Chapter 15: Ward Conversation
"Lie back down properly, boy. I heard from Nade that you put a gun to the head of a captain, the commander of the guard?"
Hindenburg casually pulled over a chair and sat down beside the bed.
At his age, with those deep smile lines folded into his weathered face, it was hard to tell whether he was scolding Jörg or teasing him.
Most young men would have been tongue tied under a visit like this. Faced with the old marshal and the president in person, they would have lost their nerve before they even opened their mouths.
Jörg merely smiled and lowered his left hand.
"After all," he said lightly, "I had no desire to wake up and find myself swearing loyalty to some strange government the next morning."
That calm, unhurried answer made the two old men exchange a glance from the corners of their eyes.
This young man was unexpectedly interesting.
Ebert reached for the newspaper lying nearby. The headline read:
How to Save a Shattered Economy
His brows lifted with interest. He tugged down the collar of his suit slightly and asked, half testing, half curious, "You understand economics as well?"
Jörg shook his head.
"No. Economics is not my field. Compared to economics, I am far more interested in the international situation. After all, political relations between states are also an important part of economic development."
"An important part…" Ebert repeated softly.
He lowered his gaze to the white bed sheet for a moment, then looked up again.
"Then in your opinion, how should we use the international situation to solve the present inflation?"
Jörg answered without hesitation.
"It's simple. We do not need to do anything."
Ebert's expression shifted slightly.
Jörg continued in the same steady tone.
"I can make a wager with you, Mr. President. In a few months, or at the latest by next year, Britain will send someone to discuss an entirely new repayment arrangement."
Ebert narrowed his eyes.
"And why are you so certain?"
"Because France's occupation of the Ruhr injures Germany's interests," Jörg said, "but at the same time, it also injures Britain's."
His fingers rested lightly against the cup of black tea beside him.
"I cannot speak recklessly about everything, but on this point I am certain: Britain, secure on its island, will never want France to become too strong, nor Germany to become too weak."
He lifted his gaze.
"On that matter, our interests and Britain's are aligned."
For the first time in a very long while, Ebert felt something close to clarity.
It was as if a window had been opened in a room choked with smoke.
Of course, until reality proved Jörg correct, he still retained some doubt. He steadied himself, dropped several sugar cubes into his black tea, and watched the young man across from him in silence.
Beside him, Hindenburg propped his head on one hand, replaying Jörg's words in his mind.
He had not expected the boy to possess such sharp political instincts.
With the fragrance of black tea rising slowly into the room, the hospital ward no longer felt like a place for the wounded.
It felt more like a private salon hidden on a side street of Berlin.
Ebert spoke again.
"I understand why Britain would not want France to become too powerful. But why would they object to Germany becoming too weak? After all, Britain also signed off on the Treaty of Versailles. They helped tighten those chains around our neck."
Jörg smiled faintly and shook his head.
"Because a country that is too weak is like a cake left on the table. Everyone wants a slice."
He paused before continuing.
"If German society were not this unstable, the leftist would never be this radical. Last night's rebellion would never have taken place."
His tone remained calm, but his meaning was not.
"A Germany that is too weak loses even the capacity to strike back. It may still restrain France by existing, but can it restrain the Slavic powers watching it from the east? Poland's army is not small. Soviet Russia's ideology is incompatible with theirs. And with all due respect, Mr. President, Marshal, the Treaty of Versailles has, in one regard at least, given Germany a rare advantage."
At the word advantage, both men's expressions shifted.
For a moment, neither of them could imagine what benefit that humiliating treaty could possibly have brought Germany or the German people.
Hindenburg spoke first, unable to hold back.
"What advantage? They tore our army to pieces."
Jörg raised his left hand slightly, making a subtle gesture for calm.
If anyone else in Germany had seen a young man interrupt Hindenburg mid sentence, they would have thought it unbelievable. Yet it happened here, and even more unbelievable, Hindenburg showed no anger.
Only curiosity.
"The Treaty of Versailles is intolerable, yes," Jörg said. "But Germany was not completely dismantled. Austria-Hungary was."
His voice remained even.
"That means one of the strongest potential rivals on the continent has already been broken into several states. In that sense, a formidable opponent disappeared before we ever had to face it."
He leaned back slightly against the pillows.
"Germany is no longer hemmed in by the same geopolitical structure as before. In some ways, our strategic environment is better than it has ever been."
He spoke without hesitation, without ornament, stating those ideas as plainly as if they were self evident.
Of course, Jörg did not truly think himself extraordinary.
He could only see these things because the soul inside this body was not bound by the limits of the age. Raymond stood on the steps of history and looked backward. Naturally, what others found astonishing seemed to him almost obvious.
Hindenburg recovered first.
"But does that not also mean we have lost a comparatively reliable ally? Austria-Hungary stood with us in the war."
Jörg gave a slight shrug.
"Marshal, in my opinion, every alliance of interests between states, whether economic or military, can be broken by greater interests."
He looked directly at the old marshal.
"If Austria-Hungary had known earlier that the war would be lost, do you truly believe it would have stood with us to taste the bitterness of defeat? Or would it have preferred to sit at the victors' table and help carve up the great cake called Germany?"
His blue eyes were filled with an unshakable confidence Germany itself currently lacked.
That question left both men silent.
Had such words come from an old statesman, they would merely have admired the man's experience. But the one saying them now was barely in his twenties.
To possess such an unusual perspective at that age was enough to justify a single word.
Genius.
What surprised Ebert most was not merely the content of Jörg's answers.
He had met gifted young men before, brilliant ones even. But in the presence of the president, they always became more reserved, more careful, more eager to avoid giving offense. Their titles, his office, the weight of the room, all of it made them shrink.
Jörg did not shrink.
He remained composed, sharp, and astonishingly self assured.
He was not merely intelligent.
He felt like a natural politician.
Almost the same thought formed in Hindenburg's mind as well.
He had never imagined the Roman family, long dismissed as a house of hot blood and little brains, could produce something like a second Bismarck.
A knock at the door interrupted the atmosphere.
The secretary entered and lowered his voice.
"Mr. President, an urgent telegram has arrived. It requires your review."
Only then did Ebert seem to realize he had lingered perhaps a little too long, and somewhat too eagerly, in the room of a wounded minister. He patted Jörg's shoulder, offered a few words wishing him a swift recovery, and then stepped out first.
For the first time in many days, perhaps even many months, a genuine smile could be seen on his tired face.
Today, he had gained more than an interesting conversation.
He had found a German talent with real vision.
As he walked down the corridor, Ebert said, "Arrange for Jörg von Roman to recover at the sanatorium I visited previously. And send his file to the Presidential Office."
Then, as if only just remembering, he added, "Whose telegram is it?"
The secretary silently noted everything down before replying.
"It's from Britain, Mr. President. They want to begin a new round of discussions with you regarding the debt issue and the French issue."
Albert stopped walking.
His feet froze in place.
His lips moved slowly as he murmured, almost to himself,
"My God… truly…"
Then, with a look that was part disbelief and part wonder, he whispered:
"God bless Germany."
.....
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