Among the innumerable might-have-beens that mark crucial phases of the history of the Hitler regime, some of the more significant arise in relation to the Munich crisis of September 1938. Of these none is more central than that concerning the consequences if the western powers had set more severe limits to the concessions they were prepared to make to German pressures on Czechoslovakia. Most commonly it is assumed that greater firmness on their part would have led to the launching of a second World War. Such speculation, however, loses much of its meaning if the result had been the overthrow of the regime or still, if that should fail, dramatic changes in the complexion of German, European and world affairs.
Many students of the period are convinced that the attempt to remove Hitler would have been launched. Arguments concern mainly the prospects of success and the probable consequences of success or failure. Space is lacking for analysis of the relations between the dictator and the Generalitaet (general officer corps) after his accession to power in 1933. It must suffice to note that, by the summer of 1938, successive purges of the military leadership had severely reduced the ranks of those hostile or lukewarm toward the regime or who had ventured to take issue with aspects of Hitler's forced-draft armament program.1 The climax had been reached only a few months previous to the September crisis. As a sequel to the removal of Minister of War, Werner von Blomberg, and army commander, Werner von Fritsch, no fewer than fourteen generals had been summarily retired and forty others shifted to unfamiliar surroundings and command relationships.
Fritsch at the time of his removal by one of the filthiest intrigues of the Nazi period was Germany's most prestigious soldier. In his place Hitler chose the weak and highly vulnerable Walther von Brauchitsch, whom he placed under heavy obligation by financial favors that enabled him to get rid of a wife who stood in the way of marriage with a lady of questionable background.2 Even more fateful was the forced resignation in late August of Chief of the General Staff Ludwig Beck.
Beck had climaxed a series of protests against Hitler's intention to take military action against Czechoslovakia in late September by reading to the army group and army commanders on 4 August a memorandum condemning the dictator's policy. He had hoped that Brauchitsch, who agreed with him in principle, would join him in seeking what amounted to a general strike of the generals. But Brauchitsch would not read the speech Beck had prepared for him. Though the commanders with two exceptions (Walther von Reichenau and Ernst Busch) supported Beck's position and asked Brauchitsch to convey this to Hitler, he took the steam out of the procedure by sending the memorandum to the Führer through the dismayed army adjutant rather than presenting it personally. Hitler's response was to rail against Beck as the “saboteur” of his armament and foreign policies. The chief of staff had no alternative but to resign, leaving office on 28 August.
To all appearances, Hitler's mastery of the military seemed complete. What he failed to appreciate was that by slamming the door on protest and discussion, those who felt that he was leading Germany to disaster had only the choice of conspiracy. By eliminating Fritsch and Beck, seen by many as their final recourse in the struggle against tyranny, there remained only the choice of purging the state by toppling the regime itself.
The first conspiratorial dress rehearsal had grown out of the crisis over the removal of Beck. In the high command of the army itself, the spark had come largely from Franz Halder, deputy chief of staff and vociferous critic of the regime. He had been the moving spirit in Beck's entourage in urging drastic action on behalf of Fritsch.
Halder in the summer of 1938 is judged too often in terms of the drained, eroding spirit of the early war period when, at critical junctures, his loss of nerve was decisive in the failure of resistance plans to bear fruit. In September 1938, in any event, he did not show the reluctance to assume responsibility that he demonstrated later in 1939 and early 1940.
A critical feature in Halder's more positive demeanor during the Munich crisis may well have been greater confidence in the thoroughness of the preparations for a coup as compared to those of later years. Never again, not in the fall and winter of 1939-1940, at a number of stages in 1943, least of all in July 1944, did plans and dispositions approximate in proficiency and completeness those of the weeks before Munich.
A feature that does much to explain this was that, after 1938, one could never be certain of the presence in Berlin of the key figures of the conspiratorial group. Their various duties had scattered most of them over the numerous fronts and occupied territories. In particular, only then was it possible to count on the full drive of the vital motor center represented by the Abwehr, the armed forces intelligence service directed by Admiral Wilhelm Canaris.
No major personality of the Third Reich is subject to more contradictory estimates than this enigmatic personage. Controversies concerning his aims and motivations will no doubt persist. For us it must suffice that, after welcoming the Third Reich, he was so utterly disillusioned as to assemble in the Abwehr directorate a cluster of rabid anti-Nazis down to the secretaries. He had been a moving spirit for action during the Fritsch crisis and, to the spring of 1940, played a vital role in resistance projects. Thereafter, frustrated and the victim of a pronounced fatalistic streak, he confined himself essentially to a supportive role.
Canaris was apprised of all plans and preparations but left an essentially free hand to the prime movers in his entourage. Of these chief of staff and Central Division head Hans Oster was most noteworthy. He was direct where Canaris was deliberate and at times devious, impulsive where the Admiral was wary, and of a heroic mold no one has ascribed to his chief.
A brief outline must suffice to sketch the more vital aspects of the plans and preparations for a coup d'état in the late summer of 1938. A major resistance center existed in the Foreign Office among whom the principal figure was Baron Ernst von Weizsaecker, the deputy foreign minister. It was he who early in September dispatched to London a final appeal to stand up to Hitler on his military threat to Czechoslovakia. The message was transmitted by Theo Kordt, then chargé d'affaires of the German embassy, to Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax in a late night meeting of 7 September at No. 10 Downing Street. Kordt was only the last of a string of emissaries who made the pilgrimage to London that summer. He told Halifax that the army leaders were prepared to overthrow the regime if Hitler persisted with military action.
Virtually all studies have assumed that, in view of the notorious insecurity of Paris, no similar pleas were directed toward France. Actually Carl Gördeler had carried an early version to Prime Minister Daladier in May and General Beck personally met a French emissary in a hotel in Basel about a week after Kordt's meeting with Halifax.3 At least as startling is the hitherto unknown fact that, relying on President Roosevelt's opposition to Hitler's expansionism and hoping that he would stiffen backs in London and Paris, a similar message was dispatched to Washington. Probably due to the skepticism of Truman Smith, the American military attaché in Berlin, who could not conceive of German generals playing such a role, the message does not seem to have reached the President.
