Chapter 139: The Long Road Home
On the other side, in Berlin, inside the red brick Wehrmacht building.
In the Deputy Commander-in-Chief's office, one report after another reached Jörg's ears through Senna's calm, precise voice.
"Commander, our cumulative casualties and missing personnel number approximately three thousand six hundred. The main losses are concentrated in Danzig and Elbląg. The wounded have not yet been fully counted, but the number should not exceed two thousand."
In the past, Senna had never truly understood what Ethan meant when he said the Leader possessed terrifying stamina. At most, she had formed a vague impression from the nickname whispered by some of the staff, ruthless political machine.
Now, she finally understood it in a much more direct sense.
The Commander might genuinely not be human.
She had never seen anyone work through the night without rest, drink only bitter coffee, and still remain so frighteningly clear-headed.
Could it be that, as Darwin had written, the Leader was some new form of evolved human?
"What about Poland?" Jörg asked, taking a sip of black coffee.
Senna immediately gathered her drifting thoughts and continued, "According to the figures reported by the various divisions, if the statistics are accurate, we have captured approximately sixteen thousand six hundred Polish soldiers. This does not include prisoners who were selectively abandoned because they could not be escorted."
She turned to the next page.
"Based on the captured military flags and confirmed battlefield reports, Poland has lost five divisions. Their dead exceed thirty thousand. If civilian casualties are included, the number will be even higher."
A casualty ratio of more than ten to one.
Jörg was relatively satisfied with that result.
Of course, he also understood the reason behind such a terrifying exchange ratio. It was not because German soldiers had suddenly become divine beings. Poland's arrogance had played a crucial role. They had severely underestimated Germany, and the Wehrmacht had seized the advantage of armored mobility and surprise.
If the war dragged on and both sides adjusted to the new battlefield, maintaining such a ratio would become difficult.
"International reactions?" Jörg asked.
"Soviet Russia believes our actions are legitimate. France has condemned us, but its army is only lingering outside the Rhineland demilitarized zone and has not crossed the line."
Senna paused briefly.
"Britain has not yet given a clear response. As for America, there is a small matter I believe you may find interesting."
With that, she took a letter from her pocket.
It was from former President Dawes.
Jörg opened it. Aside from the customary greetings, the letter was mostly filled with complaints about American politics and descriptions of the public's urgent need for someone to blame.
At the end of the letter, Dawes wrote that he intended to move his entire family to Germany in June of next year, 1929, and assume the post of American Ambassador in Berlin.
Jörg was slightly surprised by the decision, but after thinking for a moment, he understood.
Because of his own interference, the economic crisis had erupted during Dawes's term. The American government wanted Dawes to shoulder the blame and become the public's scapegoat.
But with Dawes's temperament, he would never obediently accept such a fate.
So he had simply resigned early and handed the final months of his term to Clark Hoover.
By using the last of his political leverage to secure an ambassadorship in Germany, Dawes could place himself under the protection of an old friend. His safety and fortune would both be more secure, and he would not have to fear political retaliation from those offended by his earlier purges of the military.
"Hoover and Roosevelt competing for the presidency. History is truly astonishingly similar, only earlier…"
After a brief moment of reflection, Jörg returned his attention to domestic affairs.
"Britain has…"
Before he could finish, someone knocked on the office door.
Ethan hurried inside and said, "Leader, the British have arrived. Should I let him in?"
Jörg nodded.
Ethan bowed and withdrew.
A moment later, a balding man in a suit walked into the office. He extended his hand with practiced diplomatic restraint.
"Hello, Mr. Roman. Allow me to introduce myself. Dill C. York, British Embassy. President Hindenburg informed me that during the present military conflict, you possess full authority to decide Germany's position. Is that correct?"
"Hello, Mr. Dill."
Jörg shook his hand lightly.
"May I ask what brings you here, especially at such a sensitive moment?"
Dill did not waste time with pleasantries.
He took a ceasefire agreement from his briefcase. The official seal at the lower right corner was still damp.
"On behalf of the League of Nations and His Majesty's Government, I formally propose a one-week ceasefire to the Weimar Republic. The German Army must withdraw all troops from Polish territory. All naval forces, including warships and submarines, must also leave Polish territorial waters."
He placed the document on the desk.
"Likewise, Poland will withdraw all troops from German territory. Both sides will exchange prisoners and return bodies."
After explaining the agreement, Dill took a pen from his suit pocket, opened a small notebook, and looked directly at Jörg.
"Mr. Roman, you may now state your demands."
Seeing the British diplomat so direct, Jörg immediately understood that London was eager to resolve the matter.
The more anxious Britain was, the more calmly Germany had to behave.
"I want the current Polish-German border to revert to the demarcation before the Treaty of Versailles."
Dill did not even move his pen.
He already knew London would never agree to that demand.
"That is impossible, Mr. Roman."
His tone remained polite, but there was no room in it.
"After our discussions, considering Poland's harm to German citizens in Danzig and its initial incursion into German border regions, Poland is willing to cede the Lower Silesia region as compensation."
He paused, then added, "As a gesture of goodwill in negotiations, the League of Nations will simultaneously reclaim Memel, which Lithuania illegally occupied, and return it to the Weimar Republic."
Dill looked at him steadily.
"This is the limit, Mr. Roman. I suggest you and your government understand when to stop while the gains are still in your hands."
His voice became slightly sharper.
"After all, we have not yet held the Weimar Republic accountable for violating the Treaty of Versailles."
Jörg raised his hand, signaling Senna to brew two cups of black tea.
Then, with a face that revealed nothing, he asked, "Then is the League of Nations preparing to pursue accountability?"
Dill smiled.
He politely thanked Senna after she served the tea, then said, "If we intended to pursue accountability, Mr. Roman, you would not be seeing me."
He lifted the teacup.
"You would be seeing the British Navy in the newspapers, the Royal Air Force in the sky, and the French Army marching at your border."
He took a sip and continued, "However, the League of Nations has one condition. Germany must never again establish diplomatic, commercial, or military ties with Soviet Russia. In addition, a new demilitarized zone, supervised by the League, will be drawn along the Polish border to ensure stability between both sides."
Dill set down the cup.
"If this can be achieved, Mr. Roman, then I believe we may stand up and shake hands."
Jörg did not stand.
He knew very well that Memel was a trap the British had laid for him.
Anyone with eyes could see that as Soviet Russia grew stronger, Lithuania would inevitably become one of Moscow's partners. Once that happened, Memel would become a new territorial dispute between Germany and Soviet Russia.
There was no such thing as casually returned territory.
There were only British attempts to drive a wedge between Berlin and Moscow.
Understanding this, Jörg shook his head.
"I have one more demand. Poland must cede a corridor leading to Danzig, ensuring that Danzig is connected to East Prussia."
His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.
"In return, Germany can waive its territorial claim over Memel."
Hearing him bargain over Memel, Dill finally put down his pen.
He shook his head.
"I cannot decide that issue. It must be reported to London."
Then his expression became serious.
"But Mr. Roman, from this moment onward, a ceasefire is the sole precondition for further negotiation. Please order your army to stop. Immediately."
.....
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