"…Therefore, I declare the bill has passed."
Right after my appointment as Chancellor, everything moved like clockwork.
Thanks to the prearranged cooperation of the Center Party and the National People’s Party, the Enabling Act passed without much trouble.
The Social Democrats and the Communists raged that it was illegal, but once the bill was passed their protests were nothing more than pathetic flailing.
With the Enabling Act in force, the Communists were outlawed. The Social Democrats were dissolved.
But we kept the Center Party, the National People’s Party, and small fry like the Bavarian People’s Party, the National Party, and the Peasants’ Party.
It was half-assed window dressing, but leaving at least the shell of an opposition was useful to show foreigners we were still "formally" maintaining a democratic system.
"Historically, they were all dissolved, but I guess I should be grateful we stopped here."
"What did you say, my Führer?"
"Nothing. Just muttering to myself. Don’t mind it."
Goddamn it, there I go again. Talking out loud. Still can’t break that old habit.
"Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard these days? You’ll collapse."
"Nothing is more important than your health, my Führer. Please don’t overexert yourself."
"Perhaps you should see a doctor this evening, just to be safe."
I’d tossed out that lie to cover the awkwardness, but Göring, Goebbels, and Himmler actually believed I was exhausted and started fussing over me.
Seriously, fucking suffocating. Can’t even say a word without them overreacting. If I actually get a nosebleed one of these days, they’ll all faint dead away.
"Enough. I’ll look after my own health. Let’s get back to the real issue."
We were in the middle of debating what to do about Röhm and the SA.
It was undeniable that Röhm had helped me consolidate power.
But his arrogance kept growing, and his three million-strong SA had ballooned into the Nazi Party’s biggest problem.
"The army’s mood is dangerous, my Führer. Thanks to your negotiations, they agreed to cooperate with us. But Röhm’s interference is about to ruin everything."
Göring spoke like he was pissed off just remembering it.
Even Goebbels, who could barely stand Göring, nodded in agreement. Clearly, their hatred of Röhm was real and deep.
Röhm had never been sociable, polite, or humble, and that temperament earned him plenty of enemies.
Not only the army — even inside the Party itself, hardly anyone liked him.
The only one who had been close at all was Hess, from the Party’s early days. But even Hess now sat silently, listening to Göring’s criticisms without objection.
"Himmler, report to the Führer."
Now it was Himmler’s turn.
"I obtained this intelligence from spies embedded in both the army and the SA."
The documents he laid out detailed Röhm’s movements, the SA’s moods, and how the army viewed them.
"Röhm’s behavior keeps crossing lines. At a recent meeting he insulted you directly and criticized your policies. Most of the SA leadership backed him. Only Viktor Lutze informed us of it."
Viktor Lutze. Historically, he betrayed Röhm to Hitler and later became Chief of Staff of the SA after Röhm’s purge. He reorganized the SA into a proper military structure before dying in a car crash in 1943.
"Even within the police there’s resentment toward the SA. They demanded administrative authority be handed to them, saying they’d take over police work."
After Himmler spoke, Reinhard Heydrich took the floor.
Reinhard Heydrich, the Butcher of Prague, the Blond Beast. Until his assassination in 1942, he’d been the brain of Nazi Germany, directing countless successful operations.
He saluted lightly and produced his own file, explaining point by point.
"First, here’s the list of bribes Röhm has taken."
"Greedy pig. Stuffed himself good."
I almost laughed at Göring’s outburst. You, of all people, calling someone else a pig? Well, fine. You’re not fat yet.
Heydrich continued: a record of bribes Röhm pocketed, the petitioners who paid him, his cronies, and even Party members of socialist leanings secretly in contact with him.
The sheer scale was bigger than I’d expected.
The conclusion of the meeting was already set.
Röhm’s execution. Cut out the rot before it spreads.
"If we don’t eliminate him now, who knows what disaster will come later."
"Yes, my Führer. Röhm must die."
"Hmm…"
In real history, Hitler also judged that Röhm had to be purged. Yet because of their long comradeship, he hesitated greatly.
Only after Göring, Himmler, and Goebbels pressed him relentlessly did he agree, even suggesting at the last minute that Röhm might be spared and confined instead of killed.
In my last regression, none of this mattered. During the Beer Hall Putsch he was shot dead marching beside me. Afterwards Hess took over the SA.
For the future, it would have been better if Röhm had just died then. At least he wouldn’t have been betrayed by his own comrades.
Realistically, killing Röhm now was the right move. Removing the threat in advance.
And I was prepared to do anything to finish this loop successfully.
For me it was easy.
