A Man and a Plane: An Alternate Germany

by Joseph T Major

  "Did you know that Herr Oberst Rickenbacker in America is also president of an airline?" Udet said. "He was very impressed by your work, Herr Milch."

  The pilots were for the moment wearing civilian clothes, but their bearing was military, at least as military as he remembered pilots. Manfred knew one or two of them. "Wolfram!" he said to his cousin. "So Ernst talked you round! I haven't seen you since . . . since Bolko's wedding! It's been too long!"

  His cousin seemed hardly nonplused. "It didn't take much talking. Everybody's been waiting for you to drop the other penny, after what you did to the Allies. I said, 'Our Manfred is going to notch up a few more victories!' And you did. Here, let me introduce you to the boys."

  Wolfram and Udet took him down the lines of eager young pilots, naming names and shaking hands, while Milch trailed behind, in a hurry to show off the new Arados they were training on. If he half-closed his eyes it would be 1916 all over again, with the young Kadetts, ready to go up and take on the British. . . . "Ask no further -- they are all dead."

  That melancholic memory snapped him back into the here-and-now. Just imagine, one part failing at the wrong time, Captain Cunnel or any other of a dozen pilots he had tangled with in his early days making the right shot, and there he would have been, just another name on the casualty lists, with someone else to say, "They are all dead. Richthofen? I think I remember him. A nice fellow, but his luck ran out."

  They were not building an Air Force now under the pressure of war. These men would have more time to train, to learn their skill and not under the guns of the French and British. More of them would live. Or so he hoped.

  They were looking up to him -- metaphorically. Better make it for real. "Is there something I can stand on?" he asked Milch. "I want all the lads to see me."

  Enthusiastic hands found a few boxes and in a moment a speaking platform came into being. Manfred stepped up on it and faced the men, eager faces shining with the prospect of flying. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror that showed nineteen years ago . . . "Herren Pilots," he said, "looking you over I can tell one thing for certain. You won't let me down -- "

  They started applauding and cheering. It was so very different from his last few speeches, to the Reichstag.

  The rioting had burned out the strength of the SA. Now the Nazis expressed themselves in pettifoggery; their handful of regular attendees sitting on the desks, backs to the podium, or acting up. Sometimes they brought bag lunches and made a point of leaving the litter in the chamber.

  But their numbers were divided. Papen had said it all at a Cabinet meeting in June. Somehow the matter had come up, and he declared confidently, "Just as I have predicted. They are coming apart, I don't think we need to worry about this 'Nazi menace' any longer, we can concentrate on the Bolsheviks, our real enemy." And then he wondered why everyone else gave him that look.

  Manfred admitted to himself that he did have a point, but there was still a certain appeal to the Nazi program -- and more so to the Nazi look. Bolko had said, "I've been told that the bordellos are having a run on skimpy black leather outfits to go with SS caps." Better not inquire how he knew that.

  They couldn't count the Nazis totally out yet, and the end of July saw their first test. Which began in the town of Munich.

  The airport was packed. Last week the Landespräsident had dissolved the Landtag for a new election; the first state election in Germany since the incredible ascent of von Richthofen to power. It was a straight-up fight between a fusion ticket, led by the BVP (called, in an excruciatingly embarrassing nomenclature, the Richthofenwahlkampfbund), with the National Socialists to the right, who sought to undo 1923, and the Communists to the left, who sought to undo 1919. The burden of History lay heavily on the pleasant Alpine vistas.

  Herr Hitler would be working full-blast. During the national elections he had flown from town to town in a Junkers trimotor, speaking at four or five separate places in the course of a day. Now he would have a smaller field to work in, and no doubt his Mercedes would be racing from town to town with similar urgency as he spoke to the issues.

  Naturally, all sides were there in mass, the various factions waiting to protest, the local National Socialist factions to cheer or boo. Röhm was conveniently absent, still trying to fill the gaps made when his best subordinates were taken to jail, so the "brown" faction was mostly Hitlerites with some Strasserites for mutual annoyance.

