towards Britain and of the British Government towards its own people during those fateful years 1935-39. For the moment I hadn't worked the thing out, but I was glad to get confirmation from the number one Nazi of information I was receiving from friends in other countries about his intentions to start building a new German Air Force and also some idea of his future plans. It would, I hoped, help me to convince the Air Staff that they should take the matter seriously. Convincing the British Government was something else.

But now Hitler turned towards me, looked me straight in the eye and informed me that his Luftwaffe would have some five hundred operational aircraft by the end of 1934 or early 1935, and I felt I was going to find out why I had been asked to come to Berlin and what it was he wanted me to tell people in London when I got back. Speaking quietly and with natural conviction, he told me how he and his colleagues believed that unless something drastic was done some time in the not too distant future, some dozens of small black, white and brown states and countries would I" pursuing an entirely nationalistic policy, and everybody would be trying to order the world to their own particular advantage with the resultant chaos and risk of wars. "This," he said, "would be intolerable."

I realised that multiplicity of authority was anathema to a dictator and was therefore not surprised when Hitler continued: "There should be only three major powers in the world, the British Empire [as it then was], the Americas and the German Empire of the future." He stressed the fact that the British Empire had brought a wonderful civilisation to a large part of the world and he had no wish to disrupt it at all. As regards the future German Empire, this would include the rest of Europe and the lands to the East. In this way no single power would be able to dominate

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the others. England, with one or two exceptions, would continue her role in Africa and India, while Germany would take care of Russia and together we could decide the policy for China and the Far East. All questions of economic, material and cultural improvement could be much more easily and quickly resolved between three great powers. It was to be as simple as that.

I didn't think he had brought me all the way to Berlin just to hear his ideas on the future world; his next sentence was the really important one and was the basis of the theme which was to be pumped at me every time I went to Germany. "All we ask," Hitler said, "is that Britain should be content to look after her Empire and not interfere with Germany's plans of expansion." In other words, that we should keep our noses out of it. He went on to say that it would do us no good to get involved in another war, that the Germans themselves would look after the "crushing of Communism" in Russia; they didn't ask for our help at all. I remarked that this seemed a very big under-taking and perhaps he would be good enough to tell me more about it some other time. He smiled a bit wryly.

It was then that I made a remark which seemed to trigger him off. I said that I gathered that he heartily disliked the Communists. Up to this point, the four of us had been sitting quietly round the table listening and talking, but a sudden change now came over this little man. Colour suffused his face; the back of his neck, I could see, went red; his eyes started to bulge even further; he stood up and, as if he was an entirely different personality, he started to yell in his high-pitched staccato voice, which now echoed round the walls of the great room; he addressed not three people--but an imaginary three thousand. He ranted and raved against the Communists; it was the most extraordinary

exhibition. So this was the sort of thing which was sup-posed to mesmerize the German people. To me it was absurd and rather funny, though this was before Charlie Chaplin had made such a shattering comedy of the whole business. I couldn't help smiling just as Hitler was delivering one of those twenty-words-all-joined-together pieces of Teutonic vituperation. He looked down at me and in a flash he stopped, his bulging eyes returned to their sockets, his face became a normal colour and once again he became calm. He caught my eye and actually smiled himself as he sat down. "That," he said, "is what I think of the Communists." I felt that somewhere carefully tucked away this little Austrian had got a sense of humour. Would that he had retained it. He must have been the only one in the outfit with the stability to laugh at himself.

I had already arranged with Bill that he should concentrate on each item about which Hitler would talk while I myself would try to assess the sincerity of the man, whether he was telling the truth or not, what the motives were behind what he had to say and generally what made him tick so loud and surely.

His strange outburst had, I think, startled Bill as much as it had myself, though Rosenberg, who must have been used to this sort of thing, just smiled blandly at his Fuehrer's astonishing performance. Nevertheless, I think that all that he had told us before this strange outburst on Communism had been genuinely what he believed in and hoped for. His language about the Communists was too vivid to be anything else but u reflection of his absolute obsession with the destruction of a force which otherwise threatened to destroy him.

I was still puzzled at the extraordinary change in Hitler's personality when he stood up and harangued us about Russia. I remember telling Bill when we got back to his flat and were discussing the interview that

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I felt the little man possessed some sort of dual personality that he could switch on at will. Was he a schizophrenic?

