Download Austria The Munich Crisis: Appeasement

From “The Coming of the Second World War”….by H. G. Gelber First published 1967 by F.W. Cheshire Publishing PTY Ltd, Melbourne Austria Nowhere was the new Italian­German alignment more important than in the borderland between them, in the little state of Austria. As recently as 1934, Mussolini had been Austria's protector against any idea of a German takeover. The passage of time weakened his resolve. His estrangement from the Western powers and growing dependence upon Germany only disguised the fact that his Spanish involvement in any case left him with insufficient resources for a simultaneous stand on his Alpine frontier. In July 1936, he gave his approval to an Austro­German agreement by which tensions between the two countries were relaxed but Austrian Nazis were also given a share of political responsibility. After that, Mussolini could urge the Austrians to make further conciliatory gestures as a way of fulfilling the treaty. By March 1938, after a month of intense German pressure on the Austrian Government, Hitler's troops marched in and occupied Austria in a bloodless coup. The timing of the move was as skilful as ever. It came as a surprise even to Mussolini (and caused justified alarm throughout Italy). A few days before the coup the French Government had once more collapsed and a new administration was being formed. Britain was hardly in a position to interfere in central Europe and was in any case becoming more committed to appeasement. Then, too, Hitler had his usual excuses. The absorption of Austria, after all, came under the heading of self­determination, of uniting all Germans into one nation. Austria was Hitler's own homeland and he had always said he wanted to unite it with Germany. Moreover the Germans were invited into Austria by a Nazi Minister who lawfully took charge after the resignation of the last Chancellor, Schuschnigg. The tactics of legality were once more paying dividends. A month after the takeover a general election was held throughout Germany and Austria. Hitler got his usual 99 per cent vote of confidence, to ratify what had happened. Much of Hitler's case depends upon whether the Austrians really wanted to join Germany. We do not know for certain what the situation was. We can assume that his 99 per cent majority had more to do with pressure and organization than with free opinion. But Nazi strength in Austria had genuinely grown in previous months and years. There was a widespread desire for union with Germany. Attempts to rouse Austrian patriotism against Germany or Nazism had had, at best, only mediocre success. Anti­Communism, anti­semitism and racism were strong. Yet how many of those who cheered Hitler were only climbing onto the victor's bandwagon? How many citizens did not much care one way or another, but simply wished to be left alone? Until further research is done, this is one of the unanswered questions of this period. Previous moves of Hitler's had humiliated the Western allies. This one did not. But Hitler made great gains. He increased the German population by seven millions and took over Austria's economic and financial resources. His prestige rose even further. Most impressive were the strategic advantages. German territory now surrounded the western section of Czechoslovakia on three sides. Austria gave Hitler control over the communications of the central Danube valley and a common frontier with Hungary, Yugoslavia and Italy. The Munich Crisis: Appeasement With the fall of Austria, there was no serious doubt in anyone's mind that Czechoslovakia would be ­ 1 ­ next. The prize was great: a land of considerable resources, with a well­developed industry and an important strategic situation in the heart of Europe. It was also vulnerable. Though the country possessed considerable military strength, its western half was enveloped by the new Germany. There were also the so­called Sudeten Germans. When Czechoslovakia was formed after 1918, its ten million Czechs and Slovaks formed the most important, but by no means the only, national groups in the new state. Among the others were nearly three and a quarter million German­ speakers living along the country's western fringes. This minority, though it had grievances (as minorities almost always have), was well treated by comparison with many national minorities elsewhere. But after Hitler's accession to power in Germany, these Sudeten Germans increasingly pressed the Government in Prague for concessions to their particular wishes. Sudeten German leaders were supported, financed and took their orders from Germany. By April 1938 the Sudeten leaders were demanding full self­government for the German­ speaking areas, full freedom to profess German nationality (whatever that meant), and a revision of Czechoslovak foreign policy with a view to putting an end to the country's association with Germany's enemies. During the next few months the Sudeten Germans stepped up their demands. At the same time, and under instructions from Berlin, they found repeated excuses for not accepting the increasing offers of the Czechs. What had begun as a call for Sudeten German self­determination within Czechoslovakia eventually became a claim for the direct cession of the territory by Czechoslovakia to Germany. In mid­September Hitler himself, in a violent speech, said that the Sudeten Germans were suffering from intolerable oppression and must be given their freedom.
