Ostkrieg (8 page)

Although initially planned or projected not as a blitzkrieg operation but as a conventional conflict similar to the Great War, the unexpected victory over France had significant consequences for German thinking. The new Greater Germany now constituted a formidable economic bloc, but, once the initial elation wore off, German economic planners realized that the area under their control suffered from serious deficiencies and was not the self-sufficient Lebensraum that Hitler desired. Foremost among these deficiencies, and almost perversely designed to rekindle nightmares of blockade and crippling shortages, were shortfalls in foodstuffs and energy. Despite their conquest of an area rich in skilled labor, technology, and sophisticated industrial plant, the Germans found themselves starved of food, coal, and oil. The food requirements of some 25 million people had to be imported, and that was just the peacetime deficit: the British blockade was bound to aggravate the situation, especially since food supplies were already running short in 1940. One bad harvest, the Nazis feared, could again trigger unrest and defeatism on the order of 1917–1918. Far from being blockade proof, Nazi war economists realized, Western Europe lacked a “spare feeding capacity.”
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While their short-term gains had been immense, particularly in terms of war booty seized from the French, Nazi authorities found themselves faced with the task of supplying not only the needs of Germany but also those of the allied and occupied areas. Ironically, rather than immediately reaping the economic benefits of conquest, the Nazis were forced to export oil, coal, and foodstuffs from outside Germany. The most persistent and troubling shortage continued to be in oil, although the dire food situation in the fall and winter of 1940–1941 raised fears of unrest in the occupied urban centers. In economic terms, the Wehrmacht's great victory in 1940 had not released it from dependence on deliveries from
the Soviet Union, nor had it given the Greater German Reich resources comparable to those of the British Empire or the United States.
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Strategically and operationally, however, the situation looked rather different. After the triumph in the west, a blitzkrieg myth emerged; once again, as in the days before World War I, German military thinkers began to believe that quick, operational victories could solve the nation's strategic dilemma. Perhaps Lebensraum could be achieved without fighting bloody wars of attrition after all. Only one problem remained: for all the celebration surrounding the defeat of France, the other enemy, Great Britain, stubbornly refused to come to terms. This obstinacy, moreover, now threatened a fundamental alteration in the balance of power in Europe, a change Hitler began to perceive during the summer of 1940. The fall of France, far from ensuring German hegemony on the Continent, turned a European conflict into a potential world war as both the United States and the Soviet Union emerged as key factors. For Britain, survival as a great power required continuing in the war. Doing so, however, meant enlisting the support of the United States and perhaps eventually that of the Soviet Union as well. In any case, Stalin had already moved quickly to take advantage of his leverage vis-à-vis Germany in Eastern Europe. Such a scenario clearly posed a problem for the Third Reich.
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Despite its spectacular military triumph of the spring, Nazi Germany still faced a strategic, economic, and racial impasse. Hitler, in Paris, had been correct: the war was not yet ended.

At 3:00
P.M
. on 6 July 1940, under a glittering early summer sun, an unadorned train pulled slowly into the Anhalter Bahnhof in Berlin amid scenes of jubilation and pure joy unequaled in German history. People had been gathering in the flower-strewn streets of the capital since early morning, many waiting over six hours for a chance to glimpse the Führer. “An unimaginable excitement filled the city,” exulted Joseph Goebbels in his diary, overcome by the festive mood of the “sea of humanity” that thronged the avenues. After a short discussion with Goering, who feared a British air attack on the city, Goebbels exclaimed, “Then the Führer arrived. A wild enthusiasm filled the train station. The Führer is deeply moved. Tears come to his eyes. . . . The storm of jubilation of a completely joyous people is indescribable. The Führer drove [to the Reich Chancellery] completely over flowers.” Once there, as Field Marshal Keitel lauded him as “the greatest military commander of all time,” Hitler soaked in the adulation of the wildly cheering throng below. For perhaps the only time during the Third Reich, Germans evinced a genuine enthusiasm for the war, sensing as they did that final victory was at hand.
