#treaty of versailles terms

[warpedia]

Treaty of Versailles

#WWI, #TreatyofVersailles, #worldWar1

The Treaty of Versailles – Warpedia The Treaty of Versailles, signed on June 28, 1919, marked the official end of World War I and aimed to establish a lasting peace. However, its terms and consequences would shape the course of history, setting the stage for future conflicts. This blog post delves into the events leading up to the treaty, for example its key provisions, and the impact it had on…

[mesetacadre]

The Red Army had the advantage that it was born of Revolution and unhampered by traditions of the past. If this carried with it the disadvantage of inexperience, that fault was quickly corrected in the wars of intervention in which Soviet Russia was invaded by armies of fourteen foreign powers. The new Red Army generals were young and quick to learn from the military experience of the whole world. They were among the first in Europe to envisage the future forms of modern war. At a time when British and French military writers were still thinking in terms of the trench warfare of 1914-17 and German war effort was confined to theory by the treaty of Versailles, military writers in the Red Army journals were predicting the form of World War Two. Beginning in 1926 and thereafter, Soviet writers prophesied that future war would have the following three characteristics:

1. Great mobility at the beginning of the war, based on a powerful air force coordinated with highly mechanized ground troops.

2. A surprise attack that will rapidly overwhelm weak enemies with very small losses to the victor.

3. If two countries of comparatively equal strength are involved, and if the first surprise attack does not at once gain victory, the early stage of extreme mobility will pass into a relatively static war of position – though never so static as the war of 1914-17 – and the war will be decided by relative economic resources, war reserves, and the morale of the people.

Thus, the form of the second World War did not catch the Red Army unawares.

The Soviets Expected It (1941), Anna Louise Strong

[ohsalome]

How does a state become fascist? How did Russia do it?

A special kind of nationalism is needed here. To convince people that you were once great. That once you were a military empire — and then you were humiliated. This is what Hitler once said: “Germany was great, had colonies in Africa, but we were humiliated at Versailles

Under the terms of the Versailles Peace Treaty of 1919, which ended the First World War, Germany had to get rid of its numerous colonies in Africa, China and Micronesia, cede significant territories in Europe and pay reparations to the victorious states of the war in the amount of $442 billion at 2012 prices.. Our empire was taken from us, and our people in other countries and former territories faced genocide. We need a strong ruler to come and restore our empire. To show that we are a big powerful player. And Iʼm ready to do it.”

Putin behaved the same way. He even said that if Russia does not regain its greatness, it will destroy the world.

Also, often in countries that become fascist, there are many economic problems. And nationalism, this feeling of power, can replace food — you will draw your happiness from this feeling, or from the awareness of yourself as a German or a white American. After that, you say that representative democracy is evil. That it allows the existence of LGBT people and the like, that the state is weak because of democracy. Fascism appeals to conservative, religious people who would not call themselves fascists. He tells them: we will protect you from your children becoming gay, from someone destroying your churches. And they often call all their opponents communists. And they get votes. Sound familiar, right?

[...]

It is ironic that the Russians, who were once rightly regarded as the victors over fascism and who now practice fascism, call their war "anti-fascist."

It is necessary to pay attention not to words, but to ideology. Putin can say that he is a liberator — but he is closer to Hitler than to Brezhnev, to Peter I than to communists. And this is an important argument in favor of why the Russians should not leave a single piece of Ukrainian land. For the same reasons why it was not possible to leave, for example, Warsaw under the Nazis.

Now Putin is talking about Ukrainians like Hitler was talking about Jews. He says that there can be no Ukrainians, only Russians, and that all Ukrainians are actually Russians. This position means that he is going to get rid of everyone who speaks the Ukrainian language. That is why all this delusion of the West about territorial concessions must stop.

[whencyclopedia]

The Causes of WWII

The origins of the Second World War (1939-45) may be traced back to the harsh peace settlement of the First World War (1914-18) and the economic crisis of the 1930s, while more immediate causes were the aggressive invasions of their neighbours by Germany, Italy, and Japan. A weak and divided Europe, an isolationist USA, and an opportunistic USSR were all intent on peace, but the policy of appeasement only delivered what everyone most feared: another long and terrible world war.

The main causes of WWII were:

The harsh Treaty of Versailles

The economic crisis of the 1930s

The rise of fascism

Germany's rearmament

The cult of Adolf Hitler

The policy of appeasement by Western powers

Treaties of mutual interest between Axis Powers

Lack of treaties between the Allies

The territorial expansion of Germany, Italy, and Japan

The Nazi-Soviet Pact

The invasion of Poland in September 1939

The Japanese attack on the US naval base at Pearl Harbour

Treaty of Versailles

Germany was defeated in the First World War, and the victors established harsh terms to ensure that some of the costs of the war were recuperated and to prevent Germany from becoming a future threat. With European economies and populations greatly damaged by the war, the victors were in no mood to be lenient since Germany had almost won and its industry was still intact. Germany remained a dangerous state. However, Britain and France did not want a totally punitive settlement, as this might lead to lasting resentment and make Germany unable to become a valuable market for exports.

The peace terms were set out in the Treaty of Versailles, signed by all parties except the USSR on 28 June 1919. The Rhineland must be demilitarised to act as a buffer zone between Germany and France. All colonies and the Saar, a coal-rich area of western Germany, were removed from German authority. Poland was given the industrial area of Upper Silesia and a corridor to the sea, which included Danzig (Gdánsk) and cut off East Prussia from the rest of Germany. France regained the regions of Alsace and Lorraine. Germany had to pay war reparations to France and Belgium. Germany had limits on its armed forces and could not build tanks, aircraft, submarines, or battleships. Finally, Germany was to accept complete responsibility, that is the guilt, for starting the war. Many Germans viewed the peace terms as highly dishonourable.

The settlement established nine new countries in Eastern Europe, a recipe for instability since all of them disputed their borders, and many contained large minority groups who claimed to be part of another country. Germany, Italy, and Russia, once powerful again after the heavy costs of WWI, looked upon these fledgling states with imperialist envy.

In the 1920s, Germany signed two important treaties. The Locarno Treaty of 1925 guaranteed Germany's western borders but allowed some scope for change in the east. The 1928 Kellogg-Briand Pact was signed by 56 countries. All the major powers promised not to conduct foreign policy using military means. In 1929, Germany's reparations as stipulated by the Treaty of Versailles were reduced from £6.6 million to £2 million. In 1932, the reparations were cancelled altogether. This was all very promising, but through the 1930s, the complex web of European diplomacy began to quickly unravel in a climate of economic decline.

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[0mega-x]

I keep thinking about the Bad Touch Trio and how... Well how it doesn't really work historically.

I'm especially talking about Prussia and France. These two should fucking hate each other historically, down to their core. Like, the Franco-Prussian War ??? Hello ?? WWI and WWII ?? Holy shit these two would have some GREAT PATH to walk through to get along after that. Even reconciling with Germany would be easier.

I mean- sure they happened to be on the same side at some points in History, and there was the whole enlightenment era, but apart from that, the two would be at each other's throat, from the French Revolution to the Napoleonic wars, the 1870 war that ended up in France basically loosing all potential allies in Europe to the newly formed Germany and ending up a bit isolated in Europe for a while (Prussia probably jumping from joy when this happens), the World Wars, the Versailles Treaty, etc... If we go by the headcanon that Germany was born in 1871 and that Prussia was the pain figure who raised him, then France would have more than a simple beef with Prussia (more than Germany).

