A Man and a Plane: An Alternate Germany

by Joseph T Major

  At least he could fly away from his problems for a while. They would not return the favor.

  On Monday, he began to sound out von Neurath. "Would it be possible to divert attention from the extremists here by some sort of foreign relations affair?" he asked. Herr Hitler had been buying radio time over the weekend, while the Great Orange Peel rode in the Silesian countryside with the American Fliegerin (or so he put it, somewhere in that two hour long invective directed against all his enemies), and Herr Münzenberg had been publicizing a vast conspiracy involving Trotsky and his local adherents; lurid pictures of bearded fanatics scheming with bloated capitalists covered the front page of Berlin am Morgen every morning.

  The Foreign Minister had just the idea. "Sir Horace was saying the situation in Austria was still causing concern, and some sort of counterweight . . ."

  Within the hour von Neurath was packing off to the British Embassy, carrying a proposal from his chancellor, and the next day, the Ambassador in London got a visit from a deputy of Sir John Simon's.

  The internal relationships had their own problems. The government in Berlin could not send Neurath, or Papen even, to handle the matter of a certain small mountain village south of Prussia and north of Austria. Indeed, Manfred's visit had been stigmatized as meddling in the affairs of a free state.

  Earhart had had trouble understanding it. "The President can visit Texas and urge people to vote Democratic! No one thinks he's meddling in Texan affairs!"

  Their ride over the fields around Schweitnitz had been just the sort of thing to encourage the Nazis' talk of lewd doings, or Münzenberg's tales of capitalist plots. People just don't understand how riding is different. As for flying, there were these spicy tales of something called the "Mile-High Club" . . . which required an autopilot and some clear airspace. But Earhart had one horse and Manfred had had another and they never dismounted until they returned. If she hadn't looked so cheered . . .

  "But it was an independent country," he said, trying to get the point across.

  "So was Texas, once."

  "Your civil war . . ." he began, and then remembered that shrine in what was the place called? Oh yes, San Antonio. "All right, they were independent for a while. But this relationship has several hundred years and cultural differences."

  She smiled again, that impish smile that made people love her so. "Just like Texas."

  He gave up and rode off.

  Anyhow, it would be that fall, and so, with all his other affairs, he did nevertheless have to take off the first Monday in October to go to a coronation. And yet, in a sense, he never left the country.

  Outside the Nymphenbergpalais, they were cleaning the confetti from the streets, taking down the decorations. The masses of visitors who had flocked to the state capital were trickling away to their homes. A caller had disturbed the visitor's repose with the news that Röhm had appeared in Pöcking with members of the pro-Röhm factions of the Austrian Nazis, Sudeten Nazis, and Czech Nazis. There had to be a spoiler, of course, to this wonderful day.

  There hadn't been a coronation in Prussia in over two hundred years, and an economy was always desirable, Manfred thought as he looked over the temporary super-grandeur that was being removed to reveal the ordinary grandeur of the place. Louis-Ferdinand had been sworn in on the evening of that epochal proclamation, a simple enough procedure, as his grandfather and predecessors had been sworn in all the way back to the pinchpenny Friedrich Wilhelm I. He had spent the night in the Preussschestadtschloss, the royal palace of Great Friedrich and of his not so great imperial heir as its rightful crowned monarch, a Kaiser by God's Grace anointed, though there was no anointment involved.

  Down south, however, things were different. The Bavarian Landtag had reacted to the Restorations Act with almost blinding speed, voting to swear undying loyalty to the Wittelsbachs and repudiating 1919 as fast as they could. Within the hour, as a matter of fact. And something they had not done before, but now felt they had to.

  Oktoberfest had been delayed -- until October, as a matter of fact (Bavarian logic!). The whole previous week had been one long celebration, where the only brown was in the beer and the only red was in the leaves, and on the Ju-60 that the official representative of the Prussians had flown in.

