Hitler

growled a little before it forgot and forgave.”⁷⁸

Hitler stayed in Vienna less than twenty-four hours; it is hard to say whether his bias against the hated “sybaritic city” or his impatience prompted him to return so hurriedly. In any case, the effortlessness with which he had achieved this major victory encouraged him to push at once toward the next goal. Only two weeks after the annexation of Austria he met with Konrad Henlein, the leader of the Sudeten Germans, and declared his readiness to solve the Czechoslovakian question within the foreseeable future. Another four weeks later, on April 21, he discussed with General Keitel the plan for a military attack upon Czechoslovakia. Out of regard for world opinion he rejected an “attack out of a clear sky, without any pretext or possibility of justification.” He would prefer a “lightning-like action on the basis of an incident,” for example an “assassination of the German Ambassador in conjunction with an anti-German demonstration.”

As with Austria, Hitler was again able to utilize the inherent contradictions of the Versailles system. For Czechoslovakia was one grand negation of the principle upon which it was supposedly based. Its creation had been far less connected with the right of self-determination than with France’s strategical interests. For Czechoslovakia was a small multinational state in which one minority was pitted against the majority of all the other minorities, who were all manifesting that egotistic nationalism it had itself shown during its own struggle for independence. Chamberlain had once denigratingly called it not a state but “scraps and patches.” The comparatively high degree of freedom and political participation that the government granted its citizenry did not suffice to control the centrifugal forces operating within it. The Polish ambassador in Paris spoke bluntly of a “country condemned to death.”⁷⁹

By all the laws of politics there was bound to be a clash with Czechoslovakia as German strength grew. The 3.5 million Sudeten Germans had felt oppressed ever since the foundation of the republic, and they attributed their economic distress, which was in fact very serious, less to structural causes than to the “alien rule” of Prague. Both Hitler’s seizure of power and the elections of May, 1935, when Konrad Henlein’s Sudeten German party had become the strongest political party in the country, enormously swelled their self-assurance, and the annexation of Austria had inspired massive demonstrations under the slogan of “Home to the Reich.” As early as 1936 an anonymous letter writer from the Sudetenland has assured Hitler that he looked upon him “as a Messiah”; and such hysterical expectations were now stirred up by wild speeches, provocations, and clashes. Hitler had coached Henlein to constantly present Prague with such high demands that they would “be unacceptable to the Czech government.” He encouraged him to adopt a challenging attitude. He thus laid the grounds for that crisis which would require him to intervene. In the meantime, he let events take their course. Early in May he traveled with a large retinue of ministers, generals, and party functionaries on a state visit to Italy, where Mussolini now had to try to surpass Hitler’s hospitality. The backdrop of the Eternal City was festively decorated with flags, fasces, and swastikas. The houses along the railroad line were freshly painted, and near San Paolo Outside the Walls a special station had been erected, at which the King and Mussolini received Hitler. Hitler noticed, however, with some irritation that protocol required Mussolini to keep in the background. Hitler himself, as head of state, was the guest of Victor Emmanuel III, whom he contemptuously called “King Nutcracker.” Right from the start he offended the King by small rudenesses, such as entering the royal carriage before him. He also objected to the reactionary and arrogant manners of the court. Long afterward, he justified his later acts of suspicion against his Axis partner on these grounds.

On the other hand, the reception and the tributes paid him by Mussolini deeply impressed him. In resplendent parades the new passo romano—the Roman parade steps—was displayed. At a naval show in Naples one hundred submarines simultaneously vanished beneath the waves, to reappear a few minutes later with ghostly precision. Extensive tours enabled Hitler to satisfy his aesthetic inclinations, and years later he tended to extol the “magic of Florence and Rome.” How beautiful Tuscany and Umbria were, he would exclaim. In contrast to Moscow, Berlin, or even Paris, where the architectonic proportions lacked harmony both in details and overall impression, and everything had just bypassed him, Rome had “really moved” him.

