The new air-power was justly esteemed a revolutionary factor in all operations. Considering the comparatively small numbers of aircraft available on either side at this time, its effects were even exaggerated, and were held in the main to favour the defensive by hampering the concentrations and communications of great armies once launched in attack. Even the period of the French mobilisation was regarded by the French High Command as most critical on account of the possible destruction of railway centres, although the numbers of German aircraft, like those of the Allies, were far too few for such a task. These thoughts expressed by Air Chiefs followed correct lines, and were justified in the later years of the war, when the air strength had grown ten- or twenty-fold. At the outbreak they were premature.
It is a joke in Britain to say that the War Office is always preparing for the last war. But this is probably true of other departments and of other countries, and it was certainly true of the French Army. I also rested under the impression of the superior power of the defensive provided it were actively conducted. I had neither the responsibility nor the continuous information to make a new measurement. I knew that the carnage of the previous war had bitten deeply into the soul of the French people. The Germans had been given the time to build the Siegfried Line. How frightful to hurl the remaining manhood of France against this wall of fire and concrete! In my mind’s outlook in the opening months of this Second World War I did not dissent from the general view about the defensive, and I believed that anti-tank obstacles and field guns, cleverly posted and with suitable ammunition, could frustrate or break up tanks except in darkness or fog, real or artificial.
In the problems which the Almighty sets his humble servants things hardly ever happen the same way twice over, or if they seem to do so there is some variant which stultifies undue generalisation. The human mind, except when guided by extraordinary genius, cannot surmount the established conclusions amid which it has been reared. Yet we are to see, after eight months of inactivity on both sides, the Hitler inrush of a vast offensive, led by spear-point masses of cannon-proof or heavily-armoured vehicles, breaking up all defensive opposition, and for the first time for centuries, and even perhaps since the invention of gunpowder, making artillery for a while almost impotent on the battlefield. We are also to see that the increase of fire-power made the actual battles less bloody by enabling the necessary ground to be held with very small numbers of men, thus offering a far smaller human target.
Anyway, the earliest date at which the French could have mounted a big attack was perhaps at the end of the third week of September. But by that time the Polish campaign had ended. By mid-October the Germans had seventy divisions on the Western Front. The fleeting French numerical superiority in the West was passing. A French offensive from their eastern frontier would have denuded their far more vital northern front. Even if an initial success had been gained by the French armies at the outset, within a month they would have had extreme difficulty in maintaining their conquests in the east, and would have been exposed to the whole force of the German counter-stroke to the north.
This is the answer to the question “Why remain passive till Poland was destroyed?” But this battle had been lost some years before. In 1938 there was a good chance of victory while Czechoslovakia still existed. In 1936 there could have been no effective opposition. In 1933 a rescript from Geneva would have procured bloodless compliance. General Gamelin cannot be the only one to blame because in 1939 he did not run the risks which had so enormously increased since the previous crises, from which both the French and British Governments had recoiled.
What then were the probabilities of a German offensive against France? There were of course three methods open. First, invasion through Switzerland. This might turn the southern flank of the Maginot Line, but had many geographical and strategic difficulties. Secondly, invasion of France across the common frontier. This appeared unlikely, as the German Army was not believed to be fully equipped or armed for a heavy attack on the Maginot Line. And, thirdly, invasion of France through Holland and Belgium. This would turn the Maginot Line, and would not entail the losses likely to be sustained in a frontal attack against permanent fortifications. We could not meet an onslaught through the Low Countries so far forward as Holland, but it would be in the Allied interest to stem it, if possible, in Belgium, and at this period there were two lines to which the Allies could advance if they chose to come to her succour, or which they could occupy by a well-planned secret and sudden scheme, if so invited. The first of these lines was what may be called the line of the Scheldt. This was no great march from the French frontier and involved little serious risk. At the worst it would do no harm to hold it as a “false front”. At the best it might be built up according to events. The second line was far more ambitious. It followed the Meuse through Givet, Dinant, and Namur by Louvain to Antwerp. If this adventurous line was seized by the Allies and held in hard battles the German right-handed swing of invasion would be heavily checked; and if their armies were proved inferior it would be an admirable prelude to the entry and control of the vital centre of Germany’s munitions production in the Ruhr.
“We understand,” wrote the Chiefs of Staff, “that the French idea* is that, provided the Belgians are still holding out on the Meuse, the French and British Armies should occupy the line Givet-Namur, the British Expeditionary Force operating on the left. We consider it would be unsound to adopt this plan unless plans are concerted with the Belgians for the occupation of this line in sufficient time before the Germans advance.… Unless the present Belgian attitude alters and plans can be prepared for early occupation of the Givet-Namur [also called Meuse-Antwerp] line, we are strongly of opinion that the German advance should be met in prepared positions on the French frontier.”
The Allied Supreme Council met in Paris on November 17. Mr. Chamberlain took with him Lord Halifax, Lord Chatfield, and Sir Kingsley Wood. The decision was taken: “Given the importance of holding the German forces as far east as possible, it is essential to make every endeavour to hold the line Meuse-Antwerp in the event of a German invasion of Belgium.” At this meeting Mr. Chamberlain and M. Daladier insisted on the importance which they attached to this resolution, and thereafter it governed action. In this posture therefore we passed the winter and awaited the spring. No new decisions of strategic principle were taken by the French and British Staffs or by their Governments in the six months which lay between us and the German onslaught.
