Chapter 242: Christmas Eve
Berlin, Christmas Eve.
The day before Christmas, inside a private mansion in the suburbs.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the banquet hall with dazzling brilliance, while aged red wine released an enticing fragrance into the warm air. War might shake the economy, exhaust the railways, and empty the warehouses of ordinary families, but it would never truly affect the dining tables of the elite.
Even generals who commanded vast battlefields had to bow their heads before the owner of this mansion.
Manstein was no exception.
Despite his kinship with Hindenburg, his gaze still carried an unprecedented reverence.
Heinz Guderian, who sat beside him, was much more relaxed. After signaling for a servant to pour the wine, he softly explained the significance of dining here.
"Do not be nervous, Manstein. To enter this villa is already the dream of many people. To sit at this table and receive your own set of cutlery means the Führer is very pleased with you."
He lowered his voice slightly, then added with a faint smile, "There is only one rule at this dining table, and that is to relax."
After saying this, he held his wife's hand and began discussing his son's excellent performance in the French campaign in a low voice.
However, Mrs. Guderian clearly disliked listening to such trivial military matters.
She kept complaining about why Heinz Guderian had sent their son to the front line.
The door opened.
A thin man wearing thick glasses walked in. Every movement he made carried the air of someone constantly busy, as if even attending a banquet could not free him from mountains of documents and ledgers.
Manstein recognized him.
Or rather, no one in the world did not know Cardolan Investment Company.
And this man was Cardolan.
Germany's purse.
The economic giant who controlled the industries of Germany, Poland, the Czech lands, and Austria.
He was also the world's largest arms dealer, selling weapons across the globe.
The man seemed to notice Manstein looking at him.
He turned his head, glanced over him for a few moments, then calmly shifted his gaze back and instructed his secretary, "Procure grain on a large scale. The Mark is now our most powerful weapon."
"After the French war, there will be no currency in Europe more valuable or more stable than the Mark. We must use that advantage to the fullest."
"Draw up a list. Urgently purchase American agricultural products to replenish war consumption and restore French agriculture as quickly as possible. Do not miss a single country with which we can establish trade relations."
The secretary nodded slightly, recorded the order, and slowly left the room.
Victory in war brought vast territories, captured industrial systems, a large number of prisoners of war who could work without wages, and abundant seized resources.
But how to use materials without waste, how to integrate the industrial systems of different countries, and how to deal with problems such as idle prisoners, language barriers, and insubordination were all far more complicated than direct warfare.
This heavy burden rested on Cardolan's shoulders.
Even at such an important banquet, he still held a pen in his hand, sketching figures and notes across a napkin.
The next to enter was Joseph Goebbels.
As Germany's propagandist, the Führer's ideologue, and the second-in-command of the Progress Party, he was equally busy.
He personally supervised everything, even movies and animated films.
Seeing a new face in the banquet hall, Joseph cast an inquiring glance at Heinz Guderian.
After confirming that this person had received the Führer's approval, his furrowed brows slowly relaxed. He then sat down in his designated seat and swirled the red wine in his glass.
He had also brought his wife, Magda.
Although she had visited this place many times, the beautiful lady still seemed somewhat unaccustomed to such occasions. After nodding in greeting to everyone, she began chatting about everyday matters with Mrs. Guderian.
Joseph, meanwhile, discussed with Heinz Guderian the feasibility of screening films within the Army.
This relaxed atmosphere barely eased the tension in Manstein, who sat there in full dress uniform, until that familiar voice appeared at the doorway.
Manstein's instinctive reaction made him stand at once. He raised his hand and said, "Good evening, sir!"
Jörg smiled faintly and waved his hand.
"Sit down, Herr Manstein. Tonight is Christmas Eve. You are the hero who brought peace back to Germany's western front. There is no need to be so formal."
After signaling for the servants to begin serving the dishes, Jörg casually asked, "Heinz Guderian, how is Günther doing on the front line?"
"He suffered a minor injury, a scraped shoulder, but he can barely be considered a qualified soldier now."
When speaking of his son, Heinz Guderian's eyes could not hide his joy.
"Oh, and Herr von Roman, he also asked me to thank you for teaching him how to ride a horse when he was a child."
"When we attacked the French border earlier, his tank broke down. He barely managed to keep up with the advance by riding a horse."
Although he spoke as if it were nothing, the pride in Heinz Guderian's heart was completely undisguised. It almost seeped out of his eyes, which were filled with admiration for his son.
"Should we transfer him back to the General Staff Academy?"
When little Guderian was mentioned, Jörg's memory returned to that winter years ago.
A similar occasion.
Back then, little Guderian had been only a child barely reaching his waist, a child who loved sweets.
Margarete immediately nudged her husband's hand, unwilling to miss any chance to pull their son away from danger.
But Heinz Guderian merely shook his head.
"Absolutely not, Herr von Roman. A few injuries are normal."
His tone was firm.
"A general who has rolled through a hail of bullets is a good general. Scars are a man's medals."
Jörg had long known that Heinz Guderian would react this way.
He smiled and clapped his hands.
Several gift boxes were placed before everyone.
Manstein, who had been heartily devouring a steak, had not expected to receive a gift himself. He had completely forgotten about Christmas presents.
Watching one gift box after another being placed before Jörg, he was just about to stand and apologize when Jörg's joke saved him from embarrassment.
"You do not need a gift, Manstein. The gift you brought back from France is already expensive enough."
Then Jörg added, "Do not drink too much. We still have to go to Paris tomorrow."
"No one likes a drunken general."
The banquet ended.
A well-fed Manstein walked out of the mansion gate and opened his gift.
An eye-catching Iron Cross appeared before him.
Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, laying a layer of silver frost over the ground.
And Manstein's face was filled with the joy of being trusted.
Upstairs in the study, after briefly discussing economic matters with Cardolan, Jörg instructed, "You are doing very well, Cardolan."
"We must prepare for both possibilities. American grain trade is very important. Preparing early for a potential cutoff will benefit both the domestic front and the Army."
"You may go back for now. After I finish with Paris, we will discuss industrial integration and agricultural development in greater detail."
"Yes, Young Master."
Cardolan still used that form of address.
It was a title Jörg had almost forgotten.
After Cardolan slowly departed, the visibly pregnant Lucy walked in, carrying a cup of tea.
She understood what tomorrow meant for her husband.
She understood what it meant for Germany.
And she understood what it meant for the world.
She came in with a pile of clothes, then made a small request.
"My father wants to see you."
She placed the tea gently on the desk.
"He said that in just a few months, you accomplished what he could not accomplish in an entire lifetime."
Her arms wrapped around Jörg's chest.
"It is the first time I have ever heard my father praise someone like that. Can we go to the Netherlands to see him?"
To this small request, Jörg nodded.
"No problem."
Then he held her hand and said softly, "But Lucy, you will have to wait until I am done with this busy period."
"Until I personally walk through the Arc de Triomphe and fulfill the long-cherished wish of your father, and of all Germany, for more than a decade."
.....
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