Military, strategic, and power-political arguments for expansion were underpinned by economic considerations. By late 1938, the pressures of the forced rearmament programme were making themselves acutely felt. The policy of 'rearm, whatever the cost' was now plainly showing itself to be sustainable only in the short term. Further expansion was necessary if the tensions built into the overheated armaments-driven economy were not to reach explosion point. By 19389, it was absolutely evident that further expansion could not be postponed indefinitely if the economic impa.s.ses were to be surmounted.

In early January 1939, the Reichsbank Directorate sent Hitler a submission, supported by eight signatories, demanding financial restraint to avoid the 'threatening danger of inflation'. Hitler's reaction was: 'That is mutiny!' Twelve days later, Schacht was sacked as President of the Reichsbank. But the Ca.s.sandra voices were not exaggerating. Nor would the problem go away by sacking Schacht. The insatiable demand for raw materials at the same time that consumer demand in the wake of the armaments boom was rising had left public finances in a desolate state.

Beyond the crisis in public finances, the labour shortage which had been growing rapidly since 1937 was by this time posing a real threat both to agriculture and to industry. The only remedy for the foreseeable future was the use of 'foreign labourers' that war and expansion would bring. The mounting economic problems confirmed for Hitler his diagnosis that Germany's position could never be strengthened without territorial conquest.

II.

Hitler's regrets over the Munich Agreement and feeling that a chance had been lost to occupy the whole of Czechoslovakia at one fell swoop had grown rather than diminished during the last months of 1938. His impatience to act had mounted accordingly. He was determined not to be hemmed in by the western powers. He was more than ever convinced that they would not have fought for Czechoslovakia, and that they would and could do nothing to prevent Germany extending its dominance in central and eastern Europe. On the other hand, as he had indicated to Goebbels in October, he was certain that Britain would not concede German hegemony in Europe without a fight at some time. The setback which Munich had been in his eyes confirmed his view that war against the West was coming, probably sooner than he had once envisaged, and that there was no time to lose if Germany were to retain its advantage.

Already on 21 October 1938, only three weeks after the Munich settlement, Hitler had given the Wehrmacht a new directive to prepare for the 'liquidation of remainder of the Czech state'. Why was. .h.i.tler so insistent on this? Politically it was not necessary. Indeed, the German leadership cannot fail to have recognized that an invasion of Czechoslovakia, tearing up the Munich Agreement and breaking solemn promises given only such a short time earlier, would inevitably have the most serious international repercussions.

Part of the answer is doubtless to be found in Hitler's own personality and psychology. His Austrian background and dislike of Czechs since his youth was probably one element. Yet after occupation, the persecution of the Czechs was by no means as harsh as that subsequently meted out to the conquered Poles. And, following his victorious entry into Prague, Hitler showed remarkably little interest in the Czechs.

More important, certainly, was the feeling that he had been 'cheated' out of his triumph, his 'unalterable wish' altered by western politicians. 'That fellow Chamberlain has spoiled my entry into Prague,' he was overheard saying on his return to Berlin after the agreement at Munich the previous autumn. And yet, Goebbels's diary entries show that Hitler had decided before before Munich that he would temporarily concede to the western powers, but gobble up the rest of Czechoslovakia in due course, and that the acquisition of the Sudetenland would make that second stage easier. Though a rationalization of the position Hitler had been manoeuvred into, it indicates the acceptance by that date of a two-stage plan to acquire the whole of Czechoslovakia, and does not highlight vengeance as a motive. Munich that he would temporarily concede to the western powers, but gobble up the rest of Czechoslovakia in due course, and that the acquisition of the Sudetenland would make that second stage easier. Though a rationalization of the position Hitler had been manoeuvred into, it indicates the acceptance by that date of a two-stage plan to acquire the whole of Czechoslovakia, and does not highlight vengeance as a motive.

There were other reasons for occupying the rump of Czechoslovakia that went beyond Hitler's personal motivation. Economic considerations were of obvious importance. However pliant the Czechs were prepared to be, the fact remained that even after the transfer of October 1938, which brought major raw material deposits to the Reich, immense resources remained in Czecho-Slovakia (as the country, the meaningful hyphen inserted, was now officially called) and outside direct German control. The vast bulk of the industrial wealth and resources of the country lay in the old Czech heartlands of Bohemia and Moravia, not in the largely agricultural Slovakia. An estimated four-fifths of engineering, machine-tool construction, and electrical industries remained in the hands of the Czechs. Textiles, chemicals, and the gla.s.s industry were other significant industries that beckoned the Germans. Not least, the Skoda works produced locomotives and machinery as well as arms. Czecho-Slovakia also possessed large quant.i.ties of gold and foreign currency that could certainly help relieve some of the shortages of the Four-Year Plan. And a vast amount of equipment could be taken over and redeployed to the advantage of the German army. The Czech a.r.s.enal was easily the greatest among the smaller countries of central Europe. The Czech machine-guns, field-guns, and anti-aircraft guns were thought to be better than the German equivalents. They would all be taken over by the Reich, as well as the heavy guns built at the Skoda factories. It was subsequently estimated that enough arms had fallen into Hitler's possession to equip a further twenty divisions.

But of even greater importance than direct economic gain and exploitation was the military-strategic position of what remained of CzechoSlovakia. As long as the Czechs retained some autonomy, and possession of extensive military equipment and industrial resources, potential difficulties from that quarter could not be ruled out in the event of German involvement in hostilities. More important still: possession of the rectangular, mountain-rimmed territories of Bohemia and Moravia on the south-eastern edge of the Reich offered a recognizable platform for further eastward expansion and military domination. The road to the Balkans was now open. Germany's position against Poland was strengthened. And in the event of conflict in the west, the defences in the east were consolidated.

As late as December 1938, there was no indication that Hitler was preparing an imminent strike against the Czechs. There were hints, however, that the next moves in foreign policy would not be long delayed. Hitler told Ernst Neumann, the German leader in Memel (a seaport on the Baltic with a largely German population, which had been removed from Germany by the Versailles Treaty), on 17 December that annexation of Memelland would take place in the following March or April, and that he wanted no crisis in the area before then. On 13 February, Hitler let it be known to a few a.s.sociates that he intended to take action against the Czechs in mid-March. German propaganda was adjusted accordingly. The French had already gleaned intelligence in early February that German action against Prague would take place in about six weeks.

Hitler's meeting at the Berghof with the Polish Foreign Minister and strong man in the government, Jozef Beck, on 5 January had proved, from the German point of view, disappointing. Hitler had tried to appear accommodating in laying down the need for Danzig to return to Germany, and for access routes across the Corridor to East Prussia. Beck implied that public opinion in Poland would prevent any concessions on Danzig. When Ribbentrop returned empty-handed from his visit to Warsaw on 26 January, indicating that the Poles were not to be moved, Hitler's approach to Poland changed markedly.