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Even at this moment of ultimate triumph, however, disquieting notes of uneasiness intruded, as evidenced by Goering's fears. Goebbels also betrayed a host of concerns nestled amid the triumphalism. “Even in Germany we have rather too much as too little optimism,” he wrote on 9 June. “One takes the victory too lightly.” Throughout this period of historic triumph, in fact, the propaganda minister kept an anxious eye on the two peripheral powers of great concern, noting both American attitudes and Russian actions. Above all, he took note of the inflammatory reports of the “Jewish press” in America designed to create, in his opinion, an atmosphere of hate toward Germany that would force President
Roosevelt, whom he regarded as a stooge of the alleged Jewish conspiracy, to intervene in European affairs. The rapid German triumph, however, eased his fears of direct American action against Germany, at least until after the November presidential election.
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Stalin was another matter. Although Goebbels conceded that the Soviet dictator had remained faithful to the spirit of the Nazi-Soviet Pact by rejecting British overtures in late May, he still brooded over his further actions in the Baltic and the Balkans. Goebbels noted anxiously on 16 June, “Lithuania has received a Russian ultimatum. . . . The Lithuanian answer did not satisfy Moscow. Russian troops marching into Lithuania.” Although Goebbels accepted with seeming equanimity Soviet demands on Latvia and Estonia and the growing pressure on Rumania to cede the provinces of Bessarabia and Bukovina, his tone changed in July as he realized just how thoroughly Stalin meant to benefit from German success in the west. “Slavism is spreading across the entire Balkans. Stalin is utilizing the moment,” he recorded on 5 July. He then added ominously, “Perhaps later we will once again have to take action against the Soviets.” In late July, on receiving news of the Soviet absorption of the Baltic states, Goebbels conceded grudgingly, “That is our price for Russia's neutrality,” a price that seemed too costly. Add to these concerns growing irritations over persistent food and fuel shortages, the increasingly pesky nightly British air raids, and frustrations at the inability to solve the Jewish problem, and Goebbels's diary presented a surprisingly gloomy view of the situation in the summer of 1940.
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The German victory in the west had unquestioningly unleashed a wave of optimism, a feeling, as Goebbels put it, that “a new Europe is in being.” Despite this and his own newly confirmed opinion of his own genius, Hitler himself appeared uncertain and unsure how to proceed, especially since Great Britain continued to display a determination to fight on. “From all that he says it is clear that he wants to act quickly to end it,” noted Count Ciano, the Italian foreign minister, in his diary, adding astutely, “Hitler is now the gambler who has made a big scoop and would like to get up from the table risking nothing more.” The problem, however, was how to exit the game while ahead. Indeed, Goebbels admitted warily, “With England we still have a tough nut to crack.” On 29 June, the propaganda minister declared that “the decision whether war or peace must come soon” but conceded, “The Führer is not yet clear . . . whether he should develop a constructive peace program.” Goebbels again recorded Hitler's doubts on 2 July: “He wants to speak to the Reichstag and give England one last chance. Would it then be accepted? Churchill probably not. . . . But perhaps other understanding elements.”
Goebbels then noted, “But the Führer does not want to destroy the empire, for all that would be lost would in all probability not fall to us but to other foreign powers. . . . Therefore the Führer must make the effort and give England a last chance. . . . Where it might lead, no one knows.”
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Hitler seemed genuinely disconcerted by British defiance, both ambivalent and frustrated at the course of events. Even though he had lost his gamble in 1939 on Great Britain staying out of the war, he refused to believe that his earlier assessment of the British could be so wrong and, thus, clung stubbornly to the conviction that they would soon “see reason” and agree to peace. On any number of occasions, and to a host of associates, he expressed his preference for peace with the English instead of a continuation of the war. Churchill's actions, however, especially the British attack on the French fleet at Mers-el-Kebir on 3 July, forced Hitler to delay his speech, which he had just about finished, and reconsider his options. His uncertainty was reflected in a long talk with Goebbels five days later. Even as Hitler detailed postwar plans for the Germanization of Europe, the harsh treatment of France, and a new colonial policy, he vacillated with regard to Great Britain. “Despite everything the Führer still has a very positive attitude toward England,” remarked Goebbels. “He is not yet ready for the final blow. He wants to think over his speech again in peace so will go to the Obersalzberg. . . . If London rejects our last offer, then it will immediately be dealt a destructive blow.” Despite this outburst of bravado, however, Hitler continued to procrastinate and characteristically shrank from making a decision, much to Goebbels's growing frustration. Not until 16 July did Hitler inform Goebbels that he intended to deliver his long-awaited speech to the Reichstag on Friday, 19 July.
