Chapter 63: Change
Stuttgart,
13th Infantry Regiment encampment.
Rommel set down his pen as he finished the last line of a treatise on the coordinated operations of infantry and armor.
A few autumn leaves drifted through the crack in the window and landed precisely on the still wet ink.
Looking at them, Rommel gave a faint, wistful smile.
By his count, this was his fourteenth year in the army, and four of those years had been spent with the infantry regiment.
Unlike the battlefield, where a stray bullet could steal a man's life at any moment, life as a company commander in an infantry regiment was flat as stagnant water. Training. Rest. Routine inspections. Repeated orders. Endless drills.
Apart from the time he spent with his wife, Lucie, there was almost nothing in it worth remembering.
It was stable.
But it was not the life he wanted.
In his heart, he wanted to contribute more to Germany. In his career, he also wanted to cast off the identity of company commander that had chained him down for four long years.
But Rommel understood something with painful clarity.
Ever since he had taken part in suppressing the worker uprising, that political stain had followed him like a shadow. Unless some high ranking figure was willing to drag him out of this stagnant pool, all he could do was look up at opportunity from below and know it would never be his.
He removed the fallen leaves and carefully tucked his thoughts into an envelope.
Though the First Armored Division was far away in Berlin, its distinctive black uniforms had already become the most visible symbol of innovation within the army.
He had even heard that in that division, junior officers were no longer judged by lineage alone. So long as one had the ability, the ideas, and the courage to speak, one could become part of that black-uniformed force and be promoted to heights previously unimaginable.
Even if his earlier letters had vanished without reply, he had decided to try once more.
He slipped the envelope into his pocket and stepped out of the office.
At that very moment, a pitch black Imperial Eagle automobile rolled to a halt in front of the camp building.
Several guards stepped out first and opened the rear door.
Their entirely black standard uniforms, leather gloves, and low cap brims announced their identity before they spoke a word.
But what drew Rommel's eye most was the middle aged man who emerged from the back seat.
The man was not imposing in build, nor particularly striking in appearance, yet Rommel immediately sensed something difficult to describe in him. A kind of restrained force. A man accustomed to command.
"Captain? Captain?"
Only when the other party called out to him did Rommel start in surprise.
He straightened, saluted, and asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"
"How long have you served in this regiment?"
"Four years, sir."
Rommel stood rigidly at attention, his hands tight against his trouser seams.
"Four years?" the man repeated. "Then you must know a company commander named Rommel."
Hearing his own name, Rommel's mouth parted slightly.
"May I ask who you are, sir?"
"I am Guderian, Deputy Commander of the First Armored Division." The man's tone was calm and direct. "I have been ordered by Herr von Roman to bring Company Commander Erwin Rommel away on a confidential mission."
"If that is not sufficiently clear, you may summon your commanding officer. I carry an appointment order signed by Herr von Seeckt, Commander in Chief of the Reichswehr."
The eagle shaped insignia on his uniform gleamed in the sunlight.
The commotion at the entrance had already drawn the attention of nearby soldiers. Curious eyes gathered from all sides, openly or furtively measuring this group from Berlin, the famed First Armored Division that until now had existed to many only in rumor.
Rommel drew a slow breath and answered, "Reporting, sir, I am Rommel."
Guderian took the officer's identification papers and studied the young commander before him.
Then his gaze lowered slightly and settled on the envelope protruding from Rommel's pocket.
"May I see that?"
Since it had been written for the First Armored Division in the first place, Rommel saw no reason to refuse.
He handed it over and resumed his ramrod posture, though from the corner of his eye he kept watching Guderian's face.
He felt exactly like a student waiting for a master to judge his work.
A few minutes later, Guderian slid the letter back into the envelope and resealed it.
Then he gave a small nod.
He had not misjudged the man.
An infantry officer who had won two of the highest wartime honors truly did possess his own sharp understanding of command and armor.
If Rommel's earlier letter had merely aroused his curiosity, this second one convinced him beyond doubt that, given the chance, Rommel would become a first rate commander.
"Don't be nervous, Company Commander," Guderian said. "Forgive the suddenness. There was no time to send a telegram."
Then his voice softened slightly.
"Come with me. Don't waste your talent in a place like this."
Under the envious gazes of the surrounding officers, Rommel climbed into the car.
As the Imperial Eagle started forward and the familiar scenery beyond the window slowly receded, he finally found his voice.
"Herr Guderian, where are we going?"
"The first rule of the First Armored Division," Guderian replied, "is not to ask where. You obey the order first."
Rommel fell silent.
Guderian continued, "You are being sent to a military academy for further study. There you will be reshaped, refined, and trained in new tactical and strategic methods, so that your value to the Reichswehr may be fully realized."
He turned his head slightly.
"Any other questions?"
Rommel hesitated, then asked the one thing that truly mattered to him.
"May I bring my wife?"
That question made Guderian laugh.
"Unfortunately, no."
Then he added, more kindly, "But I believe she will understand. From this day forward, you are a member of the First Armored Division, Germany's sharpest blade. You are stepping into the forefront of military technology."
He paused, then said,
"And more importantly, both you and your wife will be able to move to Berlin. Herr von Roman thinks highly of you. A large house has already been prepared."
At the mention of Jörg, Rommel's eyes sharpened at once.
"May I meet Herr von Roman?"
Guderian lit a cigarette. He nodded once, then shook his head.
"Herr von Roman is a very busy man. But I believe the opportunity will come."
...
At the same time, late at night, in the top floor study of a manor outside Berlin, the lamplight still had not gone out.
The left side of the mahogany desk was piled high with military treatises.
The right side held a thick stack of reports on economics, politics, and diplomacy.
On the coat stand nearby hung a black uniform with the insignia of a colonel clearly visible on the shoulder.
That rank had not come without a price.
To possess all of this meant Jörg had to be able to bear the burden of his future military career, and perhaps, in time, his political one as well.
It also meant that even during this narrow window of rest before the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony, his days remained dominated by work and study.
Only a tiny fraction of his time was spent attending banquets and social functions for the sake of courtesy and appearances.
Fortunately, the gifts of two lifetimes, combined with the system's enhancements, had raised both his physical endurance and mental speed to an entirely new level.
He learned almost everything with terrifying efficiency.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound came from the door.
"Leader."
Joseph's voice passed through the wood.
"Come in."
Jörg turned off the desk lamp and switched on the crystal chandelier overhead.
Warm light immediately flooded every corner of the study.
The moment Joseph entered, he began eagerly reporting.
"The Progress Party's influence is still expanding, Leader. A week ago I held a rally in Hamburg. The public response was extremely strong. Even many politicians are beginning to approve of our ideas."
His face flushed with excitement.
"Especially the police. If you had seen the scene for yourself..."
A raised left hand stopped him before he could continue.
Jörg set down his pen and spoke in an even tone.
"Put that aside for the moment."
Joseph stopped at once.
Jörg's eyes lifted from the desk, calm and unreadable.
"I have something more important for you to handle."
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Crossover Anime World: Reborn as Abe no Seimei
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