Civilians also formed the tentacles by which the Oster circle reached out to the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Economics, the Berlin Police Presidium, and Himmler's immediate entourage. The principal go-betweens were two further controversial figures, Hjalmar Schacht and Hans Bernd Gisevius. Schacht had been involved with opposition conventicles since 1936. His greatest service now was to help enlist the later Field Marshal Erwin von Witzleben, then commander of the Berlin military district (Wehrkreis). Once committed, Witzleben could be relied upon to be the most staunch of the staunch. And as commander of all troops in the Berlin area his participation was crucial.
Gisevius was the link with Count Helldorff, the Berlin police president, whose deputy, Count Fritz Dietlof von der Schulenburg, had ties with resistance groups all over Berlin, and Arthur Nebe, head of the Criminal Department of Himmler's national police organization. Gisevius was also established in Witzleben's office to supervise planning for taking over the capital.
Illustrative of the role of other civilian volunteers is that of Theodor and Elisabeth Struenck, who had moved to Berlin from their native Dusseldorf largely to take part in the overthrow of the regime. Elisabeth served in innumerable ways as clearinghouse, letterdrop, messenger, hostess and chauffeur. Driving around the city with Witzleben and Count Brockdorff-Ahlefeld, commander of the Potsdam division, she clocked over 2,000 kilometers as they surveyed points to be occupied and estimated the forces required to take them over.4
Mention is rarely made of the significant help provided by Fritz Wiedemann, Hitler's company commander in the First World War and now his personal adjutant. For the seizure of the Reich Chancellery the information he fed Oster concerning affairs in Hitler's entourage and the routines of the building would be invaluable.5
The decisive payoff would be of course the seizure of the Chancellery and the person of the dictator. On its success would depend all further progress in toppling the regime and taking over the machinery of government. Nothing more dramatically illustrates the amateur side of the conspiracy than the intentions of the principals concerning Hitler. Most of them were ardent Christians who took seriously the commandment against killing. Some persisted in this attitude down to July 1944 and several quit the conspiracy when its plans came to center on assassination. In 1938 the intention was to take the dictator captive and either have him declared insane by a commission headed by the eminent psychiatrist Karl Bonhoeffer or subject him to an elaborate show trial revealing the crimes of his regime.
The hazards of either course appear obvious. Small wonder that such realists as Oster, though pretending to go along, were determined to eliminate Hitler for once and all. The seizure of the Chancellery was entrusted to two commando-type troops of about sixty young men commanded by Abwehr Major Friedrich Wilhelm Heinz. He had been a Stahlheim (conservative veterans organization) leader and a good number of his men came from its former ranks. Others came from the Brandenburg sabotage regiment of the Abwehr. To stress the broad character of the anti-Nazi front, a number of students and union workers were included.
Heinz and his intimates among the participants were convinced that the only realistic procedure was to kill the dictator immediately and this was further concerted with Oster. Taking a leaf from the Nazi gangster book, the Führer was to be shot while “resisting arrest” or “trying to escape.”6
Our knowledge of detail is much limited by the fact that though much (far too much) was set on paper, including the provisions for the takeover of the Chancellery, ministerial buildings, major government agencies, post and telegraph offices, airports, radio stations and party offices, all was burned at a meeting of principals in Witzleben's Grunewald villa a few days after Munich. We thus must rely most largely on the memories of the small group who survived the post-July 1944 liquidations (Halder, Gisevius, General Thomas, Schacht, the Kordt brothers, and Elisabeth Struenck).
How close did it come to launching the coup prepared for September 1938? Twice that month the course of affairs led within an inch of Halder pressing the button that would be the signal for action. The first occasion arrived shortly after the conclusion of the Nazi Party annual meeting at Nuremberg of 12 September, when Hitler had made a particularly bellicose declaration with respect to Czechoslovakia. At that time, as Halder was being urged to give the required signal, the British announcement of Chamberlain's coming to see Hitler at Berchtesgaden on the fifteenth had ended such a possibility for the time being.
A more critical state of affairs was reached by 27 September, when Hitler and the western powers appeared to have reached an impasse and war looked to be around the corner. Hoping to whip up manifestations of public support, the dictator that afternoon staged a military parade through the heart of Berlin by tank formations of the 2nd motorized division from Stettin. The march was conducted in a fashion to imply that the troops were on their way to the Bohemian border. But the crowd of spectators were sunk in gloom and, when the Führer appeared on his balcony to invite applause, he was for the first time since achieving power in 1933 met by glacial silence.
Did Halder that day make his climactic assault on Brauchitsch who, he had persistently assured his associates, was basically at one with him on avoiding a European war and would at the critical juncture prove cooperative? Some of the principal conspirators had never gained complete faith in Beck's successor and had concerted among themselves to have Witzleben give the decisive signal if Halder should procrastinate.
That Halder was ready to move and had finally managed to sweep Brauchitsch into the conspiratorial camp was attested by him to his associates at the time as well as in post-war testimony. It may also be hinted at by the invitation the latter extended to Fritsch to meet him that afternoon in his quarters in the Hotel Continental. While Fritsch's aide, the later Colonel Otto Heinz Grosskreuz, paced the corridor, the two generals conferred for some time.7 Just what they discussed and possibly agreed will probably never be known. On the whole it appears most likely that Brauchitsch would not have called in Fritsch except to concert with him some positive steps.8
September 28 dawned with every portent that Hitler's order to march would be issued that day. Brauchitsch departed for the Chancellery from army headquarters to establish whether the Führer was persisting in his course. If that should prove the case, Halder later claimed, his return to headquarters would have meant the immediate pressing of the fatal button. Instead Brauchistch brought the news that Chamberlain had enlisted Mussolini to propose to Hitler a meeting of the big four at Munich and that, short of permitting military action against Czechoslovakia, it appeared the Führer's demands would be essentially met.
Events thereupon took their course as history has recorded them. However, if the Chamberlain government had pursued a different path or even had delayed matters for a day or two, the course of affairs could have been a far different one. This is to assume, of course, that Halder would have lived up to his promises or, failing that, that Witzleben had stepped in to force his hand by himself releasing the gathered forces. In view of the undoubted contrast between the two in character and determination, some students of the period incline more to the latter supposition. On the other hand, Halder, whose worst days of indecision still lay a year ahead, would have discovered it excruciatingly painful to draw back at the critical minute. In this instance, going along with his commitments meant yielding to the greater pressures. His confederates had done almost all the work of planning, preparation, and managing the foreign contacts whereas he had reserved to himself only the final go-ahead. He knew much, perhaps, virtually all, about the assurance delivered to London, Paris, and Washington. To call off the entire project at the critical stage would have earned him the disdain of all with whom he had concerted. He would have had to reckon, also, that the tracks left by him and his friends all over Berlin were likely to be discovered by the vengeful dictator.