Diagram of SCHELDT LINE and, MEUSE – ANTWERP LINE
During the winter and spring the B.E.F. were extremely busy setting themselves to rights, fortifying their line and preparing for war, whether offensive or defensive. From the highest rank to the lowest all were hard at it, and the good showing that they eventually made was due largely to the full use made of the opportunities provided during the winter. The British was a far better army at the end of the “Twilight War”. It was also larger. But the awful gap, reflecting on our pre-war arrangements, was the absence of even one armoured division in the British Expeditionary Force. Britain, the cradle of the tank in all its variants, had between the wars so far neglected the development of this weapon, soon to dominate the battlefields, that eight months after the declaration of war our small but good Army had only with it, when the hour of trial arrived, the 1st Army Tank Brigade, comprising 17 light tanks and 100 “Infantry” tanks. Only 23 of the latter carried even the 2-pdr. gun, the rest machine-guns only. There were also seven cavalry and Yeomanry regiments equipped with carriers and light tanks which were in process of being formed into two light armoured brigades.
Developments on the French front were less satisfactory. In a great national conscript force the mood of the people is closely reflected in its Army, the more so when that Army is quartered in the homeland and contacts are close. It cannot be said that France in 1939–40 viewed the war with uprising spirit, or even with much confidence. The restless internal politics of the past decade had bred disunity and discontents. Imp
ortant elements, in reaction to growing Communism, had swung towards Fascism, lending a ready ear to Goebbels’ skilful propaganda and passing it on in gossip and rumour. So also in the Army the disintegration influences of both Communism and Fascism were at work; the long winter months of waiting gave time and opportunity for the poisons to be established.
Very many factors go to the building up of sound morale in an army, but one of the greatest is that the men be fully employed at useful and interesting work. Idleness is a dangerous breeding-ground. Throughout the winter there were many tasks that needed doing: training demanded continuous attention; defences were far from satisfactory or complete—even the Maginot Line lacked many supplementary field works; physical fitness demands exercise. Yet visitors to the French front were often struck by the prevailing atmosphere of calm aloofness, by the seemingly poor quality of the work in hand, by the lack of visible activity of any kind. The emptiness of the roads behind the line was in great contrast to the continual coming and going which extended for miles behind the British sector.
There can be no doubt that the quality of the French Army was allowed to deteriorate during the winter, and that it would have fought better in the autumn than in the spring. Soon it was to be stunned by the swiftness and violence of the German assault. It was not until the last phases of that brief campaign that the true fighting qualities of the French soldier rose uppermost in defence of his country against the age-long enemy. But then it was too late.
On January 10, 1940, anxieties about the Western Front received confirmation. A German staff major of the 7th Air Division had been ordered to take some documents to headquarters in Cologne. He missed his train and decided to fly. His machine overshot the mark and made a forced landing in Belgium, where Belgian troops arrested him and impounded his papers, which he tried desperately to destroy. These contained the entire and actual scheme for the invasion of Belgium, Holland, and France on which Hitler had resolved. Shortly the German major was released to explain matters to his superiors. I was told about all this at the time, and it seemed to me incredible that the Belgians would not make a plan to invite us in. But they did nothing about it. It was argued in all three countries concerned that probably it was a plant. But this could not be true. There could be no sense in the Germans trying to make the Belgians believe that they were going to attack them in the near future. This might make them do the very last thing the Germans wanted, namely, make a plan with the French and British Armies to come forward privily and quickly one fine night. I therefore believed in the impending attack.
We appealed to Belgium, but the Belgian King and his Army staff merely waited, hoping that all would turn out well. In spite of the German major’s papers no further action of any kind was taken by the Allies or the threatened States. Hitler, on the other hand, as we know, summoned Goering to his presence, and on being told that the captured papers were in fact the complete plans for invasion, ordered, after venting his anger, new variants to be prepared. Of course, if British and French policy during the five years preceding the war had been of a manly and resolute character, within the sanctity of treaties and the approval of the League of Nations, Belgium might have adhered to her old allies and allowed a common front to be formed. Such an alliance properly organised would have erected a shield along the Belgian frontier to the sea against that terrible turning movement which had nearly compassed our destruction in 1914 and was to play its part in the ruin of France in 1940. At the worst Belgium could have suffered no harder fate than actually befell her. When we recall the aloofness of the United States; Mr. Ramsay MacDonald’s campaign for the disarmament of France; the repeated rebuffs and humiliations which we had accepted in the various German breaches of the Disarmament Clauses of the Treaty; our submission to the German violation of the Rhineland; our acquiescence in the absorption of Austria; our pact at Munich and acceptance of the German occupation of Prague—when we recall all this, no man in Britain or France who in those years was responsible for public action has a right to blame Belgium. In a period of vacillation and appeasement the Belgians clung to neutrality, and vainly comforted themselves with the belief that they could hold the German invader on their fortified frontiers until the British and French Armies could come to their aid.
