WHILE the invasion of Austria was in full swing Hitler said in the motor-car to General von Halder, “This will be very inconvenient to the Czechs.” Halder saw immediately the significance of this remark. To him it lighted up the future. It showed him Hitler’s intentions, and at the same time, as he viewed it, Hitler’s military ignorance. “It was practically impossible,” he has explained, “for a German army to attack Czechoslovakia from the south. The single railway line through Linz was completely exposed, and surprise was out of the question.” But Hitler’s main political strategic conception was correct. The West Wall was growing, and, although far from complete, already confronted the French Army with horrible memories of the Somme and Passchendaele. He was convinced that neither France nor Britain would fight.
On the day of the march of the German armies into Austria we heard that Goering had given a solemn assurance to the Czech Minister in Berlin that Germany had “no evil intentions towards Czechoslovakia”. On March 14 the French Premier, M. Blum, solemnly declared to the Czech Minister in Paris that France would unreservedly honour her engagement to Czechoslovakia. These diplomatic reassurances could not conceal the grim reality. The whole strategic position on the Continent had changed. The German arguments and armies could now concentrate directly upon the western frontiers of Czechoslovakia, whose border districts were German in racial character, with an aggressive and active German Nationalist Party eager to act as a fifth column in the event of trouble.
In the hope of deterring Germany the British Government, in accordance with Mr. Chamberlain’s resolve, sought a settlement with Italy in the Mediterranean. This would strengthen the position of France, and would enable both the French and British to concentrate upon events in Central Europe. Mussolini, to some extent placated by the fall of Eden, and feeling himself in a strong bargaining position, did not repulse the British repentance. On April 16, 1938, an Anglo-Italian agreement was signed, giving Italy in effect a free hand in Abyssinia and Spain in return for the imponderable value of Italian goodwill in Central Europe. The Foreign Office was sceptical of this transaction. Mr. Chamberlain’s biographer tells us that he wrote in a personal and private letter, “You should have seen the draft put up to me by the F.O.; it would have frozen a Polar bear.”*
I shared the misgivings of the Foreign Office at this move.
Hitler was watching the scene with vigilance. To him also the ultimate alignment of Italy in a European crisis was important. In conference with his Chiefs of Staff at the end of April he was considering how to force the pace. Mussolini wanted a free hand in Abyssinia. In spite of the acquiescence of the British Government, he might ultimately need German support in this venture. If so, he should accept German action against Czechoslovakia. This issue must be brought to a head, and in the settling of the Czech question Italy would be involved on Germany’s side. The declarations of British and French statesmen were of course studied in Berlin. The intention of these Western Powers to persuade the Czechs to be reasonable in the interests of European peace was noted with satisfaction. The Nazi Party of the Sudetenland, led by Henlein, now formulated their demands for autonomy in the German-border regions of that country, and the British and French Ministers in Prague called on the Czech Foreign Minister shortly afterwards to “express the hope that the Czech Government will go to the furthest limit in order to settle the question”.
During May the Germans in Czechoslovakia were ordered to increase their agitation. Municipal elections were due, and the German Government began a calculated war of nerves. Persistent rumours already circulated of German troop movements towards the Czech frontier. German denials did not reassure the Czechs, who on the night of May 20–21 decreed a partial mobilisation of their Army.
Hitler had for some time been convinced that neither France nor Britain would fight for Czechoslovakia. On May 28 he called a meeting of his principal advisers and gave instructions for the preparations to attack Czechoslovakia. His Service advisers, however, did not share unanimously his overwhelming confidence. The German generals could not be persuaded, considering the still enormous preponderance of Allied strength except in the air, that France and Britain would submit to the Fuehrer’s challenge. To break the Czech Army and pierce or turn the Bohemian fortress line would require practically the whole of thirty-five divisions. The German Chiefs of Staff informed Hitler that the Czech Army must be considered efficient and up-to-date in arms and equipment. The fortifications of the West Wall or Siegfried Line, though already in existence as field works, were far from completed: and at the moment of attacking the Czechs only five effective and eight Reserve divisions would be available to protect the whole of Germany’s western frontier against the French Army, which could mobilise a hundred divisions. The generals were aghast at running such risks, when by waiting a few years the German Army would again be master. Although Hitler’s political judgment had been proved correct by the pacifism and weakness of the Allies about conscription, the Rhineland, and Austria, the German High Command could not believe that Hitler’s bluff would succeed a fourth time. It seemed so much beyond the bounds of reason that great victorious nations, possessing evident military superiority, would once again abandon the path of duty and honour, which was also for them the path of common sense and prudence. Besides all this there was Russia, with her Slav affinities with Czechoslovakia, and whose attitude towards Germany at this juncture was full of menace.
