The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany (78 page)
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Authors: William L. Shirer
The information he brought on the evening of September 5 to Sir Horace Wilson, Chamberlain’s confidential adviser, seemed so important and urgent that this official spirited him by a back way to Downing Street and the chambers of the British Foreign Secretary. There he bluntly informed Lord Halifax that Hitler was planning to order a general mobilization on September 16, that the attack on Czechoslovakia had been fixed for October 1 at the latest, that the German Army was preparing to strike against Hitler the moment the final order for attack was given and that it would succeed if Britain and France held firm. Halifax was also warned that Hitler’s speech closing the Nuremberg Party Rally on September 12 would be explosive and might precipitate a showdown over Czechoslovakia and that that would be the moment for Britain to stand up against the dictator.
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Kordt, too, despite his continuous personal contact with Downing Street and his frankness on this occasion with the Foreign Secretary, did not know what was in the London wind. But he got a good idea, as did everyone else, two days later, on September 7, when the
Times
of London published a famous leader:
It might be worth while for the Czechoslovak Government to consider whether they should exclude altogether the project, which has found favor in some quarters, of making Czechoslovakia a more homogeneous State by the secession of that fringe of alien populations who are contiguous to the nation with which they are united by race … The advantages to Czechoslovakia of becoming a homogeneous State might conceivably outweigh the obvious disadvantages of losing the Sudeten German district of the borderland.
There was no mention in the editorial of the obvious fact that by ceding the
Sudetenland
to Germany the Czechs would lose both the natural mountain defenses of
Bohemia
and their “Maginot Line” of fortifications and be henceforth defenseless against Nazi Germany.
Though the British Foreign Office was quick to deny that the
Times
leader represented the views of the government, Kordt telegraphed Berlin the next day that it was possible that “it derived from a suggestion which reached the
Times
editorial staff from the Prime Minister’s entourage.” Possible indeed!
In these crisis-ridden years that have followed World War II it is difficult to recall the dark and almost unbearable tension that gripped the capitals of Europe as the Nuremberg Party Rally, which had begun on
September 6, approached its climax on September 12, when Hitler was scheduled to make his closing speech and expected to proclaim to the world his final decision for peace or war with Czechoslovakia. I was in
Prague
, the focus of the crisis, that week, and it seemed strange that the Czech capital, despite the violence unleashed by the Germans in the Sudetenland, the threats from Berlin, the pressure of the British and French governments to yield, and the fear that they might leave Czechoslovakia in the lurch, was the calmest of all—at least outwardly.
On September 5, President Beneš, realizing that a decisive step on his part was necessary to save the peace, convoked the Sudeten leaders Kundt and Sebekovsky to
Hradschin Palace
and told them to write out their full demands. Whatever they were he would accept them. “My God,” exclaimed the deputy Sudeten leader, Karl Hermann Frank, the next day, “they have given us everything.” But that was the last thing the Sudeten politicians and their bosses in Berlin wanted. On September 7
Henlein
, on instructions from Germany, broke off all negotiations with the Czech government. A shabby excuse about alleged Czech police excesses at
Moravská-Ostrava
was given.
On September 10, Goering made a bellicose speech at the Nuremberg Party Rally. “A petty segment of Europe is harassing the human race … This miserable pygmy race [the Czechs] is oppressing a cultured people, and behind it is Moscow and the eternal mask of the Jew devil.” But Beneš’ broadcast of the same day took no notice of Goering’s diatribe; it was a quiet and dignified appeal for calm, good will and mutual trust.
Underneath the surface, though, the Czechs were tense. I ran into Dr. Beneš in the hall of the
Czech Broadcasting House
after his broadcast and noted that his face was grave and that he seemed to be fully aware of the terrible position he was in. The Wilson railroad station and the airport were full of Jews scrambling desperately to find transportation to safer parts. That weekend gas masks were distributed to the populace. The word from Paris was that the French government was beginning to panic at the prospect of war, and the London dispatches indicated that Chamberlain was contemplating desperate measures to meet Hitler’s demands—at the expense of the Czechs, of course.
