INTERNATIONAL: Hitler Appeals to Reason

A tense silence tugged at the nerves of the vast throng crowded into Berlin’s big, barnlike Kroll Opera House one night last week. Behind the splendor of flashing uniforms and shining boots there was a great straining wonder. Only a few hours before, Adolf Hitler had announced the secret summoning of his war Reichstag. Now it awaited his first speech since before the invasion of the Low Countries, tried to guess his verdict: total war against Britain or negotiations for peace. Massed in the balcony were more than 100 of the Reich’s generals and admirals, sparkling with decorations and gold braid (see p. 25). In the front row of the diplomatic box sat Italian Foreign Minister Count Galeazzo Ciano.

With a tumultuous burst of cheering they greeted the Führer as he strode out on to the swastika-draped platform, followed by Field Marshal Herman Göring and Deputy Nazi Party Leader Rudolf Hess. Nervously they waited for him to begin. But as his words fell on the thick stillness there was no hint of an ultimatum to England. For an hour and a half he spoke, ramblingly, vituperatively, torrentially, shouting out a paean of victory, deviously justifying all his acts of aggression.

Insisting that Germany always wanted peace and sought only to strike off the shackles of the Versailles Treaty, he reiterated his assertion that the Nazi invasion of Scandinavia and the Low Countries was merely a measure to forestall Allied aggression. Then he launched into a step-by-step review of Germany’s victorious campaigns, heaping praise on his fighters, some of whom had just paraded into Berlin, on triumphant leave. He lauded his Italian ally. Germany is now stronger even than at the outbreak of war, he boasted, and Russo-German relations have been firmly established, with their respective spheres of influence clearly defined.

Only in the last five minutes did he turn to Britain. But there was still no concrete program for peace, no specific offer, no suggestion of a possible procedure. Almost as an afterthought he signified his willingness to accept Great Britain’s capitulation, virtuously hoped to avoid the impending carnage:

“It never has been my intention to wage wars, but rather to build up a State with a new social order and the finest possible standard of culture. Every year that this war drags on is keeping me away from this work. Only a few days ago Mr. Churchill reiterated his declaration that he wants war. . . .

“I know that our answer, which will come some day, will bring upon the people unending suffering and misery. Of course, not upon Mr. Churchill, for he no doubt will already be in Canada where the money and the children of those principally interested in the war already have been sent. For millions of other persons great suffering will begin. . . .

“I do realize that this struggle, if it continues, can end only with the complete annihilation of one or the other of the two adversaries. Mr. Churchill may believe this will be Germany. I know that it will be Britain.

“In this hour I feel it to be my duty before my own conscience to appeal once more to reason and common sense in Great Britain as much as elsewhere. I consider myself in a position to make this appeal, since I am not the vanquished, begging favors, but the victor speaking in the name of reason. I can see no reason why this war must go on. I am grieved to think of the sacrifices it will claim. . . .

“Possibly Mr. Churchill again will brush aside this statement of mine by saying that it is merely born of fear and of doubt in our final victory. In that case I shall have relieved my conscience in regard to the things to come.” But if Hitler did not lay effective groundwork for possible peace negotiations, he had succeeded in putting out some propaganda to undermine British morale (see p. 22) and once more wrapped himself in the mantle of an apostle of righteousness hounded into war.

Conscience, rather than the terrible things to come, was the theme of the official British reply to Herr Hitler’s ti rade. Britain’s immediate press and radio reactions left no doubt that the Führer’s appeal to reason would be laughed into thin air. The question Germany, Italy and the world’s innocent bystanders wondered about was not what the British Government would say, but who would say it and how. The task fell to Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax, whose solemn, pious, sincere air has won him the nickname “Lord Holy Facts.”

As Lord Halifax broadcast Britain’s answer to the world, his voice was deep, full of religious feeling, hollow and lonely as an empty church. It was not a voice to inspire fury, but it did instill hope, a sense of justice, a calmness of conscience. Said he:

“Hitler has now made it plain that he is preparing to direct the whole weight of German might against this country. This is why in every part of Britain, in great towns and villages alike, there is only one spirit of indomitable resolution. Nor has anyone any doubt that if Hitler were to succeed it would be the end, for many besides ourselves, of all those things which, as we say, make life worth living. We realize that the struggle may cost us everything, but just because the things we are defending are worth any sacrifice it is a noble privilege to be the defenders of things so precious. . . .

“We shall not stop fighting until freedom, for ourselves and others, is secure.. ..

“Where will God lead us? Not, we may be sure, through easy or pleasant paths. That is not His way. He will not help us to avoid our difficulties. What He will do is to give to those, who humbly ask, the spirit that no dangers can disturb. . . .”