The relations of Soviet Russia with Czechoslovakia as a State, and personally with President Beneš, were those of intimate and solid friendship. The roots of this lay in a certain racial affinity, and also in comparatively recent events which require a brief digression. When President Beneš visited me at Marrakesh in January 1944 he told me this story. In 1935 he had received an offer from Hitler to respect in all circumstances the integrity of Czechoslovakia in return for a guarantee that she would remain neutral in the event of a Franco-German war. When Beneš pointed to his treaty obliging him to act with France in such a case, the German Ambassador replied that there was no need to denounce the treaty. It would be sufficient to break it, if and when the time came, by simply failing to mobilise or march. The small republic was not in a position to indulge in indignation at such a suggestion. Their fear of Germany was already very grave, more especially as the question of the Sudeten Germans might at any time be raised and fomented by Germany, to their extreme embarrassment and growing peril. They therefore let the matter drop without comment or commitment, and it did not stir for more than a year. In the autumn of 1936 a message from a high military source in Germany was conveyed to President Beneš to the effect that if he wanted to take advantage of the Fuehrer’s offer he had better be quick because events would shortly take place in Russia rendering any help he could give to Germany insignificant.
While Beneš was pondering over this disturbing hint he became aware that communications were passing through the Soviet Embassy in Prague between important personages in Russia and the German Government. This was a part of the so-called military and Old-Guard-Communist conspiracy to overthrow Stalin and introduce a new régime based on a pro-German policy. President Beneš lost no time in communicating all he could find out to Stalin.* Thereafter there followed the merciless, but perhaps not needless, military and political purge in Soviet Russia, and the series of trials in January 1937, in which Vyshinsky, the Public Prosecutor, played so masterful a part.
Although it is highly improbable that the Old-Guard Communists had made common cause with the military leaders, or vice versa, they were certainly filled with jealousy of Stalin, who had ousted them. It may therefore have been convenient to get rid of them at the same time, according to the standards maintained in a totalitarian State. Zinoviev, Bukharin, and others of the original leaders of the Revolution, Marshal Tukhachevsky, who had been invited to represent the Soviet Union at the Coronation of King George VI, and many other high officers of the Army, were shot. In all not less than five thousand officers and officials above the rank of Captain were “liquidated”. The Russian Army was purged of its pro-German elements at a heavy cost to its military efficiency. The bias of the Soviet Government was turned in a marked manner against Germany. Stalin was conscious of a personal debt to President Beneš, and a very strong desire to help him and his threatened country against the Nazi peril animated the Soviet Government. The situation was of course thoroughly understood by Hitler; but I am not aware that the British and French Governments were equally enlightened. To Mr. Chamberlain and the British and French General Staffs the purge of 1937 presented itself mainly as a tearing to pieces internally of the Russian Army, and a picture of the Soviet Union as riven asunder by ferocious hatreds and vengeance. This was perhaps an excessive view; for a system of government founded on terror may well be strengthened by a ruthless and successful assertion of its power. The salient fact for the purposes of this account is the close association of Russia and Czechoslovakia, and of Stalin and Beneš.
But neither the internal stresses in Germany nor the ties between Beneš and Stalin were known to the outside world, or appreciated by the British and French Ministers. The Siegfried Line, albeit unperfected, seemed a fearful deterrent. The exact strength and fighting power of the German Army, new though it was, could not be accurately estimated and was certainly exaggerated. There were also the unmeasured dangers of air attack on undefended cities. Above all there was the hatred of war in the hearts of the Democracies.
Nevertheless on June 12 M. Daladier, now Premier of France, renewed his predecessor’s pledge of March 14, and declared that France’s engagements towards Czechoslovakia “are sacred, and cannot be evaded”. This considerable statement sweeps away all chatter about the Treaty of Locarno thirteen years before having by implication left everything in the East vague pending an Eastern Locarno. There can be no doubt before history that the treaty between France and Czechoslovakia of 1924 had complete validity not only in law but in fact, and that this was reaffirmed by successive heads of the French Government in all the circumstances of 1938.
But on this subject Hitler was convinced that his judgment alone was sound, and on June 18 he issued a final directive for the attack on Czechoslovakia, in the course of which he sought to reassure his anxious generals. “I will decide”, he told Keitel, “to take action against Czechoslovakia only if I am firmly convinced, as in the case of the demilitarised zone [of the Rhineland] and the entry into Austria, that France will not march, and that therefore England will not intervene.”*
On July 26, 1938, Chamberlain announced to Parliament the mission of Lord Runciman to Prague with the object of seeking a solution there by arrangements between the Czech Government and Herr Henlein. On the following day the Czechs issued a draft statute for national minorities to form a basis of negotiations. On the same day Lord Halifax stated in Parliament: “I do not believe that those responsible for the Government of any country in Europe to-day want war.” On August 3 Lord Runciman reached Prague, and a series of interminable and complicated discussions took place with the various interested parties. Within a fortnight these negotiations broke down, and from this point events moved rapidly.
On August 27 Ribbentrop, now Foreign Minister, reported a visit which he had received from the Italian Ambassador in Berlin, who “had received another written instruction from Mussolini asking that Germany would communicate in time the probable date of action against Czechoslovakia”. Mussolini asked for such notification in order “to be able to take in due time the necessary measures on the French frontier”.
