The essential thing is action. Action has three stages: the decision born of thought, the order or preparation for execution, and the execution itself. All three stages are governed by the will. The will is rooted in character, and for the man of action character is of more critical importance than intellect. Intellect without will is worthless, will without intellect is dangerous.
~ Hans von Seeckt,
Thoughts of a Soldier
The barracks adjacent to the Stettin headquarters of the Reichswehr’s second military district were almost unbearably draughty amidst the cold winter night. The combination of the seasonal darkness with the Baltic Sea did not help in this regard.
Kurt Von Scheicher paced frustratedly in the vacant hut. He was trying to keep warm first and foremost but the frantic marching exercise also helped to take his mind off the great impatience he was enduring as he awaited his fate.
The entire situation was ridiculous. He had wanted to build a new Germany based around the Reichswehr and now it seemed he was being detained by that army, his army.
How this had transpired he wasn’t sure although he feared the worse. His escape from Berlin had been a tenuous one, sources within the Black Reichswehr had warned him of what was about to happen barely an hour before the massed ranks of the Blackshirts and Stahlhelm descended on the city. He had been forced to make the calculation that with so many Reichswehr troops having already left the capital to try to stem the United Front advances to the west and south those remaining would not be able to hold off the paramilitaries for long and he had fled just as the fighting broke out.
The rushed exit had seen him leave behind much of the apparatus of the Third Reich behind in the government quarter, including the Reichswehr’s high command within the Bendlerblock defence ministry. He had made sure to send out the message to evacuate but he had no time to organise the logistics of shipping the government out of the city. He had barely escaped himself and his decision to decamp to Stettin had necessarily been made as quickly as the one to evacuate in the first place.
Stettin had made the most sense for a few reasons. The Reichswehr’s main centre of operations besides Berlin in Kassel had been abandoned after the failure to relieve the forces there in the aftermath of the battles of the railheads. All other military districts were now cut off by the United Front or, in the case of East Prussia, Poland. The road to Stettin was the most assured to have safe passage without the ignominy of fleeing through a foreign country or sea. Rudolf Schniewindt, commander of the second military district within Stettin was an old friend from Von Schleicher's time at the Bendlerblock, before the Reichstag had become his new battlefield. He had been confident he could rely on the man. At least until he had actually arrived there.
Von Schleicher had been asked to wait upon his arrival and when he demanded an explanation why he was escorted at gunpoint to the empty barracks he now called home. The last few days had been spent waiting for new developments and his protests at this had fallen on deaf ears. The fact he was not being permitted visitors, news, or indeed any contact with the outside world stirred the worst fears in his mind.
Hohenzollern had caught him off guard but if this attempted takeover had managed to get the Reichswehr on-side then he truly had underestimated the man. But if that was the case, why was he still being held in Stettin instead of being taken back to Berlin so he could be put in the stocks or have his head placed on a pike or have whatever other medieval practices Hohenzollern was looking to revive alongside absolute monarchy applied to him?
A rap at the door of his room took him off guard, it was out of sync with his usual mealtimes. He shook off such notions of institutionalisation and stood up straight, perhaps this would be enlightening.
“General, if you would come with us.”
Von Schleicher stepped out of the room without enquiring as to where he was going, to do so would lack dignity and he knew the guards wouldn’t answer his questions at any rate. It was even more cold outside than it had been in the barracks and he was glad the grounds were well lit so he could see the way ahead of him. It lessened his chances of a successful escape of course but he was prepared to face his captors, his guards were all taller and younger than him at any rate.
Even if he could have evaded the men escorting him the grounds were even more heavily guarded than they had been when he arrived. He was happy, however, to see that there were no Blackshirts waiting for him.
The warmth of the district headquarters’ interior was welcome and he couldn’t help but feel a certain nostalgia during his days at the defence ministry where this place had been one of a few homes from home, a time before he had the ear of Chancellors and would-be Kaisers in the Reichstag. He was acquainted with the building enough to know he was being led to the offices of the district commander although he still did not know why.
That turned out to be a surprise in itself
He received a shock when he was brought into the room. In front of him was not only General Schniewindt but also General Hans Von Seeckt, his old mentor. Von Seeckt had been one of those he had been made to leave by the wayside after their vision of Germany had run contrary to his. Von Seeckt had been instrumental in building the Reichswehr into what it was, and much of the political and diplomatic machinations of the republican era could be laid at his door. Von Schleicher had taken his lessons on board but the time had come when he could no longer be trusted and Von Schleicher had been successful in finding a way to have him removed, implicating him in a plot with the Crown Prince. The ironic masterstroke would have still been rich if the royal hadn’t now stabbed both of them in the back.
Von Seeckt’s most remarkable political action recently had been a failed run as a candidate in the last Reichstag elections before the Third Reich had been proclaimed. But it seemed he still commanded a certain respect within the army he had built, one that now brought a deference from the district commander Von Schleicher had been relying upon to help rebuild his own government.
Von Seeckt did not make any moves to address Von Schleicher, preferring to stare at him silently with a look of sheer contempt. It appeared the ageing general wanted him to be left in the dark for as long as possible, so he opted to speak first.
“Gentlemen, wha-” Von Seeckt raised a hand before he could even ask why he was here.
“You’ve been waiting a long time Schleicher and the reason for this is that we had to spend a number of days organising this military district into a high command. It’s taken a lot of work due to this chaos.”
“You’re in charge here?” Von Schleicher enquired.
“For now that would appear to be the case.” Von Seeckt affirmed.
