… The fear that this new discovery has provided the Nazis with some sinister, new, secret explosive with which to destroy their enemies is clearly without foundation. Dark hints will no doubt be dropped and terrifying whispers will be assiduously circulated, but it is hoped that nobody will be taken in by them.
It is remarkable how accurate this forecast was. Nor was it the Germans who found the path. Indeed they followed the wrong trail, and had actually abandoned the search for the Atomic Bomb in favour of rockets or pilotless aeroplanes at the moment when President Roosevelt and I were taking the decisions and reaching the memorable agreements, which will be described in their proper place, for the large-scale manufacture of atomic bombs.
“Tell Chamberlain,” said Mussolini to the British Ambassador on July 7, “that if England is ready to fight in defence of Poland, Italy will take up arms with her ally, Germany.” But behind the scenes his attitude was the opposite. He sought at this time no more than to consolidate his interests in the Mediterranean and North Africa, to cull the fruits of his intervention in Spain, and to digest his Albanian conquest. He did not like being dragged into a European war for Germany to conquer Poland. For all his public boastings, he knew the military and political fragility of Italy better than anyone. He was willing to talk about a war in 1942, if Germany would give him the munitions; but in 1939—no!
As the pressure upon Poland sharpened during the summer, Mussolini turned his thoughts upon repeating his Munich rôle of mediator, and he suggested a World Peace Conference. Hitler curtly dispelled such ideas. In August he made it clear to Ciano that he intended to settle with Poland, that he would be forced to fight England and France as well, and that he wanted Italy to come in. He said, “If England keeps the necessary troops in her own country, she can send to France at the most two infantry divisions and one armoured division. For the rest she could supply a few bomber squadrons, but hardly any fighters, because the German Air Force would at once attack England, and the English fighters would be urgently needed for its defence.” About France he said that after the destruction of Poland—which would not take long—Germany would be able to assemble hundreds of divisions along the West Wall, and France would thus be compelled to concentrate all her available forces from the colonies and from the Italian frontier and elsewhere on her Maginot Line for the life-and-death struggle. After these interchanges Ciano returned gloomily to report to his master, whom he found more deeply convinced that the Democracies would fight, and even more resolved to keep out of the struggle himself.
A renewed effort to come to an arrangement with Soviet Russia was now made by the British and French Governments. It was decided to send a special envoy to Moscow. Mr. Eden, who had made useful contacts with Stalin some years before, volunteered to go. This generous offer was declined by the Prime Minister. Instead on June 12 Mr. Strang, an able official but without any special standing outside the Foreign Office, was entrusted with this momentous mission. This was another mistake. The sending of so subordinate a figure gave actual offence. It is doubtful whether he was able to pierce the outer crust of the Soviet organism. In any case all was now too late. Much had happened since M. Maisky had been sent to see me at Chartwell in September 1938. Munich had happened. Hitler’s armies had had a year more to mature. His munitions factories, reinforced by the Skoda works, were all in full blast. The Soviet Government cared much for Czechoslovakia; but Czechoslovakia was gone. Beneš was in exile. A German Gauleiter ruled in Prague.
On the other hand, Poland presented to Russia an entirely different set of age-long political and strategic problems. Their last major contact had been the Battle of Warsaw in 1920, when the Bolshevik armies under Kamieniev had been hurled back from their invasion by Pilsudski, aided by the advice of General Weygand and the British Mission under Lord D’Abernon, and thereafter pursued with bloody vengeance. All these years Poland had been a spear-point of anti-Bolshevism. With her left hand she joined and sustained the anti-Soviet Baltic States. But with her right hand, at Munich-time, she had helped to despoil Czechoslovakia. The Soviet Government were sure that Poland hated them, and also that Poland had no power to withstand a German onslaught. They were however very conscious of their own perils and of their need for time to repair the havoc in the High Commands of their armies. In these circumstances the prospects of Mr. Strang’s mission were not exuberant.
The negotiations wandered around the question of the reluctance of Poland and the Baltic States to be rescued from Germany by the Soviets; and here they made no progress. All through July the discussions continued fitfully, and eventually the Soviet Government proposed that conversations should be continued on a military basis with both French and British representatives. The British Government therefore dispatched Admiral Drax with a mission to Moscow on August 10. These officers possessed no written authority to negotiate. The French Mission was headed by General Doumenc. On the Russian side Marshal Voroshilov officiated. We now know that at this same time the Soviet Government agreed to the journey of a German negotiator to Moscow. The military conference soon foundered upon the refusal of Poland and Roumania to allow the transit of Russian troops. The Polish attitude was, “With the Germans we risk losing our liberty; with the Russians our soul”.*
At the Kremlin in August 1942 Stalin, in the early hours of the morning, gave me one aspect of the Soviet position. “We formed the impression,” said Stalin, “that the British and French Governments were not resolved to go to war if Poland were attacked, but that they hoped the diplomatic line-up of Britain, France, and Russia would deter Hitler. We were sure it would not.” “How many divisions,” Stalin had asked, “will France send against Germany on mobilisation?” The answer was, “About a hundred.” He then asked, “How many will England send?” The answer was, “Two and two more later.” “Ah, two, and two more later,” Stalin had repeated. “Do you know,” he asked, “how many divisions we shall have to put on the Russian front if we go to war with Germany?” There was a pause. “More than three hundred.” I was not told with whom this conversation took place or its date. It must be recognised that this was solid ground, but not favourable for Mr. Strang of the Foreign Office.