From friendly overtures, the policy moved to pressure. Poland was to be excluded from any share in the spoils from the destruction of the Czech state. And turning Slovakia into a German puppet-state would intensify the threat to Poland's southern border. Once the demolition of Czecho-Slovakia had taken place, therefore, the Germans hoped and expected the Poles to prove more cooperative. The failure of negotiations with the Poles had probably accelerated the decision to destroy the Czech state.

Around this time, according to Goebbels, Hitler spoke practically of nothing else but foreign policy. 'He's always pondering new plans,' Goebbels noted. 'A Napoleonic nature!' The Propaganda Minister had already guessed what was in store when Hitler told him at the end of January he was going 'to the mountain' to the Obersalzberg to think about his next steps in foreign policy. 'Perhaps Czechia is up for it again. The problem is after all only half solved,' he wrote.

III.

By the beginning of March, in the light of mounting Slovakian nationalist clamour (abetted by Germany) for full independence from Prague, the break-up of what was left of the state of Czecho-Slovakia looked to close observers of the scene to be a matter of time. When the Prague government deposed the Slovakian cabinet, sent police in to occupy government offices in Bratislava, and placed the former Prime Minister, Father Jozef Tiso, under house arrest, Hitler spotted his moment. On 10 March, he told Goebbels, Ribbentrop, and Keitel that he had decided to march in, smash the rump Czech state, and occupy Prague. The invasion was to take place five days later. 'Our borders must stretch to the Carpathians,' noted Goebbels. 'The Fuhrer shouts for joy. This game is dead certain.'

On 12 March orders were given to the army and Luftwaffe to be ready to enter Czecho-Slovakia at 6 a.m. on the 15th, but before then not to approach within ten kilometres of the border. German mobilization was by that stage so obvious that it seemed impossible that the Czechs were unaware of what was happening. The propaganda campaign against the Czechs had meanwhile been sharply stepped up. That evening, Tiso had been visited by German officials and invited to Berlin. The next day he met Hitler. He was told the historic hour of the Slovaks had arrived. If they did nothing, they would be swallowed up by Hungary. Tiso got the message. By the following noon, 14 March, back in Bratislava, he had the Slovak a.s.sembly proclaim independence. The desired request for 'protection' was, however, only forthcoming a day later, after German warships on the Danube had trained their sights on the Slovakian government offices.

Goebbels listened again to Hitler unfolding his plans. The entire 'action' would be over within eight days. The Germans would already be in Prague within a day, their planes within two hours. No bloodshed was expected. 'Then the Fuhrer wants to fit in a lengthy period of political calm,' wrote Goebbels, adding that he did not believe it, however enticing the prospect. A period of calm, he thought, was necessary. 'Gradually, the nerves aren't coping.'

On the morning of 14 March, the antic.i.p.ated request came from Prague, seeking an audience of the Czech State President Dr Emil Hacha with Hitler. Hacha, a small, shy, somewhat unworldly, and also rather sickly man, in office since the previous November, arrived in Berlin during the course of the evening, after a five-hour train journey. Hitler kept him nervously waiting until midnight to increase the pressure upon him 'the old tested methods of political tactics', as Goebbels put it. It was around 1 a.m. when, his face red from nervousness and anxiety, the Czech President was eventually ushered into the intimidating surroundings of Hitler's grandiose 'study' in the New Reich Chancellery. A sizeable gathering, including Ribbentrop, the head of his personal staff Walther Hewel, Keitel, Weizsacker, State Secretary Otto Meissner, Press Chief Otto Dietrich, and interpreter Paul Schmidt, were present. Goring, summoned back from holiday, was also there.

Hitler was at his most intimidating. He launched into a violent tirade against the Czechs and the 'spirit of Bene' which, he claimed, still lived on. It was necessary in order to safeguard the Reich, he continued, to impose a protectorate over the remainder of Czecho-Slovakia. Hacha and Chvalkovsk, the Czech Foreign Minister, who had accompanied the President to Berlin, sat stony-faced and motionless. The entry of German troops was 'irreversible', ranted Hitler. Keitel would confirm that they were already marching towards the Czech border, and would cross it at 6 a.m. Hacha said he wanted no bloodshed, and asked Hitler to halt the military build-up. Hitler refused: it was impossible; the troops were already mobilized. Goring intervened to add that his Luftwaffe would be over Prague by dawn, and it was in Hacha's hands whether bombs fell on the beautiful city. At the threat, the Czech President fainted. He was revived by an injection from Hitler's personal physician, Dr Morell.

Meanwhile, Prague could not be reached by telephone. Eventually, contact was made. The browbeaten President went immediately to the telephone and, on a crackly line, pa.s.sed on his orders that Czech troops were not to open fire on the invading Germans. Just before 4 a.m., Hacha signed the declaration, placing the fate of his people in the hands of the Leader of the German Reich.

Overjoyed, Hitler went in to see his two secretaries, Christa Schroeder and Gerda Daranowski, who had been on duty that night. 'So, children,' he burst out, pointing to his cheeks, 'each of you give me a kiss there and there ... This is the happiest day of my life. What has been striven for in vain for centuries, I have been fortunate enough to bring about. I have achieved the union of Czechia with the Reich. Hacha has signed the agreement. I will go down as the greatest German in history.'

Two hours after Hacha had signed, the German army crossed the Czech borders and marched, on schedule, on Prague. By 9.00 a.m. the forward units entered the Czech capital, making slow progress on ice-bound roads, through mist and snow, the wintry weather providing an appropriate backcloth to the end of central Europe's last, betrayed, democracy. The Czech troops, as ordered, remained in their barracks and handed over their weapons.

Hitler left Berlin at midday, travelling in his special train as far as Leipa, some sixty miles north of Prague, where he arrived during the afternoon. A fleet of Mercedes was waiting to take him and his entourage the remainder of the journey to Prague. It was snowing heavily, but he stood for much of the way, his arm outstretched to salute the unending columns of German soldiers they overtook. Unlike his triumphal entries into Austria and the Sudetenland, only a thin smattering of the population watched sullenly and helplessly from the side of the road. A few dared to greet with clenched fists as. .h.i.tler's car pa.s.sed by. But the streets were almost deserted by the time he arrived in Prague in the early evening and drove up to the Hradschin Castle, the ancient residence of the Kings of Bohemia. When the people of Prague awoke next morning, they saw Hitler's standard fluttering on the castle. Twenty-four hours later he was gone. For the Czechs, six long years of subjugation had begun.