“These are extraordinary times and the Reichswehr needed a man it could trust.” Schniewindt explained further, appearing to be somewhat embarrassed by the situation unfolding within what was meant to be his own office.
“And what exactly is my role in this operation?” Von Schleicher asked, already dreading the answer.
“Your role is to formally relinquish power to the new Chancellor before going back to your barracks and waiting for this nightmare to be over.” Von Seeckt answered bitterly. In doing he placed a document towards Von Schleicher. It was a letter stating his resignation.
“The new Chancellor?!” Von Schleicher exclaimed, “Surely you don’t mean Goering?”
“No, none of us here have anything to do with the rabble currently fighting us for control of Berlin. The actual Chancellor is currently off to Hamburg to organise a truce.”
“A truce? With the United Front?” Von Schleicher could only think out loud, trying to process the fact.
“Yes Schleicher and I will shortly be off to do something similar with your old friend the Crown Prince. This insanity has gone on for long enough.” Von Seeckt explained tiredly, the way a disappointed parent might react to a delinquent son.
Von Schleicher to tried act as petulantly at any rate.
“I see, yes it’s all very clear now. You were part of the last stab in the back weren’t you Hans? Tell me, have you also joined the Bolsheviks? Maybe on one of your little excursions to Russia? We all know how much you liked them. Who is this new Chancellor of yours anyhow? Trotsky? Or has Thalmann decided to return to his fatherland?”
“Noske is our new Chancellor Schleicher, a man we can depend upon.” Von Seeckt replied, ignoring the desperate accusations.
“Noske? Gustav Noske? The Marxist? I knew it.” Von Schleicher sneered.
“Gustav Noske is a patriot, we may not agree on everything politically but he has shown his willingness to give everything for Germany in the past and is now willing to do so again. Unlike his predecessor, whose loyalty was solely reserved for himself!” Von Seeckt barked, struggling to remain calm. Von Schleicher was already past that.
“Everything I did was in the aid of saving Germany from Bolshevism and their Marxist fellow travellers! I wanted to restore this nation to glory, for it to take its rightful place on the world stage on the basis of our martial strength and now you want to deliver it to-to
Stalin!”
“Oh how well you’ve done,” Von Seeckt snapped back, “civil war, economy in ruins, currency worthless, Bavaria going independent!” Von Schleicher was thrown by the absurdity of that last remark, but Von Seeckt didn’t pause to allow him to dwell on it.
“God save us from more of this disgrace. Spare me the martyr act Schleiccher, it might have worked on someone as senile as Hindenburg but I know bullshit when I see it. It’s unbecoming. And believe me,”
Von Seeckt looked him directly in the eyes for the first time since the man had taken out the resignation letter. It was a dread-inducing glare. Not so much displaying contempt as projecting suffering.
“you have already fallen far enough in my estimations.”
Von Schleicher suddenly felt queasy in the room, perhaps the cold night outside didn’t seem too bad all of a sudden. He could still hold his nerve though.
“I don’t particularly care for the estimations of a Bolshevik fellow traveller,” he remarked, albeit less venomously than before, “but I am not blind to my circumstances. You have me hostage, you have turned my own army against me, and I won’t be Chancellor for much longer. But I will not renounce the title out of fear for anything you may do to me.” He felt a certain satisfaction in spite of his desperate circumstances. The old man could talk down to him as much as he liked, he still needed him whether he liked it or not.
Von Seeckt didn’t respond, instead Schniewindt merely blurted out two words with a bit too much candour.
“Legal representation.”
“Eh? Sorry Rudolf?” Von Schleicher asked, confused again.
“We have some excellent lawyers available in Stettin, they can be put at your disposal Kurt, if you just sign the resignation.”
“I can’t see that helping me with him.” Von Schleicher replied coolly, referring to Von Seeckt.
“We’re going to offer to hand you over to the United Front, as part of the truce terms.” Schniewindt stammered out with even more apprehension than before.
“We don’t know what sort of tribunal you’ll be in front of but we’ll do our best to make sure it’s proper.”
“That is, if you cooperate.” Von Seeckt added.
Von Schleicher’s heart sank, he had called his former mentor every name under the sun for the duration of this exchange but he didn’t not think he had sunk so low in the man’s estimations that he would be offered as a bargaining chip to the Bolsheviks. And to be so insidious to make his cooperation in that act his only chance at surviving the revolutionary terror...
“I don’t care,” he uttered deflatedly, “I would prefer to be shot by a firing squad of my fellow soldiers but if it’s the guillotine instead so be it. I have nothing left to lose other than my honour.
“Oh and we know about Elisabeth.” Von Seeckt replied blankly. Now the look of suffering became clear.
“Sleeping with your cousin’s wife. The scandal. Probably not too damaging for someone so reprehensible as you but it would ruin her reputation. And her reputation will be all she has left once we’ve handed her over to the Bolsheviks. Or the Blackshirts. Perhaps you would like to decide who-” Von Seeckt read out the fate of his lover with all the emotion of a telephone operator. Elizabeth, her beauty and youth untarnished by the difficulty of his own life. Her innocence, his chance at an escape into being another person if just for a moment every now and then.
His humanity.
“Don’t.” Von Schleicher gasped, choking on the thought. Tears began to flow.
“Sign the letter Scheicher.” Von Seeckt stated blankly.
Shaking, Kurt Von Schleicher did as he was told.
“This won’t end well for any of us.” He spat back, dropping the pen.
Amidst the former Chancellor being escorted back to his barracks, Von Seeckt finally replied.
“And who do we have to thank for that?”
---
The painting is
The Vampire by Edvard Munch