Derek Pennington: The German Peace

Brooke listened in amazement. This morning Britain and Germany had been at war — still were at war officially — now he was being given an almost explicit undertaking of future military co-operation by one of Germany’s leading Generals. What a day of surprises! One day he would write about this in his memoirs.

The General could not wait to get back to London and start planning. The whole of the British and Empire defence strategy needed to be drastically overhauled.

Churchill delivered his statement to a joint sitting of both Houses of Parliament.

On announcing the news of Hitler’s death, it took a second or two to sink in and then the hundreds of members spontaneously jumped to their feet and gave the Prime Minister a standing ovation.

And so it went on as he made one startling disclosure after another. Parliament had never experienced a day like this in all their long history. Everyone was ecstatic!

When it came time to vote, the terms of the peace agreement were overwhelmingly approved. There was only one dissenting vote. This was from one of the oldest members, with a history strange voting. He pleaded that if the country stood firm against ‘the Kaiser’ it would all be over by Christmas.

His short speech had caused great mirth among many of the members. Embarrassment or pity among others.

After the close of business, shortly after one o’clock in the morning, many of the MPs felt the need for a celebratory drink and repaired to the Members Bar. The Prime Minister was among them. He had never been so popular in all his years as a Member of Parliament.

Sometime later, and perhaps slightly inebriated, he thought it was time to leave. As he made his way to the exit, he inadvertently bumped into a rather large woman, Mrs Bessie Braddock, the newly appointed Labour Member of Parliament for Liverpool. A staunch socialist, a virulent anti-tory, and a very outspoken lady. Mrs Braddock was not noted for her good looks — to put it mildly.

She looked at Churchill sternly. “Mr Churchill you are drunk, and what’s more, you are disgustingly drunk.”

Churchill was understandably in good humour. He looked at her and mischievously replied with a quote that would become famous and be repeated forever in his biographies.

“My dear, you are ugly, and what’s more, you are disgustingly ugly. But tomorrow, I shall be sober, whereas you will still be disgustingly ugly.”

He left behind him a bar rocked by gales of helpless laughter. One elderly gentleman was laughing so hard he wet himself. Another had a mild stroke and had to be taken to hospital. Even the good Mrs Braddock found it hilariously funny.

Good old Winston!

The British and German delegates breakfasted together in the summer house in a relaxed atmosphere. It was a sign of the extraordinary rapidity of improvement in relations in only twenty four hours.

The final draft of the peace treaty had been signed late the previous evening. Each side was taking home a precious original.

Goodbyes were said, and both parties made their way separately to the airport. The Portuguese again provided a heavy escort.

Lord Halifax considered that he had established as warm a rapport as was possible with the reserved Baron von Altendorf. The military men believed they had gone further and that they now had a reasonably good working relationship with their opposite numbers, or as close as current circumstances permitted.

By late afternoon that day they back in their respective offices in London ready to attend debriefings. The fun was over.

Before the defeat of the British army at the Battle for Dunkirk, the British public had been largely unaware of any impending disaster. After the disaster of Dunkirk, there was considerable unease at the way the war was developing. It was inevitable that the fear of a German invasion would be in everyone’s mind.

The news of peace with Germany and the death of Adolf Hitler was greeted with deliriously happy crowds surging onto the streets of every city, town and village in Britain. Many pubs throughout the country were drunk dry! In London, an immense throng gathered in front of Buckingham Palace joyously singing and dancing. They were greeted from the balcony of the palace by the Royal Family accompanied by the Prime Minister.

It was Winston Churchill’s finest hour.

The Military Council had debated endlessly on the subject of when to release the news of Hitler’s death. They had to tread very carefully.

The standing of the Fuhrer was unbelievably high in the estimation of the majority of the German public. To them he was the architect of German stability and prosperity following the chaos after the Great War, and then the misery of the depression caused by the Wall Street crash.

The enlargement of Germany by the absorption of Austria and Czechoslovakia had greatly enhanced his prestige. The lightning and incredibly successful campaigns by the German Army against Poland, Denmark, Norway, Holland and Belgium were hailed as further evidence of his genius.

Even though he was already dead before the large allied army had surrendered at Dunkirk, this victory was also attributed to his unerring direction of the war.

The man was revered throughout Germany.

The dilemma that now faced the Military Council was that it was they themselves — the German Armed Forces to be more precise — that had assassinated him.

From the beginning, Hitler and the Nazi Party had been looked upon with suspicion by the German Military. They were nothing but a gang of rabble-rousers and political opportunists, in their opinion.

Although the antipathy towards the Nazis diminished somewhat in later years as the economy improved and the country re-armed under Hitler’s leadership, the Fuhrer’s military adventurism had created a deep-seated feeling of unease among senior officers. Where would it end? Where was it taking them?

It did not take long before a secret anti-Hitler opposition emerged. This became stronger after the invasion of Poland. Rumours of atrocities against the Jews and Poles, resulted in this opposition group starting to look at contingency plans for the elimination of Hitler and his clique. After considering all the alternatives they had concluded that this was the only way to protect Germany from ultimate disaster.

Immediately after the invasion of Denmark and Norway, The Army Commander-in-Chief, General von Brauchitsch, had been called to Hitler’s headquarters for consultations on the final plans for the invasion of the Low Countries and France. It was here that Hitler informed him in confidence that he was going to ask for plans to be drawn up for the invasion of the Soviet Union. He had already named it Operation Barbarossa. He anticipated launching this later in the year.

Von Brauchitsch was shocked. What madness is this! When he expressed his grave misgivings, Hitler was not interested in the least. He knew what was best for Germany. He frostily informed his General that he was disappointed in him.

Walther von Brauchitsch was fifty nine years old. He had been born into an aristocratic military family, and had now served in the army for thirty five years, having fought extensively in the Great War. His good manners and dignified bearing had been learnt in his early years at the Kaiser’s imperial court. He personally disliked Nazism, and was the uncle of two prominent members of the German resistance against Hitler.

From the moment Hitler disclosed his plans for Russia, the conspirators were imbued with a sense of urgency. Various plans were considered, and discarded. They were getting desperate! But the security around Hitler was tighter than a duck’s arse!