"War is inevitable!"
Almost at the same moment, in different places and under different circumstances, men of influence spoke the same words.
At the headquarters of the German Army, on Field Marshal Hindenburg's desk, lay a document from a secret investigation conducted years earlier in Paris. Its author was none other than Major Mainz.
The major's report had been grim. He argued that France would never reconcile with Germany. Even if the French failed to gain full Allied support at the Peace Conference in Paris, they would not hesitate to risk a unilateral strike.
Yet no such French offensive appeared in the history books. That meant either it had never occurred, or that its consequences had been too minor to merit lasting record.
But history is never fixed. A single flutter of wings may set storms in motion—the butterfly effect. Mainz's presence here, an accident never written in the annals of the past, might already be changing the course of events. Whether those changes would doom or save Germany, even Mainz himself could not say.
Still, the intelligence gathered thus far suggested one truth: war between Germany and France was now highly probable.
---
In Paris, within the chambers of the French National Assembly, a deputy with a military background rose to propose direct action against Germany.
The suggestion ignited fierce debate. Foreign representatives attending the peace negotiations—delegates from the United States, Britain, and other Allied powers—watched the uproar with sharpened interest.
"Gentlemen," the deputy thundered, "this is the perfect moment to strike Germany. If we let it slip away, such an opportunity may never return!"
Military advocates boasted confidently: "With only five hundred thousand men, within three months we could crush German resistance entirely. France would be free from the eastern menace, and our Republic could enjoy fifty years of peace!"
The vision was seductive. Inflamed by patriotism and the promise of victory, most deputies abandoned caution. Applause thundered across the chamber as they declared their support.
Soon, the proposal swept through both the Assembly and the Senate. With rare unity, France voted for war. Only a few intellectuals and pacifists stood in lonely opposition. Across the continent, the dark clouds of conflict gathered once more.
---
"Major, where do you believe the Entente forces will strike first?"
The question came from Hindenburg himself. Reports of imminent war had already reached the Marshal, and he would not allow Germany to be caught unprepared.
The Weimar Republic was weak, its coffers empty, but German honor demanded a response to foreign invasion. Hindenburg dispatched envoys to Berlin to beg government support, while at the same time he began covert preparations for war.
It had been just over three months since the armistice ended the First World War. Though Germany had demobilized half its forces—shrinking from three million men to barely one and a half—those who remained were hardened veterans of the trenches. Rested but not broken, they seethed with rage at the thought of another French invasion.
The army's morale soared. Yet Hindenburg, though moved, could not silence his unease. For beneath the surface, he knew Germany's strength was more fragile than it appeared.
---
"Marshal," Major Mainz answered firmly, "I believe this attack will not be a grand Entente offensive. It will be led mainly by France—and at most, joined by Belgium. Britain and the United States will stand aside."
"Oh?" Hindenburg's brow furrowed. "You believe America and Britain will not intervene?"
"Yes," Mainz replied. "Consider it: the United States has already achieved its war aims. To prolong the conflict now would yield little benefit. Were France to dismantle Germany alone, Paris would reap the spoils, leaving Washington empty-handed. That runs against American interests. I suspect not only will they refuse to send troops, but they may even restrain France behind the scenes."
He spoke with conviction, though he did not mention his private meeting with President Wilson.
Hindenburg hesitated. To his mind, the United States and France were bound by deep ties. After all, during the American War of Independence, it had been France—under King Louis XVI—that bled itself dry to help the colonies defeat Britain, the empire upon which the sun never set. Without French fleets and gold, America might never have been born.
Even in the Great War just ended, it was Marshal Joffre of France who had personally lobbied Wilson to join the conflict. Could such friendship truly be set aside?
The Marshal stared long at Mainz. The weight of his command pressed upon him like lead. "Major, do you realize what you are asking of me? A single miscalculation here may doom not only Germany, but the German people themselves."
The words hung heavy.
Mainz bowed his head briefly, then raised his eyes with steady resolve. "I trust my judgment, Herr Marshal."
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