Our interview, supposed to be twenty minutes, had lasted nearly an hour. Now Hitler got up and as we stood talking he hold me that Anthony Eden and Sir John Simon, the then Foreign Secretary, had been over to see him. He had hoped for some support from Britain but as a result of getting none, he had left them in no doubt as to his decision to rebuild his Air Force and had told them that as far as he was concerned, the Versailles Treaty was dead. He added that he had been unable to get on with Eden and Simon and that he didn't like the too-obvious crease in Anthony Eden's trousers or his pointed shoes. To Hitler, "They merely added to the pomposity of the immaculate diplomat." It was then that, as if throwing in an afterthought, Hitler told us that he had informed Eden that he did not propose to build an Air Force larger than the combined air fleets of Britain and France for the defence of the Reich. Whether this assurance had given any comfort to the politicians I do not know, but from an airman's point of view it was a piece of nonsense. The French Air Force at the time consisted of a large number of ropey old kites which were unfit to take the air against any modern aircraft, while Britain's light bombers and fighters, primarily used to keep order in the Middle East, were also out of date. This declaration of intent was an obvious bit of Nazi duplicity. Numbers of aircraft may mean something to a politician, but from my experience it was quality that counted, and if Germany was now to start from scratch, in a very short time one hundred completely modern aircraft would be worth three hundred of our out-of-ones. This then was the crux of what I should have to find out. What would their Air Force consist

of? What would be the proportion of bombers to fighters? The different types they would build would show the sort of war they intended to wage. It looked as if the Air Staff would have a job to educate the politicians on this subject since the build-up of a vast modern German Air Force would pose an unacceptable threat to ourselves and the French unless we did something about it quickly.

Hitler then went on to make another interesting remark. He said that, "in view of the lack of support from Britain", he had now had to sell half his birthright to the Army, this despite the fact that he was in effect the constitutional ruler of Germany. I did not immediately grasp the significance of what he said, but later it seemed to indicate that the Army was now to have a large say in the sequence of events. We took our leave, and as I shook hands with Hitler he remarked that I must come back and see everything which the Nazi Party was doing for the German nation. This, of course, was the invitation I had badly wanted and which I hoped would enable me to come and find out more us the years went by. But how many years had I got?

As we came downstairs there was again the sharp click of the heels of the black pawns on the while squares in the hall; Rosenberg was now swelling with importance since the interview had gone beyond his wildest dreams and there was little doubt that he him self had been deeply impressed by the candid conversation of his Fuehrer. He dropped us off at Bill's flat where we hurriedly sat down with pencil and paper to remember every word that had been spoken and to ail. I our own impressions on this extraordinary interview.

The first thing that had struck both of us was tin utter frankness of Hitler's long talk. He had tall... I rapidly, never searching for words, and was obviously saying what he meant to say and what he meant in to do

as he outlined to us the programme for his Thousand-Year Reich. Here was the dictator of Germany telling me what he was going to do in the not far distant future. I kept asking myself why? He had evidently been told by Rosenberg of my connection at the Foreign Office and my job in the Air Staff. Did he think, I wondered, that the British Air Staff was as powerful politically as Goering was in Germany? Bill agreed that there might be something in this, but he pointed out that this was only one, reason. The main reason must be that the Nazi plans necessitated a neutral Britain. A neutral America was much more within their grasp, with its large German population and an already established Nazi Bund in America; but they needed to turn British opinion in their favour and they had not had the same opportunity as in America. It was Rosenberg's belief that he might be able to build up such a connection in Britain by using people like myself. "That", said Bill, "is why you have been invited to Germany", and the more I could find ways of convincing the Germans I hat I was passing on their message, the closer Bill would be able to get to Hitler.

However, to get down to the interview in more detail a main point which had struck us was the complete denunciation by Hitler of the Versailles Treaty; It was, he said, "dead". Then he had included the rest of Europe, barring Britain, in his sphere of influence, as he called it, which we judged to mean that he would probably try to have a quick war against France and that the invasion of Russia was already planned. The next major point was his intention to build up a vast Air Force, and if all the old British and French aircraft included in the deal, it looked as if Hitler had in mind a first-Iine Air Force of some two thousand mod-aircraft. If this was to be an offensive weapon, as it obviously must be if he carried out his plans, then

the strutting, heel-clicking, bending-in-the-middle non-sense so beloved by the military. He came quietly along, a rather cheesy smile beneath the absurd little moustache. Bill and I were standing together, and as he shook hands the fixed smile broadened into a grin and for a fleeting moment the sparkle of fun came into his eyes as he murmured: "See how far I've come now."