The most critical imperative in the operation assuredly concerned a successful assault on the Reich Chancellery, presumably in the early morning hours of the 29th. Peter Hoffmann has devoted a book to relate in vivid detail the elaborate measures worked out to guard the dictator. These were no doubt formidable but not yet remotely what they became later and Hoffmann lists a string of deficiencies that would have made the building vulnerable to sixty determined men. The organization in two troops implies that two points of entry were targeted. In any event, in view of the information supplied by Wiedemann and the personal acquaintance of many conspirators with movements inside the Chancellery, the prospect of successfully eliminating Hitler would seem to have been favorable.
However, let it be assumed for the moment that the Führer escaped from the building. Where could he have gone if he could actually have gotten out of Berlin? The most likely resort was his 10,000 man Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler which was deployed not far from the Czech border at Grafenwöhr. If he could have reached there, something like a civil war was an undoubted possibility. As his personal popularity had taken rather a nose dive during the previous days due to near panic about the prospect of a European war, the public would have been much divided. In any event, all thought of such a war would have vanished for the time being.
A more intriguing line of speculation derives from the assumption that the Führer had vanished from the stage. Merely removing him from the picture would not yet by itself determine the fate of the National Socialist regime. Much, as in July 1944, would depend on dealing effectively also with his principal paladins, notably Göring. He had not yet publicly been declared Hitler's successor, though a secret disposition of 29 April of that year had named him as first in line with Rudolf Hess in second place. Vitally important was that Göring alone among the Nazi leaders had something of a national standing. Aside from popularity with broad sections of the population, he enjoyed considerable kudos in business circles, could still count on devotion in his Luftwaffe, and was known both in Germany and informed quarters abroad as a moderating influence in foreign policy. Even among the conspirators there were always some who, largely blind to his more vicious qualities, were at least inclined to consider him, hoping thereby to avoid both civil war and European conflict. They urged that his ideological drive was not genuine, being put on mainly to conform with that of Hitler. In some quarters something like the following is still said: “If Göring had taken over, Germany might well have become one of the most corrupt countries in the world but there would have been no Second World War.” His laziness and sybaritic disposition seemed to promise this.
The question of a Göring government was probably less likely to arise in September 1938 than would have been the case if Hitler had been killed in July 1944. In the latter instance, the half-baked and largely improvised preparations did not provide for immediate elimination of Göring. Because of the wholesale destruction of opposition documents in October 1938 we do not know what had been planned to deal with Göring during the previous month. We know in a general way that there were dispositions to take care of Hitler's more dangerous lieutenants and as none of them were too well guarded, these are likely to have proved effective.
Halder, after much hesitation and one rather feeble attempt to sound out General von Rundstedt, had refrained from systematically contacting military commanders outside of Berlin. Of almost all of them, however, the conspirators could be fairly sure once the dictator was out of the way and there was no longer the impediment of the solemn oath the Generalitaet had been virtually tricked into swearing in August 1934 after the death of President von Hindenburg. It will be recalled that, with only two exceptions, all the commanders had declared their agreement with Beck's analysis of the consequences of an attack on Czechoslovakia. This was far from tantamount to following him in open revolt if Hitler had only been taken captive, one of the pressing reasons for choosing the road to assassination. With Hitler dead, especially too if Göring was out of the way, the generals would have rallied to a man to a provisional government that included the revered Beck and a figure 50 widely respected as Carl Gördeler.
A government in which Beck and Gördeler played key roles would have immediately repudiated Hitler's irresponsible expansionist policies and assumed in armament the fundamentally defensive posture Fritsch and Beck had favored. Beck saw Germany's position in Europe much as Bismarck had done after the war with France, when he said that the new Empire was just big enough to still be tolerable to its neighbors; further expansion would compel them to combine against it. As for Gördeler, his journeys abroad and innumerable conversations with foreign statesmen and dignitaries had convinced him that Germany's position was no longer that of the twenties, that one could now count on making headway on legitimate claims without endangering the peace of Europe.9
One may assume, of course, that a Beck-Gördeler government would have pursued what might be called the normal or traditional revisionist aims with respect to recovering the more painfully felt territorial losses of 1919, such as the Polish Corridor area, Upper Silesia, and African colonies. It would have been easy to see Germany restored to the position of a world power. But it would have pursued its aims without Hitler's threats or resort to war. In particular, it would have avoided like the plague anything smacking of Hitler's racial fantasies or indiscriminate eastern expansion.
Those who plotted to overthrow the Hitler regime in 1938 assuredly represented mostly the conservative forces of Germany but such as had been severely chastened by the harsh experience with totalitarian dictatorship. Most of them were monarchists of one stamp or another. For the sake of badly needed stability and as the result of even more severe chastening, democratic and social democratic elements were in many instances prepared to accept a moderate monarchy. There was some argument among the plotters between those who favored the elder son of the former Crown Prince, Wilhelm, and those who preferred the younger brother, Louis Ferdinand. The moderate views, modesty and general reasonableness and attractiveness of Wilhelm tended, despite his marriage to a commoner, to weigh the scales in his favor.10
One can assume that any type of successor government would have striven for revision of the more onerous provisions of the Versailles Treaty and restoring Germany as a European power. There could be no guarantee that in time, expansive urges would not again revive. But no leader of the future was likely to attempt again the role and more extravagant aims of Adolf Hitler.
Dealing with this problem is in effect to contradict the major assumption to which the previous discussion had led: that there was less danger of war during the September 1938 crisis than has usually been supposed. If the western powers, as was the case, obliged by their far-reaching concessions a frustrated dictator to refrain from proceeding militarily against Czechoslovakia, a European war was avoided for the time being. The pronounced anti-war sentiment of the German public and the expressed opposition of virtually the entire Generalitaet gave him no choice but to set temporary limits to his bellicosity. Small wonder that in his fury he later proclaimed that if again a foreign envoy came to him with “offers” difficult to refuse, he would throw the fellow down the steps of the Reich Chancellery.