And so all Europe waited for Hitler’s word on September 12 from Nuremberg. Though brutal and bombastic, and dripping with venom against the Czech state and especially against the Czech President, the Fuehrer’s speech, made to a delirious mass of Nazi fanatics gathered in the huge stadium on the last night of the party rally, was not a declaration of war. He reserved his decision—publicly at least, for, as we know from the captured German documents, he had already set October 1 for the attack across the Czech frontier. He simply demanded that the Czech government give “justice” to the Sudeten Germans. If it didn’t, Germany would have to see to it that it did.
The repercussions to Hitler’s outburst were considerable. In the Sudetenland it inspired a revolt which after two days of savage fighting the
Czech government put down by rushing in troops and declaring martial law.
Henlein
slipped over the border to Germany proclaiming that the only solution now was the ceding of the Sudeten areas to Germany.
This was the solution which, as we have seen, was gaining favor in London, but before it could be furthered the agreement of France had to be obtained. The day following Hitler’s speech, September 13, the French cabinet sat all day, remaining hopelessly divided on whether it should honor its obligations to Czechoslovakia in case of a German attack, which it believed imminent. That evening the British ambassador in Paris, Sir Eric Phipps, was fetched from the Opéra Comique for an urgent conference with Prime Minister Daladier. The latter appealed to Chamberlain to try at once to make the best bargain he could with the German dictator.
Mr. Chamberlain, it may be surmised, needed little urging. At eleven o’clock that same night the British Prime Minister got off an urgent message to Hitler:
In view of the increasingly critical situation I propose to come over at once to see you with a view to trying to find a peaceful solution. I propose to come across by air and am ready to start tomorrow.
Please indicate earliest time at which you can see me and suggest place of meeting. I should be grateful for a very early reply.
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Two hours before, the German chargé d’affaires in London,
Theodor Kordt
, had wired Berlin that Chamberlain’s press secretary had informed him that the Prime Minister “was prepared to examine far-reaching German proposals, including plebiscite, to take part in carrying them out, and to advocate them in public.”
41
The surrender that was to culminate in Munich had begun.
“Good heavens!” (“
Ich bin vom Himmel gefallen!
”) Hitler exclaimed when he read Chamberlain’s message.
42
He was astounded but highly pleased that the man who presided over the destinies of the mighty British Empire should come pleading to him, and flattered that a man who was sixty-nine years old and had never traveled in an airplane before should make the long seven hours’ flight to Berchtesgaden at the farthest extremity of Germany. Hitler had not had even the grace to suggest a meeting place on the Rhine, which would have shortened the trip by half.
Whatever the enthusiasm of the English,
*
who seemed to believe that
the Prime Minister was making the long journey to do what Mr. Asquith and Sir Edward Grey had failed to do in 1914—warn Germany that any aggression against a small power would bring not only France but Britain into war against it—Hitler realized, as the confidential German papers and subsequent events make clear, that Chamberlain’s action was a godsend to him. Already apprised by the German Embassy in London that the British leader was prepared to advocate “far-reaching German proposals,” the Fuehrer felt fairly certain that Chamberlain’s visit was a further assurance that, as he had believed all along, Britain and France would not intervene on behalf of Czechoslovakia. The Prime Minister had not been with him more than an hour or so before this estimate of the situation became a certainty.
In the beginning there was a diplomatic skirmish, though Hitler, as was his custom, did most of the talking.
43
Chamberlain had landed at the Munich airport at noon on September 15, driven in an open car to the railroad station and there boarded a special train for the three-hour rail journey to Berchtesgaden. He did not fail to notice train after train of German troops and artillery passing on the opposite track. Hitler did not meet his train at Berchtesgaden, but waited on the top steps of the Berghof to greet his distinguished visitor. It had begun to rain, Dr. Schmidt, the German interpreter, later remembered, the sky darkened and clouds hid the mountains. It was now 4
P.M
. and Chamberlain had been on his way since dawn.