Ribbentrop had not heard what was said, nor had he been meant to; this he obviously considered an insult. He glared at both of us. We had no doubt been invited to see Ribbentrop in all his glory to remind us that In-was now in charge of foreign affairs to the discredit of Rosenberg. Bill began to chuckle and I thought it was time to make ourselves scarce. So full of intrigue was the whole atmosphere at that time, you could not help seeing and hearing little groups of people looking you over and discussing who you could be.

Rosenberg had not been present; in fact, Ribbentropp had allowed nobody to spoil his triumphant presentation of his master and himself. But we found Rosen berg having a beer at his favourite cafe not far from Bill's flat. He even raised a smile when we told him about the "twitching wine waiter", as Ribbentrop was dispassionately called--he had a twitch of the eye which was uncontrollable and had been a wine merchant in civil life. Jealousy between Ribbentrop' BM Rosenberg had been evident as far back as 1933 when Ribbentrop first started to push his way into Rosenberg's amateurish efforts at foreign relations. It was but one more example of the in-fighting and duplication of responsibilities which were so marked in high Nazi circles.

During the time in which I observed Hitler, I saw how each year took toll of his health and sapped his joy in life: his features grew sallow and puffy and his

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expression increasingly troubled. I always found it impossible to assess his character, for his two personalities, a quiet, interesting talker and a staccato-voiced rabble-rousing tub-thumper, could seemingly be switched on and off at will. Not even his small sense of humour could account for his absurd quiff and moustache. How did it come about that this little Austrian corporal could achieve the authority and stature to lead a nation and finally the madness to alter the history of the world?

Rosenberg told me that when the movement started in Munich, Hitler was the 'talker' of this strange band of rebels. At first they had little clear idea of what they wanted to do except change the existing order. One got the impression that if there had been a Hyde Park corner in Germany, Hitler would have been there on his soap-box. One can visualize the rather indecisive authorities of the day saying, "That little troublemaker again." I gathered that it was only after this band of rebels had worked for some months on the ideas of Hess and Rosenberg that the basis of the new ideology began to emerge. "The Blueprint for Change", as Rosenberg called it, began to get around. Even the rebels were surprised at the number of supporters. As I have said, the climate was ripe; Germany wanted a new hero.

In the early days, according to Rosenberg, Hitler had to some extent on his close friends, Hess and Rosenberg. His ability to hold an audience was one of principal assets to this small group. Rosenberg described it as hypnotic; it may have been, though it did hypnotize me. But I have seen a crowd of many thousands whipped up to a state bordering on mass hysteria by this extraordinary man.

Adversity is always supposed to bring out the best in genius. There is little doubt that Hitler's imprisonment

by the German Government gave this small band of political rebels time to sort out then: ideas and clarify them in book form-Hitler's Mein Kampf and Rosenberg's The Myth of the Twentieth Century.

There was some speculation aboard at first as to whether Hitler was just a puppet of his Party. Personally, I don't think this was ever the case. Certainly he was probably their spokesman at the beginning owing to his gift of the gab, but there is no doubt in my own mind that he became their leader as of right.

Gradually he found stronger men to support him, more used to action than dreaming up new philosophies; with them he grew in power and authority, if not in wisdom. Alas, the stronger men who had jumped on the band wagon began to pursue their own pet hates and theories. Streicher and Himmler got busy with the Jews; Hess got cracking on the trade unions, which he dissolved, though maybe this saved post-war Germany from some of the crippling effects of antiquated prejudices in this field. Rosenberg was given a free hand to go ahead with his plans for an Aryan Pagan Europe; Goering built himself an Air Force; von Schiraelt trained the youth of Germany to be fit to fight and lit be fertile; but Hitler was certainly in full command.