On the other hand, if Britain and France had set more severe limits to their appeasement, or perhaps delayed just enough to give the impression that they would do so, the launching of a coup by the military opposition would almost certainly have resulted. The likely consequence was the death of Hitler and the probable elimination of the National Socialist regime.
Be that as it may, in September 1938 the issue peace or war was real to all parties concerned, whether directly involved in the crisis or being concerned bystanders. British and French leaders were bound in their calculations to give weight to the military posture and establishments of potential allies or opponents as well as to other power factors (political, economic or naval) that might enter the picture if war came.
The prospective lineup of states that, at one time or another, might become involved in a conflict that resulted from a German attack on Czechoslovakia is riddled with question marks. The Czechs could only fight with any hope of success if backed by France and Britain. If driven to desperation, they might also risk war in the hope that, once engaged, the western powers would be compelled by shame and public sentiment to come to their aid. Thus, though the French government had on 1 July notified Prague that it should not look for help if war came as the result of its obduracy on the Sudetenland question, the French were known to be much divided on their course if Hitler should drive things to extremes. Six members of the Paris cabinet had personally informed the Czech ambassador, Stefan Osusky, that they would resign in public protest if France violated its treaty obligations.11
If France went to war, it would be difficult or impossible for Britain to hold off. London was virtually on record to act if, despite all warnings, Hitler persisted with military action. States which, like France, were committed to the Czechs by formal treaty were the Soviet Union and the remaining countries of the Little Entente, Romania and Yugoslavia. The Soviets were also allied with France but this tie had been greatly loosened by the worldwide horror and disgust with the barbarous purges that had been going on since 1936. At least equally or more significant was the undermining of confidence in Soviet military capacities as a result of the slaughter of over half of the officer corps of the rank of major and above, commencing in June 1937.
So greatly was Soviet military power discounted in France that the French high command administered a string of snubs to the Soviet leadership. Moscow was not even invited to send observers to the 1937 autumn maneuvers. In April 1938 General Gamelin suggested to civilian authorities that if war came with Germany it might be just as well to have the Soviets remain neutral. They might be less of a help than a burden.
In pronouncements of Foreign Minister Molotov, the Kremlin did declare its resolve to live up to alliance obligations. But, even assuming what everyone now questioned, that Moscow could make an important military contribution, there was doubt about how it could bring power to bear. Germany could only be reached directly via Poland or, more round about, via Romania and Hungary. The Poles had made very clear their refusal to permit any passage. It is usually assumed that Bucharest did the same but its archives now show that it was less negative than has been supposed and that it was the Soviets who backed off.12 To all intents and purposes, the Soviets were written off as a military factor of any importance in Paris and London (as well as in Berlin!).
In the case of Romania and Yugoslavia much would depend on the course adopted by the Hungarians. The pressures on Czechoslovakia had put Budapest into a revisionist fervor with respect to the Treaty of Trianon and Hitler counted heavily on Hungarian cooperation. But, though the Hungarians would have been ready enough to attack the Czechs in the rear, they had no taste for a European war. With Hungary standing aside for the time being, the Yugoslavs and Romanians were also inclined to await events.
As in 1939, Germany in the previous September could not count on the alliance of a single European state. Italy had abounded in assurances and Mussolini, in speeches during the second half of September, had publicly aligned himself with Germany. Assuredly, it would not be easy to retreat from this. A year later, however, a solemnly proclaimed Pact of Steel proved malleable enough for this purpose. For the sake of our discussion, we shall assume that the Italian dictator, fearful too about an army the British fleet would most probably cut off in Spain, would decide to take no chances for the time being.
Thus Germany could not expect military support from a single European state. Its best hope, in fact, lay in one of the least likely quarters imaginable – Warsaw. The prospect of a disintegrating or mutilated Czechoslovakia had raised annexationist fever there regarding the district of Teschen. The wisest heads in the Polish capital saw the folly of collaborating in a German aggression which all too likely might next turn eastward. There was also the sacrifice of the alliance with France, indispensable in any later showdown with Berlin. But the acquisitive urge was strong and for a time it seemed to predominate. Tragically the threatening posture was sufficient to induce the Prague government not to risk refusal to accept the Munich pact. President Benes was later to maintain that the likelihood of Poland joining in a German attack was decisive in a hairline resolve to accept the decree of Munich.12
Lack of certainty about Poland's course also had some part in weakening French determination in the Sudeten crisis. In calculating western resources in a showdown with Germany, Gamelin felt compelled to write off the Poles as active military collaborators and to give thought instead to the conceivability of their joining in the rape of Czechoslovakia.
In assessing the probably course of the war between Germany and the states which in 1938 would have been arrayed against her, it does not suffice simply to total up then available military resources.13 Psychological factors, for one, played an extraordinary role. A principal feature involved western estimates of German capacities which varied between the exaggerated and the absurd. Hitler here may have won the greatest propaganda victory of our century.
Until in the spring of 1935 he denounced the military restrictions of Versailles, he did what he could to belittle the progress of armament in Germany. He could not afford an intervention that he lacked the means to oppose. Once he had admitted and blown up the facts, he went to the opposite tack to make out that the expanding Wehrmacht had actually reached a state where foreign interference would be hazardous. Most intimidating was the picture drawn of the burgeoning Luftwaffe. The everyday targets were the military members of the French and British embassies. The best illustration is probably the handling of the French assistant air attaché, the future General Stehlin. Clever use here was made of Göring's sister, Olga Riegele, of whom he was a cordial social acquaintance.14 F. W. Winterbotham of British air intelligence was similarly fed highly colored information about the whole rearmament process. A real coup was achieved in dealing with Charles Lindbergh, whose worldwide fame in aviation assured him eager audiences in west European quarters. Lindbergh was suitably impressed and carried westward the message intended by Hitler and Göring.
Joseph Vuillemin, who commanded the French air force, had already progressed so far in self-deception that he scarcely required the elaborate performances staged for his benefit when he visited Germany in late August 1938. Reports from military representatives in Berlin and intelligence sources had already earlier in the year given him a magnified picture of the growing German air strength. In March he had told War Minister Daladier that, if war came with Germany and Italy as a result of a French intervention in Spain, his own planes would be shot out of the skies within two weeks. He now repeated the same gloomy verdict.