After tea Hitler and Chamberlain mounted the steps to Hitler’s study on the second floor, the very room where the dictator had received Schuschnigg seven months before. At the urging of Ambassador
Henderson
, Ribbentrop was left out of the conversation, an exclusion which so irritated the vain Foreign Minister that the next day he refused to give Schmidt’s notes on the conference to the Prime Minister—a singular but typical discourtesy—and Chamberlain thereafter was forced to rely on his memory of what he and Hitler had said.
Hitler began the conversation, as he did his speeches, with a long harangue about all that he had done for the German people, for peace, and for an Anglo–German
rapprochement
. There was now one problem he was determined to solve “one way or another.” The three million Germans in Czechoslovakia must “return” to the Reich.
*
He did not wish [as Schmidt’s official account puts it] that any doubts should arise as to his absolute determination not to tolerate any longer that a small, second-rate country should treat the mighty thousand-year-old German Reich as something inferior … He was forty-nine years old, and if Germany were to become involved in a world war over the Czechoslovak question, he wished to lead his country through the crisis in the full strength of manhood … He
would, of course, be sorry if a world war should result from this problem. This danger, however, was incapable of making him falter in his determination … He would face any war, even a world war, for this. The rest of the world might do what it liked. He would not yield one single step.
Chamberlain, who had scarcely been able to get a word in, was a man of immense patience, but there were limits to it. At this juncture he interrupted to say, “If the Fuehrer is determined to settle this matter by force without waiting even for a discussion between ourselves, why did he let me come? I have wasted my time.”
The German dictator was not accustomed to such an interruption—no German at this date would dare to make one—and Chamberlain’s retort appears to have had its effect. Hitler calmed down. He thought they could go “into the question whether perhaps a peaceful settlement was still possible after all.” And then he sprang his proposal.
Would Britain agree to a secession of the Sudeten region, or would she not? … A secession on the basis of the right of self-determination?
The proposal did not shock Chamberlain. Indeed, he expressed satisfaction that they “had now got down to the crux of the matter.” According to Chamberlain’s own account, from memory, he replied that he could not commit himself until he had consulted his cabinet and the French. According to Schmidt’s version, taken from his own shorthand notes made while he was interpreting, Chamberlain did say that, but added that “
he could state personally that he recognized the principle of the detachment of the Sudeten areas … He wished to return to England to report to the Government and secure their approval of his personal attitude.
”
From this surrender at Berchtesgaden, all else ensued.
That it came as no surprise to the Germans is obvious. At the very moment of the Berchtesgaden meeting
Henlein
was penning a secret letter to Hitler from Eger, dated September 15, just before he fled across the border to Germany:
M
Y
F
UEHRER:
I informed the British [Runciman] delegation yesterday that the basis for further negotiations could … only be the achievement of a union with the Reich.
It is probable that Chamberlain will propose such a union.
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The next day, September 16, the German Foreign Office sent confidential telegrams to its embassies in Washington and several other capitals.
Fuehrer told Chamberlain yesterday he was finally resolved to put an end in one way or another to the intolerable conditions
in
Sudetenland
within a very short time. Autonomy for Sudeten Germans is no longer being
considered, but only cession of the region to Germany. Chamberlain has indicated personal approval. He is now consulting British Cabinet and is in communication with Paris. Further meeting between Fuehrer and Chamberlain planned for very near future.
45
Toward the end of their conference Chamberlain had extracted a promise from Hitler that he would take no military action until they had again conferred. In this period the Prime Minister had great confidence in the Fuehrer’s word, remarking privately a day or two later, “In spite of the hardness and ruthlessness I thought I saw in his face, I got the impression that here was a man who could be relied upon when he had given his word.”
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