Hitler returned to Berlin, via Vienna, on 19 March, to the inevitable, and by now customary, triumphator's reception. Despite the freezing temperatures, huge numbers turned out to welcome the hero. When Hitler descended from his train at the Gorlitzer Bahnhof, Goring, tears in his eyes, greeted him with an address embarra.s.sing even by the prevailing standards of sycophancy. Thousands cheered wildly as. .h.i.tler was driven to the Reich Chancellery. The experienced hand of Dr Goebbels had organized another ma.s.sive spectacular. Searchlights formed a 'tunnel of light' along Unter den Linden. A brilliant display of fireworks followed. Hitler then appeared on the balcony of the Reich Chancellery, waving to the ecstatic crowd of his adoring subjects below.

The real response among the German people to the rape of CzechoSlovakia was, however, more mixed in any event less euphoric than that of the cheering mult.i.tudes, many of them galvanized by party activists, in Berlin. This time there had been no 'home-coming' of ethnic Germans into the Reich. The vague notion that Bohemia and Moravia had belonged to the 'German living s.p.a.ce' for a thousand years left most people cold certainly most north Germans who had traditionally had little or no connection with the Czech lands. For many, as one report from a n.a.z.i District Leader put it, whatever the joy in the Fuhrer's 'great deeds' and the trust placed in him, 'the needs and cares of daily life are so great that the mood is very quickly gloomy again'. There was a good deal of indifference, scepticism, and criticism, together with worries that war was a big step closer. 'Was that necessary?' many people asked. They remembered Hitler's precise words following the Munich Agreement, that the Sudetenland had been his 'last territorial demand'.

Hitler had been contemptuous of the western powers before the taking of Prague. He correctly judged that once more they would protest, but do nothing. However, everything points to the conclusion that he miscalculated the response of Britain and France after after the invasion of Czecho-Slovakia. The initial reaction in London was one of shock and dismay at the cynical demolition of the Munich Agreement, despite the warnings the British government had received. Appeas.e.m.e.nt policy lay shattered in the ruins of the Czecho-Slovakian state. Hitler had broken his promise that he had no further territorial demands to make. And the conquest of Czecho-Slovakia had destroyed the fiction that Hitler's policies were aimed at the uniting of German peoples in a single state. Hitler, it was now abundantly clear a recognition at last and very late in the day could not be trusted. He would stop at nothing. the invasion of Czecho-Slovakia. The initial reaction in London was one of shock and dismay at the cynical demolition of the Munich Agreement, despite the warnings the British government had received. Appeas.e.m.e.nt policy lay shattered in the ruins of the Czecho-Slovakian state. Hitler had broken his promise that he had no further territorial demands to make. And the conquest of Czecho-Slovakia had destroyed the fiction that Hitler's policies were aimed at the uniting of German peoples in a single state. Hitler, it was now abundantly clear a recognition at last and very late in the day could not be trusted. He would stop at nothing.

Chamberlain's speech in Birmingham on 17 March hinted at a new policy. 'Is this the last attack upon a small State, or is it to be followed by others?' he asked. 'Is this, in fact, a step in the direction of an attempt to dominate the world by force?' British public opinion was in no doubt. Hitler had united a country deeply divided over Munich. On all sides people were saying that war with Germany was both inevitable and necessary. Recruitment for the armed forces increased almost overnight. It was now clear both to the man in the street and to the government: Hitler had to be tackled.

The following day, 18 March, amid rumours circulating that Germany was threatening Romania, the British cabinet endorsed the Prime Minister's recommendation of a fundamental change in policy. No reliance could any longer be placed on the a.s.surances of the n.a.z.i leaders, Chamberlain stated. The old policy of trying to come to terms with the dictatorships on the a.s.sumption that they had limited aims was no longer possible. The policy had shifted from trying to appease Hitler to attempting to deter him. In any new aggression, Germany would be faced at the outset with the choice of pulling back or going to war. The Prime Minister had little doubt as to where trouble might next flare up. 'He thought that Poland was very likely the key to the situation ... The time had now come for those who were threatened by German aggression (whether immediately or ultimately) to get together. We should enquire how far Poland was prepared to go along these lines.' The British Guarantee to Poland and the genesis of the summer crisis which, this time, would end in war were foreshadowed in Chamberlain's remarks.

Similar reactions were registered in Paris. Daladier let Chamberlain know that the French would speed up rearmament and resist any further aggression. The Americans were told that Daladier was determined to go to war should the Germans act against Danzig or Poland. Even strong advocates of appeas.e.m.e.nt were now saying enough was enough: there would not be another Munich.

IV.

Before the Polish crisis unfolded, Hitler had one other triumph to register though compared with what had gone before, it was a minor one. The incorporation of Memelland in the German Reich was now to prove the last annexation without bloodshed. After its removal from Germany in 1919, the Memel district, with a mainly German population but a sizeable Lithuanian minority, had been placed under French administration. The Lithuanians had marched in, forcing the withdrawal of the French occupying force there in January 1923. The following year, under international agreement, the Memel had gained a level of independence, but remained in effect a German enclave under Lithuanian tutelage.

Politically, the return of the territory to Germany was of no great significance. Even symbolically, it was of relatively little importance. Few ordinary Germans took more than a pa.s.sing interest in the incorporation of such a remote fleck of territory into the Reich. But the acquisition of a port on the Baltic, with the possibility that Lithuania, too, might be turned into a German satellite, had strategic relevance. Alongside the subordination to German influence of Slovakia on the southern borders of Poland, it gave a further edge to German pressure on the Poles.

On 20 March, Ribbentrop subjected the Lithuanian Foreign Minister, Joseph Urbys, to the usual bullying tactics. Kowno would be bombed, he threatened, if Germany's demand for the immediate return of the Memel were not met. Urbys returned the next day, 21 March, to Kowno. The Lithuanians were in no mood for a fight. A Lithuanian delegation was sent to Berlin to arrange the details. 'If you apply a bit of pressure, things happen,' noted Goebbels, with satisfaction.

Hitler left Berlin the following afternoon, 22 March, for Swinemunde, where, along with Raeder, he boarded the cruiser Deutschland Deutschland. Late that evening, Ribbentrop and Urbys agreed terms for the formal transfer of the Memel district to Germany. Hitler's decree was signed the next morning, 23 March. He was back in Berlin by noon next day. This time, he dispensed with the hero's return. Triumphal entries to Berlin could not be allowed to become so frequent that they were routine.

Wasting no time, Ribbentrop had pushed Amba.s.sador Lipski on 21 March to arrange a visit to Berlin by Beck. He indicated that Hitler was losing patience, and that the German press was straining at the leash to be turned loose on the Poles. He repeated the requests about Danzig and the Corridor. In return, Poland might be tempted by the exploitation of Slovakia and the Ukraine.