As for Spain... I know way less about Spain's diplomatic history, I don't know how his relationship could be with th two. Maybe there was some resentment from France that the Franco-Prussian war technically started in Spain ? Maybe, maybe not, I don't know.

Now if we do exclude historical fact, the trio does go well together with their personalities and all. The fandom really did a great job when making these three a believe and very fun trio. Unfortunately, my mind loves history too much and cannot get around the trio being functional at all.

I might go into the whole 1870s to 1914 era for the major European powers and how they would be interacting with each other because the era is so interesting in terms of foreign policies and strategies.

Historical Hetalia will be the end of me. :)

[kaurwreck]

The Great War in bsd amalgamates WW1 and WW2 but is temporally WW1. For every argument I've seen hyperfocus on the references to WW2, I haven't seen any touch on the references to WW1 — such as (but not limited to) the implied existence of either ongoing or only recently suspended Port Treaties; the introduction of novel warfare and post-WW1 rush towards nuclear research; the aberrations such as the telegraph rack in the Agency office and the slightly-off United Nations logo and the United Nations existing at all without an apparent preceding League of Nations; the existence of an entirely fictional nation state, the Republic of Nalis, the youth of which is reminiscent of the crop of republics created from the dissolution of the Russian, German, Austro-Hungarian, and Ottoman Empires after WW1 (but which of course wouldn't be familiar to us since Japan, France, Germany, and England factionalized in bsd's Great War very differently than in our own, resulting in different terms within bsd's Treaty of Versailles analog).

This isn't to say that there aren't many references to WW2, such as the presence of foreign military police in Japan who wear uniforms resembling those of the US military police that occupied post-WW2 Japan. But, I've noticed that the WW1 references are rarely if at all recognized, even after Fukuchi described the specter of a temporal WW2, leading to lots of concluding that the Great War is WW2 rather than WW1 when it's neither and it's both.

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince + Versailles for your fandom fest!

Congrats on your milestones!

(Versailles was such an interesting choice! A different palace? I got it in my head to write a historical AU, so you get 1785 Versailles and rival ambassadors to the court of France. I hope you enjoy!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy

(firstprince, 5.3k, E; read it below or on AO3)

It had only made sense when Congress had sent him to Paris in 1784 to negotiate a large number of treaties with various European states. Alex is damned good at negotiating, and getting a good outcome for these agreements was vital to the continued success of their new republic. What he was not as pleased about is the missive from Washington a few months later assigning him to succeed Franklin as Minister to the Court of Versailles. Don’t get him wrong, living in Paris is— well, it’s pretty great, actually, but he’d still rather be back in Philadelphia, helping govern the country he worked so hard to liberate. Alex knows he’s helping shape U.S. foreign policy, and that’s important too. Much of the work he does is extremely rewarding.

What he despises are the times when the King and Queen decree that he come to the palace at Versailles for some inane weekend of fancy balls and dinner parties and lawn games. He daren’t refuse, though; Louis’ support in the war was instrumental, so Alex has to go pretend to be delighted no matter how distasteful the trappings of the monarchy are to him. The gatherings never fail to make him feel utterly out of place, full of the kind of European nobility and extravagantly wealthy people who look at him as some kind of shabby, poor, charity case from across the sea.

Then there’s the British Ambassador, Henry Fox-Mountchristen. He’s new in the position, just like Alex is, and a Duke of somewhere or other—Alex tries not to pay attention, honestly. All he knows is that any representative of the British government is automatically his enemy. The fact that he’s a noble on top of it is just icing on the cake. Alex had met him first at one of these fancy parties; he’d made no attempt at hiding his disdain, Henry had looked down his nose at him, and they’ve loathed each other ever since.

Annoyingly, he’s very good at his job. In the year that Alex has been working out trade deals and new commerce treaties, Henry has been there representing British interests in the negotiations, and is usually the only one in the room who can go toe-to-toe with Alex. He is constantly getting in the way forcing Alex to settle for less than he’d hoped for (except for that one time when he actually helped Alex negotiate a better deal with Portugal by tying their terms to Great Britain’s, which— Alex still doesn’t know what that was about).

Even more annoyingly, he’s hotter than the fucking sun.

It’s kind of ironic that, in a lavish, opulent court full of lithe young women in low-cut gowns, the one person Alex can’t tear his eyes away from is the Brit wearing frocks that are about as boring as you could get away with at Versailles. It’s those fucking cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes, and those full lips that Alex kind of wants to bite. Alex’s frustrating desire—as shocking as it had been to recognize—absolutely does nothing to soften his feelings toward the other man; if anything, it just stokes his anger. Why the fuck did it have to be him?

Tonight, Alex is at one such fancy party, drinking too much champagne, dancing with beautiful women, and glaring at Henry from across the room. He is, as always, wearing a stupid powdered wig that makes him look absurdly pale (Alex refuses to wear one, of course, and his appearance never fails to cause a stir even when he’s wearing ridiculously ornate silk coats and waistcoats, though he suspects it’s just as likely because of how brown he is). Henry’s dark blue coat, finely embroidered with silver thread, is downright subdued in comparison to the flash surrounding him, but every time he moves the embroidery catches the light and he shines.

It is so irritating.

Alex watches as he stands off in a corner, drinking champagne and blatantly ignoring the obvious flirting of many hopeful ladies looking for a dance. It’s absurd, really—not that he draws that much attention, because just look at him, but that after nearly a year of this he still hasn’t managed to get the stick out of his ass. Alex despises everything these parties represent, and he still manages to attend them without acting like he’d prefer to be put in the stocks.

Drinking plenty of the free-flowing wine and cognac usually helps with that.

He’s not even really aware of his feet carrying him over to Henry until he’s standing next to the other man. Alex doesn’t even look at him, instead staring out at the ballroom floor where the guests are dancing increasingly haphazard waltzes as the night stretches on, though he sees Henry tense out of the corner of his eye.

“So is there something wrong with your feet, or do you think you’re just better than everyone?” Alex asks eventually.

Alex hasn’t turned his attention away from the room, but Henry’s face snaps toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“They say you’re the most eligible bachelor here, and you haven’t danced with anyone tonight.”

“Watching me that closely, are you?” Henry returns dryly. Alex has to bite down on a protest that he wasn’t because, well. Trying to deny it would just make him sound like a petulant child. When he doesn’t respond, Henry continues, “None of them interest me, and I wouldn’t wish to… lead anyone on.”

Alex huffs out a scornful laugh as he finally turns to face him. “So you are that conceited, got it.”

“That is not—”

“You just said that no one in this room interests you,” Alex interrupts before he can finish. “You do understand how that sounds, right?”

Henry stares at him for a long moment, a piercing look in his eye that Alex wants to turn away from. He doesn’t, though.

“I didn’t say that no one here interested me,” Henry says, his voice a low rumble, barely audible above the din of the party, that makes something flare hot and bright low in Alex’s gut.

“I— what?”

“You know, I think I’ve rather had enough festivities for the evening,” Henry announces in his usual clipped cadence. “Good night, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Do try not to cause another international incident tonight?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alex spits automatically. That was one time, and it wasn’t an incident anyway. Marie Antoinette thought it was fucking hilarious.

