Well there’s Thälmann, Gerda (for now) and likely some of the upper management/administrative part of the Party. The Red Front and lower masses will probably support Hitler, especially the veterans in the Party.
"Our Struggle": What If Hitler Had Been a Communist?
- Thread starter The Red
- Start date
could we see a way to try to oust him fail allowing him to get rid of his last opponents
Ludendorff was the leader but he proved to be as hopeless at party politics as he was IOTL so moved to a more informal role, the real power now lies with the Crown Prince who has remphasised the Bund's commitment to restoring the monarchy and is trying to make them appear more like a respectable patriotic milita to help illicit both business and establishment (and also Italian!) support.
I hadn't actually thought about that! The German far-right were using the swastika long before Hitler but I suppose that wouldn't really be in the spirit of AH, I suppose the fasces would lack originality as well. I quite like your idea of the eagle and the crown.
All will soon be revealed.
Chapter LVII
'With its long tradition of Social-Democracy and militant working class organisation and the advanced economy, the German working class was still regarded as the most powerful in the world. The chronic economic and social crisis which had gripped Germany since 1918 was again preparing to pass from a pre-revolutionary situation to a revolutionary situation. Both the Communist Party and the Social Democratic Party had about two million members. And Germany was, in 1931, the key to the whole international situation: would Fascism or Communism triumph in Germany?'
~ Andy Blunden, Stalinism: It's Origin and Future
~ Andy Blunden, Stalinism: It's Origin and Future
It was the middle of the night by the time the train had reached Hamburg, Rosa had fallen asleep but Gerda had done her best to try to stay alert whilst envying her daughter. She got the rather petty pleasure of nudging the ten year old to indicate that that they had finally arrived and Rosa followed her groggily through the largely empty station. Gerda spotted who she presumed to be her contact standing awkwardly in an attempt to look inconspicuous in a manner that only served to do the opposite. His uncombed brown hair and large, unseasonable raincoat would have made him stand out even if the station had been crowded.
"I'm sorry for our late arrival, but you know what women are like with wedding planning!"
The man looked at her with a faint confusion, as if trying to work out whether there really was a wedding being planned rather than the convoluted code Gerda had been given back in Berlin. The penny dropped eventually with his head nodding in acknowledgment.
"Er, well, yes, I just hope everything is ready for Saturday."
Gerda wasn't sure who was more surprised; Rosa at the use of the code, or the Not-So-Invisible Man seeing the Comrade he had been waiting for arriving with a ten year old. Both kept a confused silence as they strolled out of the Hamburg Hauptbahnhof and into the Saturday nightlife winding down outside the station.
"What's with the kid?" The man hissed amidst the angry shouts of drunks who had been told they weren't getting any more beer in chorus with those those who were already hailing taxis. The people who had been reduced to begging thanks to the global economic strife sat amongst them, largely silent but all too visible in the shadows cast by the Hamburg streetlights.
"She's my daughter," Gerda replied, squeezing Rosa's hand while she did so, "I couldn't find anyone to look after her, the police are rounding up communists all overBerlin. Aren't you having similar problems?"
"No it's all quiet here, at least for now."
The perfectly ordinary weekend night was a testament to this and Gerda couldn't help but wonder why there was such a conspiratorial atmosphere about the man when they seemed in no obvious danger of being apprehended. Something felt out of place despite his assurances. With the glimmer of the streetlights and the waning laughter in bars and restaurants, it felt almost serene compared to the panic that was gripping Berlin.
They took a taxi to one of the working class slums that supplied workers for the city docks, a journey to the quarter of Barmbek that took them away from the bright lights and noise of the city centre into the darker and more muffled surroundings of a den of misery wracked by rising unemployment and poverty. Hamburg had been a stronghold for the communist party ever since the end of the war, and even if the city centre seemed quiet Gerda knew that they could truly be safe here. Even when police had raided the KPD central offices in Berlin looking for weapons and bombs during Hitler's fight against the French in the Ruhr, they had apparently been too apprehensive to investigate suspected weapons caches in these streets, wary of accidentally kicking off another revolutionary attempt in the process. Even the taxi driver seemed keen to drop them off as soon as possible, he appeared to be more keen on getting out of the area than on charging the Not-So-Invisible Man.