  The press was also present in mass of course, even the foreign press. This election campaign was a circus, watched eagerly by a gaggle of obnoxious spectators worldwide.

  Cries of excitement heralded the arrival of a plane. A small dot far off in the sky, but slowly growing larger and larger. The keener-sighted (or those with better binoculars) began to notice something and comment.

  Then the plane flared in for a landing. It wasn't Herr Hitler's Junkers -- and it was red.

  As an excited buzz arose, the Ju-60 touched down on the runway and almost came to a halt, then taxied towards the crowd. Whoever was at the controls carefully stopped well short of the waiting crowd, then waited as men ran out to put down landing chocks and roll forward a short staircase.

  Cameras flashed to herald the arrival in Bavaria's capital of -- the Reichskanzler. He emerged from beneath a wing of the airplane, his flying helmet in his hand, wearing his familiar leather jacket from the War, looking refreshed and invigorated by the flight, conveying an image of youth and energy. "To the terminal!" he shouted, over the sound of the wind and the rolling crescendo of "SIEG HEIL!" from the various factions of Nazis, then led the way.

  The waiting area was abruptly confiscated for an impromptu press conference. The Reichzkanzler took over one end, raised his hands for silence as the press and the RWKB people crowded in, and when he got it said, "Herren, thank you, thank you. I am pleased to demonstrate in service the new Junkers Ju-60 passenger plane, the latest product of our great designer Herr Hugo Junkers.

  "I am also here to respond to the attachment of the Bavarian electorate to our union of political forces working for the common good, against the threats of red and brown foreigners. In this time of crisis, Germany must remain German, using German solutions to what are after all German problems . . ." Outside, while the Herr Reichskanzler discussed the program and platform of the RWKB, a Ju-52 landed. Some people had been expecting that to happen earlier.

  That afternoon, in the cinemas, both in Bavaria and in places further north, a new short-subject debuted, a UFA production:

  On an all-black screen there faded in the bold words "REICHSKANZLER MANFRED FREIHERR VON RICHTHOFEN". This was followed by a cut to the person in question, who was sitting at a desk, writing on a small rectangle of paper. Finishing his writing, he got up, took the paper, and went across the office he was in -- presumably the Chancellor's office, it looked like it -- to another man, identified as "FINANZENMINISTER JOHANN LUDWIG GRAF SCHWERIN VON KROSIGK". Manfred handed the paper to Schwerin von Krosigk, saying, "This is the quarterly payment of my estimated income tax, Herr Minister."

  "Thank you, Herr Reichskanzler. You will receive your receipt in the post by the end of next month," the Finance Minister said.

  Manfred then turned and faced the camera as the shot closed in on him and said, "Taxes are the price we pay for good government. It is the responsibility and privilege of all Germans to pay their taxes, on time and in full, so that we may continue to enjoy the security of defense, of the laws, and of our society. As your Reichskanzler, I consider it my first responsibility to support the Reichs Constitution and the laws, as I swore when I became Reichskanzler. I thank you for your time."

  In Berlin, at a cinema, one viewer burst out laughing, to sounds of "shhh shhh".

  Afterwards, Frau von Papen said to her husband as they left the cinema, "Franzchen, did you have to embarrass us so?"

  Papen helped his wife into their automobile, went around and took his seat, and said "Home," before answering the question. "You see, Martha, I have found out that He
rr Hitler owes some four hundred thousand Marks in back taxes. We could not have done better at putting him at a disadvantage if we had done our utmost by ourselves. It takes a lot of money, you see, to keep the Führer of the National Socialist German Worker's Party in revolutionary Aryan asceticism. And the beauty of it is that if he attacks us for the insult, he starts out by owing himself in the wrong! All I have to do now is see that the debt matter leaks to the papers."

  He chortled. "Herr von Richthofen is a very good student."

  The filming of that public service announcement had been yet another burden on top of the problems of keeping his coalition from coming apart. Manfred had gone through a dozen takes, signing blank pieces of paper that were check-sized, before he did the final shot with the real thing. "Herr von Richthofen, there's no need to use the real check," they had all said.