  The climax had been on the weekend. All the bells in all the churches of Munich pealed without ceasing, and for once Manfred was second. With his own monarch he was at least equal, but here in the capital of the most independent state of the Reich, there was no one before the King. Rupprecht, King of Bavaria, rode to his crowning in a gilt carriage, and his loyal subjects cheered as if Thälmann, Hitler, Münzenberg, and Röhm were not and had never been. And very particularly if Toller had never ever been, had never raised the standards of the Red Bavarian Republic over the palaces of the Wittelsbachs after the War.

  The heir of the Wittelsbachs received the acclaim of his people gravely. The troopers of the 17. (Bayerisches) Reiterregiment of the Reichswehr, who all too soon would deliver into the world the Schweresreiterregiment Prinz Kark von Bayern, the Chevaulegersregiment Kaiser Nikolaus von Russland, and Chevaulegersregiment König, escorted their monarch to his hallowing.

  Some had even ridden beside the second carriage, which carried the representative of a foreign state. Even though said foreign state happened to be the Reich of which Bavaria was a part, and whose government was above the government of the Land of Bavaria. And, the representative was a hero of the War too, as well as head of that government.

  The two Vizekanzler of the Reich government shared the carriage. Hugenberg would not let Braun go before him. Braun, as Königlicheministerpräsident of Prussia, had to also represent his state. And besides, if he had shared a carriage with Papen, one of them would not have got out of there alive. The Social Democrats still held a grudge, which was a further drag on the government.

  There had been waiting for them in the Frauenkirche the Cardinal Faulhaber, the Archbishop of Munich, whose task was to hallow and sanctify this occasion with his presence and his arch-episcopal blessing. His eminence had been less than pleased by the events of 1919 and 1923 alike, which to Manfred showed a certain soundness in the matter of Church and State. But now, having seen Rupprecht raised to the position of presiding over his Land, the Chancellor had to represent the Reich at the official inauguration of the Bavarian government as a monarchy, as the Cardinal represented God.

  Monday was dedicated to inaugurating the government. It was a long and stately proceeding. The Ministerpräsident Held, now the Königlicheministerpräsident, was sworn, introduced his cabinet (even Gürtner, still delaying the trial of Röhm's men), had them sworn, led in the members of the Landestag (except for the Nazis and Bolsheviks, both boycotting this event), who swore loyalty . . . it took most of the day.

  That evening, Manfred was invited to dine privately with the King. Yesterday's coronation banquet had been one matter; after this week's celebration he could imagine the Bavarian treasury gaping, in expectation of a loan from the notoriously tight-fisted Schacht. But then, Rupprecht must have been as exhausted as he was.

  They discussed "neutral" affairs; the weather, the crops, whether stocks would continue to do well; just about everything except politics. The next evening, for example, Manfred would host a reception in Berlin for the Danish writer Karen von Blixen, who wrote as "Isak Dinesen", visiting from her home in Africa (they might have General von Lettow-Vorbeck, which would rule out having Noske), so he had had to struggle with an appreciation for high literature.

  Rupprecht sighed at that. "Herr von Richthofen," he said, "I ought to read more elevated material myself, but I only have time late at night, and by then, I am too tired to concentrate."

  The main course had been cleared off, and the sweet was being served. Ah, torte . . . "I know what you mean," Manfred said. "What passes for literature these days . . . talking philosophy while waiting to die of tuberculosis, whatever. At least the common literature doesn't pretend to be more than adventure stories, and
often I know what they're talking about. Even better than the author, sometimes."

  "Oh you mean like Captain Bigglesworth?" the King said.

  The mention of the name surprised him, and Manfred began to laugh. "I didn't know you read Herr Johns! I met him back when that first book, what was it called, oh yes, 'The Camels Are Coming' came out. He was making an appearance in London and I was there on business myself, delivering the new Junkers airplanes to their Imperial Airways. Someone told me that there was a new book coming out about aerial adventure so . . . .He was very gentlemanly about it, and I get autographed copies of all his books. He promised not to have Biggles shoot me down, as long as I didn't return the favor." And he laughed again.