Alas, with power came not so much corruption as megalomania. How very few mortals can handle power. Generations of authority coupled with responsibility often bring justice and compassion, but this was hardly likely to happen to Hitler and his henchmen. Eventually the gods had their way. To anyone listening to Hitler during those final days in his bunker in Berlin ordering his long-since-disintegrated armies to new positions of defence on the Eastern front, his madness and destruction appeared complete; and yet if one sets aside for a moment all the more bestial activities of the Nazis, Hitler was the sole outspoken challenger.

at that time of the Communists. Somehow he foresaw the troublemaking, the intrigue, the subversion, the mistrust and the misery that Communism would bring throughout the world, while apparently unaware that he himself was setting out on an equally disastrous course.

dealing with its causation. A realization of what the war brought may clear the way for a more realistic examination of how the war was produced. It sufficed for the purposes of the Nuremberg Trials to assume that the out-break of war, and all its extensions, were purely due to Hitler's aggression. But that is too simple and shallow an explanation.

The last thing that Hitler wanted to produce was another great war. His people, and particularly his generals, were profoundly fearful of any such risk-the experiences of World War I had scarred their minds. To emphasize the basic facts is not to whitewash Hitler's inherent aggressiveness, nor that of many Germans who eagerly followed his lead. But Hitler, though utterly unscrupulous, was for long cautious in pursuing his aims. The military chiefs were still more cautious and anxious about any step that might provoke a general conflict.

A large part of the German archives were captured after the war, and have thus been available for examination. They reveal an extraordinary degree of trepidation and deep-seated distrust of Germany's capacity to wage a great war. When, in 1936, Hitler moved to re-occupy the demilitarized zone of the Rhineland, his generals were alarmed at his decision and the reactions it might provoke from the French. As a result of their protests only a few token units were sent in at first, as "straws in the wind". When he wished to send troops to help Franco in the Spanish Civil War they made fresh protests about the risks involved, and he agreed to restrict his aid. But he disregarded their apprehensions about the march into Austria, in March 1938.

When, shortly afterwards, Hitler disclosed his intention of putting the screw on Czecho-Slovakia for the return of the Sudetenland, the Chief of the General Staff, General Beck, drafted a memorandum in which he argued that Hitler's aggressively expansionist programme was bound to produce a world-wide catastrophe and Germany's ruin. This was read out at a conference of the leading generals, and, with their general approval, sent to Hitler. As Hitler showed no sign of changing his policy, the Chief of the General Staff resigned from office. Hitler assured the other generals that France and Britain would not fight for Czecho-Slovakia, but they were so far from being reassured that they plotted a military revolt, to avert the risk of war by arresting Hitler and the other Nazi leaders.

The bottom was knocked out of their counter-plan, however, when Chamberlain acceded to Hitler's crippling demands upon Czecho-Slovakia, and in concert with the French agreed to stand aside while that unhappy country was stripped of both territory and defences.

For Chamberlain, the Munich Agreement spelt "peace for our time". For

Hitler, it spelt a further and greater triumph not only over his foreign opponents--but also over his generals. After their warnings had been so repeatedly refuted by his unchallenged and bloodless successes, they naturally lost confidence, and influence. Naturally, too, Hitler himself became overweeningly confident of a continued run of easy success. Even when he came to see that further ventures might entail a war, he felt that it would be only a small one, and a short one. His moments of doubt were drowned by the cumulative effect of intoxicating success.

If he had really contemplated a general war, involving Britain, he would have put every possible effort into building a Navy capable of challenging Britain's command of the sea. But, in fact, he did not even build up his Navy to the limited scale visualized in the Anglo-German Naval Treaty of 1935. He constantly assured his admirals that they could discount any risk of war with Britain. After Munich he told them that they need not anticipate a conflict with Britain within the next six years at least. Even in the summer of 1939, and as late as August 22, he repeated such assurances-if with waning conviction.

How, then, did it come about that he became involved in the major war that he had been so anxious to avoid? The answer is to be found not merely, nor most, in Hitler's aggressiveness, but in the encouragement he had long received from the complaisant attitude of the Western Powers coupled with their sudden turn-about in the spring of 1939. That reversal was so abrupt and unexpected as to make war inevitable.

If you allow anyone to stoke up a boiler until the steam-pressure rises beyond danger-point, the real responsibility for any resultant explosion will lie with you. That truth of physical science applies equally to political science-especially to the conduct of international affairs.

Ever since Hitler's entry into power, in 1933, the British and French Governments had conceded to this dangerous autocrat immeasurably more than they had been willing to concede to Germany's previous democratic Governments. At every turn they showed a disposition to avoid trouble and shelve awkward problems-to preserve their present comfort at the expense of the future.