What has been said should not minimize the strong reasons for a real French and British concern about the growth of German air power. The French were far behind in their own program of build-up and modernization. The now nationalized aircraft factories were in a chaotic state, most of the fighters in service were obsolete, and none could fly as fast as German bombers. The British in the autumn of 1938 had but a single squadron of Hurricanes and another of Spitfires. Oxygen masks were so deficient that none could fly higher than 15,000 feet. Construction of the radar chain, such a lifesaver in 1940, had barely begun.
The state of British air defense actually had little to do with the realities of the military confrontation in September 1938 unless one thinks of a war pattern in 1938-1939 similar to the actual one of 1939-40, in other words in the event of total allied defeat on the continent followed by German air attacks from French bases. German bluff had succeeded in giving government and people a nightmarish picture of immediately devastated cities (illustration: digging trenches in Hyde Park during the Munich crisis!). In actuality no German air armada could possibly strike London from Germany itself.
It has occasionally been alleged that the only real air threat against Germany in 1938 could have been exercised by Soviet planes flying from Czech bases. To the writer this appears fanciful. The Soviet air force in this period was in a state bordering on chaos. The military liquidations (they can be called no less) had struck, among other targets, at its leadership and the principal designers. It was filled with obsolete planes that were no match for Messerschmitt 109s or 110s. When one reckons in the time required to prepare bases and facilities, assemble necessary supplies, move planes and pilots, and work out a suitable offensive program, any chance of an effective air intervention on the part of the Soviets goes aglimmering. Most probably help would have arrived piecemeal and been destroyed in the same fashion.
Though we know less about it, we may assume that a program of deception parallel to that employed on the Luftwaffe was designed to confuse French and British military and government quarters with respect to German ground forces. But again, self-deception, a perverted wishful thinking that thrived on bad news, played a role. Almost from the start of the Hitler regime, French estimates on the German army were grossly out of line. At the time of the German repudiation of the Versailles restriction (spring 1935), its strength was assumed in Paris to be about 700,000 men (actual figure: 350,000). The often pot-bellied S.A. (brown-shirted storm troopers) were described as the equivalent of 60 reserve divisions – this one year after the morally devastating 1934 blood purge!
After the spring 1936 Rhineland occupation it was assumed that 295,000 men were stationed there (actual figure: 30,000 which included 15,000 Landespolizei or border police). In the spring of 1938 the West Wall (western parlance: Siegfried Line) which was scarcely begun was assumed to be complete.
It is a real problem to determine the degree to which such assumptions derived from false data played into French hands by German intelligence or other sources as against pure self-deception. French military and some civilian leaders sold on appeasement seem to have welcomed every scrap of evidence that supported a defensive posture even in the event of a conflict to do, in other words, as came naturally. The memories of the generations decimated in 1914-1918 were still overwhelming.
British estimates on ground forces were also out of line though less absurd than those of the French. At the time of the occupation of Austria, British intelligence reported Germany prepared to put 100 infantry divisions into the field as well as four to six tank divisions, roughly twice the front line strength at that period. British military planning still was dominated by assumed needs in the event of a conflict with Italy in the Middle East. In February 1938 the official program called for a field force of four infantry divisions and one mobile division to be assembled in an eastern theater.
German assumptions about the French potential were also dominated by pessimism that derived in part from eagerness to restrain the Führer. The data with respect to numbers were essentially accurate though chief of staff Beck made the tactical mistake of trying to impress Hitler by beefing up estimates with the inclusion of questionable additions such as the Garde Mobile. This only served to infuriate the dictator.15 The real overestimates had to do with quality. German military leaders, recalling French performance in World War I, were inclined to share world opinion that the French army was the best anywhere. The high estimate even extended to the staggering arms industry which an official German report labeled “in scope and production the strongest in Europe.” In some measure such judgments no doubt were somewhat colored by military and economic specialists who hoped to discourage adventurism.
In mental and physical preparedness for the kind of war actually to be fought in 1940, the German ground forces were much superior in 1938 to their potential opponents. From the standpoint of mobile warfare (we will eschew the term “Blitzkrieg” with which the Freiburg research center is currently quarreling) Hitler's forces had the tactical advantage of having gone far to marry the two forms of highly mobile artillery represented by the tank and the dive bomber.16 The combination performed devastating in the later German victories in Poland, France, Yugoslavia, Greece and, during the first eighteen months, in Russia. Except in the advance into Czechoslovakia, the air-tank team, insofar as it was ready, was not likely to find employment in the last months of 1938 or before the spring of 1939.
The French and British certainly did underestimate the dangers of mobile warfare as it was then being prepared in Germany. They were wedded to the idea of the superiority of the defense in most complete contrast to French doctrine on the eve of World War I or the ideas of J.F.C. Fuller propagated in Britain. In this addiction to defensive warfare it was not merely a question of adhering to a thesis that could be abandoned as new considerations demanded review. The French were largely frozen in by the enormous financial and psychological investment anchored in the Maginot Line. They were not even flexible within the defensive posture itself. The concentration of industrial and mineral resources in northwestern France made this prohibitive. The British, even if their World War I memories had not inclined them also to a defensive doctrine, had no choice but to follow the French lead.17
Though Gamelin proclaimed confidence that he would repel any German offensive, he did not even after such a repulse expect to launch an offensive of his own. In the spring of 1938 he told Daladier that, if war came with Germany and Italy over Spain, France could no more than pin down German divisions at the frontier. In the May weekend crisis a few weeks later he did speak of an offensive if the Germans attacked Czechoslovakia. But from an order he issued on 8 June it is clear that he had in mind only a reconnaissance in force in the Saarland. The almost instinctive inclination to marshal negative factors was shown in a sudden nose-dive of French appraisals of Czech powers of resistance.18
From what has been noted about the military/psychological disposition of the western powers, it appears evident that they would have fought no more offensively in 1938 than they did a year later. This is the more likely because of their far less pronounced sense of outrage in 1938. By the summer of 1939, Hitler's bad faith in seizing the remainder of Czechoslovakia brought conviction that concessions to him did not assure peace but gave him stepping stones to even more extreme demands. This comprehension may well have done most to reverse attitudes in the British Dominions and to make a profound impression in the United States. Both in the Dominions and in America, as well as in broad sections of the British public itself, the issue in 1938 had seemed centered in one of self-determination for the German-speaking regions of Bohemia. This illusion had been largely erased a year later.