The lighting in the slum was poor, and outside of the taxi it was almost pitch black until their eyes had readjusted. Gerda wondered about whether or not the driver would have been more worried about communist subversives or the petty criminals that could potentially thrive in such circumstances. The collapse of the global market had helped to produce large numbers of both in a city so reliant on trade with the outside world. After fumbling around for a moment trying to get his bearings, their guide led them towards a small tower block that looked as if it might never have seen the light of day. He knocked three times on the door, paused and seemed to count silently to himself, before knocking again. The door suddenly jerked open, revealing an interior that wasn't much better lit than the street outside.
Their host was an elderly man who craned his neck out towards them before looking in either direction as if he could see anything in the darkened atmosphere.
"You'd better come inside, everyone's already here."
Once they were inside he slammed the door shut in a motion that caused the house to creak in protest and led them through the corridors filled with the musky smell of old books and cigarette smoke up the stairs towards what must have been the meeting place.
"Would you be able to take my daughter whilst we talk? I promise she'll behave." The old man sighed and muttered something as Gerda knelt down to Rosa's level to reassure that she wouldn't be long and to be good for her fellow comrades. Her daughter nodded sleepily before taking their hosts hand.
"Do you like to read? I have some books if you like Gramsci-" the conversation faded away as the two went back down the stairs. Gerda smiled before returning to her impatient guide.
"I think we're through here,"
The two entered a room lit with two gas lamps which, to Gerda's surprise, contained several members of the KPD central committee, the Party President Ernst Thalmann, and the Comintern liason for Central Europe, Georgi Dimitrov.
"Ah, Gerda!" Ernst boomed before motioning for her to take a seat.
"Grigory, this is Comrade Gerda Muller. Without her I can assure you that our Berlin office would fall apart."
Dimitrov nodded along without interest,
"Thank you for coming, Comrade."
"It's good to see you all comrades, if in unfortunate circumstances. I'm relieved to see so many of you managed to avoid the assassination of democracy going on in Berlin just now." Gerda was earnest in her comments and seeing Thalmann nodding along gravely confirmed that she wasn’t alone in feeling that the situation in Berlin was going over a cliff.
"That's exactly what everyone is here to discuss comrade."
Thalmann proceeded to open up a ledger similar to the one that Gerda had brought with her to Hamburg and began to speak once more,
“It has become clear that General Secretary Hitler’s behaviour has made him unfit for his position and tonight we must resolve the best way to remove him without harming the workers cause.”
Thalmann’s tone was adamant, and several members of the Central Committee banged the table in agreement. Dimitrov continued to looked distinctly unimpressed
“I know we met for this purpose but in regards to the Comintern this action still seems somewhat drastic.” He sighed with the same disinterested tone as he had acknowledged Gerda. “There are processes we have for these types of issues, and they certainly don’t involve candlelight plots in the middle of the night.”
There were several confused looks around the table, and Gerda couldn’t help but wonder whether that had been a poor attempt at a joke.
“Usually I wouldn’t be able of agreeing with that more Comrade,” Thalmann countered with the veneer of full sincerity, “but this is a time where the usual avenues of complaint have become too slow for the speed of events. In a matter of days we have had him first invite Paul Levi, a Social Democrat to stand with him on a joint platform and now he has ordered the Red Front to cause a riot in Berlin, purely for the purposes of emphasising his authority. He has lined the party with sycophants with the intent on transforming it into a personality cult more similar to that of Mussolini that of any socialist programme and I have no doubt this is why he is suddenly allying himself with social fascists and capitalists, in case his demagoguery is exposed. This cannot go on any longer.”
Dimitrov nodded soberly whilst taking a note of the accusations before turning to Gerda.
“And do you find these charges to be accurate, comrade?”
She paused, and for a moment she wondered if she actually did. The level of the accusations seemed to go to a far greater extent than anything she had expected.
“I cannot vouch for every specific charge that the Party President has made...but I can attest that his behaviour is often erratic and that the conduct of he and his followers often feels...sectarian.”
There was a mutter of agreement around the room.
“It’s almost Trotskyite in its subterfuge,” added Thalmann, before adjusting the lamp in the middle of the table to brighten the room.
“Very well then, I have heard your complaints and now I will have to bring my report to the disciplinary committee. Thank you comrades, for bringing this serious matter to my attention.” His tone still largely uninterested, Dimitrov prepared to leave, and for a moment Gerda wondered if she’d been called out to bear witness to a meeting that had been utterly pointless.
“We need a more decisive approach comrade, otherwise Hitler may get wind and cause even more chaos, can we not have a decision tonight? Comrade Gerda had to sneak out of Berlin to get here thanks to the fascist response it has provoked! She will be able to attest to his long term instability, and his plans to start the riot as a first step to merging the party with the SPD.”
