before striding past her like they were late for a tram. The stage where a panicked Hermann Goering and several others still stood appeared to be their target. The lithe airman blew over and over again on a whistle, apparently unwilling to take part in the violence. Eva wouldn’t have been able to explain it, but she suddenly couldn’t help but wish to see him pulled from the stage and receive the same treatment that was being dealt to so many of those in the same uniform.
Eva prepared her camera in anticipation, only to see a truck charge through the park at great speed, causing bystanders and combatants alike to dive out of the way as it screeched up next to the besieged stage, throwing mud and freshly ground up cud over everyone nearby. Eva kept on snapping at the pilot who jumped onto the truck as if he were getting into a cockpit, and blew again on his whistle for the driver to move.
It was at this moment she felt herself being flung to the ground.
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Heinrich Himmler wasn’t a man you wanted to leave behind. At least that was the impression the blackshirt was trying to build. Goering seemingly hadn’t got that message just yet, and he found himself yelling for the truck to wait for him. Channelling the same Aryan strength that had enabled him to conquer the bronze medal for the hundred metre sprint at the 1928 Association of the German Farmers Associations Sports Feier, he surged towards salvation, avoiding Red Front blows as he went, ignoring the shouts of his fellow Blackshirts, effortlessly brushing aside the woman obstructing his path-
A sharp object stabbed him into the lower thigh of his left leg, causing his lower body to turn to jelly and bring him crashing to the ground in a fit of bewilderment.
“There he is! He’s one of the leaders! I’m a journalist comrades, I know that he’s their leader!” A woman’s voice shrieked, Himmler looked in her direction and noticed that she was also on the ground. The one that had been in his way. Her scowl was full of venom, clear as day despite her face being covered in mud and a mess of dirty brown hair. An accusatory finger pointed at him, the Blackshirt “leader”, as the broken stiletto on her right shoe pointed to the sky. It was not long before the Red Front members he had evaded were converging on him. Apparently believing that they had bagged some sort of leader after all.
It was at this point that Heinrich Himmler wondered whether being important had really been a worthwhile goal in life.
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Life and Fate is a brilliant book and I'd recommend you all read it.
The Antifa logo was originally designed by Max Gebhard and Max Keilson.
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Why do I get the feeling the best case scenario for Himmler at this point is a body cast in a Berlin hospital?