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In the meantime, Hitler summoned his military leaders to the Berghof for talks about the possibility of an invasion of Great Britain should his peace offer be rejected. On the eleventh, Admiral Raeder insisted that a landing could be attempted only if the Luftwaffe secured aerial superiority over southern England, while, the next day, Jodl laid out operational planning for any such invasion. The following day, Franz Halder, chief of the Army General Staff, journeyed to the mountaintop to brief the Führer, where he too discovered that Hitler regarded a landing as a last resort. “The Führer is greatly puzzled by Britain's persistent unwillingness to make peace,” he noted in his diary on 13 July. “He sees the answer as we do in Britain's hope on Russia, and therefore counts on having to compel her by main force to agree to peace. Actually that is much against his grain . . . [since] a military defeat of Britain will bring
about the disintegration of the British Empire. This would not be of any benefit to Germany. German blood would be shed to accomplish something that would benefit only Japan, the United States, and others.”
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This halfheartedness revealed itself again on the sixteenth when Hitler issued Directive No. 16, “Preparations for a Landing Operation against England,” a document that contained so many qualifications that it convinced many of his top commanders that he never seriously intended an invasion. Indeed, Hitler told Goering in confidence that he never meant to carry out the operation. In order to launch an invasion of Britain, Germany needed control of the Channel both by air and by sea. To those around him, it seemed clear that, given the strength of the British navy and the crippling of the already weak German navy by the Norwegian operation in April, Hitler regarded the risk of an invasion as unacceptably high. Instead, he would put his hopes in his peace proposal.
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Perhaps Hitler never really expected the British to accept his offer, vague and imprecise as it was. The greatest part of a very long speech, over two hours, was, in fact, devoted to boasting about German military triumphs and praising the accomplishments of German commanders, a number of whom gained promotions. This latter was just as disingenuous as his peace proposal since Hitler believed that the army leadership had been found seriously wanting and that his own judgment had once more been proved correct. Only at the end did he make his brief appeal to common sense, declaring that his conscience forced him to offer the British one last chance to end a war that had no purpose. William Shirer, observing Hitler, thought it one of his best speeches:

The Hitler we saw in the Reichstag tonight was the conqueror, and conscious of it. . . . [H]e mixed superbly the full confidence of the conqueror with the humbleness which always goes down so well with the masses. . . . His voice was lower tonight; he rarely shouted as he usually does. . . . I've often admired the way he uses his hands. . . . Tonight he used those hands beautifully, seemed to express himself almost as much with his hands . . . as he did with his words. . . . I noticed too his gift for using his face and eyes . . . and the turn of his head for irony, of which there was considerable in tonight's speech.

The great irony, which Shirer understood very well, was that Hitler offered peace not in the expectation that Churchill would accept, but to justify to the German people, who longed for it, the continuation of the
war. He had given the British the choice; if they now rejected his offer, the war would go on, and it would be England's fault.
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The British rejection came swiftly, within the hour, although even now Hitler seemed puzzled by the English attitude and could not quite bring himself to accept it. Although the British had acquiesced in German expansion in 1938, the situation in 1940 differed markedly: making peace on Hitler's terms now meant recognition of German hegemony on the Continent and the likely end of Britain as a major power. Still, as Goebbels noted, “At the moment the Führer cannot bring himself to accept the British answer.”
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Once again, a British decision had confounded Hitler and confronted him with a dilemma. After he had blundered into war in 1939, the brilliant German military victories had seemed to offer a way out of his strategic, economic, and political impasse. The Germans, however, had only conquered their way into a strategic cul-de-sac, as their victories in 1940 had not secured hegemony in Europe. Now, faced with mounting time pressures from the Anglo-American powers in the west and growing concerns over German dependence on the Soviet Union in the east, Hitler had once more to make a decision.