“I can help evaluate the case of Comrade Hitler, Ernst, but you will have to bring the party along with you as well if you want this to go as smoothly as possible. Moscow won’t suffer fools gladly, we all know that.”
Dimitrov arose and stuffed the indictments Gerda had brought from Berlin underneath his arm before saying his goodbyes. Gerda couldn’t help but feel that Thalmann looked a little embarrassed.
"Tonight comrades, we must draw a line under Adolf Hitler." He suddenly announced with the remnants of his composure. It was hard to tell if the room was still with him.
---
“I’ve arranged for you to stay the night here,” Ernst said in a comforting voice, “it’s easier for you than coming back to the headquarters, you and your daughter will be able to get a fresh start in the morning.”
The sky was already getting brighter and it was hard to think of anything other than sleep, she nodded at Thalmann’s suggestion and went to find Rosa, who it turned out had long left the land of the conscious thanks to the old man who had sent her to sleep with dynamic readings from a particularly worn copy of Marxism and the National Question. She sat down for a moment to observe the scene, her daughter nestled in a small Marxist library. All she was fighting for in the one scene. She hadn’t even noticed she had fallen asleep herself.
Gerda painfully launched herself out of the chair she had spent the night in and tried to shake off the headache that had been brought on by only a few hours of sleep in two days. She didn’t want to stay in Hamburg any longer than necessary, not with this farce of a conspiracy afoot. Thalmann would replace Hitler in short order, she was sure of that, even if he had made an ass out of himself, but she wouldn’t be around to take notes whilst that happened. Someone had to actually work for the sake of the party and she went out to discern if that was possible.
The green grocers was as spartan as one would imagine, but it had a healthy number of copies of Die Rote Fahne as a favourable sign of its clientele. She bought a capitalist rag all the same, the KPD paper would be full of righteous indignation about the round-ups in Berlin, but she also wanted the voice of those who paid the policemen’s wages to see if the reprisals had died down..
The coverage was predictably rabid in its support for the arrest of so many members of the Red Front, but by the call for the police to also go into Karl Liebknecht house and burn the building down, she got the message that the KPD was still in business for the moment. She inquired as to the earliest train to Berlin from the woman at the till, and went to wake up her daughter.
The train back to Berlin was far busier than the one the pair had taken to Hamburg, and although this was natural given that the day was beginning rather than ending but despite the normalcy, Gerda was still unable to sleep amidst her unease. No-one else in the carriage appeared to be a Communist, what would it bother them if the police were still rampaging around the city contrary to the news? She couldn’t help but wonder how many would approve of it.
The thought drew her back to Thalmann’s comments about the chaos Hitler had caused. Wasn’t it almost a good thing to wake people up to the face that there were fascists on the streets and that the police were effectively in league with them? It felt almost perverse to wonder whether or not a man she was helping to stitch-up might actually be the one with the right idea. She put it down to a lack of sleep, and put the paper over her face to prevent the morning sunlight from aggravating her headache. With that she drifted off, oblivious to what was waiting for her back in Berlin.
---
The photomontage is Georgi Dimitrov and Hermann Göring by John Heartfield.
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Gerda and Rosa should be fine (the next few days notwithstanding), we saw both of them in the flash forward scene where Goering was laying railroad tracks after all.
Anywho, looks like Thalmann may have made a tactical mistake. Time will tell how much it costs him.
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It almost feels as if some long knives are about to be drawn, to cut the enemies of the Worker out of the Party...
After the war IOTL, the KPD slogan in the Soviet zone of occupation was "root out the weeds". Perhaps they'll be aided in this task with Long Knives ITTL.
There's a piece by David Winner in The New Statesman on dear Ernst: Dogmatic, passionate, stubborn and stupid
Winner's best known as a football writer - Brilliant Orange, Those Feet - recommend the former.
The NS piece is worth reading for a summary of his brilliant leadership and effective opposition to Nazism.
Winner's best known as a football writer - Brilliant Orange, Those Feet - recommend the former.
The NS piece is worth reading for a summary of his brilliant leadership and effective opposition to Nazism.
I can't believe an article in the NS managed to go two whole paragraphs without taking a jab at Corbyn, and over 300 words before a mention of Brexit! I've seen worse analogies made about the current British politics (the Graun literally tried to compare Brexit to Shrek after all) but after Winner tries to describe Weimar as an "old liberal order" it's clear that he's dealing with square pegs and circular holes.
>Weimar
>old liberal order
ok buddy. Weimar Germany wasn't even old enough to drive when Hitler came into power.