Hitler, on the other hand, was thinking out his problems all too logically. The course of his policy came to be guided by the ideas formulated in a "testament" which he expounded in November 1937-a version of which has been preserved in the so-called "Hossbach Memorandum". It was based on the conviction of Germany's vital need for more lebensraum-living space-for her expanding population if there was to be any chance of maintaining their living standards. In his view, Germany could not hope to make

herself self-sufficient, especially in food-supply. Nor by buying it abroad could she obtain what was needed, since that meant spending more foreign exchange than she could afford. The prospects of her obtaining an increased share in world trade and industry were too limited, because of other nations' tariff walls and her own financial stringency. Moreover, the method of indirect supply would make her dependent on foreign nations, and liable to starvation in case of war.

His conclusion was that Germany must obtain more "agriculturally useful space"-in the thinly populated areas of Eastern Europe. It would be vain to hope that this would be willingly conceded her. "The history of all times- Roman Empire, British Empire-has proved that every space expansion can be effected only by breaking resistance and taking risks.... Neither in former times nor today has space been found without an owner." The problem would have to be solved by 1945 at the latest--"after this we can only expect a change for the worse". Possible outlets would be blocked while a food crisis would be imminent.

While these ideas went much farther than Hitler's initial desire to recover the territory that had been taken from Germany after World War I, it is not true that Western statesmen were as unaware of them as they later pretended. In 1937-8 many of them were frankly realistic in private discussion, though not on public platforms, and many arguments were set forth in British governing circles for allowing Germany to expand eastwards, and thus divert danger from the West. They showed much sympathy with Hitler's desire for lebensraum-and let him know it. But they shirked thinking out the problem of how the owners could be induced to yield it--except to threat of superior force.

The German documents reveal that Hitler derived special encouragement from Lord Halifax's visit in November 1937. Halifax was then Lord President of the Council, ranking second in the Cabinet to the Prime Minister. According to the documentary record of the interview, he gave Hitler to understand that Britain would allow him a free hand in Eastern Europe. Halifax may not have meant as much, but that was the impression he conveyed-and it proved of crucial importance.

Then, in February 1938, Mr. Anthony Eden was driven to resign as Foreign Minister after repeated disagreements with Chamberlain-who in response to one of his protests had told him to "go home and take an aspirin". Halifax was appointed to succeed him at the Foreign Office. A few days later, the British Ambassador in Berlin, Sir Neville Henderson, called on Hitler for a confidential talk, in continuation of Halifax's November conversation, and conveyed that the British Government was much in sympathy

with Hitler's desire for "changes in Europe" to Germany's benefit-"the present British Government had a keen sense of reality".

As the documents show, these events precipitated Hitler's action. He thought that the lights had changed to green, allowing him to proceed east-ward. It was a very natural conclusion.

Hitler was further encouraged by the accommodating way that the British and French Governments accepted his march into Austria and incorporation of that country in the German Reich. (The only hitch in that easy coup was the way many of his tanks broke down on the road to Vienna.) Still more encouragement came when he heard that Chamberlain and Halifax had rejected Russian proposals, after that coup, to confer on a collective insurance plan against the German advance.

Here it should be added that when the threat to the Czechs came to a head in September 1938, the Russian Government again made known, publicly and privately, its willingness to combine with France and Britain in measures to defend Czecho-Slovakia. That offer was ignored. Moreover, Russia was ostentatiously excluded from the Munich conference at which Czecho-slovakia's fate was settled. This "cold-shouldering" had fatal consequences the following year.

After the way that the British Government had appeared to acquiesce in his eastward move, Hitler was unpleasantly surprised by their strong reaction, and the partial mobilisation, which developed when he "put the heat" on Czecho-Slovakia in September. But when Chamberlain yielded to his demands, and actively helped him to impose his terms on Czecho-slovakia, he felt that the momentary threat of resistance had been in the nature of a face-saving operation-to meet the objections of the large body of British opinion, headed by Mr. Winston Churchill, which opposed the governmental policy of conciliation and concession. He was no less encouraged by the passivity of the French. As they had so readily abandoned their Czech ally, which had possessed the most efficient Army of all the smaller Powers, it seemed unlikely that they would go to war in defence of any remnant of their former chain of allies in East and Central Europe.

Thus Hitler felt that he could safely complete the elimination of Czecho-slovakia at an early moment, and then expand his eastward advance.