Alex knows for sure that Henry’s had plenty to drink himself when the corner of his mouth twitches and he quips, “Another time, perhaps,” before he strides off, leaving Alex gaping as he tries desperately not to imagine exactly what that would entail.

~~~~~

Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night and how late he was up, Alex wakes fairly early the next morning. He knows from experience that the rest of the court won’t show their faces until much later today, which means he can enjoy the solitude of the empty gardens as he strolls along finely graveled paths between carefully manicured hedges and sculpted trees. He lets his feet carry him aimlessly, trusting that he’ll be able to find his way back eventually and not really caring that much if he ends up late to some stupid event.

He’s certainly not expecting to encounter anyone else out here.

The quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel alerts him to the other person’s presence somewhere beyond the next turn. He could walk the other way, keep to himself and avoid the intruder on his thoughts, but he doesn’t. Alex keeps moving forward as the other footsteps approach him, until they meet at the juncture of two hedges, a statue of a cherub marking the intersection.

Henry.

He’s wearing a light blue coat with almost no decorative embroidery, which is subdued and boring and also makes his eyes shine with the pale, icy, breathtaking blue of the sky in midwinter. Without a wig, his golden blond hair looks absurdly soft as it flops over his forehead, and Alex catches himself wondering what it would feel like between his fingers before quickly closing the door on that. Jesus fuck, he’s got to stop thinking these things.

Especially since it’s clear Henry doesn’t care for his company either. The corner of his mouth pinches and his posture goes rigid, as it always does when he sees Alex, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to just keep walking. He does stop, though, inclining his head minutely in stiff politeness.

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Ambassador,” Alex returns, because he refuses to use Your Grace. “I hadn’t expected to meet anyone else out in the gardens this morning.”

“Yes, well,” Henry says in an odd tone. His eyes skitter away across the landscape and he tips his chin slightly. “Only part of this bloody place that’s tolerable, aren’t they?”

Alex blinks several times, sure he didn’t just hear that. Henry’s member of the aristocracy, born to this kind of bullshit; Alex never really considered that Henry might detest the opulence and artifice as much as he does, even though, looking back, it should have been obvious from the way he comports himself.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with this information.

“I’m glad to see you upright after your indulgences last night,” Henry adds, as if to prove he’s still a prick.

Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get anything out, a rumble of thunder cuts him off. The clouds have been thick all morning, but now they’re downright menacing, heavy and dark and foreboding of a storm. The kind of clouds that impress upon you a desire to get under cover with some speed; too bad they’re deep in the middle of the garden and Alex has no clue where the nearest shelter is. Hardly a moment later, a few fat drops of rain splatter down onto his shoulders and head. Henry turns a frown up at the clouds as dark spots appear on his pale coat.

And then the sky fucking opens.

It’s a pounding, torrential rain, the kind that soaks through layers of fine wool and linen within minutes so that you lose all hope of staying even a little dry. Still, one hardly wants to stand out in it. Alex spins aimlessly, wondering which way to run, when he feels a tug on his elbow and Henry is calling, “this way,” over the din.

Apparently, blindly following his bitter enemy is a thing he’s doing now.

They run, even though they’re both already drenched, and before too long they emerge from the woods next to a small octagonal building overlooking a lake—the Belvedere, sometimes used as a lounge when the Queen entertains guests out at Trianon. At the moment it’s empty save for a collection of couches, and they stumble in, dripping liberally all over the marble floors. Alex wastes no time before stripping off his coat and tossing it onto one of the lounges, silk pillows be damned, and he’s got his waistcoat halfway off when he hears a strangled noise from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks, a scandalized expression on his face. It’s irritating that even now, when he kind of looks like a wet dog with his blond hair plastered against his head, he’s still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Not particularly interested in standing around in soaking wet wool,” Alex huffs. At least if he gets his outer things off, his shirt might dry a bit while they wait out the storm. It’s not like he’s getting fucking naked.

Which is definitely not something he’s thinking about now.

“Apologies if I’m offending your delicate sensibilities, Your Majesty,” Alex sneers as he drapes his waistcoat over the back of the couch.

Henry’s cheeks have gone decidedly pink, and when Alex turns toward him fully, he looks away, crossing his arms over his chest and staring fixedly at the opposite wall. Outside, the rain continues to pour down, surrounding them with a dull hiss as it pounds on the roof and lashes against the windows.

“What is your grievance with me?” Henry asks eventually, sounding nothing so much as tired.

Alex stares at him. “Is that a joke? I’m American. Maybe you heard, we fought this whole war against you—”

“Not against me,” Henry interrupts firmly.

“Fine, your country. It makes no difference.”

“It bloody well does!” Henry snaps. He turns away again, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares out of one of the windows. “Did you ever think to ask me what my views were on American independence, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”

“What?”

“Of course not. You just assumed.”

“You’re a representative of the British government. Why wouldn’t I assume?” Alex thinks it’s a fair question. He knows Henry was a member of parliament before he became Ambassador. His family is exceedingly well-connected and highly placed in the government. It feels like a pretty fucking safe assumption.

Apparently not, though.

Henry gives him a withering look. “Oh, and I’m sure there was no dissension in the writing of your little Declaration, then?”

Alex bristles at ‘little Declaration’, but Henry unfortunately has a point. “Fine,” he grits out. “What’s your opinion on American independence, Ambassador?”

“I wasn’t the only one in Parliament who spoke against the prospect of an expensive and bloody war,” Henry says evenly, staring out the window again. “A few even genuinely believe in the principles of self-governance, as it turns out. We’ve had to be… cautious in expressing ourselves, of course. I happen to feel strongly that people should have a say in their own lives,” he adds, and somehow it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about government anymore. He lapses into silence, letting the sound of the rain fill up the space between them. Then the corner of his mouth tugs into a tiny smirk. “Thought we should have cut you lot loose ages ago, actually. Much more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Hey!” Alex exclaims, but it also shocks a laugh out of him. Which is… weird. He stares at Henry, trying to make all of this new information fit into a portrait he now realizes was startlingly incomplete. He thinks, a little distantly, that he kind of needs a whole new painting. “I’m sorry for assuming,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re always a prick to me.”

“You hate me, Alex,” Henry says flatly, his mouth going tight again, and something inside Alex turns over at the use of his given name. “Am I supposed to merely smile through the insults?”

Alex can’t help but wince. He wraps his arms around his waist, which he blames on the chill and not the way he’s feeling a little too vulnerable at the moment. Spring’s warmth seems to have abandoned them today, and the cold stone of the Belvedere is doing nothing to help, nor is the way his damp shirt is clinging to his skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly. He has a lot of conflicting feelings about Henry. Somehow hate has never been one of them. “I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“I’m not certain that’s better,” Henry says, an obvious wariness in his voice. 