It was judged necessary by Stalin and Molotov for bargaining purposes to conceal their true intentions till the last possible moment. Remarkable skill in duplicity was shown by Molotov and his subordinates in all their contacts with both sides. On the evening of August 19 Stalin announced to the Politburo his intention to sign a pact with Germany. On August 22 Marshal Voroshilov was not to be found by the Allied missions until evening. The next day Ribbentrop arrived in Moscow. In a secret agreement Germany declared herself politically disinterested in Latvia, Esthonia, and Finland, but considered Lithuania to be in her sphere of influence. A demarcation line was drawn for the Polish partition. In the Baltic countries Germany claimed only economic interests. The Non-Aggression Pact and the secret agreement were signed rather late on the night of August 23.*
Despite all that has been dispassionately recorded in this chapter, only totalitarian despotism in both countries could have faced the odium of such an unnatural act. It is a question whether Hitler or Stalin loathed it most. Both were aware that it could only be a temporary expedient. The antagonisms between the two empires and systems were mortal. Stalin no doubt felt that Hitler would be a less deadly foe to Russia after a year of war with the Western Powers. Hitler followed his method of “One at a time”. The fact that such an agreement could be made marks the culminating failure of British and French foreign policy and diplomacy over several years.
On the Soviet side it must be said that their vital need was to hold the deployment positions of the German armies as far to the west as possible, so as to give the Russians more time for assembling their forces from all parts of their immense empire. They had burnt in their minds the disasters which had come upon their armies in 1914, when they had hurled themselves forward to attack the Germans while still themselves only partly mobilised. But now their
frontiers lay far to the east of those of the previous war. They must be in occupation of the Baltic States and a large part of Poland by force or fraud before they were attacked. If their policy was cold-blooded, it was also at the moment realistic in a high degree.
It is still worth while to record the terms of the Pact.
Both High Contracting Parties obligate themselves to desist from any act of violence, any aggressive action, and any attack on each other, either individually or jointly with other Powers.
This treaty was to last ten years, and if not denounced by either side one year before the expiration of that period would be automatically extended for another five years. There was much jubilation and many toasts around the conference table. Stalin spontaneously proposed the toast of the Fuehrer, as follows: “I know how much the German nation loves its Fuehrer; I should therefore like to drink his health.” A moral may be drawn from all this, which is of homely simplicity. “Honesty is the best policy.” Several examples of this will be shown in these pages. Crafty men and statesmen will be shown misled by all their elaborate calculations. But this is the signal instance. Only twenty-two months were to pass before Stalin and the Russian nation in its scores of millions were to pay a frightful forfeit. If a Government has no moral scruples it often seems to gain great advantages and liberties of action, but “All comes out even at the end of the day, and all will come out yet more even when all the days are ended.”
The sinister news broke upon the world like an explosion. Whatever emotions the British Government may have experienced, fear was not among them. They lost no time in declaring that “such an event would in no way affect their obligations, which they were determined to fulfil”. They at once took precautionary measures. Orders were issued for key parties of the coast and anti-aircraft defences to assemble, and for the protection of vulnerable points. Warning telegrams were sent to Dominion Governments and to the Colonies. All leave was stopped throughout the fighting services. The Admiralty issued warnings to merchant shipping. Many other steps were taken. On August 25 the British Government proclaimed a formal treaty with Poland, confirming the guarantees already given. It was hoped by this step to give the best chance of a settlement by direct negotiation between Germany and Poland in the face of the fact that if this failed Britain would stand by Poland. In fact Hitler postponed D-Day from August 25 to September 1, and entered into direct negotiation with Poland, as Chamberlain desired. His object was not however to reach an agreement with Poland, but to give His Majesty’s Government every opportunity to escape from their guarantee. Their thoughts, like those of Parliament and the nations, were upon a different plane. It is a curious fact about the British Islanders, who hate drill and have not been invaded for nearly a thousand years, that as danger comes nearer and grows they become progressively less nervous; when it is imminent they are fierce; when it is mortal they are fearless. These habits have led them into some very narrow escapes.
From correspondence with Mussolini at this point Hitler now learnt, if he had had not divined it already, that he could not count upon the armed intervention of Italy if war came. It seems to have been from English rather than from German sources that the Duce learnt of the final moves. Ciano records in his diary on August 27, “The English communicate to us the text of the German proposals to London, about which we are kept entirely in the dark”.* Mussolini’s only need now was Hitler’s acquiescence in Italy’s neutrality. This was accorded to him.
On August 31 Hitler issued his “Directive Number 1 for the Conduct of the War”.
1. Now that all the political possibilities of disposing by peaceful means of a situation on the Eastern frontier which is intolerable for Germany are exhausted, I have determined on a solution by force.
2. The attack on Poland is to be carried out in accordance with the preparation made.… The date of attack—September 1, 1939. Time of attack—04.45 [inserted in red pencil].