  Appealing to their sense of honesty and decency would get nowhere. Manfred said instead, "And if it gets out that that wasn't the real check? I admit it's a trivial point, but if we are going to be talking about honesty we should be honest ourselves."

  He had had the idea of submitting to the inconvenience of being filmed after Papen had mentioned the tax matter one evening. The first person he had called, however, was Udet, begging to know what it was like to be a movie star. He had received a long lecture about makeup and other pains of the filming process that did not show up on the screen. Not only that, beautiful actresses were not as willing as rumor had it, not that he wanted to take up that matter again. Now, more than ever, he feared he would be marrying a widow. The Nazis had guns and then there had been that crazy Dutchman arrested in Berlin last month.

  Hugenberg had been less than enthusiastic about the proposal. "It is a disgrace to the solemnity and seriousness of your high office." T hen it was pointed out to him by his subordinates that taxes were their business. After that sudden burst of realization, he offered the services of the UFA studios there in Berlin for a very reasonable fee. This convenience made filming easier to do. They even had a movie set that represented the Chancellor's office, or could be made to do so. No need to truck in cameras and all the other equipment.

  Indeed Hugenberg's new enthusiasm went beyond bounds. "Of course, Herr Reichskanzler, if you would get elected to the Reichstag, your taxes would be no problem," he said, enthusiastically, the thought of an all-DNVP Reichstag thanks to the presence on their list of the Red Battle-Flyer dancing before his enamored eyes.

  Manfred had to disappoint him. "I thank you for your concern," he said, "but I'm only here as a fill-in."

  Afterwards it annoyed him. Reichstag members had legal immunity for a broad range of acts. The Herr Doktor Goebbels and Herr Comrade Münzenberg alike used their position to dodge paying taxes, as did many members in between those two political extremists. They also had chancy business arrangements that wouldn't stand up to examination.

  By virtue of his perceived virtue, he could not take that cover. Bolko would probably have been very pleased at the resultant income, but no such luck. Thus it was that every quarter his accountants delivered a check for estimated taxes to the Treasury. Unless he himself wanted to make a point . . .

  Saturday evening, after meeting with the Bavarian Ministerpräsident Herr Held, the former Kronprinz Rupprecht, and the leaders of the Bavarian parties, Manfred flew back to Berlin. He did not fly directly, but made a dogleg over Nuremberg. In general, it was not a good idea to go through Czech airspace uninvited, and particularly so for him now. At least he was still qualified for instrument flying and night flying.

  On his approach to the turning point, he looked around and saw a fire. A good citizen (and hadn't he just made a short movie about being a good citizen?) should report such matters to the relevant authorities, and he changed course to fly over the site to check it out, descending low enough to see what was going on. What was going on was some sort of immense meeting, and out of curiosity he circled it to observe. The glow of fire turned out to be from men holding torches around some structure.

  The things the Nazis did . . . he checked in with the control tower, climbed, and set his course for Tempelhof, where an escort would be waiting to take him back to the Reichskanzlei.

  On Monday, about half an hour after he got to work, Papen came in and gleefully said, "Congratulations!"

  Manfred looked up from the Labor Service budgeting papers. "Thank you, Herr Minister. Do you think I have a future in acting?"

  "Not that. It seems we shall have an acting Reichstagspräsident for a while. Herr Göring has been injured." And he explained how, why, and where:

  The great National Socialist (Führertreu) rally near Nuremberg would be a glorious spectacle. They had to deploy their air assets, and so the Air Hero Göring would speak first, introducing the Führer. The podium was a spectacle in itself, a tall cylinder, and to enhance the drama of the scene it would be ringed by SS men bearing flaming torches.

  Thousands of Party loyalists and interested others attended, very taken by the sight. Hauptmann Göring was at an oratorical peak. (Later reports indicated that Herr Dr. Goebbels had laid aside his other duties and lent a hand on the speech writing.) Then, just as he was about to introduce Hitler --

  Everyone looked up, looked away from the speaker. An airplane flew overhead, flying low, its engine noise drawing attention and glints of torchlight flickering off its surface. It circled the field, then straightened up and flew off. When the spectators looked back, the podium was empty.

