Chapter 61: Money Bag
As the car door clicked shut, Hindenburg's smile vanished at once.
A gray brown Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of him. A middle aged man of unremarkable height stepped out of the passenger seat and respectfully opened the rear door. His neatly pressed suit bore the insignia of the Workers Party.
Yet what struck Hindenburg far more than that emblem was the figure inside, a face he had not seen in many years.
"Erich, how long has it been since we last met?" Hindenburg said quietly. "I had thought our friendship ended with the war."
As Hindenburg's former subordinate, Erich's eyes flickered with a trace of old sentiment when he saw his former superior.
"Field Marshal Paul, please, come in," he said. "Let us have a proper talk."
Hindenburg gave a small nod. He signaled to the hidden guards not to approach, choosing to give an old comrade some face. Then he stepped into the car. The vehicle pulled away at a slow, steady pace.
The scenery along Wilhelmstrasse blurred past the window. A chill breeze slipped in through the half open glass, stirring the gray at both men's temples.
The legendary pair who had once shone upon the battlefield were now merely two aging men sitting in silence.
Though more than a decade separated them in age, Erich's years of hard campaigning for the Workers Party had worn him down enough that the gap no longer seemed obvious.
"A car is not the best place for a reunion," Hindenburg said at last. "You have not stayed in Bavaria. Instead, you've come to Berlin. I doubt it is merely to reminisce."
He paused, then added, "Strictly speaking, this is not even our first reunion. I was present at the trial. Your defense was brilliant, Erich. So brilliant that I almost thought you had become a politician instead of a soldier."
"I have not been a soldier for a very long time, Paul." Erich stared straight ahead, his voice roughened by old resentment. "The moment we lost the war, I became nothing more than a wandering ghost in Germany, kept among the living only by the thought of revenge."
He turned his head slightly.
"That is also why I came."
"Paul, I want your help. The Workers Party is being hunted like a pack of wild dogs. I know you have not truly retired either. You are not only cultivating a successor within the Reichswehr, you are also maintaining close ties with that traitorous president."
His tone hardened.
"Do not forget, Paul, it was you who said we were not defeated by the enemy at the front, but by a stab in the back from the rear. And now you have joined hands with those very traitors, while I alone am still walking the road I chose."
The accusation in his voice was unmistakable.
Hindenburg merely shook his head.
"Times have changed, Erich. I am cultivating a successor. And are you not doing the same? Do not assume I know nothing. That dead corporal, was he not meant to be your heir?"
At the mention of that man, irritation flashed at once across Erich's face.
"Successor?" he said coldly. "He was never my successor. He was an arrogant madman, acting without consultation, moved only by his own baseless ambitions."
"And he died because of those ambitions."
Then, cutting off the subject, he said sharply, "Do not evade the question, Paul. Will you help me or not?"
Hindenburg refused without hesitation.
"I am retired, Erich. I have no authority to decide whether the ban on the Workers Party should be lifted. If you want to talk about old times, my door is open. If you want to talk politics, then this conversation ends here."
Erich let out a long breath.
Though he had expected that answer, hearing it in person was another matter entirely. The last sliver of hope in his chest crumbled away.
"You are still as hard as ever, Paul."
He looked out the window and said flatly, "Then let me at least remind you of one thing. The successor you are raising is not as easy to control as you seem to think. Be careful that you do not raise a monster beyond your ability to command."
"As far as I know, his Progress Party has already reached the streets of Munich."
"Stop the car."
At Hindenburg's command, the Mercedes slowed and stopped at the side of the road.
The guards in the two vehicles shadowing them, thinking something had gone wrong, immediately tightened formation. Their hands drifted toward the pistols at their waists.
When Hindenburg stepped out unharmed, his adjutant hurried over and asked in a low voice, "Marshal, are you alright?"
Hindenburg gave a dismissive nod.
He trusted that Jörg was acting in Germany's interest. But Erich's words, whether deliberate or not, had still lodged a thorn in his mind.
Was the boy truly on his side?
That brief doubt, sharpened by old age and experience, ultimately made Hindenburg give a quiet order.
"Look into how the Progress Party is developing."
...
Once the debt reorganization plan, converting reparations into loans and replacing bloodletting with revenue, was approved, it became a powerful stimulant for Germany's economy even before American funds officially arrived.
In just a few short days, the stagnant stock market revived. Industrial shares led by Siemens shot upward like rockets, impossible to restrain.
For a moment, it seemed as though everything was getting better.
Within a month, the reorganized Reichsbank recovered old marks in the millions and began issuing the new Rentenmark. As the currency stabilized and foreign trade revived, prices gradually fell. Bread that had once cost half a million marks now felt like a nightmare from another age.
Across the Atlantic, Germany's debt restructuring also became a major point of attention. Under aggressive promotion by Wall Street, newspaper after newspaper almost painted Germany as the holiest investment ground on earth.
Germany: A Golden Goose, the World's Unrivaled Investment Holy Land! — The Wall Street Journal
We must recognize that postwar Germany holds enormous investment value. Its abundant educated population and outstanding industrial capacity ensure steadily rising industrial and commercial tax revenues. This also means investor returns will rise year by year as Germany's economy recovers. — The Investor
Once the Morgan Consortium's massive loan of 250 million dollars became public, curiosity toward Germany exploded throughout America. A country branded the enemy only a few years earlier had suddenly become the hottest subject of investment speculation.
Of course, for Jörg, any leisure ended the moment the loans were approved.
Beside the stables, the pony Hindenburg had given him had grown considerably under the careful attention of the servants. With his father's help, little Guderian was clambering onto its back, experiencing horseback riding for the first time in his life.
After reading the final line of fine print on the remittance agreement, Jörg slowly set down his teacup and asked Cardolan, who had been waiting quietly at his side, "Is there any news about Dawes Stock? When does the Morgan Consortium intend to list it?"
Though the money had arrived, only a little over 250 million dollars remained in Jörg's hands after formal allocation.
It sounded like an enormous sum, yet the places demanding money were even greater. He was not reforming a single company, but reshaping an entire army.
That was why Dawes Stock had become the new money bag.
And because stock trading remained beyond direct state supervision, the capital drawn from Dawes Stock would, in theory, be even easier to use than the official loan funds.
Naturally, Jörg had no intention of entrusting something so important to outsiders.
Under his arrangement, Cardolan Investment Company had become the liaison and operator for the stock project.
.....
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