Anxiety grew steadily during August, and in the afternoon of September 2 I received a message from the Soviet Ambassador that he would like to come down to Chartwell and see me at once upon a matter of urgency. I had for some time had friendly personal relations with M. Maisky, who also saw a good deal of my son Randolph. I thereupon received the Ambassador, and after a few preliminaries he told me in precise and formal detail the story here set out. Before he had got very far I realised that he was making a declaration to me, a private person, because the Soviet Government preferred this channel to a direct offer to the Foreign Office, which might have encountered a rebuff. It was clearly intended that I should report what I was told to His Majesty’s Government. This was not actually stated by the Ambassador, but it was implied by the fact that no request for secrecy was made. As the matter struck me at once as being of the first importance, I was careful not to prejudice its consideration by Halifax and Chamberlain by proceeding to commit myself in any way, or use language which would excite controversy between us.
The substance of what he told me was as follows:
The French Chargé d’Affaires in Moscow (the Ambassador being on leave) had that same day called upon M. Litvinov and, in the name of the French Government, asked what aid Russia would give to Czechoslovakia against a German attack, having regard particularly to the difficulties which might be created by the neutrality of Poland or Roumania. Litvinov replied that the Soviet Union had resolved to fulfil their obligations. He recognised the difficulties created by the attitude of Poland and Roumania, but thought that in the case of Roumania these could be overcome. If, for instance, the League decided that Czechoslovakia was the victim of aggression and that Germany was the aggressor, that would probably persuade Roumania to allow Russian troops and air forces to pass through her territory.
Even if the Council of the League were not unanimous, M. Litvinov thought a majority decision would be sufficient, and that Roumania would probably associate herself with it. He therefore advised that the Council should be invoked under Article 11, on the ground that there was danger of war, and that the League Powers should consult together. The sooner this was done the better, as time might be very short. Staff conversations ought to take place between Russia, France, and Czechoslovakia immediately about ways and means of giving assistance.
He also advocated consultation among the peaceful Powers about the best method of preserving peace, with a view, perhaps, to a joint declaration including France, Russia, and Great Britain. He believed that the United States would give moral support to such a declaration.
Thus M. Maisky. I said it was unlikely the British Government would consider any further steps until or unless there was a fresh breakdown in the Henlein-Beneš negotiations, in which the fault could not on any account be attributed to the Government of Czechoslovakia. We should not want to irritate Hitler, if his mind was really turning towards a peaceful solution.
I sent a report of all this to Lord Halifax as soon as I had dictated it. He replied on September 5 in a guarded manner, that he did not at present feel that action of the kind proposed under Article 11 would be helpful, but that he would keep it in his mind. “For the present, I think, as you indicated, we must review the situation in the light of the report with which Henlein has returned from Berchtesgaden.” He added that the situation remained very anxious.
In its leading article of September 7 the Times stated:
If the Sudetens now ask for more than the Czech Government are ready to give in their latest set of proposals, it can only be inferred that the Germans are going beyond the mere removal of disabilities for those who do not find themselves at ease within the Czechoslovak Republic. In that case it might be worth while for the Czechoslovak Government to consider whether they should exclude altogether the project, which has found favour in some quarters, of making Czechoslovakia a more homogeneous state by the cession of that fringe of alien populations who are contiguous to the nation to which they are united by race.
This of course involved the surrender of the whole of the Bohemian fortress line. Although the British Government stated at once that this Times article did not represent their views, public opinion abroad, particularly in France, was far from reassured. M. Bonnet, then French Foreign Minister, declares that on September 10, 1938, he put the following question to our Ambassador in Paris, Sir Eric Phipps: “Tomorrow Hitler may attack Czechoslovakia. If he does France will mobilise at once. She will turn to you, saying, ‘We march: do you march with us?’ What will be the answer of Great Britain?”
The following was the answer approved by the Cabinet, sent by Lord Halifax through Sir Eric Phipps on the 12th:
I naturally recognise of what importance it would be to the French Government to have a plain answer to such a question. But, as you pointed out to Bonnet, the question itself, though plain in form, cannot be dissociated from the circumstances in which it might be posed, which are necessarily at this stage completely hypothetical.
Moreover, in this matter it is impossible for His Majesty’s Government to have regard only to their own position, inasmuch as in any decision they may reach or action they may take they would, in fact, be committing the Dominions. Their Governments would quite certainly be unwilling to have their position in any way decided for them in advance of the actual circumstances, of which they would desire themselves to judge.
So far therefore as I am in a position to give any answer at this stage to M. Bonnet’s question, it would have to be that while His Majesty’s Government would never allow the security of France to be threatened, they are unable to make precise statements of the character of their future action, or the time at which it would be taken, in circumstances that they cannot at present foresee.*
Upon the statement that “His Majesty’s Government would never allow the security of France to be threatened” the French asked what aid they could expect if it were. The reply from London was, according to Bonnet, two divisions, not motorised, and 150 aeroplanes during the first six months of the war. If M. Bonnet was seeking for an excuse for leaving the Czechs to their fate, it must be admitted that his search had met with some success.
On this same September 12 Hitler delivered at a Nuremberg Party rally a violent attack on the Czechs, who replied on the following day by the establishment of martial law in certain districts of the republic. On September 14 negotiations with Henlein were definitely broken off, and on the 15th the Sudeten leader fled to Germany.
The summit of the crisis was now reached.