Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 171: Directive No. 12(Rhineland).

The fog over Berlin clung to the buildings.

Inside the Reich Chancellery maps were unrolled across a long table, their corners pinned by paperweights.

Around it stood men.

Hitler stared at the Rhineland on the map, unmoving.

For over a decade, the Rhineland had been a scar on German pride.

Under Article 42 of the Treaty of Versailles, Germany had been banned from militarizing any territory west of the Rhine River.

Designed to create a permanent buffer for France, the clause had reduced the Rhineland to a no-man’s-land, a zone of humiliation.

The Locarno Pact of 1925 reinforced this demilitarization, with Germany’s signature offered in return for international recognition and League of Nations membership.

"Every day it remains unoccupied," he said quietly, "is another day Germany is shamed before the world."

The silence was hard.

Then Göring, shifting slightly in his chair, smirked. "And every day we wait, we allow the French to believe we still bow to Versailles."

General Ludwig Beck, Chief of the Army General Staff, cleared his throat.

"Mein Führer, I must urge restraint again. Our forces are not in a position to defend the Rhineland if France decides to act decisively."

"We are not going to war," Hitler said, his voice hardening.

"We are reclaiming what is ours. If France does nothing, the world sees us as strong. If they respond...."

"Then we retreat," General von Fritsch finished.

"But that retreat would be... devastating, strategically and politically."

Göring waved his hand dismissively. "They won’t move. They didn’t move in Abyssinia. They didn’t move in Manchuria. The League is a dead horse."

Still standing, Hitler walked to the window.

Rain fell on the glass.

He watched the darkened city below and didn’t turn around when he spoke.

"This is not merely about land. This is about legitimacy."

General Werner von Blomberg, the War Minister, stepped forward.

"But the British... they will issue a protest. That we know. And the French elections are close. They may act out of fear of looking weak."

"If they mobilize," von Rundstedt said flatly, "we must abandon the operation. The troops will not stand. They are untested."

Hitler turned then. "And what would you have us do? Wait another ten years? Submit every step of our sovereignty to the French mood?"

The room was quiet again.

Beck took a slow breath. "This is not cowardice. It is timing. We are rebuilding. The rearmament plan isn’t complete. Industry is behind schedule. Ammunition stocks are insufficient for prolonged conflict."

Hitler walked back to the map and leaned over it.

"This moment will never come again. France is leaderless, Britain directionless. The League is preoccupied. The Spanish Civil War is a blessing it consumes their attention. If we wait, we lose our chance. If we act, and succeed, Versailles is dead."

Reichenau interjected, his voice low.

"And if we act and fail, your regime may not survive it."

Hitler met his eyes. "I am aware."

He stepped back and picked up a single sheet Directive No. 12.

"This is a gamble. But a necessary one."

He looked around the room.

"None of you are required to endorse this. But understand this is the step that determines whether Germany remains a prisoner or becomes a power."

Von Blomberg hesitated, then said, "If it is to be done, then do it without fanfare. Civilian trucks. No insignia. Soft helmets only."

Göring nodded. "No air force movements. No parades."

"Nothing to provoke a reaction," von Fritsch added.

"Only occupation."

Hitler signed the directive in silence.

That afternoon, orders transmitted from Zossen in tight code.

The 22nd Infantry Division began movement.

In Koblenz, Captain Wilhelm Kruger opened a sealed envelope in the motor pool’s dim light.

His lieutenant watched him read, breath held.

Kruger looked up. "It’s official. We’re crossing tonight."

The lieutenant frowned. "But... do we expect resistance?"

Kruger folded the order and tucked it into his coat. "If we expected resistance, we wouldn’t be going."

The lieutenant exhaled. "So it’s a bluff?"

"It’s a message," Kruger said. "To the world. And to ourselves."

In a small office inside the Chancellery, Joseph Goebbels sat with Hitler.

A radio made noise faintly in the background.

"You know they’ll paint it as aggression," Goebbels said.

"I expect them to," Hitler replied.

"But the people will need framing. You must make them believe this is a homecoming, not a campaign."

Hitler’s fingers drummed on the armrest.

"Tell them it’s bloodless," he said. "Tell them the soldiers were welcomed with flowers. That church bells rang."

Goebbels nodded, already scribbling.

"And if it fails?" he asked.

Hitler did not look up. "Then I was wrong. But only the bold ever write history."

Later that night, in an Army intelligence office, two colonels debated under low light.

"This is lunacy," Colonel Oster muttered. "We’re testing the French nerve without even knowing their intent."

His colleague, Major Thomas, leaned against a filing cabinet.

"You think Hitler would stop even if we knew?"

"No. But I’d prefer he gambled with cards, not lives."

Thomas nodded toward the door. "Say it louder and you’ll be visiting Dachau."

Oster’s jaw clenched. "You know I’m right. Even Reichenau is nervous. You saw his hands."

Thomas said nothing.

The silence said enough.

20:00

Near Koblenz

Cold air seeped through trees as trucks rolled onto muddy roads.

Crates were offloaded under low light.

Boots splashed in puddles.

Lieutenant Elsa Riemer held her field communication tight.

"Crossing point established. No resistance. Civilians confused but compliant."

"Hold," came the reply. "Await second wave."

A young private beside her whispered, "Ma’am... are we sure the French won’t act?"

Riemer’s voice was barely above the wind. "We’re sure of nothing. That’s the order."

Panzer I tanks sat beneath camouflage tarps outside Mainz.

Engines ticking, crews silent.

One sergeant stared at the river.

"This doesn’t feel like conquest," he said.

His corporal responded, "That’s because it isn’t. It’s theater."

"Then what are we?"

"The extras."

In Paris, Foreign Minister Laval stared at the telegram in his hands.

"Confirmed movement. German infantry across the Rhine. No armor. No artillery."

Prime Minister Léon Blum paced.

"Where are our forces?"

"Minimal," Laval said. "We never expected this."

General Gamelin entered, removing his cap.

"We can mobilize in 72 hours," he said. "But I advise we wait. This might still be diplomatic posturing."

Laval looked at him. "You think they’ll stop once they’ve crossed?"

Gamelin shrugged. "I think they expect us not to react."

Blum paused. "And should we prove them wrong?"

No one answered.

Back in Berlin, in Defense Ministry, General Beck sat alone, reviewing deployment schedules.

Von Fritsch entered silently.

"Still uneasy?" Beck asked.

"I should be. We all should be."

Beck looked up. "This is no longer about France."

"No," Fritsch said. "This is about him."

Beck set down his pen. "Then God help us if this works."

By midnight, Hitler stood alone at the Chancellery balcony.

Göring approached. "Paris is silent."

"Then they have chosen."

Göring lit a cigarette.

"You rolled the dice, Adolf. And it seems they came up sixes."

Hitler did not respond immediately.

He stared at the fog rolling through the city.

"You know," he said, "for three nights I haven’t slept. I’ve rehearsed retreat speeches in my mind. Planned for disgrace."

"But now.....?"

Hitler closed his eyes.

"Now I plan the future."