Chapter 82: Factions
"As for the subject of discussion, let us begin with the future of the cavalry."
Silence descended over the room.
Jörg's opening sentence extinguished the last remnant of hope in their hearts.
Jenofa understood at once that the reduction of the cavalry was no longer a matter open to debate. However young Jörg might be, however thin his record might seem beside men who had spent decades in uniform, his political methods were already sharp enough. He had seized upon one pretext and turned it into a blade.
After weighing the other man's words for a moment, Jenofa realized compromise would not make Jörg soften his stance. So he abandoned all attempts at tact and spoke bluntly.
"With all due respect, young man, every man in this room has rendered more service to Germany than you. Where were you when I was riding through the snows of Soviet Russia? Where were you when I led cavalry flanking maneuvers that forced the Russians back time and again?"
His voice rose, old pride and resentment mixing together.
"Yes, this is the Army, and in the Army rank determines authority. I tolerated your insolence a moment ago, but by what right do you condemn the entire cavalry system because of the rebellion of a single unit?"
As he spoke, Jenofa glanced back at the other cavalry officers, clearly seeking support.
The barrage reached Jörg's ears, but his face remained unchanged. He simply continued stirring his black tea with his left hand, as though he were listening to a minor complaint in a café rather than the protest of senior officers.
"To put it plainly," Jenofa continued, emboldened by the silence, "is this not simply about your so called armored doctrine? You want to push through your fashionable new tactics and cut the cavalry by a third."
Still Jörg gave no answer.
Jenofa gritted his teeth and threw out what he clearly thought was his final concession.
"Half. That is the final offer. Do not press too far."
A faint smile touched Jörg's lips, but the coldness in his profile did not ease.
"Herr Jenofa, successful campaigns are the only medals worth displaying. Failed experience is worthless." He set the spoon down. "And who told you that you had the right to negotiate with me?"
Jörg rose to his feet.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked down at the gathered cavalry officers and spoke in an even, cutting tone.
"Leave half? I will leave you a single regular cavalry regiment, and I will not abolish the cavalry designation within the Reichswehr. But its function will be changed. It will cease to be a combat arm and become a logistics and transport branch."
He paused, letting every word settle.
"Horses are excellent instruments of transport. They are not excellent instruments of war. The cold steel of tanks, that is the future of Germany as I intend to build it."
Jenofa had not expected the demand to be so merciless.
His fingernails dug into his own palms.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he burst out. "I will report this directly to President Hindenburg. You fool will ruin the Reichswehr."
Jörg answered with calm, almost mocking confidence. He lifted one hand in a slight gesture.
"Please do, Herr Jenofa. But before that, you will remain inside the General Staff Headquarters until the isolation review is complete. Every officer present will undergo systematic, long term internal review."
Jenofa's expression changed immediately.
He had intended to use Hindenburg's name to frighten this arrogant young man, but instead Jörg had answered with something far more ruthless. This was no ordinary review. Once taken away, the charges could be shaped however the other side wished.
A flash of savagery entered his eyes.
He had planned to pretend compliance, return to his unit, and regroup there. But Jörg's next sentence cut off even that route of retreat.
"And none of you need trouble yourselves with thoughts of returning," Jörg said. "My primary reason for summoning you here today was to establish a new department. Your present posts will be revoked. You will be reassigned to work there."
One of the officers could not help asking, "What kind of department?"
"That is yet to be determined."
Jenofa now understood that Jörg had been toying with them from the start.
His restraint snapped.
He lunged forward with a roar, reaching for Jörg's collar, but Guderian, who had been watching him closely from the side, moved first. He intercepted the old officer and shoved him back hard enough to send him sprawling across the floor.
The noise brought soldiers flooding into the room at once.
In an instant the entire chamber was under armed control.
Jenofa struggled up from the carpet, his eyes bloodshot, his breathing ragged like that of a cornered beast.
"Fine, Jörg!" he shouted. "Then I resign! I will watch you drag the Reichswehr into the abyss with my own eyes, you bastard!"
Jörg had clearly been waiting for precisely those words.
"Goodbye, Herr Jenofa," he said lightly. "Does anyone else wish to submit a resignation?"
No one answered.
The officers sat stiffly in place, their silence heavier than any protest.
Seeing that, Jörg turned to Guderian.
"Stay here. Keep our distinguished officers company while they observe the trial. If anyone else suddenly discovers a desire to resign, their letters are to be on my desk tomorrow morning."
Ethan stepped close and lowered his voice.
"Sir, General Seckt's hearing is about to begin. The court is asking whether it should be postponed."
Jörg glanced at his watch and shook his head.
"No need."
He walked out, leaving the cavalry officers behind in stunned silence.
Downstairs, after passing through a narrow corridor, he signaled for the door of a temporary holding room to be opened.
Seckt appeared on the other side in plain civilian clothing.
Compared to before, he actually looked better. Perhaps because the crushing burden of command had been taken from him, perhaps because he was no longer drowning in endless work, he had put on a little weight. His spirits, if anything, seemed calmer than ever.
Though charged with treason, he had not been treated as an ordinary prisoner. The room resembled a slightly shabby hotel suite more than a cell.
When he saw Jörg enter, there was no bitterness on his face. Only composure.
"I heard it on the radio. Eber is dead." He poured another glass. "If you have the opportunity, lay flowers at his grave for me. And those cavalry officers, I assume you have already dealt with them?"
He handed Jörg a glass of wine.
Drew had been the most politically astute among them, Seckt thought. If even he had failed against Jörg, the others had never really stood a chance. Then, almost casually, he added, "There is a joint denunciation letter in the lower drawer of my desk. You might find it useful."
Taking the glass, Jörg asked, "Herr Seckt, are you not even curious how I intend to arrange the cavalry?"
Seckt shook his head.
After draining a measure of brandy, he answered quietly, "No. The past is finished. If anyone else were taking over, I might still worry about the future of the Reichswehr. But if it is you, I worry more for the peace of Europe than for the Army."
He seemed to be in unusually good spirits.
Not only was he not troubled by the trial awaiting him, he was even in the mood to make dry jokes. Jörg had expected outward composure, perhaps a final display of dignity. He had not expected this degree of genuine resignation.
It seemed Seckt had truly laid the burden down.
In that case, Jörg had no reason to stage further arrangements.
He swirled the ice in his glass, then raised it.
"Then I wish you a pleasant retirement."
Seckt filled his own glass again and raised it in return.
"And I wish you a pleasant promotion." He paused, then added, "One last piece of advice, Jörg. Balance the conflict between the commoner faction and the aristocratic faction inside the Army with great care. Otherwise one day you may find yourself thrown from your horse before you ever notice the ground beneath you."
Their glasses touched.
Jörg nodded once.
"I will remember that, Herr Seckt."
.....
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