But Hitler showed no interest in it. He had, he said, no further message for Mr. Chamberlain. It was now up to the Czechs. They could accept or reject his demands. If they rejected them, he shouted angrily, “I shall destroy Czechoslovakia!” He kept repeating the threat with obvious relish.
Apparently that was too much even for the accommodating Wilson, who rose to his feet and said, “In that case, I am entrusted by the Prime Minister to make the following statement: ‘If France, in fulfillment of her treaty obligations, should become actively engaged in hostilities against Germany, the United Kingdom would feel obliged to support France.’”
“I can only take note of that position,” Hitler replied with some heat. “It means that if France elects to attack Germany, England will feel obliged to attack her also.”
When Sir Horace replied that he had not said that, that it was up to Hitler, after all, whether there would be peace or war, the Fuehrer, working himself up by now to a fine lather, shouted, “If France and England strike, let them do so! It’s a matter of complete indifference to me. Today is Tuesday; by next Monday we shall be at war.”
According to Schmidt’s official notes on the meeting, Wilson apparently wished to continue the conversation, but was advised by Ambassador Henderson to desist. This did not prevent the inexperienced special envoy from getting in a word with the Fuehrer alone as the meeting broke up. “I shall try to make these Czechs sensible,”* he assured Hitler, and the latter replied that he “would welcome that.” Perhaps, the Fuehrer must have thought, Chamberlain could still be coaxed to go further in making the Czechs “sensible.” That evening, in fact, he sat down and dictated to the Prime Minister a shrewdly worded letter.
There were well-grounded reasons for writing it. Much had happened in Berlin—and elsewhere—during that day, September 27.
At 1 P.M., shortly after Wilson’s departure, Hitler issued a “most secret” order directing assault units comprising some twenty-one reinforced regiments, or seven divisions, to move forward from their training areas to the jumping-off points on the Czech frontier. “They must be ready,” said the order, “to begin action against ‘Green’ on September 30, the decision having been made one day previously by twelve noon.” A few hours later a further concealed mobilization was ordered by the Fuehrer. Among other measures, five new divisions were mobilized for the west.59
But even as Hitler went ahead with his military moves, there were developments during the day which made him hesitate. In order to stir up some war fever among the populace Hitler ordered a parade of a motorized division through the capital at dusk—an hour when hundreds of thousands of Berliners would be pouring out of their offices onto the streets. It turned out to be a terrible fiasco—at least for the Supreme Commander. The good people of Berlin simply did not want to be reminded of war. In my diary that night I noted down the surprising scene.
I went out to the corner of the Linden where the column [of troops] was turning down the Wilhelmstrasse, expecting to see a tremendous demonstration. I pictured the scenes I had read of in 1914 when the cheering throngs on this same street tossed flowers at the marching soldiers, and the girls ran up and kissed them … But today they ducked into the subways, refused to look on, and the handful that did stood at the curb in utter silence … It has been the most striking demonstration against war I’ve ever seen.
At the urging of a policeman I walked down the Wilhelmstrasse to the Reichskanzlerplatz, where Hitler stood on a balcony of the Chancellery reviewing the troops.
… There weren’t two hundred people there. Hitler looked grim, then angry, and soon went inside, leaving his troops to parade by unreviewed. What I’ve seen tonight almost rekindles a little faith in the German people. They are dead set against war.
Within the Chancellery there was further bad news—this from abroad. There was a dispatch from Budapest saying that Yugoslavia and Rumania had informed the Hungarian government that they would move against Hungary militarily if she attacked Czechoslovakia. That would spread the war to the Balkans, something Hitler did not want.
The news from Paris was graver. From the German military attaché there came a telegram marked “Very Urgent” and addressed not only to the Foreign Ministry but to OKW and the General Staff. It warned that France’s partial mobilization was so much like a total one “that I reckon with the completion of the deployment of the first 65 divisions on the German frontier by the sixth day of mobilization.” Against such a force the Germans had, as Hitler knew, barely a dozen divisions, half of them reserve units of doubtful value. Furthermore, wired the German military attaché, “it appears probable that in the event of belligerent measures by Germany … an immediate attack will take place, in all probability from Lower Alsace and from Lorraine in the direction of Mainz.”
Finally, this German officer informed Berlin, the Italians were doing absolutely nothing to pin down French troops on the Franco–Italian frontier.60 Mussolini, the valiant ally, seemed to be letting Hitler down in a crucial hour.
And then, the President of the United States and the King of Sweden were butting in. The day before, on the twenty-sixth, Roosevelt had addressed an appeal to Hitler to help keep the peace, and though Hitler had answered it within twenty-four hours, saying that peace depended solely on the Czechs, there came another message from the American President during the course of this day, Wednesday the twenty-seventh, suggesting an immediate conference of all the nations directly interested and implying that if war broke out the world would hold Hitler responsible.61
The King of Sweden, staunch friend of Germany, as he had proved during the 1914–18 war, was more frank. During the afternoon a dispatch arrived in Berlin from the German minister in Stockholm saying that the King had hastily summoned him and told him that unless Hitler extended his time limit of October 1 by ten days world war would inevitably break out, Germany would be solely to blame for it and moreover just as inevitably would lose it “in view of the present combination of the Powers.” In the cool, neutral air of Stockholm, the shrewd King was able to assess at least the military situation more objectively than the heads of government in Berlin, London and Paris.
