These are the rational elements of human history-making, but there are others, ephemeral qualities not subject to human construction—chance and opportunity. That they occur is powerful enough. History then is also essentially about the interplay between them. I have explored this concept in the companion volume to this book,
Rising Sun Victorious: The Alternate History of How the Japanese Won the Pacific War
(Greenhill, 2001). It is worth restating:
The interplay between chance and opportunity is the heartbeat of war. Clausewitz touched on it when he said, “War is the realm of chance. No other human activity gives it greater scope: no other has such incessant and varied dealings with this intruder. Chance makes everything more uncertain and interferes with the whole course of events.”
1
And Napoleon put his finger on the relationship, “War is composed of nothing but accidents, and … a general should never lose sight of everything to enable him to profit from these accidents; that is the mark of genius.”
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This book examines the ways not taken, the stillborn possibilities that might have grown to mighty events.
The war against the Germans could have been lost a number of times. Each of the ten chapters in this book explores a different door leading to that dark end. Each is a self-contained examination of one particular battle, campaign, or event in the context of its own alternate reality. These are ten authors’ separate approaches. Since each chapter sets in motion new events, each generates new ground from the historian’s perspective. Each is to be read as if it were actual history. This approach best conveys the sense of events. If the Germans win the Battle of Britain, for example, different historical works would appear in time. These different works appear in the endnotes along with those reflecting actual events. They are woven together to present a seamless alternate history.
The use of “alternate reality” notes, of course, poses a risk to the unwary reader who may make strenuous efforts to acquire a new and fascinating source. To avoid an epidemic of frustrating and futile searches, the “alternate” notes are either noted as such or indicated with an asterisk (*) before the number. All works appearing in the bibliographies included separately in each chapter, however, are genuine.
The chapters are presented in chronological order. So it is appropriate that the peril of Britain dominates the first chapters. For truly the sceptered isle was the only bar to a quick and easy victory for Hitler. In
Chapter 1
, “The Little Admiral,” Wade Dudley takes a unique approach, reaching back deep into the century to explore the astounding consequences of a young Hitler whose military service is with the German Navy in World War I. Britain had triumphed at sea for over three hundred years, defeating would-be conquerors of Europe who mercifully did not understand sea power. How would it have fared against an evil genius who fixed upon the Royal Navy as Britain’s center of gravity?
The next two chapters concentrate on other perils facing Britain in the early part of the war. In
Chapter 2
, “Disaster at Dunkirk,” Stephen Badsey draws a picture of the destruction of the British Expeditionary Force on the continent, a fate it missed by a hairsbreadth, and the subsequent advancement of the invasion of Britain itself. Charles Messenger writes in
Chapter 3
of a Battle of Britain in which a few changes in reasoning and luck would have spelled the end of the Fighter Command’s ability to defend the English skies.
As Hitler turned his back on a still defiant Britain and plotted against the Soviet Union, history briefly waved a great opportunity before him and then withdrew it before he knew it. Stalin contemplated attacking first in 1941. Gil Villahermosa draws a thought-provoking description in
Chapter 4
, “The Storm and the Whirlwind,” of massed Soviet armies commanded by Zhukov attacking into the teeth of the German forces themselves assembling for Operation Barbarossa, Hitler’s invasion of the Soviet Union.
In the middle period of the war, fate then hands Britain back the key to defeat as Paddy Griffith describes in
Chapter 5
, “The Hinge,” how close Rommel came to snapping the hinge of three continents in 1942 at El Alamein. Also in 1942, in
Chapter 6
, “Into the Caucasus,” Jack Gill examines the fascinating possibilities inherent in Turkey’s entry into the war on the side of Germany. Turkey was the largest neutral state outside of the Americas. Its entry into the war on the side of Germany in 1942 would have stretched Soviet resources at their weakest moment. John Burtt rounds out the middle period of the war in
Chapter 7
, “Known Enemies and Forced Allies,” with the twin battles in time—Kursk and Sicily, each a close thing and surprisingly interrelated.
The discussion of the final period of the war, 1944-45, addresses the possibilities of air power and technology in two chapters. In
Chapter 8
, “Luftwaffe Triumphant,” David Isby describes the possibility for defeat of the Combined Bomber Offensive, which in reality was so vital to the steady destruction of the German ability to manage and supply war. Forrest Lindsey then addresses the horrendous consequences of Germany developing the atomic bomb first. No other weapon so embodied Hitler’s compulsion to destruction. It is inconceivable that, if such a weapon had been available to him, he would not have immediately and gleefully used it.
Finally, in
Chapter 10
, “Rommel Versus Zhukov,” I draw a scenario in which Germany could have escaped destruction as late as August 1944. The Soviet steamroller seemed invincible by then and its victory inevitable. Yet, even after the destruction of Army Group Center, Germany theoretically had the resources to achieve at least a stalemate on the Eastern Front. It is an optimum scenario but one that shows that, absent Hitler, rational German leadership had a chance for victory—not the victory of conquest, but of survival.
Peter G. Tsouras
Alexandria, Virginia
2002
1
. Clausewitz., Carl von,
On War
, edited and translated by Howard, Michael, and Paret, Peter (Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ, 1976) 101.
2
. Napoleon,
The Military Maxims of Napoleon
, tr. Burnod (1827), in Phillips, T.R., ed.,
Roots of Strategy
(Stackpole Books, Harrisburg, PA, 1985) 436.
We are the sum of our experiences. Change any of those experiences, and you change the person. Change the person, and you may just change the world. Make that person a young Adolf Hitler, and things do get interesting …
By early 1914 the highly militarized states of Europe needed only a spark to precipitate war. Between universal conscription and a naval arms race of staggering proportions, few German-speaking young men could have doubted that their opportunity for glory would soon be upon them. Yet, it seemed that fate would deny at least one ardent, neophyte warrior the chance to validate his manhood. Twenty-five-year-old Adolf Hitler attempted to join the army of his native Austria in February—the army rejected his application.