Alex doesn’t really know what to say. He hugs his arms a little tighter around himself and shivers.

“For Christ’s sake, this is why you leave the wool on,” Henry huffs unexpectedly, and a moment later he’s crossing the room and grabbing Alex’s discarded coat. He stands right in front of Alex and reaches around him so that he can drape the coat over Alex’s back. “There,” he says as he tugs the fronts close by the lapels, then reaches up to smooth his hands across Alex’s shoulders.

It’s only then that Henry seems to notice their proximity, or the way he’s still holding onto Alex. Their eyes lock together, and a bolt of heat shoots down Alex’s spine that has nothing to do with the coat. A flush of pink blooms across Henry’s cheeks and his lips part slightly as he inhales, and then he starts pulling away, which is the very last thing Alex wants.

“Henry, wait,” he murmurs as one of his hands reaches out to snag the front of Henry’s coat almost of its own accord. Henry freezes. “Don’t… don’t go.”

Alex thinks of all the times he’s caught Henry staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. Of the way that Henry had said I didn’t say no one here interested me only last night. He looks searchingly up into his blue eyes now, dark and slaty in the low light, full of both trepidation and something like hunger.

“I can’t…” Henry starts, but his voice trails off. He lets himself be tugged in closer, his eyes dropping to Alex’s mouth. “We can’t,” he whispers.

“Fairly certain those aren’t words that are allowed in the Court of Versailles,” Alex quips softly.

He takes a step backward so that he’s leaning against the back of the couch, hoping that Henry will follow when Alex pulls him along. He doesn’t really want to think about the relief that surges through him when Henry does, nor how it feels when Henry lets Alex pull him so close that their hips are pressed together. One of his thighs slots between Alex’s, and Alex inhales sharply at the contact.

“Alex, please,” Henry murmurs tightly, his face tipped down toward Alex’s. Alex can’t tell if it’s please yes or please don’t.

“Shhh,” Alex hushes. He lets his grip go slack, but Henry doesn’t pull away. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

Henry closes his eyes and lets out a shuddery exhale, then he sways forward until their foreheads meet. Their noses press together, and Alex breathes in deeply, filling his senses with Henry. Who turns out to smell like wet wool—which is admittedly not great—but also like the cologne he wears and also something that reminds him of the spring air. Alex nudges forward, tipping his head slightly, until finally Henry closes the narrow gap between their lips and presses their mouths together.

Alex had always thought that if he were to end up kissing Henry, it would be rough and rushed. A battle, as much as their verbal sparring matches had always been, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. He never once imagined it could be like this, soft and syrupy slow, a languid give and take. One of Henry’s hands is clutched almost possessively at the nape of Alex’s neck, the other curled carefully around his jaw, and he takes his time mapping out Alex’s mouth as the kiss gets deeper and more heated, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

It’s a lot to take in, so Alex stops trying; he lets it wash over him, soaking into his bones as thoroughly as the rain had done. His chilled fingers move to Henry’s waistcoat, fumbling with the slippery buttons until he finally gets it open. He slides his hands underneath it, onto the dip of Henry’s waist, his hot skin searing through the thin linen shirt against Alex’s palm. Henry groans at the contact, his hips rocking forward against Alex’s, and the movement makes the depths of their mutual arousal all too clear.

Alex drops a hand to the front of Henry’s breeches and cups him through the wet fabric, which draws another ragged please from Henry’s throat as he presses into Alex’s palm. That one, at least, Alex is sure of. He flips them around so Henry’s pressed up against the back of the couch, then pulls back just enough to reach the buttons holding his fall-front breeches closed. Too many fucking buttons, actually, but he gets them undone, and then he’s tugging out the long tails of Henry’s shirt and dropping to his knees as he finally, finally gets a hand around Henry’s cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says without really meaning to, but it’s worth it for the way that it makes Henry shudder and tip his head back as he thrusts into Alex’s grip.

Henry’s knuckles are going white where his hands are tightly gripping the ornate scrollwork carved along the top of the couch, and Alex prises one off to bring it to his head instead. Henry’s fingers twine into his damp curls in a way that makes a hot jolt of arousal lance through Alex, and that’s new information he’s absolutely not going to think about later. Alex licks his lips in anticipation as he works his hand up and down the shaft of Henry’s cock, thumbing over the crown and grinning at Henry’s moan when he rubs at the sensitive spot on the underside.

“Have you ever—” Alex starts, though he can’t quite make himself say it. “With another man?”

Henry lets out a soft puff of laughter before he opens his eyes and looks down at him. “More than a few times.”

There’s something indescribably attractive about Henry’s confidence, in the idea that he’s experienced in something like this, but it does absolutely nothing for Alex’s nerves. He must not manage to keep them off his face, because the smirk on Henry’s lips softens.

“You haven’t,” he says. It’s not really a question. Alex just shakes his head, and Henry’s hand slides down to thumb tenderly along the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Alex says firmly. “I want you.” He swallows. Works his hand on Henry’s cock again just to see the way his eyelids flutter. “Want to feel you on my tongue. Want to taste you.”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry groans. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not just yet,” Alex says, then wraps his lips around Henry’s cock and slowly sinks forward.

It takes him a moment to get used to it, the weight on his tongue, the taste of his skin, the stretch of his jaw muscles as he moves. He carefully catalogs Henry’s reactions, every gasp and moan and shiver as he swirls his tongue or twists his wrist around what he can’t quite take in his mouth. Henry slowly falls apart under his ministrations, and it’s so unbelievably arousing that Alex is aching in his own breeches, unsure if the curses spilling from Henry’s lips in his posh accent or the way he says that’s good, Alex is doing it for him more.

Then Henry’s fingers close more tightly around his curls as his gasps reach a crescendo, which Alex only later realizes might have been intended as a warning; at the time it just makes Alex moan and try to take him deeper, and then Henry is spilling onto his tongue with a breathless, delirious laugh.

Henry’s chest is still heaving when he hooks his fingers into the front of Alex’s shirt and drags him up into a searing kiss. It’s hard and deep, Henry licking into his mouth and biting down on his lower lip, and it’s all Alex can do not to whimper into it. He’s never had a kiss that felt this all-consuming, like he’s been ignited from the inside and he doesn’t even care if it burns through him and leaves nothing but ash.

He barely realizes what’s happening when Henry grabs his hips and pushes back, manhandling him over to some kind of chaise longue that he only becomes aware of when his calves hit the edge of it and he collapses backward onto the seat.

“Hey, so, uh,” he says as Henry climbs over top of him, a predatory glint in his eye that absolutely does not make Alex’s cock throb. “When you said you weren’t not interested in anyone at the party…”

“Was I talking about you?” Henry finishes, giving him a look like it’s a stupid question.

Look, Alex knew it was a stupid question before it finished leaving his mouth. Still.

“Well, I dunno, maybe you have a list or something.”

Henry stops inches from his lips and glares down at him. “No, you rebellious miscreant, it’s only ever been you,” he says, then kisses him so thoroughly that Alex might actually forget how to speak.

Which is probably the point.