Politically, too, the trip proved a success. Since Mussolini’s visit to Germany the Axis had been subjected to considerable strains. The annexation of Austria had reawakened the old anxieties about South Tyrol. But Hitler now succeeded in allaying these. In particular, his speech during the state banquet in the Palazzo Venezia, a display both of style and psychological instinct, brought about a shift. Ciano, who mentioned an initial mood of “universal hostility,” noted with amazement the sympathy Hitler was able to win by speeches and personal contacts. The city of Florence, Ciano commented, had “welcomed the Fuhrer with heart and head.”⁸⁰ When Hitler boarded the train for Germany on May 10, concord appeared restored, and Mussolini shook his hand vigorously, saying, “Henceforth no force will be able to separate us.”

In the few political conversations held during those days Hitler had gathered that Italy would grant Germany a free hand toward Czechoslovakia. The Western powers, too, had meanwhile called upon Prague to meet the Sudeten Germans halfway. And Hitler informed those powers that the Czechoslovakian question was soluble. The British ambassador in Berlin had told Ribbentrop that Germany would win all along the line.⁸¹ Hitler was therefore all the more surprised when the Prague government, troubled by rumors about German preparations for an attack, ordered partial mobilization on May 20, and England and France explicitly came out with references to their obligations to aid Czechoslovakia. They were, moreover, supported by the Soviet Union.

A conference was hastily called at the Berghof on May 22. Hitler felt forced to halt his preparations. He had occasionally mentioned the fall of 1938 as the moment for his action against Czechoslovakia; now it appeared that his timetable was being upset. His indignation mounted when the international press hailed the “May crisis” as finally an effective check to Germany. As had happened during the comparable humiliation of August, 1932, he remained hidden in his mountain retreat for several days, and quite probably the same cravings for revenge, the same wild fantasies of destruction, moved him now. In later years he repeatedly referred to the “grave loss of prestige” he had suffered during those days. Finally, in his neurotic fear of showing signs of weakness, he thought it appropriate to inform both Mussolini and the British Foreign Secretary in special messages that nothing could be achieved with him “by threats, pressure or force,” that in fact these “would certainly only accomplish the opposite and make him hard and unyielding.” On May 28 he came to Berlin for a conference with his top people in military and foreign affairs. With a map before him, he expatiated with growing fury on how he intended to wipe out Czechoslovakia. His former military directive for “Operation Green” had begun with the sentence: “It is not my intention to smash Czechoslovakia by military means in the immediate future without provocation….” The new version ran: “It is my unalterable decision to smash Czechoslovakia by military action in the near future.”⁸² In a defiant reaction he set the date for precisely October 1.

He now bent every effort to increase the tensions. At the end of June maneuvers were held near the Czech border, while work on the west wall at the French border was pushed at an accelerated pace. With Henlein carrying out instructions to seek confrontation, Hitler cautiously stirred the greed of Czechoslovakia’s other neighbors, especially the Hungarians and the Poles. The Western powers pressed the Prague government for more and more concessions. As if the one gesture of resolution had consumed all their strength, they returned to their former compliance, and the policy of appeasement now moved toward its climax. Honorable or understandable though their motives might be, that policy suffered equally from ignorance of Hitler and ignorance of the special problems of Central Europe. The appeasers had a deep distaste for the complex animosities in Central Europe, and they capitulated before the impossibility of threading their way through the labyrinth of ethnic, religious, national, racial, cultural, and historical grievances. For Nevile Henderson the Czechs were “the damned Czechs.” Lord Rothermere stated in the Daily Mail that the Czechs were of no concern to Englishmen. Chamberlain summed up the fundamental mood when he spoke of “a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing!” The mission of inquiry in Czechoslovakia on which the British government had dispatched Lord Runciman in August was an admission of indifference.⁸³

It is against this background that we must see the fateful editorial in the London Times of September 7, which proposed ceding the Sudetenland to the Reich. For after many weeks in which the crisis continued to worsen of its own accord, while Hitler seemingly restrained himself, the whole world was awaiting the speech with which he would wind up the Nuremberg party rally on September 12. It is quite possible that the many evidences of the spirit of appeasement contributed to the exceptionally violent and challenging tenor of that speech. But the unforgotten humiliation of May, to which he repeatedly reverted at length, was also a factor. He spoke of “infamous deception,” of “terroristic blackmail” and the “criminal aims” of