But the Poles were not prepared to act according to the script. Beck, noting Chamberlain's Birmingham speech, secretly put out feelers to London for a bilateral agreement with Britain. Meanwhile, the Poles mobilized their troops. On 25 March, Hitler still indicated that he did not want to solve the Danzig question by force to avoid driving the Poles into the arms of the British. He had remarked to Goebbels the previous evening that he hoped the Poles would respond to pressure, 'but we must bite into the sour apple and guarantee Poland's borders'.

However, just after noon on 26 March, instead of the desired visit by Beck, Lipski simply presented Ribbentrop with a memorandum representing the Polish Foreign Minister's views. It flatly rejected the German proposals, reminding Ribbentrop for good measure of Hitler's verbal a.s.surance in his speech on 20 February 1938 that Poland's rights and interests would be respected. Ribbentrop lost his temper. Going beyond his mandate from Hitler, he told Lipski that any Polish action against Danzig (of which there was no indication) would be treated as aggression against the Reich. The bullying attempt was lost on Lipski. He replied that any furtherance of German plans directed at the return of Danzig to the Reich meant war with Poland.

By 27 March, meanwhile, Chamberlain, warned that a German strike against Poland might be imminent, was telling the British cabinet he was prepared to offer a unilateral commitment to Poland, aimed at stiffening Polish resolve and deterring Hitler. The policy that had been developing since the march into Prague found its expression in Chamberlain's statement to the House of Commons on 31 March 1939: 'In the event of any action which clearly threatened Polish independence, and which the Polish Government accordingly considered it vital to resist with their national forces, His Majesty's Government would feel themselves bound at once to lend the Polish Government all support in their power.'

This was followed, at the end of Beck's visit to London on 46 April, by Chamberlain's announcement to the House of Commons that Britain and Poland had agreed to sign a mutual a.s.sistance pact in the event of an attack 'by a European power'.

On hearing of the British Guarantee of 31 March, Hitler fell into a rage. He thumped his fist on the marble-topped table of his study in the Reich Chancellery. 'I'll brew them a devil's potion,' he fumed.

Exactly what he had wanted to avoid had happened. He had expected the pressure on the Poles to work as easily as it had done in the case of the Czechs and the Slovaks. He had presumed the Poles would in due course see sense and yield Danzig and concede the extra-territorial routes through the Corridor. He had taken it for granted that Poland would then become a German satellite an ally in any later attack on the Soviet Union. He had been determined to keep Poland out of Britain's clutches. All of this was now upturned. Danzig would have to be taken by force. He had been thwarted by the British and spurned by the Poles. He would teach them a lesson.

Or so he thought. In reality, Hitler's over-confidence, impatience, and misreading of the impact of German aggression against Czecho-Slovakia had produced a fateful miscalculation.

At the end of March Hitler had indicated to Brauchitsch, head of the army, that he would use force against Poland if diplomacy failed. Immediately, the branches of the armed forces began preparing drafts of their own operational plans. These were presented to Hitler in the huge 'Fuhrer type' that he could read without gla.s.ses. He added a preamble on political aims. By 3 April the directive for 'Case White' (Fall Wei) was ready. It was issued eight days later. Its first section, written by Hitler himself, began: 'German relations with Poland continue to be based on the principles of avoiding any disturbances. Should Poland, however, change her policy towards Germany, which so far has been based on the same principles as our own, and adopt a threatening att.i.tude towards Germany, a final settlement might become necessary in spite of the Treaty in force with Poland. The aim then will be to destroy Polish military strength, and create in the East a situation which satisfies the requirements of national defence. The Free State of Danzig will be proclaimed a part of the Reich territory by the outbreak of hostilities at the latest. The political leaders consider it their task in this case to isolate Poland if possible, that is to say, to limit the war to Poland only.' The Wehrmacht had to be ready to carry out 'Case White' at any time after 1 September 1939.

Army commanders had been divided over the merits of attacking Czecho-Slovakia only a few months earlier. Now, there was no sign of hesitation. The aims of the coming campaign to destroy Poland were outlined within a fortnight or so by Chief of the General Staff Halder to generals and General Staff officers. Oppositional hopes of staging a coup against Hitler the previous autumn, as the Sudeten crisis was reaching its denouement, had centred upon Halder. At the time, he had indeed been prepared to see Hitler a.s.sa.s.sinated. It was the same Halder who now evidently relished the prospect of easy and rapid victory over the Poles and envisaged subsequent conflict with the Soviet Union or the western powers. Halder told senior officers that 'thanks to the outstanding, I might say, instinctively sure policy of the Fuhrer', the military situation in central Europe had changed fundamentally. As a consequence, the position of Poland had also significantly altered. Halder said he was certain he was speaking for many in his audience in commenting that with the ending of 'friendly relations' with Poland 'a stone has fallen from the heart'. Poland was now to be ranked among Germany's enemies. The rest of Halder's address dealt with the need to destroy Poland 'in record speed'. The British guarantee would not prevent this happening. He was contemptuous of the capabilities of the Polish army. It formed 'no serious opponent'. He outlined in some detail the course the German attack would take, acknowledging cooperation with the SS and the occupation of the country by the paramilitary formations of the party. The aim, he repeated, was to ensure 'that Poland as rapidly as possible was not only defeated, but liquidated', whether France and Britain should intervene in the West (which on balance he deemed unlikely) or not. The attack had to be 'crushing'. He concluded by looking beyond the Polish conflict: 'We must be finished with Poland within three weeks, if possible already in a fortnight. Then it will depend on the Russians whether the eastern front becomes Europe's fate or not. In any case, a victorious army, filled with the spirit of gigantic victories attained, will be ready either to confront Bolshevism or ... to be hurled against the West ...'

On Poland, there was no divergence between Hitler and his Chief of the General Staff. Both wanted to smash Poland at breakneck speed, preferably in an isolated campaign but, if necessary, even with western intervention (though both thought this more improbable than probable). And both looked beyond Poland to a widening of the conflict, eastwards or westwards, at some point. Hitler could be satisfied. He need expect no problems this time from his army leaders.

The contours for the summer crisis of 1939 had been drawn. It would end not with the desired limited conflict to destroy Poland, but with the major European powers locked in another continental war. This was in the first instance a consequence of Hitler's miscalculation that spring. But, as Halder's address to the generals indicated, it had not been Hitler's miscalculation alone.

V.

Following one extraordinary triumph upon another, Hitler's self-belief had by this time been magnified into full-blown megalomania. Even among his private guests at the Berghof, he frequently compared himself with Napoleon, Bismarck, and other great historical figures. The rebuilding programmes that constantly preoccupied him were envisaged as his own lasting monument a testament of greatness like the buildings of the pharaohs or Caesars. He felt he was walking with destiny. In the summer of 1939, such a mentality would drive Germany towards European war.