President Roosevelt, as perhaps was necessary in view of American sentiment, had weakened his two appeals for peace by stressing that the United States would not intervene in a war nor even assume any obligations “in the conduct of the present negotiations.” The German ambassador in Washington, Hans Dieckhoff, therefore thought it necessary to get off a “very urgent” cable to Berlin during the day. He warned that if Hitler resorted to force and was opposed by Britain he had reason to assume “that the whole weight of the United States [would] be thrown into the scale on the side of Britain.” And the ambassador, usually a timid man when it came to standing up to the Fuehrer, added, “I consider it my duty to emphasize this very strongly.” He did not want the German government to stumble into the same mistaken assumptions it had made about America in 1914.
And Prague? Was there any sign of weakening there? In the evening came a telegram from Colonel Toussaint, the German military attaché, to OKW: “Calm in Prague. Last mobilization measures carried out … Total estimated call-up is 1,000,000; field army 800,000 …”62 That was as many trained men as Germany had for two fronts. Together the Czechs and the French outnumbered the Germans by more than two to one.
Faced with these facts and developments and no doubt mindful of Wilson’s parting words and of Chamberlain’s character and of Chamberlain’s utter fear of war, Hitler sat down early on that evening of September 27 to dictate a letter to the Prime Minister. Dr. Schmidt, who was called in to translate it into English, got the feeling that the dictator was shrinking back “from the extreme step.” Whether Hitler knew that the order was going out that evening for the mobilization of the British fleet cannot be established. Admiral Raeder arranged to see the Fuehrer at 10 P.M., and it is possible that the German Navy learned of the British move, which was made at 8 P.M. and publicly announced at 11:38 P.M., a
nd that Raeder informed Hitler by telephone. At any rate, when the Admiral arrived he appealed to the Fuehrer not to go to war.
What Hitler did know at this moment was that Prague was defiant, Paris rapidly mobilizing, London stiffening, his own people apathetic, his leading generals dead against him, and that his ultimatum on the Godesberg proposals expired at 2 P.M. the next day.
His letter was beautifully calculated to appeal to Chamberlain. Moderate in tone, it denied that his proposals would “rob Czechoslovakia of every guarantee of its existence” or that his troops would fail to stop at the demarcation lines. He was ready to negotiate details with the Czechs; he was ready to “give a formal guarantee for the remainder of Czechoslovakia.” The Czechs were holding out simply because they hoped, with the help of England and France, to start a European war. Nevertheless, he did not slam the door on the last hopes of peace.
I must leave it to your judgment [he concluded] whether, in view of these facts, you consider that you should continue your effort … to spoil such maneuvers and bring the Government in Prague to reason at the very last hour.63
THE ELEVENTH HOUR
Hitler’s letter, telegraphed urgently to London, reached Chamberlain at 10:30 on the night of September 27. It came at the end of a busy day for the Prime Minister.
The disquieting news which Sir Horace Wilson, who arrived in London early in the afternoon, brought from his second conference with Hitler spurred Chamberlain and his inner cabinet to action. It was decided to mobilize the fleet, call up the Auxiliary Air Force and declare a state of emergency. Already trenches were being dug in the parks and squares for protection against bombing, and the evacuation of London’s school children had begun.
Also, the Prime Minister promptly sent off a message to President Beneš in Prague warning that his information from Berlin “makes it clear that the German Army will receive orders to cross the Czechoslovak frontier immediately if, by tomorrow [September 28] at 2 P.M. the Czechoslovak Government have not accepted the German conditions.” But having honorably warned the Czechs, Chamberlain could not refrain from admonishing them, in the last part of his message, “that Bohemia would be overrun by the German Army and nothing which another Power or Powers could do would be able to save your country and your people from such a fate. This remains true whatever the result of a world war might be.”
Thus Chamberlain was putting the responsibility for peace or war no longer on Hitler but on Beneš. And he was giving a military opinion which even the German generals, as we have seen, held as irresponsible. However, he did add, at the end of his message, that he would not assume the responsibility of telling the Czechs what they must now do. It was up to them.
But was it? Beneš had not had time to reply to the telegram when a second one arrived in which Chamberlain did endeavor to tell the Czech government what to do. He proposed that the Czechs accept a limited German military occupation on October 1—of Egerland and Asch, outside the Czech fortifications—and that a German–Czech–British boundary commission then quickly establish the rest of the areas to be turned over to the Germans.* And the Prime Minister added a further warning:
The only alternative to this plan would be an invasion and a dismemberment of the country by force, and Czechoslovakia, though a conflict might arise which would lead to incalculable loss of life, could not be reconstituted in her frontiers whatever the result of the conflict may be.64
The Czechs were thus warned by their friends (France associated herself with these latest proposals) that even if they and their allies defeated the Germans in a war, Czechoslovakia would have to give up the Sudetenland to Germany. The inference was plain: Why plunge Europe into a war, since the Sudetenland is lost to you anyway?