On the German side, Hitler's seeming infallibility and an intensive propaganda campaign against the Poles had made their impact. There was also more basic hostility against Poland, which had annexed territories that had been part of the old Reich and not, as in the case of the Czechs, regions that happened to be German-speaking but had not belonged to the Hohenzollern Empire. In 1938 a sullen and apathetic nation and a disgruntled Generalitaet, whose top leadership had gone the road of conspiracy, would have been a heavy burden on the war effort. Assuming that hostilities had been launched, the Czechs would almost certainly have been overwhelmed, the more certain if the Poles had joined in. In analyzing Czech chances, it is often forgotten that the army, however high in reputation for training, weaponry, superb fortifications and industrial backing, was in considerable part composed of disaffected or lukewarm minorities. Close to three-fourths of the German-speaking conscripts failed to report on mobilization. Hungarians and Ukrainians were varyingly disaffected. Even the Slovaks were far less committed to the national cause than were the Czechs.
Assuming the conquest of Czechoslovakia, the accretion of German power would have approximated nothing close to the actual gains when the country was taken over without resistance. The highly modern equipment of the Czech forces, one of the leading arms industries of Europe, and a massive gold reserve fell undiminished into German hands. Both the fighting and staying power of the Reich were substantially increased for the war that came in 1939. It may further be assumed that the damage to the German forces would have been far greater than in the later war against Poland.
From what has been reviewed thus far it appears safe to assume that in 1938 the western powers would have stood by and marked time as they were to do during the agony of Poland. The situation, however, would have been considerably less favorable for Hitler than a year later. The German forces were far less formidable for offensive war against opponents of some strength. Substantial bodies of troops would have had to be diverted to guard their rear against possible Polish attack, particularly in East Prussia and Silesia. Thus an immediate offensive in the west after the Czechs were finished, ignoring weather and terrain as Hitler was to do a year later, would seem unthinkable. The generals, who in November 1939 came within a hair's breadth of acting, would almost certainly have revolted.
On the other hand, the staying power of the Reich in 1938 was abysmal. The Romanians had threatened to cut off oil and grain shipments. The very substantial Soviet economic help, assured in 1939, especially in strategic materials, would not have been available. All in all, it appears highly likely that Hitler would have been prepared to negotiate on the basis of the fait accompli so far as the Sudetenland was concerned while agreeing to the restoration of remaining Czechoslovakia.
On their part, the western allies, with populations far less committed to seeing things through than they were later and with the Dominions and the United States standing apart, would seem to have been ready to accept a settlement on this basis. Saving face, they could say that, after all, this was what they had gone to war about in the first instance.
The end of this imagined phony war would hardly have assured “peace in our time.” Hitler's control of Germany might have been somewhat impaired but Goebbels' propaganda machine could have repaired much of the damage. It is difficult to believe that the dictator would have reconciled himself to abandoning his extravagant goals for eastern expansion. Sooner or later, if at all possible, he was bound to resume his march.
The foreign military attachés in Berlin during the Nazi period included a number of extraordinary personalities. Being comparatively young and enterprising, they had limited respect for their seniors, and for the more rigid rules of the diplomatic game. They were at times likely to pursue their own devices in ways that, if revealed, would have shocked their superiors. Those from the west and north of Europe were likely to have a particular detestation of the regime to which they were accredited. Their limited regard for official decorum opened them to ideas of direct action. Some of the attachés were also worked on systematically by younger and more ardent officers of the conspiratorial group about Admiral Canaris, head of armed forced intelligence (Amt Ausland Abwehr). In particular, Colonel (later General) Hans Oster, who developed real intimacy with several attachés, and probably had extensive relations with others of which little has thus far come to light.
The British military attaché, Colonel Frank Noel Mason-MacFarlane, was a particularly daring spirit, not at all averse to personal risks and somewhat reckless of disposition even when missteps could lead to national embarrassment. His dislike of the National Socialist regime and of Adolf Hitler personally is amply documented. When Hitler to all intents and purpose repudiated the Munich Agreement in March 1939 by marching into rump Czechoslovakia and making it a German dependency, Mason-MacFarlane shared the conviction in many British quarters that war had become inevitable if the German dictator remained in power. An opportunity to rid the world of Hitler for once and all promised to present itself on the occasion of the military parade on his birthday (20 April), when he would be exposed to public gaze on the reviewing stand. Mason-MacFarlane's flat was nearby and from its bathroom window he proposed to shoot the dictator, having secured a high-powered rifle with telescopic sights. The distance is said to have been 110 yards. But when the colonel went to London for authority to proceed with his scheme, he is said to have been turned down for what was labelled an act of “poor sportsmanship.” The details of the affair are recorded in the Imperial War Museum of London.
There was, however another plan in formation that was independent of foreign government authorization. Under the leadership of the American polar explorer, Admiral Richard Byrd, something like an international consortium for the elimination of Hitler was formed. Among those privy to its plans was the deputy air attaché of France the later General Paul Stehlin, whose testimony is our principal source of information.19
Stehlin's importance in the Berlin scheme of things well exceeded his relatively minor official position in the hierarchy of the French legation. The German Luftwaffe had selected him as a major channel of misinformation to France on the supposed strength and development of German air power.
For the sake of the following scenario let us assume that one or the other of these plots had succeeded in killing Hitler in April 1939. The German and European situations at that time unfortunately differed profoundly from what they had been seven months before during the September 1938 crisis. At that time, the odds would have favored a political takeover by opposition elements. As noted earlier in this chapter, plans and preparations for such a contingency exceeded by far in compass and efficiency those of later phases of the military conspiracy. Because of predominant anti-war sentiment, Hitler's hold on popular support and public imagination was then at its lowest ebb. The army leadership was close to united in opposition to the risk of a European war. By April 1939, however, some of the leading conspiratorial figures were no longer in Berlin. Others had been transferred to different posts. Their detailed plans for takeover had been scrapped, most of them burned in General Witzleben's Grunewald fireplace. Munich had confirmed Hitler's prestige as a diplomatic wonder worker, even to many of his critics. The Führer's assassination, instead of seeming to save the country from a disastrous war, would now have made of him a national martyr. The complete repudiation of the National Socialist regime at this stage would have been for practical purposes unthinkable.