Hitler made public the abrupt shift in policy towards Poland and Great Britain in his big Reichstag speech of 28 April 1939. The speech, lasting two hours and twenty minutes, had been occasioned by a message sent by President Roosevelt a fortnight earlier. Prompted by the invasion of Czecho-Slovakia, the President had appealed to Hitler to give an a.s.surance that he would desist from any attack for the next twenty-five years on thirty named countries mainly European, but also including Iraq, Arabia, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and Iran. Were such an a.s.surance to be given, the United States, declared Roosevelt, would play its part in working for disarmament and equal access to raw materials on world markets. Hitler was incensed by Roosevelt's telegram. That it had been published in Washington before even being received in Berlin was taken as a slight. Hitler also thought it arrogant in tone. And the naming of the thirty countries allowed Hitler to claim that inquiries had been conducted in each, and that none felt threatened by Germany. Some, such as Syria, however, had been, he alleged, unable to reply, since they were deprived of freedom and under the military control of democratic states, while the Republic of Ireland, he a.s.serted, feared aggression from Britain, not from Germany. Roosevelt's raising of the disarmament issue (out of which Hitler had made such capital a few years earlier) handed him a further propaganda gift. With heavy sarcasm, he tore into Roosevelt, 'answering' his claims in twenty-one points, each cheered to the rafters by the a.s.sembled members of the Reichstag, roaring with laughter as he poured scorn on the President.

Many German listeners to the broadcast thought it one of the best speeches he had made. William Shirer, the American journalist in Berlin, was inclined to agree: 'Hitler was a superb actor today,' he wrote. The performance was largely for internal consumption. The outside world at least those countries that felt they had accommodated Hitler for too long was less impressed.

Preceding the vaudeville, Hitler had chosen the occasion to denounce the Non-Aggression Pact with Poland and the Naval Agreement with Britain. He blamed the renunciation of the naval pact on Britain's 'encirclement policy'. In reality, he was complying with the interests of the German navy, which felt its construction plans restricted by the agreement and had been pressing for some time for Hitler to denounce it. The intransigence of the Poles over Danzig and the Corridor, their mobilization in March, and the alignment with Britain against Germany were given as reasons for the ending of the Polish pact.

Since the end of March, which had brought the British guarantee for Poland, followed soon afterwards by the announcement that there was to be a British-Polish mutual a.s.sistance treaty, Hitler had given up on the Poles. The military directives of early April were recognition of this. The Poles, he acknowledged, were not going to concede to German demands without a fight. So they would have their fight. And they would be smashed. Only the timing and conditions remained to be determined.

At a meeting in his study in the New Reich Chancellery on 23 May, Hitler outlined his thinking on Poland and on wider strategic issues to a small group of top military leaders. He held out the prospect not only of an attack on Poland, but also made clear that the more far-reaching aim was to prepare for an inevitable showdown with Britain. Unlike the meeting on 5 November 1937 that Hobach had recorded, there is no indication that the military commanders were caused serious disquiet by what they heard. Hitler made his intentions brutally clear. 'It is not Danzig that is at stake. For us it is a matter of expanding our living s.p.a.ce in the East and making food supplies secure and also solving the problem of the Baltic States.' It was necessary, he declared, 'to attack Poland at the first suitable opportunity. We cannot expect a repet.i.tion of Czechia. There will be war. Our task is to isolate Poland. Success in isolating her will be decisive.' He reserved to himself, therefore, the timing of any strike. Simultaneous conflict with the West had to be avoided. Should it, however, come to that Hitler revealed here his priorities 'then the fight must be primarily against England and France'. The war would be an all-out one: 'We must then burn our boats and it will no longer be a question of right or wrong but of to be or not to be for 80 million people.' A war of ten to fifteen years had to be reckoned with. 'The aim is always to bring England to its knees,' he stated. To the relief of those present, who took it as an indication of when he envisaged the conflict with the West taking place, he stipulated that the rearmament programmes were to be targeted at 19434 the same time-scale he had given in November 1937. But no one doubted that Hitler intended to attack Poland that very year.

VI.

Throughout the spring and summer frenzied diplomatic efforts were made to try to isolate Poland and deter the western powers from becoming involved in what was intended as a localized conflict. On 22 May, Italy and Germany had signed the so-called 'Pact of Steel', meant to warn Britain and France off backing Poland. Ribbentrop had duped the Italians into signing the bilateral military pact on the understanding that the Fuhrer wanted peace for five years and expected the Poles to settle peacefully once they realized that support from the West would not be forthcoming.

In the attempt to secure the a.s.sistance or benevolent neutrality of a number of smaller European countries and prevent them being drawn into the Anglo-French orbit, the German government had mixed success. In the west, Belgian neutrality whatever Hitler's plans to ignore it when it suited him was sh.o.r.ed up to keep the Western powers from immediate proximity to Germany's industrial heartlands. Every effort had been made in preceding years to promote trading links with the neutral countries of Scandinavia to sustain, above all, the vital imports of iron ore from Sweden. In the Baltic, Latvia and Estonia agreed non-aggression pacts. In central Europe, diplomatic efforts had more patchy results. Hungary, Yugoslavia, and Turkey were unwilling to align themselves closely with Berlin. But persistent pressure had turned Romania into an economic satellite, sealed by treaty in late March 1939, more or less a.s.suring Germany of crucial access to Romanian oil and wheat in the event of hostilities.

The big question-mark concerned the Soviet Union. The regime's anti-christ it might be. But it held the key to the destruction of Poland. If the USSR could be prevented from linking hands with the West in the tripart.i.te pact that Britain and France were half-heartedly working towards; better still, if the unthinkable a pact between the Soviet Union and the Reich itself could be brought about: then Poland would be totally isolated, at Germany's mercy, the Anglo-French guarantees worthless, and Britain the main opponent hugely weakened. Such thoughts began to gestate in the mind of Hitler's Foreign Minister in the spring of 1939. In the weeks that followed, it was Ribbentrop on the German side, rather than a hesitant Hitler, who took the initiative in seeking to explore all hints that the Russians might be interested in a rapprochement hints that had been forthcoming since March.

Within the Soviet leadership, the entrenched belief that the West wanted to encourage German aggression in the east (that is, against the USSR), the recognition that following Munich collective security was dead, the need to head off any aggressive intent from the j.a.panese in the east, and above all the desperate need to buy time to secure defences for the onslaught thought certain to come at some time, pushed if for a considerable time only tentatively in the same direction.

Stalin's speech to the Communist Party Congress on 10 March, attacking the appeas.e.m.e.nt policy of the West as encouragement of German aggression against the Soviet Union, and declaring his unwillingness to 'pull the chestnuts out of the fire' for the benefit of capitalist powers, had been taken by Ribbentrop as a hint that an opportunity might be opening up. By mid-April the Soviet Amba.s.sador was remarking to Weizsacker that ideological differences should not hinder better relations. Then, Gustav Hilger, a long-serving diplomat in the German Emba.s.sy in Moscow, was brought to the Berghof to explain that the dismissal, on 3 May, of the Soviet Foreign Minister Maxim Litvinov (who had been a.s.sociated with retaining close ties with the West, partly through a spell as Soviet Amba.s.sador to the USA, and was moreover a Jew), and his replacement by Vyacheslav Molotov, Stalin's right-hand man, had to be seen as a sign that the Soviet dictator was looking for an agreement with Germany.

