Chapter 4
June The Russian Factor
In June 1941 the German ground forces coiled for the greatest onslaught in the history of warfare. Last to arrive, in May and June, were the elements whose presence was most difficult to conceal: the motorized and armored divisions that formed the three great wedges to be driven into the heart of the Soviet Union, eight in the north directed at Leningrad, sixteen in the center at Moscow, and thirteen in the south at the rich agricultural and industrial region of the Ukraine and Don basin. The primary front (excluding Finland) from the Baltic to the Black Sea stretched about as far as from Chicago to New Orleans but would widen by half again as the armies moved deeper into Russia. Arrayed on this front by June 22 were 149 German divisions, two-thirds of the strength of the German army, numbering three million men, 3,350 tanks, and 2,770 planes. Providing transport were not only 600,000 motor vehicles but also 625,000 horses, indicating the great difference in mobility between the fast forces and the follow-up infantry.1
American and indeed all foreign observers were aware that a climax was approaching, but they remained divided almost until the last moment over whether the outcome would be Soviet submission to German demands or war. Readers of MAGIC traffic translated on June 6 would learn of Ambassador Ōshima’s conviction that the German army was an “irresistible force” capable of an “annihilating movement against the Russian Army.” War was not a certainty, Ribbentrop told Ōshima cautiously on June 3, and then continued more candidly that, if Japan needed to make preparations, it should do so as fast as possible. The attitude of the Soviets had become more antagonistic lately, he explained, even to the point of an armed clash at the mouth of the Danube; they seemed to be waiting for the Reich to fail. Once Germany had defeated the Soviet Union and gained undisputed control of all Europe, it would be untouchable by Britain and the United States. Even in terms of the war against Britain, Rib-bentrop concluded, it was “imperative that the Soviet Union be beaten down now.”2
“The Nazi March Across the Continent”: New York Times, July 6, 1941.
Indeed, reported Ōshima on June 4, both Hitler and the Reich foreign minister had told him, as a matter of “gravest secrecy,” that in all probability war with Russia could not be avoided. Hitler had given him advance notice of the Norway and western front offensives in 1940, Ōshima pointed out June 14 in a message decrypted June 16, so his word could be counted on now respecting the “apparently imminent” surprise attack on Russia. The Rumanian army had mobilized, Hitler had returned to Berlin, and the chief of staff of the armed forces and commander-in-chief of the army had left for the eastern front.3
The British were settling now on the correct conclusion. The American embassy in London reported on June 11 that Eden at first had thought the German troop concentrations were blackmail, but, taking into account the Luftwaffe transfers, he concluded that Germany would attack under any circumstances. The next day Bletchley Park, the code and cipher department of the British government, located northwest of London, between Oxford and Cambridge, apparently decrypting the same Japanese messages as MAGIC, provided an account of Hitler’s interview with Ōshima which finally convinced the British Joint Intelligence Committee that “Germany intended to turn on Russia” regardless.4
The American government, lacking any adequate, let alone unified, system for evaluating intelligence, remained uncertain until the last minute. Much intelligence was out of date by the time it arrived. Reports from the American embassy in Berlin sent in the diplomatic pouch, for example, took a month or more. American diplomats in Europe with their limited sources continued to sway back and forth between the possibilities of German attack and intimidation, war and appeasement. By June 12 the Moscow embassy leaned to the idea of attack, but June 19 it passed on a rumor that secret negotiations were taking place in Berlin. The embassy in Berlin on June 8 found “impressive evidence” for an attack within a fortnight, but on June 21 it retailed rumors from all sides that a German ultimatum was forthcoming in the next two days. On June 7, Stockholm passed on a report of an attack in ten days, and on June 9 another that Germans were then laying down their terms in Moscow. Bucharest believed that Germany presented an ultimatum of extreme demands June 6. Rome, Budapest, and Sofia all reported rumors of a giant Soviet-German deal in the making. The Vatican, however, was understood to be expecting an attack. Both the Japanese and American governments, engaged in exploratory conversations with each other, anxiously queried their diplomatic posts respecting German-Russian negotiations.5
According to Lord Halifax, Welles regarded reports of a forthcoming attack as a German way of terrorizing the Soviets into submission. On June 10 he summarized Washington reports that indicated either the “imminence of hostilities, or, alternatively, of Russian surrender to Germany.” To Berle on June 19 a climax seemed near. The Germans believed they could take Russia without fighting but he was not sure they could: the Russians must understand that the German object was to destroy Stalin and his regime, and that it was a case of fight or die. Stimson leaned the other way. On June 17 he wrote in his diary that it was nip and tuck whether Russia would fight or surrender, and “of course I think the chances are that she will surrender.”6