At first, he did not think of moving against Poland-even though she possessed the largest stretch of territory carved out of Germany after World War I. Poland, like Hungary, had been helpful to him in threatening Czecho-Slovakia's rear, and thus inducing her to surrender to his demands-Poland, incidentally, had exploited the chance to seize a slice of Czech territory. Hitler was inclined to accept Poland as a junior partner for

the time being, on condition that she handed back the German port of Danzig and granted Germany a free route to East Prussia through the Polish "Corridor". On Hitler's part, it was a remarkably moderate demand in the circumstances. But in successive discussions that winter, Hitler found that the Poles were obstinately disinclined to make any such concession, and also had an inflated idea of their own strength. Even so, he continued to hope that they would come round after further negotiation. As late as March 25 he told his Army Commander-in-Chief that he "did not wish to solve the Danzig problem by the use force". But a change of mind was produced by an unexpected British step that followed on a fresh step on his part in a different direction.

In the early months of 1939, the heads of the British Government were feeling happier than they had for a long time past. They lulled themselves into the belief that their accelerated rearmament measures, America's re-armament programme and Germany's economic difficulties were diminishing the danger of the situation. On March 10, Chamberlain privately expressed the view that the prospects of peace were better than ever, and spoke of his hopes that a new disarmament conference would be arranged before the end of the year. Next day, Sir Samuel Hoare--Eden's predecessor as Foreign Secretary and now Home Secretary-hopefully suggested in a speech that the world was entering "a Golden Age". Ministers assured friends and critics that Germany's economic plight made her incapable of going to war, and that she was bound to comply with the British Government's conditions in return for the help that it was offering her in the form of a commercial treaty. Two ministers, Mr. Oliver Stanley and Mr. Robert Hudson, were going to Berlin to arrange it.

That same week, Punch came out with a cartoon which showed "John Bull" awaking with relief from a nightmare, while the recent "war scare" was flying out of the window. Never was there such a spell of absurdly optimistic illusions as during the week leading up to the "Ides of March", 1939.

Meantime, the Nazis had been fostering separatist movements in Czecho-slovakia, to produce its breakdown from within. On March 12, the Slovaks declared their independence, after their leader, Father Tiso, had visited Hitler in Berlin. More blindly, Poland's Foreign Minister, Colonel Beck, publicly expressed his full sympathy with the Slovaks. On the fifth, German troops marched into Prague, after the Czech President had yielded to Hitler's demand to establish a "Protectorate" over Bohemia and to occupy the country accordingly.

The previous autumn, when the Munich agreement was made, the British Government had pledged itself to guarantee Czecho-Slovakia against

aggression. But Chamberlain told the House of Commons that he considered that Slovakia's break-away had annulled the guarantee, and that he did not feel bound by this obligation. While expressing regret at what had happened, he conveyed to the House that he saw no reason why it should "deflect" British policy.

Within a few days, however, Chamberlain made a complete "about-turn"-so sudden and far-reaching that it amazed the world. He jumped to a decision to block any following move of Hitler's and on March 29 sent Poland an offer to support her against "any action which threatened Polish independence, and which the Polish Government accordingly considered it vital to resist". It is impossible to gauge what was the predominant influence on his impulse-the pressure of public indignation, or his own indignation, or his anger at having been fooled by Hitler, or his humiliation at having been made to look a fool in the eyes of his own people.

Most of those in Britain who had supported and applauded his previous appeasement policy underwent a similarly violent reaction-sharpened by the reproaches of the "other half" of the nation, which had distrusted the policy. The breach was cemented, and the nation reunited, by a general surge of exasperation.

The unqualified terms of the guarantee placed Britain's destiny in the hands of Poland's rulers, men of very dubious and unstable judgement. Moreover, the guarantee was impossible to fulfil except with Russia's help, yet no preliminary steps were taken to find out whether Russia would give, or Poland would accept, such aid.

The Cabinet, when asked to approve the guarantee, was not even shown the actual report of the Chiefs of Staff Committee-which would have made clear how impossible it was, in a practical sense, to give any effective protection to Poland.* It is doubtful, however, whether this would have made any difference in face of the prevailing mood.