~~~~~

They’re seated next to each other at dinner that evening, which is probably Marie Antoinette’s idea of a joke. A day ago, Alex would have been annoyed beyond belief. Now, though, he knows what Henry looks like as he slowly comes apart. Now he knows what Henry’s lush lips look like wrapped around his cock.

What a difference a few hours makes.

Henry is standing stiffly next to his chair when Alex saunters up, his face perfectly composed in rigid formality as he inclines his head. “Good evening, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Your Grace,” Alex returns, pitching his voice to convey just the right balance of insolence and provocation.

Something flashes in Henry’s eyes, probably meant as a warning, but also suggesting that he might enjoy hearing it in a very different context, and also that he’d really like to drag Alex off into the nearest cupboard and do terrible things to him. Alex certainly understands the impulse. It’s been less than six hours since the Belvedere, and Alex still wants him so intensely that it’s nearly a physical ache. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, to tug that stupid wig off his head, to press his thumb to the corner of Henry’s mouth. Fuck.

Instead, he puts on his politician smile and turns to greet the person sitting on his other side, who turns out to be some Spanish princess. She does not seem very impressed with this arrangement—typical for royalty, really—but warms a bit once she realizes she can speak Spanish to him rather than the obligatory French. Alex and Henry spend most of the dinner seemingly ignoring each other and talking to the other guests seated around them. Seemingly, because Alex actually uses the cover of the table to variously press his knee to Henry’s, or hook their ankles together, or slide a hand high up onto Henry’s thigh and squeeze. The latter he does when Henry’s attention is turned away, and it makes Henry choke on his wine and direct a vicious glare at him, which Alex marks down as a victory.

Sometime during the third course, they find themselves both at liberty when the rest of their dinner companions become thoroughly wrapped up in other conversations. Henry is quite clearly trying to ignore him, which Alex just as obviously cannot allow to stand.

“Did you mean it?” Alex asks, his voice low but casual, so as not to draw any attention from those around them.

“What?” Henry asks as he slants a look toward Alex.

“When you said maybe I could fuck you another time.”

Henry’s fork slips out of his grip and clatters to the plate, and several sets of eyes turn toward him. His eyes are wide as he stares at Alex in shock, but there’s also something undeniably heated in his gaze. “You are, without a doubt, the worst person I’ve ever met,” he says flatly, loud enough to be overheard.

Alex can’t quite suppress his grin. It draws a few titters of laughter and whispers from the surrounding guests, most of whom are well aware of Alex and Henry’s mutual enmity. When nothing further comes of it, though, they return to their conversations.

“So is that a no?” Alex asks eventually, still smirking.

Henry glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. “Come to my chambers tonight,” he says crisply, as if they were going to be meeting about policy, “and we shall discuss the matter further.”

~~~~~

They don’t truly revisit the conversation until much later, when Henry is splayed out naked on top of the silk bedding and Alex is two fingers deep inside him. Well, they did cover the obvious question, but:

“The worst person you ever met, huh?” Alex says, pressing the words against the inside of Henry’s thigh.

“Are you really bringing this up now,” Henry huffs, exasperated.

“I dunno,” Alex says. He twists his fingers to reach the spot he’s discovered that makes Henry gasp and tremble. It’s been an enlightening experience so far. “What you really think of me seems relevant.”

“I think,” Henry gets out tightly, “that you’re stubborn—”

Alex bites down on the tender skin at the crease of his hip.

“—opinionated—”

A slow lick up the length of his shaft.

“—arrogant—”

A hot breath, ghosting over the crown.

“—uncouth—”

Alex curls his fingers, and Henry whimpers as his spine arches up off the bed.

“—and if you don’t get inside me right now, I’m going to stonewall all of your treaty negotiations for the next month.”

Alex laughs softly as he withdraws his fingers and climbs up the bed, seeking out the oil to slick himself up. “Oh, well then, how could I refuse?” he returns, grinning at the look of desperation on Henry’s face when he teases the head of his cock at his rim. “You’ve got a real honeyed tongue there, sweetheart. Know how to make a boy feel special.”

Henry gets a hand behind his neck in an iron grip and drags him down into a kiss, digging his heels into the back of Alex’s thighs until Alex is sinking into the tight heat of his body. It’s a lot more intense than he thought it would be, and he makes an embarrassing punched-out sound at the sensation of Henry utterly surrounding him.

And that’s before Henry releases his neck, looks up at him with his face impossibly gorgeous and undone, and murmurs, “I also think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

It’s too much, like the first kiss in the Belvedere was too much; Alex knows how to handle the verbal sparring, the familiarity of traded insults, even in the middle of sex. He doesn’t know what to do with the strange twisting in his chest at Henry’s words, with the knot that’s lodged in his throat. They’re not— this isn’t—

He lets Henry pull him into another kiss, lets the give and take of their bodies quiet his spiraling thoughts, until there is only Henry’s hands in his hair, and the cut of his teeth against Alex’s lip, and the roll of their hips together in perfect, earth-shattering harmony.

~~~~~

Alex needs to go. He needs to get out of this bed, get dressed, and go to his own chambers. It’s not as though people stumbling out of others’ apartments is an unusual sight in the palace during one of these weekends, but if he were to be seen leaving Henry’s—

Well. The rumors wouldn’t stay quiet for long, of that he’s certain.

Instead he curls a little closer against Henry’s side, presses a kiss to his shoulder. That’s probably too much, too, but Henry just hums softly, a small, blissful smile curving his lips. Somehow, Alex thinks he’s even more beautiful in this moment than he’s ever been before.

“So,” Alex says eventually, “when we get back to Paris…”

They both live there, not even that far away from each other. They could…

He doesn’t know what. Have some kind of sordid, illicit affair? What would that mean for their lives? Their occupations? It’d be messy. Dangerous. A terrifically, catastrophically stupid idea.

A little crease forms between Henry’s brows as he frowns, and for a moment Alex fears that he’s misread everything. Maybe this was never supposed to leave Versailles. Alex doesn’t know what’s even possible for them to have outside these walls, but he also doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to what they were before now that he’s had this.

“It seems to me,” Henry says carefully, “that there should be ample opportunity for… improving diplomatic relations when we return?”

There’s a beat of silence before Alex can’t choke back the laugh bubbling out of his chest any longer, and the smile that’s been slowly pushing its way onto Henry’s lips finally breaks free. Then they’re both dissolving into giggles, and Alex is grinning like an idiot when Henry pulls him into another lingering kiss.

Yeah. Worst idea he’s ever had.

[darkmaga-retard]

By Llewellyn H. Rockwell, Jr.

August 19, 2024

The term “revisionism” came into use after World War I, when historians like Harry Elmer Barnes, Sidney Bradshaw Fay, and Charles Austin Beard challenged Article 231 of the Treaty of Versailles, which assigned exclusive guilt to Germany and its Kaiser for the outbreak of the world war, with all its appalling destruction and massacres, It was on the basis of that clause that the Treaty imposed on Germany a Carthaginian peace, memorably condemned by J.M. Keynes in The Economic Consequences of the Peace.

Barnes and Fay felt a sense of betrayal. They had been roped into Woodrow Wilson’s crusade to “make the world safe for democracy” by the Committee on Public Information, headed by George Creel, and a similar body that coordinated the work of American historians. Now they saw the error of their ways.

World War I and the ensuing “peace” settlement paved the way for Hitler. The German people’s justified resentment over their harsh treatment led to demands to undo the Versailles verdict. The great libertarian historian Ralph Raico provides a horrifying example of Allied atrocities: “During the pre-armistice negotiations, Wilson insisted that the conditions of any armistice had to be such ‘as to make a renewal of hostilities on the part of Germany impossible.’ Accordingly, the Germans surrendered their battle fleet and submarines, some 1,700 airplanes, 5,000 artillery, 30,000 machine guns, and other materiel, while the Allies occupied the Rhineland and the Rhine bridgeheads. Germany was now defenseless, dependent on Wilson and the Allies keeping their word.