As the climax approached, the Department of State carefully considered the position it should take. Currently Soviet-American relations were cold and distant. The Welles-Oumansky talks had marked out some common ground but also hardened disagreements, as on questions relating to the Soviet takeover of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, Soviet trade with Germany, and Soviet access to American strategic goods and materials. On June 14 the United States froze the assets in America of Germany, Italy, occupied European countries, and European neutrals including the Soviet Union, explaining that the last was included because of the “interrelationship of international financial transactions” but could be freed again by assurances that the funds would not benefit Germany and Italy. The Soviet Union charged discrimination; the United States denied it. The point was clear, however, as the day of reckoning approached that the United States was not inclined to favor the Soviet Union and would retaliate in case of further Soviet-German collaboration.7
For Ambassador Steinhardt and the European Division of the Department of State this was precisely the correct position to take. The professional diplomats, who had hardy suspicions of all things Soviet, found the effort to improve relations entirely wrong-headed. Conciliation of the bear only made him hungrier; appeasement signified weakness. Soviet policy toward Germany was governed by fear of the German army, and no American concession could change that. Soviet psychology, Steinhardt warned, “recognized only firmness, power and force and reflects primitive instincts and reactions entirely devoid of the restraints of civilization.” Assuming no Soviet surrender to German blackmail occurred, which the United States could not in any case prevent, then the ambassador believed the Soviets would turn to the United States anyway to escape their folly. Only firmness and aloofness would maintain American prestige at Moscow and “prepare the ground for the important developments with which we will be ultimately confronted.”8
Specifically this policy meant treating the Soviet Union on a reciprocal basis, making no approaches, responding to Soviet approaches with reserve, avoiding concessions of principle or for the sake of atmosphere, and in general indicating that improvement in relations was as important, if not more important, to the Soviet Union as it was to the United States. The policy was immediately relevant to conversations in London between Eden and Ambassador Maisky, which indicated a British willingness to recognize Soviet claims to the Baltic states. Welles warned Halifax on June 15 against weakening the moral principle involved and in response to the ambassador’s inquiry said that it was impossible for the United States to determine what assistance it might render if Germany attacked the Soviet Union.9
The Department of State was also moving to correct its position with regard to Japan. One obvious reason was that the Hull-Nomura talks were getting nowhere.
The United States had finally set forth its position May 31 in a redraft of the Matsuoka proposals of May 12, which in turn were a redraft of the Walsh-Drought paper of April 14. The American draft conceded nothing of significance to the Japanese. They would have to state explicitly that the Axis pact did not apply in cases of self-defense, that is, if the United States became involved with Germany in the Atlantic. American assistance to Britain was not banned, as in the Japanese draft. The United States would “suggest,” not “forthwith request,” that the Chiang regime negotiate peace and was not obliged to withhold aid to China if Chiang refused. In the American draft the question of stationing Japanese troops in parts of China after a peace treaty was left for further discussion. The United States was not required to renew its trade treaty with Japan. Japan, however, would have to pledge that its “controlling” (not simply its “declared”) policy was the maintenance of peace in the Pacific (not just in the southwest Pacific). The Americans desired explicit reference to the principle of non-discrimination in trade. The status of Manchukuo (Manchuria) was left for “amicable negotiation.”10
During the next three weeks Japanese and American negotiators met eight times to explore their differences and made no progress whatsoever in resolving them. On the contrary, by June 21 disagreement seemed broader and more intractable. Once Hull and Nomura met alone, occasionally they met with their associates, more often the associates met without the principals. Increasing use of regular diplomatic personnel on both sides—in effect bureaucratizing the discussions—introduced greater precision and continuity but also had the effect of more sharply registering disagreements and multiplying the number of issues. Efforts were made to shade differences by eliminating clauses, removing them to annexes, or rewording them; but no matter how the words were squeezed and massaged, the problems remained.
The most sensitive problem was the relationship of both powers to the European war. Japanese officials, Colonel Iwakuro for one, freely admitted that the “tenor” of any Japanese interpretation of its alliance obligations was bound to be affected by the fact of any agreement concluded with the United States, but they were adamant in their refusal, and so instructed, to permit any language explicitly weakening the tie. Consequently the United States would have to take on faith that Japan would not declare war on the United States if the United States became engaged in war with Germany. Less salient for the moment but no more tractable was the problem of ending the war in China. To the extent that the United States was prepared to engage in that task, to the point of urging or pressing a settlement on China, it required terms it could support, and it was not prepared to support peacetime Japanese garrisons in China or, in these circumstances, to assist in legitimating the Japanese conquest of Manchuria.