>old liberal order
ok buddy. Weimar Germany wasn't even old enough to drive when Hitler came into power.
Chapter LVIII
"It is in the interests of the most reactionary circles of the bourgeoisie that fascism intercepts the disappointed masses who desert the old bourgeois parties. But it impresses these masses by the vehemence of its attacks on the bourgeois governments and its irreconcilable attitude to the old bourgeois parties."
~ Georgi Dimitrov
~ Georgi Dimitrov
The fortress that was Hohenzollern castle had not been used for its purpose of housing vast armies in quite some time, and although they had a distinctly foreign tinge to their swagger, the dozens of Blackshirts that lined the perimeter were well aware of the men whose footsteps they were following in. Their leader had made sure of that.
The Volkisch Bund had not always been his project. Not long ago it had been little more than a disparate movement of dozens of factions united only in their love of fighting, drinking and whatever variation of right-wing extremism had become the new flavour of any particular month. Their former leader, General Erich Ludendorff, had harboured political ambitions that had fallen flat over and over again as he had lost interest, fallen into idleness, and eventually become satisfied with presiding over a perverse social club of drunks and thugs. That was when he had taken control.
Ludendorff was easily replaced, the washed-up old officer happily accepting the royal thanks for his contribution to the national cause, allowing him to mold a new organisation using his means and his contacts. Financial and material aid had flown in from all quarters, he was a prodigal son to many after all and now so was his movement. The old veterans had shown their support, as had the Junkers and the established gentry. Members of the state apparatus who preferred to keep their allegiance quiet offered secret toasts, whilst big business dithered but expressed their encouragement for what they saw unfolding in the midst of an international crisis.
The new Volkisch Bund, clean, disciplined, Christian, Conservative, German, and most importantly, Monarchist.
Perched high above his men, the Crown Prince Wilhelm looked out over the town of Hechingen, overshadowed by his family home and the mountain it sat upon. When his father had been Emperor this had been a place of pilgrimage and Hechingen had done well out of the relationship. The heir to the throne couldn’t help but feel the certainty that those days would come again pulsating within him. The town was tiny from the distance from which he gazed upon it, quiet, beautiful, German, fragile.
“It is truly a beautiful view, your majesty,” Hermann Goring announced, almost as if he were replying to a thought unspoken, “I always enjoy our meetings here.” Wilhelm paused a moment more to gaze at what had been his father’s kingdom, smiling briefly, before returning from the balcony to address the matter at hand.
“It was a fine inheritance Herr Goering, far more pleasant than the duty I also took on the day my father passed.” Looking through his gathered lieutenants at the opulence of former Kaiser’s study Wilhelm inadvertently thought back to the scene on his father’s death bed, his heavy throat bellowing, the grey, lethargic face, a withered hand. His mother had joined her husband soon after, she never truly recovered from the grief. He was yet another orphan of the Spanish Flu, one of millions in what had been the deadliest pandemic of the modern world, and yet he felt he was unique in having the power to change it.
His father’s abdication had been the ruin of Germany and almost the ruin of his family as well. It was a score that was yet to be settled.
“If my father had been here I feel the people would have taken to him in far greater numbers than they have taken to me.” Goering appeared hurt by this suggestion.
“They need you your majesty, they all do, and as this global crisis worsens the people are flocking to your message in greater numbers than ever before.”
“Even with the Bolsheviks assaulting our supporters and breaking up our rallies?” The Crown Prince asked sarcastically, a hint of venom being added to the mountain air. The riot in the Berlin stadtpark had been a humiliation for Goering, one that was recent enough to still sting.
“We soon won’t have to worry about brawls with the communists any longer your highness, not with the new supporters we are attaining. Soon the patriots of Germany will be able to bring their true power to bear.”
“Is he right, General?”
“I believe we have every reason to hope so, your majesty.” General Kurt Von Schleicher replied. A furtive man, he was loyal to the cause of the Crown Prince even if he preferred to keep it a secret given his role as Chief Advisor to the Ministry of Defence.
“The government has been hanging on by a thread ever since the Social Democrats walked out, they cannot legislate and they can barely hold onto power. With the right pressure we can force an election in months, perhaps weeks, and then it will be impossible to deny your God-given right to the throne.” Wilhelm beamed at Von Schleicher’s reverence, allowing him to cast aside any doubts that the officer might only be flattering him. Their shared contempt of those who had governed Germany ever since defeat in the Great War bound them together, although he couldn’t help but dwell on those who might also profit from a snap election.
