"The Germans must immediately cease all military operations and accept the control of the Coalition forces!"
Although Britain and the United States were glad to see France falter, their relief quickly turned to unease when the German army counterattacked and pushed deep into French territory. The sheer momentum of the German advance alarmed both London and Washington. If the campaign continued, it would not only erode Allied morale but also reveal the enduring strength of the German military—a prospect neither Britain nor the United States could tolerate.
In response, both powers dispatched military envoys to Berlin, the capital of the Weimar Republic, to pressure Friedrich Ebert, who had only just been inaugurated as Chancellor.
Chancellor Ebert found himself caught in unprecedented pressure. Domestically, the Weimar Republic was still engulfed in uprisings and political violence, with no signs of stability. Should the Allies invade during such turmoil, the situation could collapse entirely. Out of desperation, Ebert sent word to Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg, urging him to restrain his men and rein in the actions of the Supreme Army Command.
When Hindenburg received the message, he merely shrugged. At that moment, he was already traveling back from the Franco-German border, seated in his car while columns of German soldiers marched beside him, singing martial songs in triumph.
The Germans had no real intention of continuing the invasion. Their stockpiles of weapons and ammunition had been exhausted in the battle with France; further campaigns were impossible.
Britain and the United States, seeing German forces begin to pull back, breathed a sigh of relief. But their mistrust lingered. They feared the German army might regroup and strike again. To prevent this, they demanded the complete disbandment of Germany's armed forces.
Hindenburg, however, could not accept such a humiliating demand. Disbanding the army would render Germany defenseless—a nation of seventy million left like a lamb on the butcher's block. Still, he recognized the need to respond. His counteroffer was simple: Britain and the United States must guarantee both his personal safety and the territorial integrity of Germany, ensuring no repetition of France's sudden aggression. Without such assurances, the German army could not—and would not—disband.
Presented with this ultimatum, the Allies faced a choice: either agree to German terms or resume the war.
For London and Washington, capitulating to German demands seemed unthinkable. Meanwhile, Paris, humiliated by its defeat, was in no mood for compromise. France had been disgraced before the world. To restore honor, French leaders declared they would crush Germany at any cost. Troop mobilizations were intensified, and fiery speeches promised revenge.
Ironically, this French bluster had the opposite effect. At a time when Germany seemed weakened and internally divided, French threats united the German people. Civilians who had previously opposed the government now rallied in defense of the Fatherland. Even rebellious factions joined hands with the state, vowing to resist any French invasion.
This sudden shift caught Britain and the United States off guard. If they pressed the war further, they risked igniting a massive "people's war" within Germany—a quagmire that could drag on indefinitely.
Unwilling to bear such costs, London and Washington quietly stepped back, leaving France isolated. The French still shouted for vengeance, but they knew the truth: the German army had not been defeated by France alone, but by the combined might of the entire Entente. To face Germany without allies was a prospect few in Paris dared to embrace.
The clamors for war gradually faded. Bluster gave way to boredom, and finally to negotiations.
Yet the war had altered perceptions. Before, the Allies believed Germany was a broken state, ready to be carved up. Now, they realized the nation still possessed resilience—and could not be bullied so easily.
Thus, the peace conference in Paris resumed. This time, France dared not speak openly of partitioning Germany. But one goal remained shared by Britain, France, and the United States alike: the German military must be weakened.
---
"Hopefully, after this battle, Germany's punishment will be less severe," Hindenburg confided to Major Mainz in private.
"Marshal, there is a high chance your wish will come true," Mainz replied with a faint smile. "I've heard France has abandoned its fantasy of dividing our country."
"That is good news indeed." Relief spread across Hindenburg's face.
"And furthermore," Mainz added, "North Schleswig, which was to be handed to Denmark, has been removed from discussion. Copenhagen fears German reprisals and has quietly dropped its claims."
Other small states, too, abandoned their ambitions of slicing German territory, fearing the wrath such actions might provoke.
"Heh," Hindenburg chuckled, "the Danes are an interesting people. If not for Bismarck's refusal years ago, they might already be part of Germany."
Mainz nodded. He remembered the story: after the Franco-Prussian War, when Prussia forged the German Empire, Denmark—also a Germanic nation—had expressed interest in joining. But Chancellor Otto von Bismarck rejected the request. Absorbing Denmark, he reasoned, would provoke Britain and Russia, creating new enemies at a time when Germany needed peace.
It had been a sacrifice of ambition for the sake of strategy.
---