While the world entered a fragile balance with Great Britain licking its wounds and the giants of the United States and Soviet Union continuing to sleep, though both showed signs of waking in the near future, Paul introduced a season of cold reforms. It began at the end of the summer of 1939.
Reichskanzlei, August 31st 1939
"Reichsmarschall of the Wehrmacht, General Erich von Manstein, entering!"
"Reichsmarschall of the Navy, Admiral Erich von Raeder, entering!"
"Reichsmarschall of the Luftwaffe, General Albert Kesselring, entering!"
All three men entered the room one after another. Their pristine and majestic uniforms shone in the light of the afternoon sun that poured through the tall windows. They sat around a round table, each one taking his own side. Before the window sat Paul, his hands folded as he watched the men take their seats. He remained in the shadows while the sunlight illuminated his three pillars of power.
"The Wehrmacht," Paul began, his voice echoing toward the high ceiling of the room. He opened a folder and took out the first document. "All SS units will be integrated into the Wehrmacht. A fixed number will be moved each month to ensure a smooth transition. These quarter million men will be fully integrated by the spring."
Manstein nodded and leaned forward. "It is essential that we see an extensive increase in the Wehrmacht across all areas. The most important remains the motorized units and the tanks. We all know the philosophy of the wars to come, and its effectiveness has been proven in the conflicts of the past."
The other Marshalls nodded in agreement.
"Indeed," Paul said. "We will invest heavily in motorized units and trucks. I want every single horse removed by spring and replaced by supply trucks."
"Additionally, though this impacts all three sectors, I will establish a special research and development division. It will consist of the most brilliant minds of our time. They will work on new projects and technologies, including advanced tank models."
Paul paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing with his long term objectives.
"We will implement a standardized chassis for most motorized vehicles along with other standardized parts. This will make repairs and maintenance far easier in the field. Furthermore, I am mandating universal radio communication across all units. Finally, we will begin the dismantling of the class system within the officer corps. Promotion will be based upon merit rather than social status."
Although both Raeder and Manstein frowned slightly at this last point, they were not truly noble hardliners. Promotion based on merit was a concept they found more or less agreeable in the pursuit of efficiency.
"We will also begin the early production of winter clothing," Paul said, his gaze growing dangerous.
Although everyone in the room understood the implications of such a move, no one said a word. It remained a silent, heavy understanding between them.
Paul then looked at Raeder, his eyes narrowing as he pushed a new set of blueprints across the table.
"The Kriegsmarine," he began. "The era of the battleship is dead, Erich. We will not waste another ounce of steel on giants that only serve as targets for enemy planes. We are building a ghost fleet."
Raeder widened his eyes, his disagreement visible in the tight line of his jaw. He had spent his entire career dreaming of a high seas fleet that could trade broadsides with the British.
"Mein Führer," Raeder replied, his voice strained but respectful. "The Royal Navy defines itself by its capital ships. If we are to break their blockade, we need the weight of the H Class. We need guns that can command the horizon."
"The horizon is a lie," Paul countered, tapping the blueprint of a modular submarine.
"But if you wish for giants, you may have them, though in a different form."
Paul pulled out another blueprint and slid it forward.
"Aircraft carriers," Raeder muttered, staring at the paper before him, still skeptical.
"I will have to think about this."Raeder continued.
Paul nodded.
"That also brings us to the Luftwaffe," he continued, his eyes shifting to Kesselring, who watched him expectantly.
"Firstly, our research division will develop true long-range strategic bombers, together with Messerschmitt and other companies, in a cooperative project."
"Secondly, we need to expand into a new technology." Paul folded his hands.
"Radar. Especially along the coasts."
"And better cooperation between the Kriegsmarine and the Luftwaffe. That also means another development: a naval bomber capable of operating from a carrier."
"These are massive projects. How will we finance them?" Kesselring asked.
"I have spoken with the new Minister of Economy, Albert Speer. He has drafted an extensive plan for our war economy. What I can tell you right now is that there will be no more ideological spending. None at all. No more prestige projects scattered here and there."
Paul paused, his gaze turning cold before a faint, fleeting smile formed on his lips.
"But that alone, of course, is not sufficient. That is why there are two additional major measures. Naturally, Speer has worked out many smaller details, but the most significant concerns foreign relations. Or to be more precise, economic pacts. We will reach out to various countries, forging new alliances for Germany."
Manstein nodded.
"I propose Romania. We need their oil for our war machine."
Paul gave him an approving nod.
"Indeed. Romania stands high on our list, at the very top, if I may say so."
Paul turned a page in his folder.
"The third major measure is something men like us will understand. We will resort to a familiar tool. Our strength. It is time we finally acknowledge the laws of the jungle, for we have always lived by them. The strong prey upon the weak, and the winner takes it all."
Slowly, he pulled a document from the stack. A bold black headline caught the marshals' attention.
A silence filled the room.
"Operation Weser Exercise."
…
After a moment of silence, the four men opened the next page of their agenda.
"Politics," Kesselring muttered, his distance from the topic obvious.
"We will slowly but surely dismantle the ideological machinery of the party, but with enough subtlety and calculation," Paul said decisively.
"No new Jewish laws until the end of the year. After that, we will begin gradually removing them or loosening the restrictions."
Paul paused, his demeanor growing even colder, his anger suddenly evident.
"As for the camps," he began, "they will be repurposed into regular prisons, designated for prisoners of war, not Jews."
Although Kesselring, Manstein, and Raeder did not particularly favor Jews, shaped as they were by years of propaganda, they hesitated to object. In the end, no one opposed him. They were still generals, not party ideologues, or they would never have joined Paul's side in the first place.
After a long and tiresome meeting,
A thin line of smoke quietly curled up from Paul's cigarette, the pale fog creeping upward before dissolving into the sunset.
Paul leaned against the warm stone railing of the balcony of his chancellery, watching over the streets of Berlin.
He had now laid the first groundwork for a radical change. He had begun to spin the webs himself. He was now governing an entire country in its most dangerous period of history.
"Danger always goes hand in hand with opportunity," Paul whispered, perhaps a rare reassurance to himself.
Then suddenly, his cigarette slipped between his fingers, falling onto the stony floor. He did not move to pick it up. No, he stood as if in a trance.
Slowly, time passed. The sun set, the line of shadow advancing like a massive wave, at last reaching Paul.
Now only a thin golden glow reflected in his eyes, the shimmering light the only source of brightness atop the empty balcony.
Then he blinked and looked around himself before glancing at his arm. His hair stood on end.
He sighed, pulling out a new cigarette and silently thinking about what he had just seen...
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