It was not simply a case of circling back over the same ground: new issues arose and dormant ones took on new life. The American side began to complain about Japanese restrictions on American business in China and to harp on the need for specific statements of adherence to the principle of non-discrimination in trade. Questions were raised about how far Japan would go in support of its puppet regime at Nanking in the making and implementation of peace with the government at Chungking. The Japanese, mentioning the possible American use of Singapore, urged a statement renouncing acquisition of new military bases. The Americans replied that, if the Japanese considered this a matter distinct from any renunciation of territorial designs, then indeed a new and serious question had been raised.11 Hull spoke of the need for “clear-cut and unequivocal terms,” a contradiction of the way diplomacy usually, and Japanese diplomacy always, worked. He noted a steady winnowing of the advances made in the original scheme of April. Most important, Hull himself began wondering aloud about the sincerity of the Japanese in pursuing the negotiations. That was a concern, he told Nomura, “in the light of the loud statements which Matsuoka and others were daily making” about Japan’s indissoluble ties with the Axis.12
Unquestionably negotiation of Japanese-American conflicts was a formidable task. Progress, however, depended on damping disagreement not broadening it, so here external influences as well as inherent difficulties must have been obstructing the path. These are not difficult to find. One factor was the declining value of the Hull-Nomura talks in driving a wedge between Japan and its alliance partners as compared with the rising embarrassment they were causing for America’s own partnerships. Publicity and pointed questions led to promises of consultation and loss of flexibility on the American side. In a MAGIC intercept read on May 26, Matsuoka assured Berlin that the alliance was the cornerstone of Imperial policy. His vehement protestations of fidelity to the alliance raised the question whether it was worth continuing the talks so long as he was foreign minister, especially since Ambassador Grew was reporting that serious differences existed between the stormy petrel and Prime Minister Konoe.13
Another factor was disturbing information that the Japanese southward advance was about to be resumed. On June 17 a MAGIC decrypt showed that Japan was seeking German help in forcing Vichy to grant it air and sea bases in southern Indochina. These included, according to a decrypt of June 19, Saigon and the excellent harbor at Cam Ranh Bay as well as Hue, Nhatrang, Soctrang, Kompontrach, Siemriep, and Pnompenh. Alongside a disclaimer of any intention to invade the area, Tokyo said it would “take whatever measures might be necessary” to secure its aims.14 This harbinger of further aggression came on the heels of a Dutch rebuff to Japan over Indonesian oil. On June 7, Batavia politely but firmly refused to grant Japan special privileges and more oil, ending protracted negotiations. Grew reported that Japanese extremists under German influence were demanding that Japan take strong action in response.15 By now Americans firmly held that negotiation in the context of aggression was appeasement.
The approaching German-Soviet climax provided further reasons for disengagement with the Japanese. A pact of Soviet submission would heighten the aura of appeasement surrounding any Japanese-American agreement. Soviet-German war would bring more complex disadvantages, which were put to paper shortly after June 22 but in all probability influenced thinking beforehand. Maxwell Hamilton, chief of the Far Eastern Division, wrote that of course by freeing Japan from concern about a Soviet threat, war could accelerate the southward advance, turning any Japanese-American agreement into a scrap of paper. The alternative thesis, which enjoyed greater favor, was that Japan might join Germany in attacking the Soviets, which would make unnecessary an agreement aimed at preventing Japan’s southward advance and contradict the agreement’s pledge to maintain peace in the Pacific.
Walter Adams, assistant chief of the Far Eastern Division, carried this latter argument a big step further. Any advantage the United States might secure in keeping peace in the south while Japan attacked in the north would be offset, he contended, by the resulting weakening of Soviet resistance. If the American interest lay in defeating “the forces of aggression as a whole,” this nation should seek to “immobilize Japan both as regards an attack upon Siberia and as regards an attack against Singapore or the Dutch East Indies.” The best policy was to exhibit the same reserve toward Japan as the European Division was recommending toward the Soviet Union, though for different reasons. In this instance the object would be to deter a Siberian attack by rendering Japan “uncertain in regard to the intentions of the United States in the South Pacific.”16 That line of advice would gain increasing currency. All advice pointed toward putting diplomacy in abeyance.
Secretary Hull called Ambassador Nomura to this apartment June 21 on the eve of the German attack on Russia, handed him a statement and a rewrite of the May 31 draft agreement and proceeded to attack the Japanese foreign minister for supporting German aggression. His message here and in the statement was that the insistence by Matsuoka and the pro-Axis faction on Japan’s fulfillment of its alliance obligations was making it impossible to achieve a Japanese-American settlement. In the statement and revised draft the American position was shuttered and padlocked. The secretary of st
ate had reluctantly concluded, the statement ended, that the United States “must await some clearer indication than has yet been given that the Japanese Government as a whole desires to pursue courses of peace.…”17 It was not a break-off; the Japanese were invited to continue. The targeting of a faction within the other government was unusual in diplomacy but the move produced what was intended, a tidy position, a pause, and the placing on Japan of the burden of moving onward.
The United States, no less than other nations, sensed that summer would bring great events which could shift the foundations of policy. Having positioned itself to widen its choices, it cleared the decks and waited.
Germany attacked the Soviet Union before dawn on June 22, 1941. Three giant wedges of armored and motorized forces, with 1,500 tanks in the center wedge and 600 on each side, punched through Soviet frontier defenses and soon were streaking across the plains of eastern Poland and the western marches of Russia. Panzer columns often advanced fifty or sixty miles a day, leaping 250 miles to Minsk and 200 miles to the Dvina, halfway to Leningrad, in the first five days. The center drove northeastward, one Panzer group the size of an army on either side of the straight road to Moscow, circling, smashing, and plunging foward in one double envelopment after another. In the first month they reached to within 130 miles of Moscow. The Russians lost over 2,000 aircraft in the first two days. North, south, and center the Russian fronts disintegrated, yielding hundreds of thousands of prisoners. At the rate of advance in the first month it was hard to imagine the survival of the Soviet Union until fall.18
Threshold of War Page 13