Around the same time, Ribbentrop heard from the German Amba.s.sador in Moscow, Count Friedrich Werner von der Schulenburg, that the Soviet Union was interested in a rapprochement with Germany. He scented a coup which would dramatically turn the tables on Britain, the country which had dared to spurn him a coup that would also win him glory and favour in the Fuhrer's eyes, and his place in history as the architect of Germany's triumph. Hitler for his part thought that Russian economic difficulties and the chance spotted by 'the wily fox' Stalin to remove any threat from Poland to the Soviet western borders were at the back of any opening towards Germany. His own interests were to isolate Poland and deter Britain.

Ribbentrop was now able to persuade Hitler to agree to the Soviet requests for resumption of trade negotiations with Moscow, which had been broken off the previous February. Molotov told Schulenburg, however, that a 'political basis' would have to be found before talks could be resumed. He left unclear what he had in mind. Deep suspicions on both sides led to relations cooling again throughout June. Molotov continued to stonewall and keep his options open. Desultory economic discussions were just kept alive. But at the end of June, Hitler, irritated by the difficulties raised by the Soviets in the trade discussions, ordered the ending of all talks. This time the Soviets took the initiative. Within three weeks they were letting it be known that trade talks could be resumed, and that the prospects for an economic agreement were favourable. This was the signal Berlin had been waiting for. Schulenburg in Moscow was ordered to 'pick up the threads again'.

On 26 June, Ribbentrop's Russian expert in the Foreign Ministry's Trade Department, Karl Schnurre, indicated to the Soviet Charge d'Affaires Georgi Astakhov and trade representative Evgeny Babarin that the trade agreement could be accompanied by a political understanding between Germany and the Soviet Union, taking into account their mutual territorial interests. The response was encouraging. Molotov was non-committal and somewhat negative when he met Schulenburg on 3 August. But two days later, Astakhov was letting Ribbentrop know that the Soviet government was seriously interested in the 'improvement of mutual relations', and willing to contemplate political negotiations.

Towards the end of July, Hitler, Ribbentrop, and Weizsacker had devised the basis of an agreement with the Soviet Union involving the part.i.tion of Poland and the Baltic states. Hints about such an arrangement were dropped to Molotov during his meeting with Schulenburg on 3 August. Stalin was in no rush. He had learned what the Germans were up to, and the broad timing of the intended action against the Poles. But for Hitler there was not a moment to lose. The attack on Poland could not be delayed. Autumn rains, he told Count Ciano in mid-August, would turn the roads into a mora.s.s and Poland into 'one vast swamp ... completely unsuitable for any military operations'. The strike had to come by the end of the month.

VII.

Remarkably, for the best part of three months during this summer of high drama, with Europe teetering on the brink of war, Hitler was almost entirely absent from the seat of government in Berlin. Much of the time, as always, when not at his alpine eyrie above Berchtesgaden, he was travelling around Germany. Early in June he visited the construction site of the Volkswagen factory at Fallersleben, where he had laid the foundation stone a year or so earlier. From there it was on to Vienna, to the 'Reich Theatre Week', where he saw the premiere of Richard Strau's Friedenstag Friedenstag, regaling his adjutants with stories of his visits to the opera and theatre there thirty years earlier, and lecturing them on the splendours of Viennese architecture. Before leaving, he visited the grave of his niece, Geli Raubal. He flew on to Linz, where he criticized new worker flats because they lacked the balconies he deemed essential in every apartment. From there he was driven to Berchtesgaden via Lambach, Hafeld, and Fischlham some of the places a.s.sociated with his childhood and where he had first attended school.

At the beginning of July, he was in Rechlin in Mecklenburg, inspecting new aircraft prototypes, including the He 176, the first rocket-propelled plane, with a speed of almost 1,000 kilometres an hour. Then in the middle of the month he attended an extraordinary four-day spectacular in Munich, the 'Rally of German Art 1939', culminating in a huge parade with ma.s.sive floats and extravagant costumes of bygone ages to ill.u.s.trate 2,000 years of German cultural achievement. Less than a week later he paid his regular visit to the Bayreuth festival. At Haus Wahnfried, in the annexe that the Wagner family had set aside specially for his use, Hitler felt relaxed. There he was 'Uncle Wolf ', as he had been known by the Wagners since his early days in politics. While in Bayreuth, looking self-conscious in his white dinner-jacket, he attended performances of Der fliegende Hollander, Tristan und Isolde, Die Walkure, and Gotterdammerung Der fliegende Hollander, Tristan und Isolde, Die Walkure, and Gotterdammerung, greeting the crowds as usual from the window on the first floor.

There was also a second reunion (following their meeting the previous year in Linz) with his boyhood friend August Kubizek. They spoke of the old days in Linz and Vienna, going to Wagner operas together. Kubizek sheepishly asked Hitler to sign dozens of autographs to take back for his acquaintances. Hitler obliged. The overawed Kubizek, the archetypal local-government officer of a sleepy small town, carefully blotted every signature. They went out for a while, reminiscing in the gathering dusk by Wagner's grave. Then Hitler took Kubizek on a tour of Haus Wahnfried. Kubizek reminded his former friend of the Rienzi Rienzi episode in Linz all those years ago. (Wagner's early opera, based on the story of a fourteenth-century 'tribune of the people' in Rome, had so excited Hitler that late at night, after the performance, he had hauled his friend up the Freinberg, a hill on the edge of Linz, and regaled him about the meaning of what they had seen.) Hitler recounted the tale to Winifried Wagner, ending by saying, with a great deal more pathos than truth: 'That's when it began.' Hitler probably believed his own myth. Kubizek certainly did. Emotional and impressionable as he always had been, and now a well-established victim of the Fuhrer cult, he departed with tears in his eyes. Shortly afterwards, he heard the crowds cheering as. .h.i.tler left. episode in Linz all those years ago. (Wagner's early opera, based on the story of a fourteenth-century 'tribune of the people' in Rome, had so excited Hitler that late at night, after the performance, he had hauled his friend up the Freinberg, a hill on the edge of Linz, and regaled him about the meaning of what they had seen.) Hitler recounted the tale to Winifried Wagner, ending by saying, with a great deal more pathos than truth: 'That's when it began.' Hitler probably believed his own myth. Kubizek certainly did. Emotional and impressionable as he always had been, and now a well-established victim of the Fuhrer cult, he departed with tears in his eyes. Shortly afterwards, he heard the crowds cheering as. .h.i.tler left.