Yet the hunger blockade continued, and was even expanded, as the Allies gained control of the German Baltic coast and banned even fishing boats. The point was reached where the commander of the British army of occupation demanded of London that food be sent to the famished Germans. His troops could no longer stand the sight of hungry German children rummaging in the rubbish bins of the British camps for food Still, food was only allowed to enter Germany in March 1919, and the blockade of raw materials continued until the Germans signed the Treaty.”

Let’s look at another example of revisionist history, World War II. The war led to even more appalling massacres than World War I, but we were told at the time that America needed to enter the war to prevent Hitler from invading America. Our lying textbooks and the mass media repeat this lie to this day.

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

WW2 German Wehrmacht (Luftwaffe+Fallschirmjäger)

Disclaimed: This Content Is For Education Only, No Political Stuff Intended..

DOWNLOAD

One of My Patreon Request.. Man That was hella of Worked out there Since This Particular Wehrmacht Branch 3D Models Quite Hard To Found... but hey Atleast I Did It.. so Enjoy..

Wehrmacht Luftwaffe was the aerial-warfare branch of the German Wehrmacht before and during World War II. Germany's military air arms during World War I, the Luftstreitkräfte of the Imperial Army and the Marine-Fliegerabteilung of the Imperial Navy, had been disbanded in May 1920 in accordance with the terms of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles which banned Germany from having any air force.

Meanwhile The Fallschirmjäger  were the paratrooper branch of the German Luftwaffe before and during World War II. They were the first German paratroopers to be committed in large-scale airborne operations. Throughout World War II, the commander of the branch was Kurt Student.

Luftwaffe

Luftwaffe Officer

(Contain Officer Uniform & Officer Schirmmütze Field Cap)

-1 Color Swatches (Uniform & Cap)

-Age Range:Teen-Elder

-Category: Costume (Uniform), Cap (Schirmmütze)

-Custom Thumbnail

Luftwaffe Pilot

(Contain The Pilot uniform & LKpW101 Flying Helmet)

-1 Color Swatches (Uniform & Helmet)

-Age Range:Teen-Elder

-Category: Costume (Uniform), Brimless (LKpW101)

-Custom Thumbnail

Fallschirmjäger

Fallschirmjäger Soldaten Splittertarnmuster 31

Fallschirmjäger Soldier Equipped With Early Phase Of War Splittertarnmuster Camo that Later Applied on Luftwaffe Branch. Also Known As "Splinter A"

-2 Color Swatches (Uniform, Consist Of Light and More Darker Version of Camo),

1 Helmet (Official Luftwaffe M38 Helmet With Luftwaffe Insignia)

-Age Range:Teen-Elder

-Category: Costume (Uniform), Brimless (M38 Helmet)

-Custom Thumbnail

Fallschirmjäger Soldaten Splittertarnmuster 41

Fallschirmjäger Soldier Equipped With Late  Phase Of War Splittertarnmuster Camo  Also Known As "Splinter B"

-2 Color Swatches (Uniform, Consist Of Light and More Darker Version of Camo),  

1 Helmet (Official Luftwaffe M38 Helmet With Luftwaffe & National Decal Insignia)  -Age Range:Teen-Elder   

-Category: Costume (Uniform), Brimless (M38 Helmet)   

-Custom Thumbnail

[amerthehammer]

The Struggle of Conviction: A Pro-Israeli Voice in an all-Palestinian Family

The Struggle of Conviction: A Pro-Israeli Voice in an all-Palestinian Family

Date: October 16, 2023

In the midst of today's turbulent events, I feel compelled to share my deeply personal journey. At 34 years old, recently marking my 34th birthday, I reflect upon a life born into a devout Islamic Palestinian family. A life where the value of unity was instilled in me from an early age, but as time passed, it became increasingly apparent that my beliefs were evolving differently.

Interestingly, I developed a strong affinity for Christmas over the years – a holiday imbued with the magic of shimmering lights, grand trees, and endless decorating possibilities. This was a stark contrast to my Islamic upbringing, where Christmas had no place, and festively adorned trees were nowhere to be found. Yet, year after year, just outside my window, I would see my neighbors' beautifully adorned Christmas tree. Returning to school after the Christmas break, my friends and classmates would eagerly share their holiday experiences and gifts, while I silently grappled with the absence of such celebrations in my life. It was a challenge, but with time, I learned to adapt.

I certainly didn't fit the mold of the ideal Muslim. Failing to observe the fast-during Ramadan, for instance, led to a cascade of judgment and shame. From my earliest memories, my mother fervently impressed upon me the dire consequences of not meeting specific religious requirements, warning of eternal damnation. Within my family, an unspoken consensus had taken hold: I wasn't just destined for hell, but I was headed for its deepest depths. Neglecting to pray five times a day or to observe the fast, as my family believed, was seen as falling short of God's expectations. After enduring a ceaseless stream of such admonitions, I began to internalize them.

It was only after receiving a cancer diagnosis that I realized the futility of striving to meet my parents' religious expectations. I had to come to terms with the understanding that winning that battle was an impossibility. In those challenging moments, a mentor's words echoed in my mind: "Choose Life," inspired by the 1996 British black comedy-drama film "Trainspotting," directed by Danny Boyle. The day I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, alongside a tumor in my chest, I found myself in a hospital room, surrounded by Palestinians, my parents, and a host of relatives – some of whom I hadn't seen in years and others I had never met. It was in this pivotal moment that I made a defining decision.

In that hospital room, weighed down by my circumstances, I confidently marked the "Judaism" box under religion on the form. This form would pass through various hands, and the reactions I encountered in response to my choice were nothing short of bewildering. While judgmental looks were cast my way, I met them with a radiant smile.

In summary, my journey has led me to remission and well-being, but it has also exposed me to deep-seated prejudices within my family against Jewish people. Over the years, I've overheard my parents and relatives expressing derogatory remarks about Jewish individuals, suggesting that they were in defiance of God and deserving of their misfortunes. Growing up, Jews were often portrayed as an ominous presence, lurking like a shadow in the background. It was only when I learned about the Holocaust that I realized the long-standing fear-driven narrative that had persisted for generations.

Even before I had the opportunity to study World War II in school, I would question my father about Hitler and his actions. The explanations were consistently simplified: "The Jews were blamed for economic hardships, and people were suffering. What else could have happened?" This narrative conveniently omitted any reference to the complex historical context, including World War I and the Treaty of Versailles.

As I delved deeper into the history of World War I, I made a disconcerting discovery: the "stabbed in the back myth" had not faded into obscurity but had found a contemporary resurgence. This myth centered on the belief that the German Army's defeat in the First World War didn't occur on the battlefield but resulted from betrayal by communists, socialists, and Jewish individuals on the home front.

What struck me as profoundly unsettling was that, this time, it was my own parents who were articulating these beliefs. Though I could never fully comprehend the depth of this hatred, as someone who has endured bullying in life, I can empathize with the emotions involved. However, I firmly acknowledge that there's no valid comparison between the struggles I've faced and the enduring hardships that the Jewish community has historically and continues to endure.

With recent events in Israel on October 7th, I found myself grappling with a sense of shame regarding my Palestinian heritage. The scenes I witnessed were deeply distressing, with Hamas involved in brutal acts against innocent men, women, and children. The chilling cries of "God is great" in Arabic only added to the anguish. This experience has reinforced my belief that it is often the self-proclaimed "god-fearing" individuals who, paradoxically, perpetrate the most harm.