Although Hermann Göring was not formally designated Hitler's successor until 29 April 1939, and the formal announcement was made early in September, it can be assumed that his succession would have been all but automatic. With the conspiratorial elements temporarily paralyzed, there could be no effective opposition for the time being. Even in 1938 some of the conspirators, lacking faith in the success of a complete turnover, had at times played with the thought of a halfway solution involving a government under Göring.
The same idea had been put forth from time to time by those who favored a monarchical restoration, a solution undoubtedly favored by the still largely aristocratic general officer corps. There had been talk about this in the final phase of the Bruening chancellorship. It would have had much of the support of the Catholic Center Party, and even of significant elements of the desperate Social Democrats, who regarded it as infinitely preferable to a Nazi-dominated government. There was the highly attractive figure of the elder son of the former Crown Prince, Prince Wilhelm.
The writer cherishes the memory of an entire night passed in a Koenigsberg apartment in July 1938 with Prince Wilhelm and two fellow officers of his reserve regiment. There could be no doubt about the Prince's solidly anti-Nazi sentiments and fundamental democratic sympathies. There is every reason to believe that he would have made a superb constitutional monarch. His death in the French campaign in 1940 was a real loss for Germany.
It does not appear entirely inconceivable that at some point Göring would be open to the idea of a monarchical restoration. Much as he loved power, he was even more addicted to showmanship. The offer of a princedom in a restored Hohenzollern Empire in which he could pose as “the second Bismarck” would not have been without attraction.
Undoubtedly the influence of the army in a Göring regime would generally have been a moderating one. Almost uniquely in the history of military establishments, most notably perhaps in Germany, Hitler's drive to unlimited rearmament had gone too fast for the army itself. Unrestrained expansion in the number of recruits threatened dilution in quality and training. Fritsch and Beck had basically favored a defensive posture. Senior staff officers and commanders were widely disposed to give heed to the warning voice of Hjalmar Schacht and other political economists that unrestrained military expenditures threatened ultimate economic collapse. Göring himself had not been entirely deaf to such warnings. He might rant about the need of “cannon before butter.” But no one was more addicted to what “butter” stood for than Göring himself, and the need for more cannon certainly did not for a moment limit his personal extravagances. Now that the pressure from Hitler's obsessions was off, he might have gone back to some of Schacht's ideas on fiscal restraint. That would scarcely mean a personal rehabilitation of Schacht, whom Göring had been so personally instrumental in thrusting aside. It could be argued, however, that Hitler's extravagant armament program sooner or later threatened national bankruptcy. His departure, and with it the abandonment or at least the easing of the single-minded obsession with wholesale eastern expansion, might have cleared the way to something like rational economic policy.
Among the most interesting and significant consequences of Hitler's demise would be those associated with developments within the Nazi Party. The first reaction was almost certain to be something like a closing of ranks. Hitler's policy had been to encourage rivalries by duplicating responsibilities to the point where there were innumerable animosities, and scarcely a single close friendship, among his chief lieutenants. But it would now be a matter of hanging together if one did not wish to hang separately. This would probably evoke a tendency for a time to rally behind Göring, but that did not mean that everyone could now feel secure in his own particular political niche. Göring himself, for example, had much resented the way Himmler had been able to edge him out of the control and development of the political police. Not many months would pass before the pulling and hauling of the various inter-party rivalries could be expected to resume with new force. And there was little love lost between Göring and Goebbels. The latter was in many ways the most fanatical among the Nazi political leaders. Göring, on the other hand, was much the least ideological among them. His public poses might appear to give the lie to this, but they were assumed by those in the know to fall into line with the Führer rather than representing strong political commitment. Göring, in short, can perhaps be labelled the most opportunistic of Hitler's paladins, ready to switch in any direction that promised to enhance his power.
Generally speaking, Party solidarity at lower levels without Hitler in the picture would leave a good deal to be wished for. The slaughter of so many Brown Shirt leaders in the June 1934 Blood Purge had left deep scars, so much so that as late as the 1938 Blomberg-Fritsch crisis, S.A. chief Victor Lutze had actually offered to cooperate with the Army against the S.S. While it would be too much to maintain that Nazism without Hitler was bound to fade in Germany, there was small prospect of maintaining the élan and solidarity for which he had been the inspiration.
What of the Third Reich's anti-Semitic programs? Had it not been for the events of the previous half year one might have hoped for a substantial reversal of these policies. But the bitter memories of the November 1938 “crystal night” and the subsequent systematic plundering of the Jewish community cast an indelible shadow on any such prospects. Too many individuals and Party agencies were now too committed to extreme courses. Göring's own anti-Semitism sat lightly upon him. We need remind ourselves only of his famed “I will decide who is a Jew in the Air Ministry.” What one could expect is that the Nazis' fanatical anti-Semitic drive would be somewhat allayed.
The area where Germany without Hitler was likely to see the greatest changes was in foreign relations. If his departure had taken place only a few weeks earlier, i.e. before his march into rump Czechoslovakia, the difference would have been far greater. It is highly doubtful whether Göring would have taken that step on his own. But now to repudiate that policy in which Göring had indeed taken a principal part would have gone against the normal rules governing national prestige. The most that could have been expected, at least for the time being, was some relaxation of the severities of German control over Bohemia-Moravia, perhaps with the grant of considerable autonomy. In any event we may be sure that Göring would not have installed a man of the stamp of Reinhard Heydrich as successor to Baron von Neurath as Reich Protector.
The primary issue for the policies of a post-Hitler regime would of course have been, a war with Poland in 1939? Hitler got away with the attack on Poland because the reputation he had gained via Munich as a diplomat had lent credibility among the generals to his claim that Britain and France would again prove quiescent. Göring, who had had a long-term assignment to butter up Polish leaders in the role of jovial host and hunting companion, would have found it psychologically easier to call off the dogs of war and pretend that no bellicose intentions had existed. He would almost certainly have gotten rid of the universally detested Ribbentrop and quite probably would have called back to the foreign ministry Baron von Neurath, who was generally respected in the western capitals. Göring had cooperated with him closely in September 1938 to prepare the way for the Munich compromise. In short, war with Poland in 1939 was unlikely in a Germany ruled by Hermann Göring.
