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Authors: Christopher Reich
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the shelter seemed to be growing dimmer and dimmer.
Egon raised both hands in front of him, patting the air. “In due time, Erich. In due time.”
Seyss sat ramrod straight. He knew the longer the preface, the more dangerous the mission.
Sächlichkeit,
he thought, drawing a heavy breath.
Discipline.
“Thirteen years ago, my father convened a group of gentlemen unhappy with the complexion of Germany’s politics,” said Egon. “The Depression had silenced our country’s factories. Our own firm was on the verge of collapse. Father’s guests shared the same bleak prospects. Krupp. Thyssen. Rocher. Men who had constructed the steel works, rolling mills, foundries, and shipyards that power our nation.”
Egon paused, sweeping his owl’s head to look each man in the eye. He was a mesmerizing little creep, Seyss would give him that much.
“Father recognized that only one man could save them. Adolf Hitler, leader of the National Socialist Workers party. Hitler would rearm the nation and lead us to war. And though war wasn’t a pleasant prospect, as a businessman he recognized it was the only solution to their problems. But in November of 1932, the Nazi party was in danger of collapse. They had lost thirty-five seats to the Communists in the most recent elections. Worse, they were all but bankrupt. Goering came to Father and confided that without an immediate cash infusion the party would be unable to pay the mountain of bills it had run up in the election. A failure to meet their obligations would be catastrophic. Ernst Roehm and his storm troopers were threatening to rebel and throw Hitler out. If that happened, President Hindenburg would have no choice but to seek a chancellor from the left. An entente with the Communists was even possible, God forbid.
“Father proposed that his colleagues join him in a new league of industrialists. Not a luncheon group who would waste their time quibbling about quotas and tariffs over seven-course meals at Horchers but one that would focus their efforts on influencing the proper political direction for the Fatherland. He had even thought of a name for his secret assembly of coal barons, steel magnates, and iron makers. The Circle of Fire.”
“The Circle of Fire,” repeated Schnitzel, the words rolling off his tongue in a cloud of blue smoke.
Egon’s grateful smile was like a doff of the hat. “Father’s solution was simple. First they would pay the Nazis’ debts. Then, as one, they would travel to Berlin and demand that Hindenburg make Hitler chancellor. The old man was a landowner like them. He would listen. The rest, as they say, is history. Two months later, on January thirtieth, 1933, Hindenburg named Hitler chancellor of Germany. Bach Industries was saved.”
Seyss smiled inwardly, recalling a phrase every schoolboy knew by heart.
Wenn Bach blüht, so blüht Deutschland.
When Bach prospers, so prospers Germany. So much for destiny and the will of the people.
“Over the past weeks, we have brought the Circle of Fire back to life,” said Egon. “Friends, colleagues, even former competitors who share our worries have joined us. Why, you ask? For one reason and one reason only. To ensure that Germany remains intact long after our occupiers have departed.”
If Seyss had been alone with Egon, he would have thought the younger man joking.
To ensure Germany remains intact.
That kind of bluster was his trademark. But when spoken in the company of Schnitzel and Weber, men as hardened by the war as any veteran of the front, his words adopted a gravitas usually denied by his youth.
The Stork laughed and the tension in the room dissipated. “That’s when the answer came to us. Germany must become indispensable to the Americans.”
“Indispensable?” asked Seyss.
“Indispensable,” repeated Schnitzel, smiling. “An ally.”
Seyss smiled, too, but in disbelief.
“An ally?”
“Yes,” said Schnitzel. “Their soldiers dote on our women and children. Many of their
Egon raised both hands in front of him, patting the air. “In due time, Erich. In due time.”
Seyss sat ramrod straight. He knew the longer the preface, the more dangerous the mission.
Sächlichkeit,
he thought, drawing a heavy breath.
Discipline.
“Thirteen years ago, my father convened a group of gentlemen unhappy with the complexion of Germany’s politics,” said Egon. “The Depression had silenced our country’s factories. Our own firm was on the verge of collapse. Father’s guests shared the same bleak prospects. Krupp. Thyssen. Rocher. Men who had constructed the steel works, rolling mills, foundries, and shipyards that power our nation.”
Egon paused, sweeping his owl’s head to look each man in the eye. He was a mesmerizing little creep, Seyss would give him that much.
“Father recognized that only one man could save them. Adolf Hitler, leader of the National Socialist Workers party. Hitler would rearm the nation and lead us to war. And though war wasn’t a pleasant prospect, as a businessman he recognized it was the only solution to their problems. But in November of 1932, the Nazi party was in danger of collapse. They had lost thirty-five seats to the Communists in the most recent elections. Worse, they were all but bankrupt. Goering came to Father and confided that without an immediate cash infusion the party would be unable to pay the mountain of bills it had run up in the election. A failure to meet their obligations would be catastrophic. Ernst Roehm and his storm troopers were threatening to rebel and throw Hitler out. If that happened, President Hindenburg would have no choice but to seek a chancellor from the left. An entente with the Communists was even possible, God forbid.
“Father proposed that his colleagues join him in a new league of industrialists. Not a luncheon group who would waste their time quibbling about quotas and tariffs over seven-course meals at Horchers but one that would focus their efforts on influencing the proper political direction for the Fatherland. He had even thought of a name for his secret assembly of coal barons, steel magnates, and iron makers. The Circle of Fire.”
“The Circle of Fire,” repeated Schnitzel, the words rolling off his tongue in a cloud of blue smoke.
Egon’s grateful smile was like a doff of the hat. “Father’s solution was simple. First they would pay the Nazis’ debts. Then, as one, they would travel to Berlin and demand that Hindenburg make Hitler chancellor. The old man was a landowner like them. He would listen. The rest, as they say, is history. Two months later, on January thirtieth, 1933, Hindenburg named Hitler chancellor of Germany. Bach Industries was saved.”
Seyss smiled inwardly, recalling a phrase every schoolboy knew by heart.
Wenn Bach blüht, so blüht Deutschland.
When Bach prospers, so prospers Germany. So much for destiny and the will of the people.
“Over the past weeks, we have brought the Circle of Fire back to life,” said Egon. “Friends, colleagues, even former competitors who share our worries have joined us. Why, you ask? For one reason and one reason only. To ensure that Germany remains intact long after our occupiers have departed.”
If Seyss had been alone with Egon, he would have thought the younger man joking.
To ensure Germany remains intact.
That kind of bluster was his trademark. But when spoken in the company of Schnitzel and Weber, men as hardened by the war as any veteran of the front, his words adopted a gravitas usually denied by his youth.
The Stork laughed and the tension in the room dissipated. “That’s when the answer came to us. Germany must become indispensable to the Americans.”
“Indispensable?” asked Seyss.
“Indispensable,” repeated Schnitzel, smiling. “An ally.”
Seyss smiled, too, but in disbelief.
“An ally?”
“Yes,” said Schnitzel. “Their soldiers dote on our women and children. Many of their
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