“The Communists will also benefit from a snap election, won’t they? They’ve been preaching against American loans and foreign companies for years, and now they’re able to say they’ve been proven correct, perhaps loudly enough for the German worker to ignore that their alternative would lead to even greater ruin.”
“A strong performance from the KPD may actually work in your favour, majesty.”
Von Schleicher had to suppress a groan as both the Crown Prince and his errand boy, Goering looked at him with a mix of confusion and distress.
“It will prove to those who so far have lingered on the fence in regards to accepting our movement that we are the only alternative to continued communist subversion.”
“Ah yes, I see, very clever.” The Crown Prince smiled with a confidence derived from clarity., as ever Von Schleicher had made it so that even the temporary triumph of his enemies ended in a victory for the House of Hohenzollern. The man would make an excellent Chancellor once the Empire was restored.
“Take this recent violence between our blackshirts and their rag-tag bunch of hooligans.” Von Schleicher went on, “If anything, the riot in Berlin has helped to direct the attention of the state towards your warnings of the Communist threat.”
Wilhelm nodded in agreement but the episode still annoyed him nonetheless.
“I do wonder if we could claim some dignity out of the whole affair,” he pondered, “perhaps a martyr to underline the heroism of our actions?”
Goering picked up a neglected copy of the party newspaper, the front page proudly announcing Das Volk in a bold gothic font resembling pagan runes. The Crown Prince's deputy hesistantly leafed through to the report on the riot, and the obituaries of those who had fallen.
“What about this one?” He observed, placing the page on the table and pointing to one of the party ID photographs that represented those who had not returned from their battle with the Communists, before reading the obituary aloud.
“Group Leader Heinrich Himmler, last seen fighting off over a dozen Communists by himself as they attempted to attack a German woman. His willingness to sacrifice shall be dearly missed by our movement, but his heroism shall never be forgotten,”
The Crown Prince curled his lip at the scrawny, stubbled face gawking up at him.
“No, his appearance is too off-putting, we need a hero that our men can look up to and our women can mourn, not some frail curiosity.” Goering nodded knowingly and closed the paper.
“We’ll find someone else.”
The meeting between the would-be-Emperor and his council returned to more important matters, and throughout the discussion Kurt Von Schleicher managed to avoid strangling anyone as he comforted himself with plans of his own, and in the fact that patience was a virtue.
---
The painting is Eclipse of the Sun by George Grosz.
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"Every Prime Minister needs a Little Willie".
The thought of Himmler as this TL's Horst Wessel made me lol.
If anything, I thought it was rather sad. ATL Himmler gave his efforts, his life, his everything to a cause whose supreme leader casually tossed him aside like trash for not being sufficiently photogenic. He is dead and he does not even have the hollow consolation of being remembered by his own side.
We can know, of course, that if he ever attained power Himmler would not use it well as a good man, to put it very mildly; but I still think that, on principle, a human being deserves better than that.
We can know, of course, that if he ever attained power Himmler would not use it well as a good man, to put it very mildly; but I still think that, on principle, a human being deserves better than that.
What would be the Volkisch Bund slogan?
“Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Kaiser”
Purposefully switched from Ein Reich, Ein Volk, Ein Führer.
They would want the people on their side and they Volk in the party name so having Ein Volk as the first word makes sense. They still want a strong right-leaning Government so it’s all about the state/empire so Ein Reich is fitting and having Wilhelm III as Emperor is fitting for Ein Kaiser.
“Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Kaiser”
Purposefully switched from Ein Reich, Ein Volk, Ein Führer.
They would want the people on their side and they Volk in the party name so having Ein Volk as the first word makes sense. They still want a strong right-leaning Government so it’s all about the state/empire so Ein Reich is fitting and having Wilhelm III as Emperor is fitting for Ein Kaiser.
Not sure it would be Kaiser - the somewhat more unitary structure of Weimar might make Konig a more likely title. Of course, this would mean Bavarians, Saxons, and the like accepting WIII as King.
That somehow seems really odd. Even if there were a change in the way of governance and he would be the only monarch in Germany, taking a a title, ruler of Germany, that has established itself as having imperial dignity and lowering it to mere royalty... Well, it doesn't seem like something that would come from, or even be supported, by the man in question, by the heir. After all, Russia, Napoleonic Frances, and pre-Ausgleich Austria all were no more federal than Weimar Germany and all maintained imperial titles, despite none having any kings beneath them.
Also, Red
That might be better served as 'Das Volk'.
Interesting chapter, though.