Hitler spent most of August at the Berghof. Other than when he had important visitors to see, daily life there retained its usual patterns. Magda Goebbels told Ciano of her boredom. 'It is always. .h.i.tler who talks!' he recalled her saying. 'He can be Fuhrer as much as he likes, but he always repeats himself and bores his guests.'

If less so than in Berlin, strict formalities were still observed. The atmosphere was stuffy, especially in Hitler's presence. Only Eva Braun's sister, Gretl, lightened it somewhat, even smoking (which was much frowned upon), flirting with the orderlies, and determined to have fun whatever dampening effect the Fuhrer might have on things. What little humour otherwise surfaced was often in dubious taste in the male-dominated household, where the women in attendance, including Eva Braun, served mainly as decoration. But in general, the tone was one of extreme politeness, with much kissing of hands, and expressions of 'Gnadige Frau'. Despite n.a.z.i mockery of the bourgeoisie, life at the Berghof was imbued with the intensely bourgeois manners and fashions of the arriviste arriviste Dictator. Dictator.

Hitler's lengthy absence from Berlin, while European peace hung by a thread, ill.u.s.trates how far the disintegration of anything resembling a conventional central government had gone. Few ministers were permitted to see him. Even the usual privileged few had dwindled in number. Goebbels was still out of favour following his affair with Lida Baarova. Goring had not recovered the ground he had lost since Munich. Speer enjoyed the special status of the protege. He spent much of the summer at Berchtesgaden. But most of the time he was indulging Hitler's pa.s.sion for architecture, not discussing details of foreign policy. Hitler's 'advisers' on the only issue of real consequence, the question of war and peace, were now largely confined to Ribbentrop, even more hawkish, if anything, than he had been the previous summer, and the military leaders. On the crucial matters of foreign policy, Ribbentrop when not represented through the head of his personal staff, Walther Hewel, far more liked by the dictator and everyone else than the preening Foreign Minister himself largely had the field to himself. The second man at the Foreign Ministry, Weizsacker, left to mind the shop while his boss absented himself from Berlin, claimed not to have seen Hitler, even from a distance, between May and the middle of August. What the Dictator was up to on the Obersalzberg was difficult to fathom in Berlin, Weizacker added.

The personalization of government in the hands of one man amounting in this case to concentration of power to determine over war or peace was as good as complete.

VIII.

Danzig, allegedly the issue dragging Europe towards war, was in reality no more than a p.a.w.n in the German game being played from Berchtesgaden. Gauleiter Albert Forster a thirty-seven-year-old former Franconian bank clerk who had learnt some of his early political lessons under Julius Streicher and had been leader of the NSDAP in Danzig since 1930 had received detailed instructions from Hitler on a number of occasions throughout the summer on how to keep tension simmering without allowing it to boil over. As had been the case in the Sudetenland the previous year, it was important not to force the issue too soon. Local issues had to chime exactly with the timing determined by Hitler. Incidents were to be manufactured to display to the population in the Reich, and to the world outside, the alleged injustices perpetrated by the Poles against the Germans in Danzig. Instances of mistreatment most of them contrived, some genuine of the German minority in other parts of Poland, too, provided regular fodder for an orchestrated propaganda campaign which, again a.n.a.logous to that against the Czechs in 1938, had been screaming its banner headlines about the iniquities of the Poles since May.

The propaganda certainly had its effect. The fear of war with the western powers, while still widespread among the German population, was at least until August nowhere near as acute as it had been during the Sudeten crisis. People reasoned, with some justification (and backed up by the German press), that despite the guarantees for Poland, the West was hardly likely to fight for Danzig when it had given in over the Sudetenland. Many thought that Hitler had always pulled it off without bloodshed before, and would do so again. Fears of war were nevertheless pervasive. The more general feeling was probably better summed up in the report from a small town in Upper Franconia at the end of July 1939: 'The answer to the question of how the problem "Danzig and the Corridor" is to be solved is still the same among the general public: incorporation in the Reich? Yes. Through war? No.'

But the anxiety about a general war over Danzig did not mean that there was reluctance to see military action against Poland undertaken as long as the West could be kept out of it. Inciting hatred of the Poles through propaganda was pushing at an open door. 'The mood of the people can be much more quickly whipped up against the Poles than against any other neighbouring people,' commented the exiled Social Democratic organization, the Sopade. Many thought 'it would serve the Poles right if they get it in the neck'. Above all, no one, it was claimed, whatever their political standpoint, wanted a Polish Danzig; the conviction that Danzig was German was universal.

The issue which the Danzig n.a.z.is exploited to heighten the tension was the supervision of the Customs Office by Polish customs inspectors. When the customs inspectors were informed on 4 August in what turned out to be an initiative of an over-zealous German official that they would not be allowed to carry out their duties and responded with a threat to close the port to foodstuffs, the local crisis threatened to boil over, and too soon. The Germans reluctantly backed down as the international press noted. Forster was summoned to Berchtesgaden on 7 August and returned to announce that the Fuhrer had reached the limits of his patience with the Poles, who were probably acting under pressure from London and Paris.

This allegation was transmitted by Forster to Carl Burckhardt, the League of Nations High Commissioner in Danzig. Overlooking no possibility of trying to keep the West out of his war with Poland, Hitler was ready to use the representative of the detested League of Nations as his intermediary. On 10 August, Burckhardt was summoned to the telephone to be told by Gauleiter Forster that Hitler wanted to see him on the Obersalzberg at 4 p.m. next day and was sending his personal plane ready for departure early the following morning. Following a flight in which he was regaled by a euphoric Albert Forster with tales of beerhall fights with Communists during the 'time of struggle', Burckhardt landed in Salzburg and, after a quick snack, was driven up the spiralling road beyond the Berghof itself and up to the 'Eagle's Nest', the recently built spectacular 'Tea House' in the dizzy heights of the mountain peaks.

Hitler was not fond of the 'Eagle's Nest' and seldom went up there. He complained that the air was too thin at that height, and bad for his blood pressure. He worried about an accident on the roads Bormann had had constructed up the sheer mountainside, and about a failure of the lift that had to carry its pa.s.sengers from the huge, marble-faced hall cut inside the rock to the summit of the mountain, more than 150 feet above. But this was an important visit. Hitler wanted to impress Burckhardt with the dramatic view over the mountain tops, invoking the image of distant majesty, of the Dictator of Germany as lord of all he surveyed.