  "Which brings me to the point I wanted to make. When we were talking about honors, we forgot someone. Someone from the War, someone who didn't get the honor he deserved."

  "Udet? He didn't want to get transferred out of my unit, that was why he turned down the command. And the order."

  "No, you."

  Manfred seemed appalled, and slipped into formality, "But, your Majesty, I have your kingdom's Military Merit Order, I hardly think --"

  "That it won't serve as a striking way to revive the Order of Max Joseph?" Rupprecht was quite cheerful about it. "Oh, how ever will you stand being merely Ritter von Richthofen? You were recommended for that award during the War, and no one deserves it better than the hero of all Germany, not just Prussia.

  "You did get rid of that clause from the Constitution, didn't you? The one about medals?"

  They had, and so in the morning, the latest knight of the Bavarian Military Order of Max Joseph was invested before the government, press, and a collection of Bavarian veterans of the War led by his new fellow-knight Ritter von Schleich. He resolved to put in a word for Udet, once they had things in order after the new year.

  After a brief lunch, over which he was informed of the number of Austrian refugees in Bavaria, and of the latest speech from Ritter von Epp (still Hitler's man there in Bavaria) on the theme of "Red franc-tireur using our Fatherland for their base, to subvert our fellow Germans outside Germany" Manfred flew back to Berlin. Frau von Blixen, he understood, liked flying and flyers (sometimes very intimately, or so he had been told), but probably wouldn't appreciate Air Wonder Stories . . .

  The rest of the week was busy.as well. Sir Horace Rumbold came to bring the final notes on what the British government expected of their Distinguished Visitor. "Mr MacDonald is most desirous of an accord with Germany," the British Ambassador said. "His Majesty's Government wishes to see continued stability in Europe."

  Mr. Baldwin and Mr. MacDonald seemed to be playing at being Max and Moritz, Manfred thought. One in charge, the other as his subordinate, then they changed places. It was rather like Papen and Schleicher, but less hostile and more frequent. Sir Horace had laid out the details of what his government wanted. They were willing to revise the Dictated Treaty -- the rise of the Bolsheviks made the creation of some substantial land power in Europe essential, or so it seemed, and he and the Reich had been nominated for the post. After that incident in France . . . Manfred imagined vast columns of SA and SS storming the Reichstag, the members fleeing in terror. Colonel de la Roque was fortunately no Röhm, and there was no Monsieur Hitler out there, so when the French mob had marched, their National Assembly had been safe. Certainly the Germans would have done better!

  After the British Ambassador left, Papen had some opinions to offer. Sir Horace had mentioned their Prime Minister's governmental problems and Papen had felt a certain sympathy for MacDonald: "His entire party, almost, turned against him," he said, shaking his head at the familiar events. "Fortunately, he found he could still assemble a governing coalition."

  But he had had more to say. "In spite of being on the winning side, the English often seem to act as if they had lost the War."

  "I know what you mean," Manfred said. "Almost everyone seems to have lost a brother, father, cousin, whatever. And they go on about it so! You thought that our Herr Mann was bad, you should read some of these English writers. 'The flower of our youth perished in the mud of Flanders,'" he said in English, then went on, "and if you thought Im Westen Nichts Neues was morbid, almost anyone there who writes about the War writes like our Herr Remarque, except even more so. Being realistic, they say.

  "And they imagine the most frightful things! The next war will be terrible. Giant aircraft devastating towns with gas and high explosives, for example, in the first few minutes of the fighting.

  "Before the War it was Zeppelins. Oh, and every German governess in England worked for our Nachtrichtensdienst. I didn't know Herr Oberst Nicolai was so good!

  "You know, I can't talk to the man who founded Supermarine, one of their best airplane companies. He won't see me, not at all. Back during the War he was involved in some absurd lawsuit claiming that the Nachrichtensdienst had a book listing thousands of English degenerates and naming their degeneracies. I must have known about it, obviously, and so he won't talk to me."