When the guarantee was discussed in Parliament, it was welcomed on all

sides. Mr. Lloyd George's was a solitary voice when he warned the House that it was suicidal folly to undertake such a far-stretched commitment without first making sure of Russia's backing. The Polish Guarantee was the surest way to produce an early explosion, and a world war. It combined the maximum temptation with manifest provocation. It incited Hitler to demonstrate the futility of such a guarantee to a country out of reach from

* I was told this soon afterwards by Mr. Hore-Belisha, then Secretary of State for War, and also by Lord Beaverbrook, who had heard about the matter from other members of the Government.

the West, while making the stiff-necked Poles even less inclined to consider any concession to him, and at the same time making it impossible for him to draw back without "losing face".

Why did Poland's rulers accept such a fatal offer? Partly because they had an absurdly exaggerated idea of the power of their out-of-date forces-they boastfully talked of a "cavalry ride to Berlin". Partly because of personal factors: Colonel Beck, shortly afterwards, said that he made up his mind to accept the British offer between "two flicks of the ash" off the cigarette he was smoking. He went on to explain that at his meeting with Hitler in January he had found it hard to swallow Hitler's remark that Danzig "must" be handed back, and that when the British offer was communicated to him he saw it, and seized it, as a chance to give Hitler a slap-in-the-face. This impulse was only too typical of the ways in which the fate of peoples is often decided.

The only chance of avoiding war now lay in securing the support of Russia-the only power that could give Poland direct support and thus provide a deterrent to Hitler. But, despite the urgency of the situation, the British Government's steps were dilatory and half-hearted. Chamberlain had a strong dislike of Soviet Russia and Halifax an intense religious antipathy, while both underrated her strength as much as they overrated Poland's. If they now recognised the desirability of a defensive arrangement with Russia they wanted it on their own terms, and failed to realise that by their precipitate guarantee to Poland they had placed themselves in a position where they would have to sue for it on her terms-as was obvious to Stalin, if not to them.

But beyond their own hesitations were the objections of the Polish Government, and the other small powers in eastern Europe, to accepting military support from Russia-since these feared that reinforcement by her armies would be equivalent to invasion. So the pace of the Anglo-Russian negotiations became as slow as a funeral march.

Very different was Hitler's response to the new situation. Britain's violent reaction and redoubled armament measures shook him, but the effect was opposite to that intended. Feeling that the British were becoming opposed to German expansion eastward, and fearful of being blocked if he tarried, he drew the conclusion that he must accelerate his steps towards lebensraum. But how could he do it without bringing on a general war? His solution was coloured by his historically derived picture of the British. Regarding them as cool-headed and rational, with their emotions controlled by their head, he felt that they would not dream of entering a war on behalf of Poland unless they could obtain Russia's support. So, swallowing his hatred

and fear of "Bolshevism", he bent his efforts and energies towards conciliating Russia and securing her abstention. It was a turn-about even more startling than Chamberlain's-and as fatal in its consequences.

Rider's courting approach to Russia was eased because Stalin was already looking on the West from a new slant. The Russians' natural resentment of the way they had been cold-shouldered by Chamberlain and Halifax in 1938 was increased when, after Hitler's march into Prague, their fresh proposal for a joint defensive alliance had a tepid reception, while the British Government rushed into an independent arrangement with Poland. Nothing could have been more certain to deepen doubt and heighten suspicion.

On May 3 a warning, unmistakable except to the blind, was conveyed in the news that Litvinov, Russia's Foreign Commissar, had been "released" from office. He had long been the chief advocate of co-operation with the Western Powers in resistance to Nazi Germany. To his post was appointed Molotov, who was reported to prefer dealing with dictators to dealing with liberal democracies.

Tentative moves towards a Soviet-Nazi entente began in April, but were conducted on both sides with extreme wariness-for mutual distrust was profound, and each side suspected that the other might be merely trying to hinder it reaching an agreement with the Western Powers. But the slow progress of the Anglo-Russian negotiations encouraged the Germans to exploit the opportunity, quicken their pace, and press their suit. Molotov remained non-committal, however, until the middle of August. Then a decisive change took place. It may have been prompted by the Germans' willingness, in contrast to British hesitations and reservations, to concede Stalin's exacting conditions, especially a free hand with the Baltic States. It may also have been connected with the obvious fact that Hitler could not afford to postpone action in Poland beyond early September, lest the weather might bog him down, so that the postponement of the Soviet-German agreement until late in August ensured that there would not be time for Hitler and the Western Powers to reach another "Munich agreement"- which might spell danger for Russia.