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict transcends mere territorial disputes; it is profoundly rooted in religious differences. It has evolved into a religious war between Muslims and Jews, each side fervently asserting their faith. I've long perceived Islam as a demanding faith, one that places a continuous emphasis on submission to God. Growing up, I couldn't help but envy my Christian friends who appeared to have a less burdensome religious experience – attending church once a week and joyfully celebrating Christmas. It seemed as though they faced fewer challenges compared to my upbringing in a devout Islamic household, leaving me with the impression that they received more for less.

In conclusion, I find myself standing alone in my perspective, firmly believing that the Jews have a rightful claim to Israel, especially after the horrors of the Holocaust. While some may argue that the land belongs to the Palestinians, history suggests otherwise. Following the fall of the Ottoman Empire, Palestine fell under British rule. While the British made promises to both sides, the only promise that materialized was the creation of Israel. It's a historical fact. I've never shared my family's abhorrent antisemitic views, and I never will. I stand in solidarity with the Jewish people of Israel; they deserve their homeland, unequivocally. These words may draw criticism and hostility, but I'm undeterred. Antisemitism must be eradicated, and Palestinians must confront the historical reality.

[honesty-my-policy]

How Germany became Nazis a warning to the world: Part One

I've been doing a lot of reading on WWII and how the Nazis came into power. How the German people came to have a new moral and ethics code that made things like the Holocaust seem, not necessarily right but inescapable if they wanted to survive - not against the Nazis, no, against the forces around them that wanted the great German people destroyed.

None of this was just suddenly done either. This was carefully engineered in a country prime for radicalism. The 1930s in Germany were ripe for someone like Adolf Hitler and an ideology like Nazism. Germany also has a deep history of antisemitism that helped to speed up the turn against their Jewish neighbors.

Martin Luther the Catholic reformer was highly anti-Semitic, publishing a work titled "The Jews & their Lies" which called for the burning of synagogues, schools and to cover with dirt whatever will not burn. Houses should also be razed and destroyed according to Luther, he advised that they all be put under a single roof such as a barn so that they are constantly aware they are not the master in "our" country (not direct quotes). There is plenty more but I'll stop there. 1, 2,

The German history of autocracy helped with the removal of personal freedom as well. It wasn't until the loss of WWI that there was a form of government besides an Empire (Official/Historical start of Germany 1002-1918). Following WWI the Weimar Republic of Germany had to deal with the fallout of WWI which meant the people had no faith or trust in them from the beginning, their first impression of a government besides a monarchy was incredibly poor. They also were terrified of communism or known better at the time Bolshevism as Soviet Russia was also a big fear militarily of Germany.

It didn't help at all that the Allied powers who won WWI forced Germany to sign the Treaty of Versailles which Germany had no chance to negotiate the terms of before it was signed. The treaty itself had 440 articles laying out terms just for Germany's punishment and the biggest hit to the German people wasn't the $55 billion in reparations to be paid to the allies, the loss of land or even disarmament forced by the allies. No the 'War Guilt Clause' that made Germany accept full blame for the outbreak of war caused the biggest amount of turmoil among the German people - it gave them shame beyond just losing the war. 1, 2, 3,

Sure, economic collapse after the war due to the reparations that led to the Mark (German currency) eventually maxing out at trillions to a single USD helped contribute a lot but the people were desperate for a savior beyond money, they wanted to be proud Germans again. In fact, many saviors popped up and never managed to stick around or make good on the promises they made.

So, what made Adolf Hitler stand out or change peoples opinions of him from their first impression which wasn't very good. Most people initially found him repulsive in appearance, presentation and politics but history now focuses on the hoards of crowds that surrounded him like Beatle-mania.

Well, he appealed to the German people themselves, he wasn't a politician by trade. He spoke like them, he had been in the army during WWI, had felt the way the general public felt before, during and after the events. Not only that but he was very nationalistic.

I want to note the difference here between Nationalism and Patriotism because there is a big difference.

Nationalism has a superiority complex, belief that ones nation is superior to others, is less tolerant to outsiders or those of other nationalities and can be aggressive. There is one single National Identity that you must conform to.

Patriotism is passive by nature, you love your nation and country but have no inclination that other nations or anyone from another nation is lesser for being from another nation. Patriotism involves social conditioning and the ability to have personal opinions.

Now that that has been covered, let's go back to how Germany got here. Losing WWI, which their government did nothing to prepare their people for, in fact the Germany people were made to believe they were winning the war up until the very last second, even the troops at war were of this belief. It was such a hard pill to swallow that they came up with a lie, a myth to belief instead of accepting they had been defeated; "The stab in the back" was attributed to, guess who? The Jews. Proven an entire lie but was eaten up by the public as they had been so unprepared to lose that they'd rather accept a lie than face the truth.

So, the German People were shamed for losing a war they lost by a stab in the back - this is what they believed. Not only this but they now had to pay the winners in reparations which caused the economy to crash, people were jobless, they had no allies. Germany was in ruins.

If someone tells you while you are in this low of a place that you, yes, you! Are the descendant of the Gods and those who have wronged you are merely doing so to keep you and the mighty Volk (people in German) from reaching your true potential, would this not stoke an inner flame of pride? Something you hadn't felt in so long?

Before you scoff at it, put yourself in their shoes, before the internet or even television was readily available. The radio was the best you got. I am not justifying anything by the way, I'm putting the actions in context because an entire nation becoming Nazis is no small feat.

Adolf Hitler gave the German people a purpose, pride and power. However, in doing so he created the Mythos of Aryan vs the lesser. If you are descended from Gods, well, Gods must be good right? So, who or what is evil? Remember the history of antisemitism runs deep in Germany? Well, despite them being less than 1% of the population in Germany, the Jews became the embodiment of evil, no one else was pointed out so harshly because if the Aryan were the symbol or people that were pure good, descended from Gods, then Jews were the opposite and had come to corrupt the Germans.

Sure, there were others that they persecuted. Gays, though, only homosexual males; lesbians were seen as a problem of not having enough men to satisfy the female population and left well enough alone as it would solve itself. Slavs and Roma who were also ranked lowest on the totem pole were to be ruled over by the Germans. Anyone not purely German of course was lesser. But Jews, somehow, created every bad thing in the world and were to be exterminated. Sure, the others if they died it didn't matter but Jews? They had to die.

Capitalism? Jews. Communism? Jews. Loss of WWI? Jews. Economy collapse? Jews. He didn't get into art school? Jews. Too many Jews owned too much residential and retail property? It's cause the Jews want to take over Germany! Why don't the Jews assimilate into German Society? To take control of Germany!

These thoughts didn't exist in a bubble though, Hitler didn't come from a vacuum nor did his thoughts or his ideology.

I'll continue this in another post as I feel most people won't bother reading this far. If you have, stay tuned.