All I had to do was say one word — "yes" — and the rest would be handled. I wouldn’t need to lift a finger.
And yet, instinctively, I hesitated at killing a comrade who had stood beside me for over a decade.
Even though I wasn’t the real Hitler — just an ordinary Korean from the 21st century. Guess that’s how scary attachment can be.
"My Führer, you must decide," Göring urged. Himmler, Goebbels, Heydrich, and Hess all looked at me, waiting for the one word they wanted.
"…Röhm."
"Yes?"
"He was a comrade who walked with me for many years."
"Th-that’s true…"
Göring looked rattled at my unexpected answer. Himmler jumped in.
"My Führer, I know you were close to him. But this can’t be helped. For the greater good, sacrifices are necessary."
"Reichsführer SS is right. If you spare Röhm out of sentiment, it will come back to haunt us."
Goebbels backed him up. I let out a short sigh.
"Yes. You’re right…"
"My Führer?"
"Execute Röhm."
At last, Göring’s face brightened. Goebbels, Himmler, and Heydrich all smiled in satisfaction.
"A wise decision, my Führer."
"Yes. Today’s resolve will be remembered in history."
"You’ve saved Germany, my Führer."
Christ. Give it a rest.
***
I informed Hindenburg of the plan to eliminate Röhm first.
Historically, Hindenburg had pressured Hitler through Defense Minister Werner von Blomberg, warning that unless Röhm and the SA were dealt with, there would be consequences.
But here, that wasn’t necessary.
Hindenburg trusted me completely. And I told him before he even had to bring it up.
As expected, he was delighted.
"Good thinking. That thug deserves to die."
He bit into a giant slice of Baumkuchen with satisfaction.
"Knew I picked the right man. Röhm and his gang have been pissing me off too. I was wondering what to do with them. You just didn’t say it, but you knew Röhm was a bastard. Excellent."
"I’m only doing what must be done."
"Exactly. And he’s a homo, isn’t he? An old bastard, on the state’s dime, and he’s screwing around with men? Just imagining that flabby body rubbing up against another guy makes me lose my appetite."
Funny, for someone who’s lost his appetite, you’re scarfing down pretzels just fine.
While he munched away, I explained the details of the purge. He nodded along, pleased.
"Whatever the case, you’ll handle it. I trust you."
"Thank you."
I told Blomberg as well. He was just as enthusiastic.
"A sound judgment, my Führer. I’ve been meaning to report Röhm and his gang’s excesses, but you made the decision first. Remarkable."
Not as extreme as Göring or Himmler, but Blomberg was still a full-on Hitler fanboy. His flattery was exhausting.
Anyway, he offered army support if needed.
Röhm, what kind of life did you live that everyone I meet wants you dead?
***
Oblivious to the fact that even his old comrades were plotting his death, Röhm went about his day — handling business, attending meetings.
The SA high command had long been packed with his loyal cronies.
Meetings were just glorified fan gatherings, his men echoing whatever he said.
"I’m deeply disappointed in Hitler," Röhm began, strutting into the hall.
"I thought he was a true comrade, but clearly I misjudged him."
He expected Hitler, once in power, to push through any demand for his old friend.
But his demands were outrageous.
Hand the police authority to the SA. Dissolve the army, fold it into the SA, and reorganize it into a People’s Army.
Even Nazi Party leaders who clashed with the army were dumbfounded.
Only Röhm and his inner circle believed such things were their rightful reward for years of struggle.
"We finally built the framework for revolution, but he still hesitates! In the end, Hitler’s no different from those Junkers and capitalist bastards who only look out for themselves."
"That’s right!"
"Chancellor Hitler is not fit to lead the revolution!"
Their cheers only inflated Röhm’s ego.
Their rhetoric had already crossed every line, but they shouted it openly.
"If Hitler keeps this up, we’ll have to act ourselves. We already have three million loyal SA men. Give each one a rifle and the army and police will be swept aside!"
During the Beer Hall Putsch, the few hundred SA men had been crushed in an instant by army troops.
But now things were different. The SA had swelled to over three million — the largest armed force in Germany.
Training and equipment were laughable, but sheer numbers made them too big for the army to ignore.
"My Führer, what will you do then?" one asked. Röhm had grown accustomed to being addressed that way.
"What else? I’ll confront Hitler directly. There’s still room for negotiation. For all his corruption, at least he can think — unlike those brain-dead Junkers."
"And if he refuses to listen?"
"Then I’ll use the SA to pressure him. I don’t want it to come to that. He was once my comrade, a fellow prisoner. I can only hope he makes the right choice."
There was one thing Röhm didn’t realize.
No matter what he said now, no one was listening anymore.