On August 23 Ribbentrop flew to Moscow, and the pact was signed. It was accompanied by a secret agreement under which Poland was to be partitioned between Germany and Russia.

This pact made war certain, and all the more so because of the lateness of the timing. Hitler could not draw back on the Polish issue without serious loss of face in Moscow. Moreover, his belief that the British Government would not venture on an obviously futile struggle to preserve Poland, and

did not really wish to bring in Russia, had been freshly fostered by the way that Chamberlain had, in late July, started private negotiations with him through his trusted adviser, Sir Horace Wilson, for an Anglo-German pact.

But the Soviet-German Pact, coming so late, did not have the effect on the British that Hitler had reckoned. On the contrary, it aroused the "bull-dog" spirit-of blind determination, regardless of the consequences. In that state of feeling, Chamberlain could not stand aside without both loss-of-face and breach of promise.

Stalin had been only too well aware that the Western Powers had long been disposed to let Hitler expand eastward-in Russia's direction. It is probable that he saw the Soviet-German Pact as a convenient device by which he could divert Hitler's aggressive dynamism in the opposite direction. In other words, by this nimble side-step he would let his immediate and potential opponents crash into one another. At the least this should produce a diminution of the threat to Soviet Russia, and might well result in such common exhaustion on their part as to ensure Russia's post-war ascendancy.

The Pact meant the removal of Poland as a buffer between Germany and Russia-but the Russians had always felt that the Poles were more likely to serve as a spearhead for a German invasion of Russia than as a barricade against it. By collaborating in Hitler's conquest of Poland, and dividing it with him, they would not only be taking an easy way of regaining their pre-1914 property but be able to convert eastern Poland into a barrier space which, though narrower, would be held by their own forces. That seemed a more reliable buffer than an independent Poland. The Pact also paved the way for Russia's occupation of the Baltic States and Bessarabia, as a wider extension of the buffer.

In 1941, after Hitler had swept into Russia, Stalin's 1939 side-step looked a fatally short-sighted shift. It is likely that Stalin overestimated the Western nations' capacity for resisting, and thus exhausting, Germany's power. It is likely, too, that he also overestimated the initial resisting power of his own forces. Nevertheless, surveying the European situation in later years, it does not seem so certain as in 1941 that his side-step proved to Soviet Russia's disadvantage.

For the West, on the other hand, it brought immeasurable harm. The primary blame for that lies with those who were responsible for the successive policies of procrastination and precipitation-in face of a palpably explosive situation. Dealing with Britain's entry into the war-after describing how she allowed Germany to re-arm and then to swallow Austria and

Czecho-Slovakia, while at the same time spurning Russia's proposals for joint action-Churchill says:

...when every one of these aids and advantages has been squandered and thrown away, Great Britain advances, leading France by the hand, to guarantee the integrity of Poland-of that very Poland which with hyena appetite had only six months before joined in the pillage and destruction of the Czechoslovak State. There was sense in fighting for Czechoslovakia in 1938, when the German Army could scarcely put half a dozen trained divisions on the Western Front, when the French with nearly sixty or seventy divisions could most certainly have rolled forward across the Rhine or into the Ruhr. But this had been judged unreasonable, rash, below the level of modern intellectual thought and morality. Yet now at last the two Western democracies declared themselves ready to stake their lives upon the territorial integrity of Poland. History, which, we are told, is mainly the record of the crimes, follies, and miseries of mankind, may be scoured and ransacked to find a parallel to this sudden and complete reversal of five or six years' policy of easy-going placatory appeasement, and its transformation almost over-night into a readiness to accept an obviously imminent war on far worse conditions and on the greatest scale....

Here was decision at last, taken at the worst possible moment and on the least satisfactory ground, which must surely lead to the slaughter of tens of millions of people.*

It is a striking verdict on Chamberlain's folly, written in hindsight. For Churchill himself had, in the heat of the moment, supported Chamberlain's pressing offer of Britain's guarantee to Poland. It is only too evident that in 1939 he, like most of Britain's leaders, acted on a hot-headed impulse-instead of with the cool-headed judgement that was once characteristic of British statesmanship.

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* Churchill: The Second World War, vol. I, pp. 311-12. Full bibliographical details of all books referred to in the text can be found on p. 715.