Chapter 167: Germany and Austria
One month later, Vienna.
Dollfuss had just finished his discussion with the Italian representative regarding a proposed military alliance between Italy, Austria, and Hungary.
The meeting had gone exceptionally well.
For Austria, Germany's rise had become an unavoidable shadow pressing down from the north. For Italy, that same rise was a threat that could not be ignored. Mussolini did not wish to see Germany extend its influence across the Alps, much less see Austria fall completely into Berlin's hands.
Their interests, for the moment, were aligned.
With a pleased smile, Dollfuss took the Italian envoy's hand and shook it firmly.
"Please convey my words to Signor Mussolini," Dollfuss said. "Austria will never become part of Germany. We are Austria, and they are Germany. That distinction will not disappear."
"That is reassuring, Herr Chancellor."
The Italian representative smiled politely, but he did not leave immediately. Instead, he lowered his voice and offered one final suggestion.
"However, I must say, this may also be an excellent opportunity for you to consolidate power."
Dollfuss's gaze sharpened slightly.
The envoy continued as if speaking of some ordinary administrative matter.
"The President is merely a figurehead elevated by your Conservative Party. His authority and influence within the party cannot compare with yours. As for Karl Renner, the Speaker of Parliament, he is an even more stubborn supporter of union with Germany."
He adjusted his gloves with practiced elegance.
"Perhaps you might consider learning from the situation in Germany."
The meaning behind those words was unmistakable.
Dollfuss's expression changed.
Seeing that the seed had been planted, the Italian representative put on his hat, pushed open the door, and took his leave.
The office fell silent.
"Consolidate power…"
Dollfuss repeated the words under his breath.
For a moment, countless possibilities unfolded in his mind.
Parliament could be suspended. The opposition could be suppressed. The presidency could be reduced to an empty chair. The parties that clamored for union with Germany could be dismantled one by one. Austria's future, instead of being dragged back and forth by parliament, could be gathered into a single pair of hands.
His hands.
It was a dangerous thought.
But then again, power had never been a gentle thing.
"Mr. Chancellor."
The voice of his secretary broke through his thoughts.
"You still have an economic morale speech at Heroes' Square this afternoon."
The secretary placed the prepared speech on the desk.
Dollfuss looked down at the document for a moment, then closed it without reading further.
"Prepare the car. I will go now."
By the time Dollfuss arrived, Heroes' Square was already packed with people.
The stagnant economy and rising unemployment had driven citizens from every district of Vienna into the square. Workers in worn coats, clerks with pale faces, students carrying notebooks, veterans with medals pinned to old uniforms, shopkeepers, craftsmen, and unemployed laborers all stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the gray sky.
They had come because they wanted an answer.
They wanted to know how the newly appointed Chancellor intended to save their livelihoods, how he intended to fill their kitchens, reopen their factories, stabilize their wages, and pull Austria out of the mire.
But hope was fragile.
Dollfuss's speech was passionate in tone, but empty in substance.
It was full of official language, patriotic slogans, and vague promises of future improvement. He spoke of perseverance, unity, national dignity, and Austria's sacred independence. Yet he offered no concrete policies, no emergency measures, no industrial plan, no relief program, and no visible road out of hunger and uncertainty.
The crowd listened.
Then, little by little, disappointment spread through the square.
Among the people, two young men stood side by side, their faces growing darker with every passing minute.
"What is this nonsense?" one of them muttered. "If this is the man leading Austria, then our tomorrow will be no different from yesterday."
The other sighed.
"Exactly. And I still do not understand why the referendum was rejected. I heard life in Germany is much better now. People have food, the factories are hiring again, and they have even developed some new medicine everyone is talking about."
"Who told them to have a capable Chancellor?" the first young man said with bitter humor. "People call Jörg a dictator, but I would rather have a capable dictator than a democracy that lets me starve."
They were still speaking when a large man shoved through them from behind.
The force almost sent one of them stumbling.
"Hey!" the young man snapped. "Did you stuff salted fish into your eyes? Can't you see people are standing here?"
The complaint froze in the cold autumn air.
The large man had drawn a Colt revolver.
For one instant, the young man could only stare at the black muzzle.
Then his face twisted in horror.
"Gun!"
His scream tore through the crowd.
On the podium, Dollfuss stiffened as if his body had forgotten how to move.
The guards on both sides reacted almost immediately. Several men rushed toward the stage, while others forced their way through the crowd toward the assassin.
But they were already too late.
Bang!
The gunshot cracked across Heroes' Square.
The bullet left the barrel and struck Dollfuss in the chest.
Blood burst across his coat like a red flower blooming in winter.
For a single heartbeat, the entire square fell into a deathly silence.
Then panic exploded.
Screams rose from every direction. People shoved, stumbled, and trampled over one another in their desperate attempt to flee. The guards surged forward, but the assassin had already thrown his pistol aside.
He pulled a far right faction banner from his pocket, raised it above his head, and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Long live Benito!"
The Chancellor of Austria had been assassinated.
The news struck Vienna like a thunderclap.
The President, who had long been little more than a political ornament, completely lost his composure. In his panic, he summoned Karl Renner, the Father of the Nation and Speaker of Parliament, and appointed him interim Chancellor.
"Karl," the President asked in a trembling voice, "what should we do now?"
Renner did not hesitate.