  Göring had stepped back to look just a little too far and had fallen off the edge. The business at hand was delayed while he was removed to where an ambulance could take him to the hospital, and the resultant delay spoiled the tempo of the ceremony; Hitler's speech fell flat, too.

  "Oh, that just breaks my heart," Manfred said. "Keep me informed as to his progress."

  Papen left then, making some odd noise under his breath that resembled laughter. Just as well. The delegation from the Bendlerstrasse was coming to discuss some matter related to a revolution in military affairs. He was already scheduled to make an inspection next week.

  ". . . this elite will disrupt not only the troops in the front line, but the entirety of the enemy's forces!"

  The young officer was enthusiastic, as would be anyone who had devised a new order of things. Manfred imagined himself listening to the Herren Wrights explaining their new methods and orders of flight. Or like his boys showing Vati the bunny's nest behind the house.

  Noske was not so enthusiastic. "An elite, you say?" he said, a touch disdainfully. "Like the Stosstruppen of the War? The lads who made up the Ehrhardt Brigade, the Freikorps, and now the SA? That elite?"

  Oberst Guderian was hardly nonplussed by his civilian boss's skepticism. "Oh, but with this method you have to have thinking soldiers," he said. "This isn't the mass army of the War. And it shouldn't be. If we are to work within limits we have to find a way of making soldiers more powerful, of multiplying the force they exert. The employment of armored forces is precisely such a multiplier. A small group of men in armored vehicles can overthrow a far larger number of men without them.

  "Yes, we are using the tactics of the Stosstruppen, I admit that. But the tactics had nothing to do with the political beliefs of the men."

  Manfred had an idea, he said, "Thank you, Herr General Lutz, Herr Oberst Guderian. If you will please leave me to discuss the matter with the Herr Minister and the Herr Commander-in-Chief? I appreciate your presentation."

  Noske was still skeptical. "A gang of Fascist motorists, no doubt. Is that what this Frenchman wants?" he said after they had left.

  Manfred looked bland. "Perhaps we should call on Herr von Guéraud. If I knew what our annual production of motor vehicles was . . ."

  Noske and Hammerstein began to show interest as he explained his ideas. The presentation by Guderian had evoked memories of seeing these Panzers in advance, and he had also paid attention to the employment of radio in airplanes. How much easier to just tell your wingman, o
r Staffel, what you wanted to do! No more shooting off flares and the like. People in Dessau that one afternoon had wondered what the two planes spinning and dodging in the air above were doing. After they landed again, Udet had run from his plane to Manfred's and hugged him, shouting enthusiastically, "Don't you see! Don't you see!"

  Udet had set the thing up. Already the air cadets were practicing with aerial radio maneuvers.

  After that, Manfred had remembered something the Marinekorps had done, during the war. He would have to talk to Osterkamp and find out what all had been done, but they were on to something.

  General Lutz and his aide returned later that afternoon. Manfred greeted them, alone, and said, "Herren, your presentation of this morning was extremely effective. So much so that the Herr Minister has approved, and the Herr Commander-in-Chief is in the process of drawing up orders for, its implementation."

  General Lutz said, "Very good, Herr Reichskanzler," while Guderian gave all the semblance of a boy given the key to the toy store.

  "With one or two little changes," Manfred went on. "They are drawing up the orders, but, basically, the plan is to have the entire army motorized, not just the tank units. With such organization, we can combine the efforts of the army with that of the air force, as the Marinekorps Flandern did, providing a more powerful striking force with fewer men. Having a smaller, more mobile army will be better suited to our needs."

  ". . . Having a smaller, more mobile army will be better suited to our needs," Manfred said. "Germany intends to remain at peace with its neighbors, having learned at great cost the value, or rather the lack thereof, of aggression. At the same time, we intend to make it clear that we are determined to defend our country."

  Woollcott seemed uncomfortable with the microphone, it not being like his usual one. "The French authorities are still concerned about this buildup," he said. "I spoke with some friends in the French foreign ministry while passing through the country, and they were worried about revanche."