CHAPTER XX
SCANDINAVIA. FINLAND
THE thousand-mile-long peninsula stretching from the mouth of the Baltic to the Arctic Circle had an immense strategic significance. The Norwegian mountains run into the ocean in a continuous fringe of islands. Between these islands and the mainland there was a corridor in territorial waters through which Germany could communicate with the outer sea to the grievous injury of our blockade. German war industry was mainly based upon supplies of Swedish iron ore, which in the summer were drawn from the Swedish port of Luleä, at the head of the Gulf of Bothnia, and in the winter, when this was frozen, from Narvik, on the west coast of Norway. To respect the “Leads,” as these sheltered waters were called, would be to allow the whole of this traffic to proceed under the shield of neutrality in the face of our superior sea-power. The Admiralty Staff were seriously perturbed at this important advantage being presented to Germany, and at the earliest opportunity I raised the issue in the Cabinet.
At first the reception of my case was favourable. All my colleagues were deeply impressed with the evil; but strict respect for the neutrality of small States was a principle of conduct to which we all adhered. In September, at the invitation of my colleagues, and after the whole subject had been minutely examined at the Admiralty, I drafted a paper for the Cabinet upon this subject, and on the chartering of neutral tonnage, which was linked with it. Again there was general agreement upon the need; but I was unable to obtain assent to action. The Foreign Office arguments about neutrality were weighty, and I could not prevail. I continued, as will be seen, to press my point by every means and on all occasions. It was not however until April 1940 that the decision that I asked for in September 1939 was taken. By that time it was too late.
Almost at this very moment, as we now know, German eyes were turned in the same direction. On October 3 Admiral Raeder, Chief of the Naval Staff, submitted a proposal to Hitler headed “Gaining of Bases in Norway.” He asked, “That the Fuehrer be informed as soon as possible of the opinions of the Naval War Staff on the possibilities of extending the operational base to the north. It must be ascertained whether it is possible to gain bases in Norway under the combined pressure of Russia and Germany, with the aim of improving our strategic and operational position.” He framed therefore a series of notes, which he placed before Hitler on October 10. “In these notes,” he wrote, “I stressed the disadvantages which an occupation of Norway by the British would have for us: the control of the approaches to the Baltic, the outflanking of our naval operations and of our air attacks on Britain, the end of our pressure on Sweden. I also stressed the advantages for us of the occupation of the Norwegian coast: outlet to the North Atlantic, no possibility of a British mine barrier, as in the year 1917–18.”
RUSSIAN ATTACK ON FINLAND. December 1939
Rosenberg, the foreign affairs expert of the Nazi Party, and in charge of a special bureau to deal with propaganda activities in foreign countries, shared the Admiral’s view. He dreamed of “converting Scandinavia to the idea of a Nordic community embracing the northern peoples under the natural leadership of Germany”. Early in 1939 he thought he had discovered an instrument in the extreme Nationalist Party in Norway, which was led by a former Norwegian Minister of War named Vidkun Quisling. Contacts were established, and Quisling’s activity was linked with the plans of the German Naval Staff through Rosenberg’s organisation and the German Naval Attaché in Oslo. Quisling and his assistant, Hagelin, went to Berlin on December 14, and were taken by Raeder to Hitler, to discuss a political stroke in Norway. Quisling arrived with a detailed plan. Hitler, careful of secrecy, affected reluctance to increase his commitments, and said he would prefer a neutral Scandinavia. Nevertheless, according to Raede
r, it was on this very day that he gave the order to the Supreme Command to prepare for a Norwegian Operation.
Of all this we of course knew nothing.
Meanwhile the Scandinavian peninsula became the scene of an unexpected conflict which aroused strong feeling in Britain and France and powerfully affected the discussion about Norway. Stalin’s “Mutual Assistance Pacts” with Esthonia, Latvia, and Lithuania had already led to the occupation and ruin of those countries, and the Red Army and Air Force now blocked the lines of entry into the Soviet Union from the west, so far, at any rate, as the Baltic route was concerned. There remained only the approach through Finland.
Early in October Mr. Paasikivi, one of the Finnish statesmen who had signed the peace of 1921 with the Soviet Union, went to Moscow. The Soviet demands were sweeping: the Finnish frontier on the Karelian Isthmus must be moved back a considerable distance so as to remove Leningrad from the range of hostile artillery. The cession of certain Finnish islands in the Gulf of Finland; the lease of Finland’s only ice-free port in the Arctic Sea, Petsamo; and, above all, the leasing of the port of Hango, at the entrance of the Gulf of Finland, as a Russian naval and air base. The Finns were prepared to make concessions on every point except the last. With the keys of the Gulf in Russian hands the strategic and national security of Finland seemed to them to vanish. The negotiations broke down on November 13, and the Finnish Government began to mobilise. On November 28 Molotov denounced the Non-Aggression Pact between Finland and Russia; two days later the Russians attacked at eight points along Finland’s thousand-mile frontier, and on the same morning the capital, Helsing-fors, was bombed by the Red Air Force.
The Second World War Page 26
