MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOLSON
IN the excitement of the last few days, when triumph or dis- appointment have succeeded each other almost hourly, Adolf Hitler's speech of a week ago has received but scant attention. Yet how significant, in fact, was the change both of tone and substance. Gone are the days when, at Nuremberg or at the Sportspalast, his every phrase was followed by the rhythmic panting of " Sieg Heil ! " that dreadful chorus which was as incisive as a steam-saw screaming in the wood-shed, as sad and sinister as a vast sea tearing at the shingle of some northern beach. Gone are the days when, to the accompaniment of bands and banners, his high scream of hatred and vituperation would echo through the amplifiers, driving, as he himself confessed, " the broad masses into an ever more precipitous hysteria." Gone are the days when the whole world listened with bated breath to the pronouncements of a creator of destiny. In place of this we had the monotone of a disillusioned man, gabbling with incomprehensible speed through the manuscript before him. The miracle of the wireless never ceases to confound me. There was the Fiihrer sitting before the micro- phone in some distant Pomeranian or Bavarian castle spouting his piece so breathlessly that one could hear, across those miles of ether, the very inhalations of his lungs. And there was I, crouched above the receiving-set in an English cottage, while outside the sullen September day waned across the Weald of Kent. From the latticed window at my side I could see down across the fields towards the hop-garden, already half-stripped so that on the eastern half the poles stood naked, while on the western half the hops still clustered. A little owl settled clumsily upon a branch of an oak, and as I listened to the Fiihrer rattling along in his Bohemian accent I could see its round head and twin ears sharp against the sunset. Only once did Hitler raise his voice above a tired monotone. He spoke of the ring of steel forged round the German homeland. "Niemals," he shouted, " wet-den sie es zerbrechen." At that moment only did the old Hitler return. And as the light waned over the Weald of Kent the proceedings were concluded by the singing by some Berlin choir of that horrible Horst Wessel Lied.
* * * * It is a strange, but not uncommon, psychological phenomenon that Hitler, who could lash himself ointo real paroxysms of rage
against imaginary enemies, such as Benes, Chamberlain or the Jews, should, when confronted with a grievance in real life, be so com- paratively calm. He said some sharp things about King Victor Emmanuel, about Badoglio and about the Italian Chief of Staff. He pointed out, with full justification, that Germany had rescued Italian armies in Greece and Africa and had been foremost in the defence of Italian soil. He paid his tribute to Mussolini—" the greatest son of the Italian land since the downfall of the ancient Roman Empire." He uttered his threats: the measures which Germany would now be obliged to take were " very severe " ; they would be carried out with " cold determination " ; it was not the fault of Germany if henceforward Italy were to become a battle- field. He made his excuses: the defection of Italy meant little from the military point of view ; Germany could now continue the struggle " free from all burdensome restrictious " ; the homeland was not in danger. Nor was it possible, so excellent were the relations between himself and his generals, that any July 25th could happen in Germany. All these things, as was to be expected, were included in his speech. Yet, curiously enough, the old self-pity, the old incitation to hatred, were omitted. In place of the familiar demagogue screaming for blood and battle, we had an exhausted school-master rattling through his end-of-term address.
* * * * Yet what had the Fiihrer in mind when, in the very first sentence of this vital allocution, he expressed relief that he was now able to speak " without the necessity of lying to myself or to the public "? We know from his. own writings that he has never placed truth in the forefront of political virtues ; but thus publicly to assert by implication that hitherto he has been obliged to deceive his public is to admit a weakness which can scarcely be very heartening to the German people. Or did he mean no more than that it was a relief at last to make a speech in which he was not obliged, out of courtesy to an ally, to pay some tribute to the assistance rendered to Germany by the Italian fleet and armies? We ourselves are aware of the strange exaltation which is engendered in moments of peril by the reflection that henceforward one can rely only upon one's own efforts. Yet never in our worst moments were we so terribly alone as Germany stands today. There is around her an angered ocean of hatred, and even those of her allies which she still retains are showing signs of weakening. And was Hitler after all so very sure that on Friday last he told the stark truth to the listening millions of the Reich? He made no mention of the U-boat campaign which has figured so prominently in previous speeches. His references to the retreat on the Russian front were vague in the extreme. He suggested, it is true, that other withdrawals might become necessary before Germany was thrown back upon her ring of steel. But did he really allow the German people any insight into the appalling complications which the surrender of Italy is bound to entail? His speech was astute enough, and it reads well. But to a bewildered Germany, to a Germany longing for assurance and comfort, the tired monotone to which they listened can have brought but little hope.
* * * *
The swift and successful counter-measures taken by the German High Command may for the moment have allayed immediate anxiety. The impatient hopes entertained by many people in this country may for the moment have been chilled. The rescue of Mussolini was certainly an outstanding feat of enterprise and Niebelungentreue. The battle of Salerno is one of which every German has the right to feel proud. It may well be that for the moment (but only for the moment) the reversal of fortune in Italy may have brought encourage- ment to the doubting satellites of Germany. But even the most credulous German can scarcely believe that it is an advantage to the Reich to be forced to fight a major campaign in an area as exposed to sea attack and as restricted in communications as is the Italian peninsula. Lord Haig used to say that "news is seldom as good and seldom as bad as it appears at first" ; the situation created by the Italian surrender may not for the moment be quite as favour- able as we had hoped or quite as disastrous as the Germans had
feared. But apart from the strategical advantages which it will assuredly give us, we should not forget the immense psychological effect of this catastrophe upon the German mind. The Germans have always regarded the Italians as the shrewdest of opportunists ; for the Italians at this stage of the war to have accepted unconditional surrender means that the most calculating race in Europe estimated the chances of the Axis as nil. That was a truth which the Fiihrer hesitated to disclose. But it is a truth which will eat like acid into the uncertain German soul.
* * * *
As I listened to Hitler speaking on Friday forced myself to imagine that I was a German hearing, in this hour of calamity, my leader's words. I should have known that, whatever happened in central Italy, the British had secured command of the Mediterranean ; that their airfields were creeping ever close and closer ; that the U-boats had for the moment been defeated ; that vast new armies and unlimited equipment were being amassed for invasion ; that the Russians, in their summer campaign, had inflicted grave losses on the German forces and occupied vital areas of land. I should have detected no note in the tired voice of my leader of any certitude of victory ; I should have heard only an appeal to stand or die. And I should have known that nothing which could happen could improve the situation, and that everything which would happen was sure to make it worse. And if an owl, as I listened, had perched upon the oak, I should not have recognised the bird of Pallas Athene ; I should have seen the harbireer of doom.
Previous page