Whether such a conflict could be put off indefinitely is another matter. The frontiers with Poland were the one foreign relations issue on which there was something like a national consensus in Germany. The post-1919 settlement in Upper Silesia was considered grossly unfair, and the Corridor a political and geographic impossibility. It was that issue, incidentally, on which Germany enjoyed a good deal of sympathy in Britain. If Hitler had started with Poland instead of imposing his pressures as the climax of a string of aggressive moves elsewhere, the British guarantee of that country would have been unthinkable. What does appear certain, however, is that no post-Hitler government of Germany would have seriously considered a war on Poland at the risk of a European and world conflict. At worst the continent could have expected a series of localized initiatives – perhaps culminating in a second Munich, this one honored by all the contracting parties.
In London and Paris the removal of Hitler would have evoked a vast sigh of relief. Though Göring was looked upon as a bombastic clown, enough was known about his lethargic and sybaritic disposition to assume that with his accession much of the aggressive drive would depart from Germany. Yet though anxieties about further expansive moves from Berlin would have been much allayed, the objective power of the expanded Reich offered reason enough for continued concern. One is reminded of Bismarck's dictum that the Reich as he had created it was already a satiated state, that the addition of further territory such as the possible annexation of the German-speaking parts of Austria would only pressure the neighboring states to unite against her. In short, the sheer strength of the post-1938 German Reich was enough to assure that France and Britain would draw closer together to restore a disturbed balance of power.
For the same reason, despite Stalin's resentment of western appeasement policies, the big currents of European affairs were such that, despite frequent setbacks, a growing Moscow-London-Paris entente could be predicted with some certainty. For the time being, relations between Moscow and Berlin would be much eased by Hitler's departure. Stalin had already in early March made a pronouncement to the effect that the contrasting ideologies of two countries should not impede cordial relations. Though this was to be taken with more than a grain of salt, it began the smoothing of the road between the two capitals that culminated in the Hitler-Stalin pacts of August and September. Though anti-Bolshevism remained strong in Germany, it would now lack the bite of Hitler's single-minded obsession with wholesale eastern expansion.
In the Far East the assassination of Hitler could well have meant the return to a policy leaning toward China. The switch to a pro-Japanese policy had been entirely his own and had come in 1935 with startling suddenness at the very time the future Field Marshal von Reichenau was in China with a gift for Chiang Kai-Shek. He had been suddenly recalled. World War I memories had until then dictated predominant German sympathies for China. With Hitler out of the way and the elimination or at least weakening of plans for wholesale eastern expansion, Berlin's heavy banking on Japanese partnership against the Soviet Union would be much weakened. With the fading of the prospect of close relations with Berlin, there was likely to be some corresponding weakening of the influence of the militaristic expansionist trends in Japanese policy. The combination of the lessening of the prospect of German cooperation against the Soviet Union and the military setbacks suffered in 1938 and 1939 in border clashes with the Soviets would give pause to thoughts of northern expansion.
Curbing of Japanese ambitions in turn would be reassuring to the United States, and, combined with lowered anxiety about German expansion, could have some dampening effect on the accelerating naval program. Any amelioration of the more extreme Nazi policies, notably in the area of anti-Semitism, would also be reassuring and decrease anxieties about curbing German expansionism in Europe. In short, a Germany without Hitler would have significantly increased isolationist sentiments in the U.S. – perhaps, ironically, making Roosevelt's third-term victory over internationalist Wendell Wilkie a good deal easier.
1 A brief survey of the course of relations between army and regime before the summer of 1938 may be found in Harold C. Deutsch, “German Soldiers in the 1938 Munich Crisis,” in Francis R. Nicosia and Lawrence D. Stokes, eds., Non-Conformity, Opposition and Resistance in the Third Reich (London: Berg Publishers, 1990), 305-321.
2 See Harold C. Deutsch, Hitler and His Generals: The Hidden Crisis of January to June, 1938 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1974), 220-227.
3 The full story of the Gördeler and Beck missions as well as that of the opposition message to Washington may be found in Deutsch, “German Soldiers in the 1938 Munich Crises.”
4 Interview with Elisabeth Gaertner-Struenck, 18 April 1970.
5 Wiedemann interview, 11 July 1970. The basic facts do not depend alone on his testimony.
6 Interview with Friedrich Wilhelm Heinz, 24 August 1958, and his 203-page manuscript, “Von Wilhelm Canaris zum NKVD.”
7 Grosskreuz interview, 15 January, 1970.
8 One must at least reckon with the possibility that Halder's claim that he had converted Brauchitsch does not hold water. In that event, the commander-in-chief could have approached Fritsch to consult with him about a possible employment during the coming war, indicating that Brauchitsch was prepared to go ahead with it. Against this some weight may be given to the thesis that, as Brauchitsch seems to have had no thought of employing Fritsch in September 1939, he was not likely to have considered it a year earlier.
9 The list of those Gördeler spoke to in the United States alone reads like a roll of figures who counted in foreign relations: Herbert Hoover, Cordell Hull, Henry Wallace, Henry Stimson, Henry Morgenthau, Jr., Owen D. Young, Sumner Welles, G. C. Messersmith. Only Franklin D. Roosevelt is absent.
10 As related to the writer by Ambassador Osusky.
11 Jiri Hochman, The Soviet Union and the Failure of Collective Security, 1934-1938 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984), 194-201.
12 As related by him to his nephew, Vaclav Benes, who in turn recounted it to the writer.
13 Basic aspects of the military confrontation in 1938 between Germany and her prospective foes are searchingly analyzed by Williamson Murray in The Change in the European Balance of Power, 1938-1939 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 2177-263.
14 The essential story is in Paul Stehlin, Temoinage pour l'histoire (Paris: R. Lafond, 1964). Additional information was provided by General Stehlin in an interview of February 1970.
15 Interview with General Gerhard Engel, who had been Hitler's army adjutant, 24 June 1970.
16 The marriage was not officially consummated until the winter of 1938-1939.
17 The authoritative voice and pen of B.H. Liddell Hart preached that the advance of motorization actually strengthened the defense by conferring greater mobility in the use of machine and anti-tank guns. History, he argued, taught that the loser would be “the army which was the first to commit itself to the attack.”
18 The French military attaché in Prague, General Fourchet, was so outraged that he later renounced his citizenship.
19 Interview with General Paul Stehlin, Paris, 12 February, 1975.