TO BE CONTINUED (see read more for extra references)

bibliography (for those who don't know what that is - books or content i've consumed to learn what i'm saying)

The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany by William L. Shirer (my copy published in 1981)

Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler (bits of it - will sit down to read it all one day)

The Nazis and the Supernatural: The Occult Secrets of Hitler's Evil Empire by Michael Fitzgerald

The Nazi Conscience by Claudia Koonz

The Rest is History Podcast: Series on the Nazis in Power + Martin Luther + Numbers 291 & 295

The Bloody Origin of the Weimar Republic (Documentary)

FASCISM: An In-Depth Explanation

An Ideology That Conquered the World

Rise of the Nazis (Docuseries)

Hitler's Circle of Evil (Docuseries)

Hitler and the Nazis: Evil on Trial (Docuseries)

Hitler the Rise of Evil (Docuseries)

Nuremberg uncensored footage of Concentration Camps - CONTENT WARNING! Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp - Footage from Liberation (colorized & restored) // Original Reels U.S. Army Versions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + German versions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 + U.S. High Commissioner Versions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 // Nazi Concentration Camp footage compilation (I think it has been restored some) link

WW2 "Nuremberg" U.S. Army Restored Film - link

more will be added as I remember + consume them.

[warsofasoiaf]

Why were the Germans so successful against Russia in WW1, but failed in WW2?

There's plenty of reasons.

Soviet morale and willingness to fight in World War 2 was much higher than Tsarist Russia's morale in the First World War. The Soviets had been betrayed by their ally Hitler and invaded, and believed (not without reason given his rhetoric on Slavic people and Bolshevism) that Hitler had every intent to exterminate them, and so viewed the war as a matter of existential survival. By contrast, the Imperial Russian army was poorly motivated, not believing that a war to invade German soil was necessary for the survival of Russia.

Speaking of, the distances travelled in the First World War were far more modest. By the high-water mark of Operation Barbarossa, the Nazis were deep into the Soviet Union's territory, giving the Soviets home advantages and exacerbating the German supply lines. In the First World War, the battle lines for the Kaiserreich's Eastern Front were in modern day Poland and the Baltics, a far shorter distance which meant a far lighter logistical load.

By the end, the Bolsheviks were so weary for peace, and needing the resources to fight the Whites in the Russian Civil War that they were willing to accept the harsh terms of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, but they lucked out when the Entente was able to force a withdrawal from those lands following the Treaty of Versailles.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[mapsontheweb]

Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, 1918.

by theflagmapguy_2.0

The Treaty of Brest-Litovsk (also known as the Treaty of Brest in Russia) was a separate peace treaty signed on 3 March 1918 between Russia and the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire), that ended Russia's participation in World War I. The treaty was signed at German-controlled Brest-Litovsk (Polish: Brześć Litewski; since 1945, Brest, now in modern Belarus), after two months of negotiations. The treaty was agreed upon by the Russians to stop further invasion. As a result of the treaty, Soviet Russia defaulted on all of Imperial Russia's commitments to the Allies and eleven nations became independent in eastern Europe and western Asia. Under the treaty, Russia lost nearly all of Ukraine, Russia also lost its three Baltic republics such as Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia (so called Baltic governorates in Russian Empire), and these three Baltic republics became German vassal states under German princelings. Russia also ceded its province of Kars in the South Caucasus to the Ottoman Empire, and recognized the independence of Ukraine. According to historian Spencer Tucker, "The German General Staff had formulated extraordinarily harsh terms that shocked even the German negotiator." Congress Poland was not mentioned in the treaty, as Germans refused to recognize the existence of any Polish representatives, which in turn led to Polish protests. When Germans later complained that the 1919 Treaty of Versailles against Germany was too harsh on them, the Allied Powers responded that it was more benign than the terms imposed by the Brest-Litovsk treaty.

[whencyclopedia]

The Causes of WWII

The origins of the Second World War (1939-45) may be traced back to the harsh peace settlement of the First World War (1914-18) and the economic crisis of the 1930s, while more immediate causes were the aggressive invasions of their neighbours by Germany, Italy, and Japan. A weak and divided Europe, an isolationist USA, and an opportunistic USSR were all intent on peace, but the policy of appeasement only delivered what everyone most feared: another long and terrible world war.

The main causes of WWII were:

The harsh Treaty of Versailles

The economic crisis of the 1930s

The rise of fascism

Germany's rearmament

The cult of Adolf Hitler

The policy of appeasement by Western powers

Treaties of mutual interest between Axis Powers

Lack of treaties between the Allies

The territorial expansion of Germany, Italy, and Japan

The Nazi-Soviet Pact

The invasion of Poland in September 1939

The Japanese attack on the US naval base at Pearl Harbour

Treaty of Versailles

Germany was defeated in the First World War, and the victors established harsh terms to ensure that some of the costs of the war were recuperated and to prevent Germany from becoming a future threat. With European economies and populations greatly damaged by the war, the victors were in no mood to be lenient since Germany had almost won and its industry was still intact. Germany remained a dangerous state. However, Britain and France did not want a totally punitive settlement, as this might lead to lasting resentment and make Germany unable to become a valuable market for exports.

The peace terms were set out in the Treaty of Versailles, signed by all parties except the USSR on 28 June 1919. The Rhineland must be demilitarised to act as a buffer zone between Germany and France. All colonies and the Saar, a coal-rich area of western Germany, were removed from German authority. Poland was given the industrial area of Upper Silesia and a corridor to the sea, which included Danzig (Gdánsk) and cut off East Prussia from the rest of Germany. France regained the regions of Alsace and Lorraine. Germany had to pay war reparations to France and Belgium. Germany had limits on its armed forces and could not build tanks, aircraft, submarines, or battleships. Finally, Germany was to accept complete responsibility, that is the guilt, for starting the war. Many Germans viewed the peace terms as highly dishonourable.

The settlement established nine new countries in Eastern Europe, a recipe for instability since all of them disputed their borders, and many contained large minority groups who claimed to be part of another country. Germany, Italy, and Russia, once powerful again after the heavy costs of WWI, looked upon these fledgling states with imperialist envy.

In the 1920s, Germany signed two important treaties. The Locarno Treaty of 1925 guaranteed Germany's western borders but allowed some scope for change in the east. The 1928 Kellogg-Briand Pact was signed by 56 countries. All the major powers promised not to conduct foreign policy using military means. In 1929, Germany's reparations as stipulated by the Treaty of Versailles were reduced from £6.6 million to £2 million. In 1932, the reparations were cancelled altogether. This was all very promising, but through the 1930s, the complex web of European diplomacy began to quickly unravel in a climate of economic decline.

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[lonelygirl-am]

War Zone

I’m a pin pulled grenade waiting to blow until I get in your airspace

A fresh face solider praying for a ceasefire before I have to aim my gun

My heart is the bargaining piece in this Treaty of Versailles

Waiting for you to agree to the terms of engagement feels like an eternity, waiting for your terms seems like an even longer one

My unanswered questions in my head are louder than the gun shots I around me

Boiling under my skin, my rage begins to turn like a stormy sea

You drag your feet more making me closer to throwing my grenade

When do I get to lay my weapons down and lay with you?

[theaudientvoid]

It really is amazing how big a paradigm shift World War II was in terms of, like, one side loosing a war and not getting absolutely fucked over. Like, the Germans and Japanese were defeated by the Western Allies, and then immediately got brought into the alliance. Just a generation earlier, the Germans got completely fucked over by the treaty of Versailles, which lead directly to World War II. There was a faction in the US State Department that wanted Versailles 2.0, and can you imagine if they had got their way? The West would have lost the cold war. The West Germans were the ones who would have done the bulk of the fighting in the event that the cold war went hot, and therefore were responsible for a large part of deterring that from happening.