This business out of the way, the Prime Minister broadcast to the nation at 8:30 P.M.:
How horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that we should be digging trenches … here because of a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing! …
Hitler had got the “substance of what he wanted.” Britain had offered to guarantee that the Czechs would accept it and carry it out.
I would not hesitate to pay even a third visit to Germany if I thought it would do any good …
However much we may sympathize with a small nation confronted by a big and powerful neighbor, we cannot in all circumstances undertake to involve the whole British Empire in a war simply on her account. If we have to fight it must be on larger issues than that …
I am myself a man of peace to the very depths of my soul. Armed conflict between nations is a nightmare to me; but, if I were convinced that any nation had made up its mind to dominate the world by fear of force, I should feel that it must be resisted. Under such a domination, life for people who believe in liberty would not be worth living; but war is a fearful thing, and we must be very clear, before we embark on it, that it is really the great issues that are at stake.
Wheeler-Bennett has recorded that after listening to this broadcast most people in Britain went to bed that night believing that Britain and Germany would be at war within twenty-four hours.65 But the good people did not know what was happening at Downing Street still later that evening.
At 10:30 P.M. came Hitler’s letter. It was a straw which the Prime Minister eagerly grasped. To the Fuehrer he replied:
After reading your letter, I feel certain that you can get all essentials without war, and without delay. I am ready to come to Berlin myself at once to discuss arrangements for transfer with you and representatives of the Czech Government, together with representatives of France and Italy, if you desire. I feel convinced we can reach agreement in a week. I cannot believe that you will take responsibility of starting a world war which may end civilization for the sake of a few days delay in settling this long-standing problem.66
A telegram also went out to Mussolini asking him to urge the Fuehrer’s acceptance of this plan and to agree to being represented at the suggested meeting.
The idea of a conference had been in the back of the Prime Minister’s mind for some time. As far back as July, Sir Nevile Henderson had suggested it on his own in a dispatch to London. He had proposed that four powers, Germany, Italy, Britain and France, settle the Sudeten problem. But both the ambassador and the Prime Minister had been reminded by the British Foreign Office that it would be difficult to exclude other powers from participating in such a conference.67 The “other powers” were Russia, which had a pact of mutual assistance with Prague, and Czechoslovakia. Chamberlain had returned from Godesberg convinced—quite correctly—that Hitler would never consent to any meeting which included the Soviet Union. Nor did the Prime Minister himself desire the presence of the Russians. Though it was obvious to the smallest mind in Britain that in case of war with Germany, Soviet participation on the side of the West would be of immense value, as Churchill repeatedly tried to point out to the head of the British government, this was a view which seems to have escaped the Prime Minister. He had, as we have seen, turned down the Russian proposal for a conference after the Anschluss to discuss means of opposing further German aggression. Despite Moscow’s guarantee to Czechoslovakia and the fact that right up to this moment Litvinov was proclaiming that Russia would honor it, Chamberlain had no intention of allowing the Soviets to interfere with his resolve to keep the peace by giving Hitler the Sudetenland.
But until Wednesday, September 28, he had not yet gone so far in his thinking as to exclude the Czechs from a conference. Indeed, on the twenty-fifth, after Prague had rejected Hitler’s Godesberg demands, the Prime Minister had called in Jan Masaryk, the Czech ambassador in London, and proposed that Czechoslovakia should agree to negotiations at “an international conference in which Germany, Czechoslovakia and other powers could participate.” On the following day the Czech government had accepted the idea. And, as we have just seen, in his message to Hitler late on the night of the twenty-seventh Chamberlain had specified that “representatives of Czechoslovakia” should be included in h
is proposed conference of Germany, Italy, France and Great Britain.
“BLACK WEDNESDAY” AND THE HALDER PLOT AGAINST HITLER
Deep gloom hung over Berlin, Prague, London and Paris as “Black Wednesday,” September 28, dawned. War seemed inevitable.
“A Great War can hardly be avoided any longer,” Jodl quoted Goering as saying that morning. “It may last seven years, and we will win it.”68
In London the digging of trenches, the evacuation of school children, the emptying of hospitals, continued. In Paris there was a scramble for the choked trains leaving the city, and the motor traffic out of the capital was jammed. There were similar scenes in western Germany. Jodl jotted in his diary that morning reports of German refugees fleeing from the border regions. At 2 P.M. Hitler’s time limit for Czechoslovakia’s acceptance of the Godesberg proposals would run out. There was no sign from Prague that they would be accepted. There were, however, certain other signs: great activity in the Wilhelmstrasse; a frantic coming and going of the French, British and Italian ambassadors. But of these the general public and indeed the German generals remained ignorant.
The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich Page 64