"Mr. President, the situation is already clear. Italy is openly infiltrating Austrian politics. This assassination is only the prelude to further intervention, perhaps even military action."
His voice was steady, but every word carried weight.
"At present, Austria's military strength cannot match Italy's. We cannot entrust the survival of the state to neutrality, speeches, or diplomatic courtesy. For the sake of national security, we must call a new general election and place the question of joining Germany back on the national agenda."
The President's face paled.
Renner paused briefly, then delivered the final blade.
"At the same time, we can use this crisis to press our claims over Trieste and the Istrian Peninsula. If Italy wishes to interfere in Austrian affairs, then Austria has every right to remind Rome that history has not forgotten its debts."
The President had never possessed much will of his own.
Under the pressure of assassination, public disorder, and the looming shadow of foreign interference, he could only nod.
"Then… then we shall do as you say."
On the afternoon of October 20, Karl Renner, now interim Chancellor of Austria, addressed the entire nation by radio.
His voice traveled through Vienna's cafés, across factories and railway stations, into rural villages and provincial towns, through every receiver that still had electricity and every household that still had the patience to listen to politics.
He announced that Austria would hold a new general election.
He condemned the assassination of Dollfuss as a grave act of foreign backed extremism.
He declared that Austria's security could no longer depend on fragile neutrality, hollow assurances, or the mercy of neighboring powers.
Then, before the entire country, he placed the question of union with Germany before the Austrian people once more.
The following morning, at an Austrian border checkpoint, the duty officer received a direct order from Vienna.
The barricades were to be removed.
The order was simple.
The consequences were not.
Within minutes of the roadblock being dragged aside, Panzer I tanks rolled down the road one after another. Their tracks ground across the border with the calm inevitability of a machine that had already calculated its destination.
At the checkpoint, several Austrian soldiers stood watching in silence.
The situation had changed too quickly.
A country did not vanish every morning.
One of the soldiers murmured, "Are we… Germans now?"
Another looked at the German tanks passing before them.
"Then are we still army personnel?"
A third soldier's expression turned mournful.
"If we have become one country, does that mean there will be no more border profits?"
At once, every gaze turned toward the officer.
Captain Karalar had just lit a cigarette. Under the collective stare of his men, he could only shrug helplessly.
"How should I know?"
Ahead on the road, a command tank slowed, turned left, and stopped in front of the checkpoint.
The hatch opened.
A man in a black armored forces uniform climbed down from the tank with practiced ease. His boots struck the road with a crisp sound.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
His tone was firm, restrained, and not unfriendly.
"I am La Jolla, commander of the 6th Tank Battalion, 4th Panzer Division. By order of the Wehrmacht High Command and the German government, I am here to take over all Austrian Army units in this sector. I assume you have already received orders from Vienna."
His gaze swept across the Austrian soldiers.
"I will not waste your time with unnecessary explanations. To prevent accidents, please hand over your weapons."
Behind him stood two German soldiers holding G43 semi automatic rifles, their expressions disciplined and watchful.
Karalar looked at the German soldiers, then at the endless line of tanks and military trucks moving past the checkpoint.
He did not believe handing over his weapon meant handing over his life.
After a brief silence, he removed the pistol from his belt and tossed it forward.
The other Austrian soldiers followed.
Rifles, pistols, bayonets, and ammunition pouches were placed on the ground one after another.
La Jolla nodded.
"Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen. This afternoon, other personnel will verify your identities and issue German citizen documents. During this period, please do not leave the checkpoint."
Military trucks roared past in succession, their exhaust stirring waves of hot air across the cold road.
Karalar gave a bitter smile and was just about to ask something when the telephone inside the checkpoint rang.
He glanced apologetically at La Jolla, then walked inside and picked up the receiver.
A harsh voice burst through the line.
"Captain Karalar, do not surrender your weapons! Someone has betrayed Austria! Immediately…"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Tat tat tat!
A burst of gunfire swallowed the voice on the other end.
For a moment, only static remained.
Then a deep, unfamiliar voice came through the receiver.
"Report your identity."
Karalar stiffened.
"This is the Second Monitoring Station. Captain Karalar reporting."
"The Second Monitoring Station…"
The voice paused.
"Hand the telephone to Commander La Jolla."
Karalar slowly turned his head and looked at La Jolla.
La Jolla looked back at him.
After a brief silence, Karalar handed over the receiver.
La Jolla took it.
"Yes… Understood. I will immediately clear out the rebellious elements of the Austrian Second Battalion."
He put down the receiver and turned to Karalar.
"Well done, Captain."
La Jolla studied him for a moment, then took a pack of military cigarettes from his pocket and handed it over as a small reward.
After that, he turned and barked an order to the troops behind him.
"Advance toward Stoff!"
Only after receiving the cigarettes did Karalar remember the question he had wanted to ask.
"Sir… am I still army personnel?"
La Jolla paused beside the tank and turned back.
"Of course, Captain Karalar. As long as you pass the review, assessment, and training, you will not only be able to continue serving Germany…"
He gave him a brief, almost encouraging smile.
"Perhaps your captain's rank may even be retained."
With that, La Jolla climbed back into the command tank.
The hatch closed.
The engine roared, and the tank rolled forward toward Stoff.
On the other side, however, the situation in Czechoslovakia was entirely different.
.....
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