3. In the West it is important that the responsibility for the opening of hostilities should rest unequivocally with England and France. At first purely local action should be taken against insignificant frontier violations.†
On my return from the Rhine front I passed some sunshine days at Madame Balsan’s place, with a pleasant but deeply anxious company, in the old château where King Henry of Navarre had slept the night before the Battle of Ivry. One could feel the deep apprehension brooding over all, and even the light of this lovely valley of the Eure seemed robbed of its genial ray. I found painting hard work in this uncertainty. On August 26 I decided to go home, where at least I could find out what was going on. I told my wife I would send her word in good time. On my way through Paris I gave General Georges luncheon. He produced all the figures of the French and German Armies, and classified the divisions in quality. The result impressed me so much that for the first time I said, “But you are the masters.” He replied, “The Germans have a very strong Army, and we shall never be allowed to strike first. If they attack, both our countries will rally to their duty.”
That night I slept at Chartwell, where I had asked General Ironside to stay with me next day. He had just returned from Poland, and the reports he gave of the Polish Army were most favourable. He had seen a divisional attack exercise under a live barrage, not without casualties. Polish morale was high. He stayed three days with me, and we tried hard to measure the unknowable. Also at this time I completed bricklaying the kitchen of the cottage which during the year past I had prepared for our family home in the years which were to come. My wife, on my signal, came over via Dunkirk on August 30.
There were known to be twenty thousand organised German Nazis in England at this time, and it would only have been in accord with their procedure in other friendly countries that the outbreak of war should be preceded by a sharp prelude of sabotage and murder. I had at that time no official protection, and I did not wish to ask for any; but I thought myself sufficiently prominent to take precautions. I had enough information to convince me that Hitler recognised me as a foe. My former Scotland Yard detective, Inspector Thompson, was in retirement. I told him to come along and bring his pistol with him. I got out my own weapons, which were good. While one slept the other watched. Thus nobody would have had a walk-over. In these hours I knew that if war came—and who could doubt it coming?—a major burden would fall upon me.
CHAPTER XVII
TWILIGHT WAR
POLAND was attacked by Germany at dawn on September 1. The mobilisation of all our forces was ordered during the morning. The Prime Minister asked me to visit him in the afternoon at Downing Street. He told me that he saw no hope of averting a war with Germany, and that he proposed to form a small War Cabinet of Ministers without departments to conduct it. He mentioned that the Labour Party were not, he understood, willing to share in a national coalition. He still had hopes that the Liberals would join him. He invited me to become a member of the War Cabinet. I agreed to his proposal without comment, and on this basis we had a long talk on men and measures.
I was surprised to hear nothing from Mr. Chamberlain during the whole of September 2, which was a day of intense crisis. I thought it probable that a last-minute effort was being made to preserve peace; and this proved true. However, when Parliament met in the evening a short but very fierce debate occurred, in which the Prime Minister’s temporising statement was ill-received by the House. When Mr. Greenwood rose to speak on behalf of the Labour Opposition Mr. Amery from the Conservative benches cried out to him, “Speak for England.” This was received with loud cheers. There was no doubt that the temper of the House was for war. I even deemed it more resolute and united than in the similar scene on August 3, 1914, in which I had also taken part. I learnt later that a British ultimatum had been given to Germany at 9.30 p.m. on September 1, and that this had been followed by a second and final ultimatum at 9 a.m. on September 3. The early broadcast of the 3rd announced that the Prime Minister would speak on the radio at 11.15 a.m.
The Prime Minister’s broadcast
informed us that we were already at war, and he had scarcely ceased speaking when a strange, prolonged, wailing noise, afterwards to become familiar, broke upon the ear. My wife came into the room braced by the crisis and commented favourably upon the German promptitude and precision, and we went up to the flat top of the house to see what was going on. Around us on every side, in the clear, cool September light, rose the roofs and spires of London. Above them were already slowly rising thirty or forty cylindrical balloons. We gave the Government a good mark for this evident sign of preparation, and as the quarter of an hour’s notice which we had been led to expect we should receive was now running out we made our way to the shelter assigned to us, armed with a bottle of brandy and other appropriate medical comforts.
Our shelter was a hundred yards down the street, and consisted merely of an open basement, not even sand-bagged, in which the tenants of half a dozen flats were already assembled. Everyone was cheerful and jocular, as is the English manner when about to encounter the unknown. As I gazed from the doorway along the empty street and at the crowded room below my imagination drew pictures of ruin and carnage and vast explosions shaking the ground; of buildings clattering down in dust and rubble, of fire-brigades and ambulances scurrying through the smoke, beneath the drone of hostile aeroplanes. For had we not all been taught how terrible air raids would be? The Air Ministry had, in natural self-importance, greatly exaggerated their power. The pacifists had sought to play on public fears, and those of us who had so long pressed for preparation and a superior Air Force, while not accepting the most lurid forecasts, had been content that they should act as a spur. I knew that the Government were prepared, in the first few days of the war, with over 250,000 beds for air-raid casualties. Here at least there had been no under-estimation. Now we should see what were the facts.
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