Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Germany
Berlin
On December 19, 1925, one week before Christmas, Berlin was already showing signs of the holiday season. Some households had bells and stickers hanging at their doors, and the shop windows were decorated with balloons and paper ornaments. The Christmas trees were adorned with exquisite gifts under the dazzling lights.
Joseph Goebbels walked alone on the street, feeling very pleased at the moment. For him, the experiences of this year have been truly magical. Who would have thought that in early 1924, Goebbels was a destitute unemployed youth, unable to find a decent job and even relying on his elderly father for support. He was once very confused about his future. However, just a year later, Goebbels became the General Secretary of the National Socialist Party in Ruhr and also took on the role of Minister of Propaganda for the National Socialist Party in Berlin, all thanks to his eloquence and speaking abilities.
Just last week, to recognize the expansion of the Berlin chapter of the National Socialist Party to fifty thousand members under the leadership of Joseph Goebbels, Strasser personally appointed Goebbels as the Vice Chairman of the Berlin National Socialist Party. He is now the second most important figure in Berlin, just after Strasser, and also the second in command within the Nazi Party's Northern School.
Thinking of this, Goebbels smiled with satisfaction. He was determined to go home and celebrate with a drink, marking his rise from an insignificant nobody to a significant figure whose presence would be felt even in Berlin.
At that moment, a black car sped toward him from a distance. The driver was going so fast that the wheels splashed up the snow on the ground, causing nearby pedestrians to gasp and hurriedly step aside to avoid it.
The car was driving so fast that Goebbels, who was humming with his head down, didn't notice. When he heard the sound and realized something was wrong, the car was already in front of him. Goebbels instinctively tried to dodge the car, but the snowy road was too slippery. He fell to the ground, unable to escape. He watched helplessly as the car loomed larger in his vision. "Damn," was the only thing Goebbels could think to say at that moment.
It seems that fate did not want Goebbels to die in 1925, so the car, which was careening out of control, desperately slammed on the brakes. Just a centimeter away from hitting Goebbels, it abruptly stopped. Then the car door opened, and a man with a Mediterranean haircut emerged - none other than Rudolf Hess.
"Are you alright, Mr. Goebbels?" Rudolf hurried over to help Goebbels up.
"I'm fine. Wait, do I know you?" Goebbels seemed puzzled, as he didn't seem to recognize the man in front of him.
"I am your fan! I have heard your speech, Mr. Goebbels, and I think your ideas are very right, so I have also joined the National Socialist German Workers' Party."
"I see." Goebbels nodded.
"Mr. Goebbels, to show my apology to you, please come to my house and let me entertain you properly," Hes sincerely invited.
Goebbels originally wanted to refuse, he still wanted to go home and have a drink, but Hes changed his mind with the next words.
"I have a lot of good wine, such as Abdulghani, Budweiser beer, Rheingau, and Faltz, all of which are of ancient vintage."
"Well, in that case, it looks like I have to go." Goebbels swallowed a mouthful of saliva and then said seriously.
Goebbels followed Hes onto the car, Hes stepped on the gas pedal, and the car roared out, leaving deep tire tracks in the snow.
"By the way, I have a few friends at home who are also your fans. They would be very happy to meet you."
"Then I will give each of them a signature to make them even happier."
Berlin
Headquarters of the National Socialist Party
"What did you say?" Strasser jumped up from his chair in the office.
"Yes, Führer, we discovered this morning that many people dressed in black uniforms, suspected to be SS troops, have arrived in Berlin." Coy reported that he was able to clearly track the movement of people in and out of Berlin thanks to the efforts of the First Infantry Division stationed outside the city. Last month, Strasser arranged for the First Division to intensify their training, while Rommel's Independent Armored Regiment could only complete some routine training tasks due to their equipment not yet being delivered.
In line with the principle of having something to do, Strasser assigned the Independent Armored Regiment to conduct reconnaissance work near Berlin. They meticulously recorded the daily number of people entering and leaving the city, compiling the data into a table.
As Christmas approached, the population of Berlin was slowly decreasing, as many migrant workers were returning home for the holidays.
In reality, a few hundred people was not a significant number; thousands left the city every day. However, when these few hundred were added to the column of those entering the city, it stood out starkly.
It was quite a coincidence that today’s duty officer was Jürgen, the Second Lieutenant. This young man had just been promoted a few days ago and was full of energy, so he became increasingly focused on this task.
While compiling the data, he keenly noticed that the number of people entering Berlin had doubled today. Initially curious, he personally inquired with the sentry at the city gate and received a uniform response: hundreds of individuals dressed in black uniforms with SS insignias had entered Berlin in batches this morning.
Realizing something was amiss, Jürgen reported this to Rommel, the Major. After some thought, Rommel recalled reading in the newspaper a few days ago about a brawl in the city involving individuals in similar uniforms clashing with his commanding officer.
He hurriedly sent a telegram to the National Socialist Party in the city, and now this telegram was delivered to Strasser by Coy.
"Several hundred people in black uniforms? What are the SS troops doing here?"
Strasser was somewhat puzzled.
"Coy speculated, 'Perhaps Bavaria is feeling humiliated and wants to send someone to assassinate you.'
'That's impossible. If they wanted to kill me, they could just send a few trained assassins. Making such a big show would only alert me. If they wanted to kill me openly, that number wouldn't suffice. Our influence in Berlin isn't something a few hundred SS troops can shake. We wouldn't even need to mobilize The First Infantry Division stationed outside the city; just your workers from the Vanguard could take care of these guys,' Strasser dismissed the speculation."
"What can they come here for? To visit family? Do they have relatives in Berlin? Or is Hitler planning to come to Berlin to give a speech?"
"Wait!" Strasser realized he seemed to have a vague suspicion, but the thought just wouldn't clarify.
"What's wrong, Führer?" Coy asked, somewhat puzzled.
"What was the last thing you said?"
"The Berlin speech?"
"Who is giving a speech in Berlin?"
"Hitler!"
"Yes! That's it! Hitler won't be coming, right?"
Strasser slapped his forehead; he finally remembered that historically, at this time, Hitler seemed to have come to win over Goebbels. He just couldn't recall whether it was Hitler who personally went to Berlin or if Goebbels went to Bavaria.
In summary, Strasser seriously suspected that Hitler was trying to undermine them. During this time, Hitler had been unusually compliant, causing Strasser to forget about this matter.
"What should we do?" Coy asked.
"Don't act rashly for now. Send someone to find them and keep a close watch. Report any developments to me first."
Strasser became calm instead.
"If you see Dr. Goebbels appear there, report to me immediately."
"Yes, Führer."
Coy raised his hand in a salute before immediately leaving the room. Strasser was left alone in the office, silently gazing at the oil painting of Lassalle, the founder of National Socialism, hanging on the wall directly in front of him. He lit a cigar for himself.
"Goebbels, I hope you won't let me down; otherwise, I will have no choice..."
Strasser had made up his mind and crushed the cigar into the ashtray on his desk with force.
Comment 0 Comment Count