Failure was not unknown to the brilliant but erratic Hitler. He had failed to gain his certificate from secondary school, failed in numerous odd jobs in and around Vienna, and failed as an aspiring artist. This time, a desperate Hitler determined to succeed. Using the last of his money (failure had also led to poverty and hunger), he purchased a train ticket for Bavaria, intending to enlist in a Bavarian army corps. Fatefully, Hitler shared a bench with Stabsoberbootsman (Senior Chief Boatswain) Günther Luck, returning to active duty from family leave. The garrulous Luck, impressive in his dress uniform, regaled Hitler with stories of the Imperial German Navy’s rapidly expanding Hochseeflotte (High Sea Fleet). As Luck explained, this expansion meant rapid promotion for any young man intelligent enough to grasp it. The
stabsoberbootsman
must have been an impressive, convincing, and somewhat generous man, for Hitler accompanied him (at Luck’s expense) to the German port of Kiel. There, with the support of his new mentor, the Austrian enlisted in the German Navy.
After a brief period of basic training, Hitler found himself assigned to the light cruiser
Wiesbaden
, on which Günther Luck served as senior petty officer. In a revealing letter to his wife, Luck wrote about the young seaman’s brilliance and desire to learn, and about the one thing that Hitler had to unlearn, as well:
He is an astounding young man, and reminds me of our poor Rudie [Luck’s son had been killed in a tragic accident aboard the battleship
Posen
a year earlier] in both appearance and the desire to learn. He saw a picture of our boy on my desk; now he wears that silly mustache like Rudie wore, and he reads, he reads constantly. He devoured my technical manuals in the first month on board, and asked for more. I told him to see his division officer, and was surprised to hear him mutter, “But he is a damn Jew.”
My darling, where do our children learn these things? We are a nation surrounded by enemies; we are sailors who constantly battle the sea for our survival. If we hate ourselves, what is left for our enemies but an easy victory? If we let race hatred divide our crews, will we not founder and drown? I explained this to Adolf, I reasoned with him, and I threatened to box his ears—he never had a real father to do that for him, you know—if I ever heard such words again. Then I took him to see his lieutenant and arranged for Adolf to borrow naval histories. Privately, I explained the boy’s prejudice, and asked the officer occasionally to discuss the books with Adolf.
Still, I worry. He will become a man of strong convictions, strong hates, strong loves. I can only hope that the war which I feel will soon be upon us will focus that hate away from good German citizens and toward our true enemies.
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Hitler thrived in his new environment. Hard work, naval discipline, and the encouragement of his mentor each played their part in a true sea change. Hitler discovered a capability to lead others. Between charisma, rapidly developing knowledge of seamanship, and the support of Günther Luck, he quickly rose to the rank of
unteroffiziere-maat
(petty officer). Perhaps more importantly, he developed a fanatical devotion to the twin institutions of the Imperial Navy and the German Empire. A voracious reader of naval history and theory when off duty, Hitler often shared those theories with his men. They, in turn, affectionately called him
unser kleine admiral
(“our little admiral”), and vowed to follow him anywhere—as long as it led to a tavern in Kiel, of course.
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After the beginning of the Great War in August 1914, the talk of every mess in the German Navy centered upon the British fleet. The news from abroad, though not unexpected, was bleak. Within months Great Britain had swept the seas clean of German surface units, and the few German successes did not balance the list of lost ships and forever absent comrades. Worse, the Royal Navy maintained a distant blockade of the Baltic, denying Germany imports, particularly the nitrates needed to fuel its munitions industry and as fertilizer for its agriculture. If the war continued (and the deadlock in France showed little change as the months dragged onward) then Germany faced a harsh choice—munitions or calories, feed the guns or feed the people.
Of course, if the Imperial Navy could force Great Britain to relinquish its blockade, that choice need not be made. But despite its aggressive building program in the early 1900s, the Imperial Navy could not match the quantity of British ships arrayed against it.
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Thus the admirals of the Hochseeflotte settled on a policy of attempting to isolate portions of the Royal Navy, defeat its vessels piecemeal, and prepare the way for a final confrontation on even terms somewhere in the North Sea. That policy failed, in part because British Intelligence monitored German wireless traffic and knew exactly when the Hochseeflotte sailed. German planning and British Intelligence efforts set the stage for the battle of Jutland on May 31, 1916.
Hitler would have died with Luck aboard the
Wiesbaden
at Jutland had not a curious event occurred in late March 1916. While enjoying a weekend pass, Hitler chanced to be reading a recent translation of Alfred Thayer Mahan’s
The Influence of Sea Power Upon History
while sitting in a small café near the naval base at Kiel. He acquiesced to the request of a well-dressed civilian to join him at his table, leading to a long discussion of the book in general and the importance of achieving a crushing, Trafalgaresque victory in particular. Impressed by the young petty officer’s knowledge and zeal, the “civilian” eventually revealed himself to be none other than Erich Raeder, chief of staff to Vice Adm. Franz von Hipper, commander of the Imperial Navy’s battle cruiser squadron. When asked if Hitler would value a place on Raeder’s own staff, the overwhelmed sailor could only nod. Four days later (and suffering from a tremendous hangover, courtesy of a farewell party staged by Luck and the crew of the
Wiesbaden
), Hitler transferred to the battle cruiser
Lützow
, Hipper’s flagship, as Raeder’s personal yeoman. Over the following weeks, Hitler continued to impress Hipper’s chief of staff with his theoretical knowledge of sea power and his fine memory for detail.
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