  "That's not a bad idea. I must talk to Captain Patzig about it."

  Noske had been more interested in the direct military intelligence department of the Truppenamt, so the general intelligence service, under Patzig, still bearing its covername of "Abwehr", had been separated from the Reichswehr command and now reported, theoretically directly to the Reichskanzler, but as Papen had the experience . . . on the other hand, perhaps he hadn't got the point.

  "While you're at it, have him get together with Diels of the Politischpolizei and this Admiral Canaris that Herr Noske has put in charge of the Foreign Armies and Navies Department at the Truppenamt, see if we can get some sort of coordinated measures about the Austrian refugees. We want to know what the Austrians in Austria are doing and we don't want to find they have dragged us into a war with Italy."

  "Mussolini doesn't seem to think such things are necessary. The Italians are still paying for the Heimwehr but the Duce turned down Dollfuss's request for troops."

  "The Duce has turned down Dollfuss's request for troops," Noske said, confidently. "We have breathing room. The first intake of recruits is through the first month of training. As it is, we don't have much of an army now, and on January first, we won't have any."

  The service chiefs -- von Hammerstein of the Army, Raeder of the Navy, and Udet of the Air Force to be, were there with the Herr Minister. Hammerstein was pleased, with the expansion, pleased enough to not argue for the abolition of the Soldiers' Councils, especially after Noske had explained how he was going to use them to ensure that Bolsheviks and Nazis were kept out of the Army. They may not have agreed on much else politically, but the general and the minister agreed that Bolsheviks and Nazis were quite outside the pale of decent behavior. Udet, there by courtesy, was of course pleased immensely that the New Year would mean a new air force, and he could put on uniform again. Raeder, by contrast, was disheartened; the Navy was a decided third in the expansion plans.

  Noske went on to say, "Now, Herren, if you will explain your service's plans. Herr General Hammerstein-Equord."

  The general braced himself and began. "In two months we shall dissolve the army, in a manner of speaking. The expansion planned by my predecessor the Herr General von Seeckt will be carried out, and instead of the seven infantry and three cavalry divisions we have now, we shall have twenty-one infantry divisions and three of these new Panzer divisions -- skeletons, without vehicles, but the form of a more powerful army. Over the next year these skeleton units will train as units and prepare to admit the next recruit drafts, which will bring them up to full strength, and be issued sufficient equipment to attain the rather radical prescriptions of the Herr General Lutz." And he went on to discuss details, the formation of new commands, the building of a Reserve, the screening of new men, and the like.

  Noske was directing; he said, "Thank you, Herr General. If the Herr Admiral will inform us of his plans?"

  Manfred had not met many naval types; the one he was most
familiar with was Graf zu Dohna-Schlodien, the raider hero, who when they first met was chafing to be away from his ceremonial post at the old Kaiser's side. This Raeder, he understood, had been in staff positions during the Battle of the Skaggerak -- and the great mutiny.

  "The Panzerschiff program is proceeding on schedule," the admiral said, wistfully. "The Admiral Graf Spee will be commissioned next month, joining the Deutschland, and the keels for the two new Panzerschiffe will be laid next year while the Admiral Scheer finishes. . ." and he went on to describe a program of cruisers, destroyers, and other surface ships.

  The Deutschland was still a sore point with Noske, not because he disliked the ship, but because his party had thrown a fit over her construction. Naval matters still plagued him. Manfred had considered from time to time a separate Navy ministry, but it would complicate his defense plans. The Air Ministry handled civil air, and its director Herr Milch would hand the fighting airplanes over to Noske in January.

  "I wish to take the opportunity to ask the Herr Reichskanzler to consider the memorandum from the Herr Kapitan Dönitz on the proposed U-Boat force," Raeder said at the end of his speech.

  Manfred had not been speaking during the briefings. He said, "I will consider it," noncommittally -- and he didn't want to commit himself. He had a use for submarines, but for now not quite directly.

  "Thank you, Herr Admiral," Noske said, annoyed. "Herr Udet, if you will?"