He played every register in driving home to Burckhardt and through him to the western powers the modesty and reasonableness of his claims on Poland and the futility of western support. Almost speechless with rage, he denounced press suggestions that he had lost his nerve and been forced to give way over the issue of the Polish customs officers. His voice rising until he was shouting, he screamed his response to Polish ultimata: if the smallest incident should take place, he would smash the Poles without warning so that not a trace of Poland remained. If that meant general war, then so be it. Germany had to live from its own resources. That was the only issue; the rest nonsense. He accused Britain and France of interference in the reasonable proposals he had made to the Poles. Now the Poles had taken up a position that blocked any agreement once and for all. His generals, hesitant the previous year, were this time raring to be let loose against the Poles.

Burckhardt, as intended, rapidly pa.s.sed on to the British and French governments the gist of his talks with Hitler. They drew no conclusions from the report other than to urge restraint on the Poles.

While Hitler and Burckhardt were meeting at the 'Eagle's Nest' on the Kehlstein, another meeting was taking place only a few miles away, in Ribbentrop's newly acquired splendrous residence overlooking the lake in Fuschl, not far from Salzburg. Count Ciano, resplendent in uniform, was learning from the German Foreign Minister that the Italians had been deceived for months about Hitler's intentions. The atmosphere was icy. Ribbentrop told Ciano that the 'merciless destruction of Poland by Germany' was inevitable. The conflict would not become a general one. Were Britain and France to intervene, they would be doomed to defeat. But his information 'and above all his psychological knowledge psychological knowledge' of Britain, he insisted, made him rule out any intervention. Ciano found him unreasoning and obstinate: 'The decision to fight is implacable. He [Ribbentrop] rejects any solution which might give satisfaction to Germany and avoid the struggle.'

The impression was reinforced when Ciano visited the Berghof next day. Hitler was convinced that the conflict would be localized, that Britain and France, whatever noises they were making, would not go to war. It would be necessary one day to fight the western democracies. But he thought it 'out of the question that this struggle can begin now'. Ciano noted: 'He has decided to strike, and strike he will.'

Important news came through for Hitler at the very time that he was underlining to the disenchanted Ciano his determination to attack Poland no later than the end of August: the Russians were prepared to begin talks in Moscow, including the position of Poland. A beaming Ribbentrop took the telephone call at the Berghof. Hitler was summoned from the meeting with Ciano, and rejoined it in high spirits to report the breakthrough. The way was now open.

A flurry of diplomatic activity Ribbentrop pressing with maximum urgency for the earliest possible agreement, Molotov cannily prevaricating until it was evident that Soviet interest in the Anglo-French mission was dead unfolded during the following days. The text of a trade treaty, under which German manufactured goods worth 200 million Reich Marks would be exchanged each year for an equivalent amount of Soviet raw materials, was agreed. Finally, on the evening of 19 August, the chattering teleprinter gave Hitler and Ribbentrop, waiting anxiously at the Berghof, the news they wanted: Stalin was willing to sign a non-aggression pact without delay.

Only the proposed date of Ribbentrop's visit 26 August posed serious problems. It was the date Hitler had set for the invasion of Poland. Hitler could not wait that long. On 20 August, he decided to intervene personally. He telegraphed a message to Stalin, via the German Emba.s.sy in Moscow, requesting the reception of Ribbentrop, armed with full powers to sign a pact, on the 22nd or 23rd. Hitler's intervention made a difference. But once more Stalin and Molotov made Hitler sweat it out. The tension at the Berghof was almost unbearable. It was more than twenty-four hours later, on the evening of 21 August, before the message came through. Stalin had agreed. Ribbentrop was expected in Moscow in two days' time, on 23 August. Hitler slapped himself on the knee in delight. Champagne all round was ordered though Hitler did not touch any. 'That will really land them in the soup,' he declared, referring to the western powers.

'We're on top again. Now we can sleep more easily,' recorded a delighted Goebbels. 'The question of Bolshevism is for the moment of secondary importance,' he later added, saying that was the Fuhrer's view, too. 'We're in need and eat then like the devil eats flies.' Abroad, Goebbels remarked, the announcement of the imminent non-aggression pact was 'the great world sensation'. But the response was not that which Hitler and Ribbentrop had hoped for. The Poles' fatalistic reaction was that the pact would change nothing. In Paris, where the news of the Soviet-German pact hit especially hard, the French Foreign Minister Georges Bonnet, fearing a German-Soviet entente against Poland, pondered whether it was now better to press the Poles into compromise with Hitler in order to win time for France to prepare its defences. But eventually, after dithering for two days, the French government agreed that France would remain true to its obligations. The British cabinet, meeting on the afternoon of 22 August, was unmoved by the dramatic news, even if MPs were asking searching questions about the failure of British intelligence. The Foreign Secretary coolly, if absurdly, dismissed the pact as perhaps of not very great importance. Instructions went out to emba.s.sies that Britain's obligations to Poland remained unaltered. Sir Nevile Henderson's suggestion of a personal letter from the Prime Minister to Hitler, warning him of Britain's determination to stick by Poland, was taken up.

Meanwhile, in excellent mood on account of his latest triumph, Hitler prepared, on the morning of 22 August, to address all the armed forces' leaders on his plans for Poland. The meeting, at the Berghof, had been arranged before the news from Moscow had come through. Hitler's aim was to convince the generals of the need to attack Poland without delay. The diplomatic coup, by now in the public domain, can only have boosted his self-confidence. It certainly weakened any potential criticism from his audience.

Around fifty officers had a.s.sembled in the Great Hall of the Berghof by the time that Hitler began his address at noon. 'It was clear to me that a conflict with Poland had to come sooner or later,' began Hitler. 'I had already made this decision in the spring, but I thought that I would first turn against the West in a few years, and only after that against the East.' Circ.u.mstances had caused him to change his thinking, he went on. He pointed in the first instance to his own importance to the situation. Making no concessions to false modesty, he claimed: 'Essentially all depends on me, on my existence, because of my political talents. Furthermore, the fact that probably no one will ever again have the confidence of the whole German people as I have. There will probably never again in the future be a man with more authority than I have. My existence is therefore a factor of great value. But I can be eliminated at any time by a criminal or a lunatic.' He also emphasized the personal role of Mussolini and Franco, whereas Britain and France lacked any 'outstanding personality'. He briefly alluded to Germany's economic difficulties as a further argument for not delaying action. 'It is easy for us to make decisions. We have nothing to lose; we have everything to gain. Because of our restrictions our economic situation is such that we can only hold out for a few more years. Goring can confirm this. We have no other choice. We must act.' He reviewed the constellation of international forces, concluding: 'All these favourable circ.u.mstances will no longer prevail in two or three years' time. No one knows how much longer I shall live. Therefore, better a conflict now.'

The high probability was that the West would not intervene, he went on. There was a risk, but the risk had to be taken. 'We are faced,' he stated with his usual apocalyptic dualism, 'with the harsh alternatives of striking or of certain annihilation sooner or later.' He compared the relative arms strength of Germany and the western powers. He concluded that Britain was in no position to help Poland. Nor was t