The French and British leaders had already made up their minds that the situation must not be allowed to result in war. They were prepared to accept changes in Central Europe, provided these came about by peaceful means. They were therefore concerned to prevent two things. First, that the Germans should start a war from which France would find it impossible to stay aloof. Second, that the Czechs should formally ask for the help promised under the Franco­Czech agreement. A few days after Hitler's speech the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, flew to Germany to see Hitler. The two leaders agreed to self­determination of the disputed territories in the form of cession to Germany. During the next week Chamberlain persuaded the French to agree to this German demand, after which both of them secured Czech consent by threatening to leave the Czechs to face Germany alone. But Hitler now had still more to ask: there must be an immediate military occupation by Germany of the territories in question. When Chamberlain objected, Hitler made a great show of reasonableness in moving the occupation date back to October 1st. It was, in fact, the deadline he had given his generals months before. Resistance to Hitler now stiffened in Britain, France, Czechoslovakia. By 28th September Hitler agreed to the holding of a four­power conference of Britain, France, Germany and Italy to resolve the crisis. The conference, held on 29th and 30th September at Munich, resulted in agreement very much along the line of Hitler's last demands, albeit with a slight postponement of the time­limit, and the four powers agreed to guarantee the rump of the Czechoslovak state. Czech representatives were not admitted to the conference, whose results were forced upon them by their allies, the British and French. In America, France and Britain, the public acclaimed Chamberlain as the saviour of peace and of Europe. The story of this last week of negotiations is far from clear. Did Hitler, as has been suggested, want the emotional satisfaction of a battle with the Czechs? If so, why did he agree to the Munich conference? The British formally informed Hitler on the 27th that if France were drawn into war in fulfilment of her treaty obligations to Czechoslovakia, Britain would support her. But at the same time the British were reinforcing the French determination not to fight. Did the British threat nevertheless influence Hitler? Or was he more swayed by evidence of the German people's total lack of enthusiasm for war? Was he — for a change — influenced by the warnings of his generals? Or affected by any of the appeals sent to him, notably that of Mussolini? None of these questions are yet settled. GERMAN TERRITORIAL EXPANSION March 1935 The Saarland returned to Germany by plebiscite. March 1936 The Rhineland remilitarized. March 1938 Austria seized. October 1938 Sudetenland occupied. October 1938 Czechoslovak territory ceded to Poland and Hungary. March 1939 Bohemia, Moravia and Slovakia become German Protectorates. March 1939 Memel occupied. September 1939 Danzig occupied. September 1939 western Poland conquered. They are in any case part of a much wider problem. This concerns the policy of appeasement adopted by the two Western powers in their relations with the dictatorships. It is a policy closely associated with the British Prime Minister, who was one of its most forceful and consistent exponents. It has been much condemned as an unworthy policy of ­ 2 ­ cowardice and surrender, inherently unlikely to succeed in sating Hitler's appetite, and calculated to weaken Britain's own morale as well as her position in the world. Since appeasement, culminating in the Czechoslovak affair, determined so much in British and French attitudes at this time, it is worth considering this problem of interpretation a little more closely. It falls into five broad subsections. The first concerns Chamberlain's assumption, from the time he became Prime Minister in May 1937, that Germany had a series of genuine grievances — mostly arising from the Versailles settlement — whose removal was the pre­condition of peace in Europe. Not only would their removal of itself tend to make Germany (and, similarly, Italy) a contented member of the international community, but it would undercut the domestic strength of the dictators by removing issues on which Hitler was bound to be supported by all patriotic Germans. Problems must be settled one by one, and on their merits, with the general aim of a pacification of Europe. If that were done, Hitler could not be so mad as to prefer war. On the other hand it has been argued that Chamberlain was merely yielding to threats of force and handing over half of Europe to Hitler on a plate. He was also deceiving Hitler (and possibly himself) about Britain's ultimate resolution and intentions. More fundamentally, he erred in supposing that the need to revise a treaty such as Versailles, or economic grievances, were by themselves enough to make the Germans or anyone else go to war; or that the removal of such grievances would by itself remove the danger of war where it existed. Chamberlain also erred in supposing that to make concessions merely in return for promises of good behaviour, instead of in payment for concrete counter­concessions, is ever likely to be fruitful. The result was bound to be a
comparative disregard of ultimately decisive facts of power. The second group of problems concerns Chamberlain's competence in foreign affairs. Did he make mistakes through inexperience? Did he naively trust Hitler? Did he confide in the wrong advisers? His critics point to his famous remark about Hitler being a man whose word could be trusted; his return from Munich with an agreement which, he claimed, meant 'peace in our time'. (We have equally fatuous statements from his ministers.) He never bothered to read Hitler's avowed programme of expansion in his book 'Mein Kampf (My Struggle) '. Then there is the fact that until he became Prime Minister, Chamberlain had no experience of foreign affairs and once in office he scarcely listened to the experts. He is said to have been much influenced by poor counsel, for example from members of the so­called 'Cliveden set', a group of people of high social position, intellectual leanings and sometimes pro­Axis sympathies. He displayed a consistent and pathetic wish to be reassured by the Germans, and to compromise. Here, too, there is another side. That Chamberlain had no direct experience of foreign affairs is true. But few men become Prime Minister without a certain amount of ability, or without a period of service in Cabinet which brings them up against most contemporary international problems. In 1945 an ex­trade unionist with far less experience than Chamberlain, Ernest Bevin, became one of the best Foreign Secretaries Britain has had in this century. That Chamberlain spoke in public of trusting Hitler is true. But could he do anything else so long as hope of peace remained? Could the Prime Minister of Great Britain publicly behave, in peacetime, as if he believed the Chancellor of Germany was mad? There are a number of entries in Chamberlain's diaries, and references in private letters to his family, which show that he thought Hitler unbalanced, that he placed no confidence in Hitler's word, and that he was pessimistic about the results of Munich even while he was speaking, for public consumption, about 'peace in our time'. It is true that Chamberlain was by temperament inclined to think about force only as a very last resort. But in 1937 the evidence on Hitler's ultimate intentions was at best ambiguous. Would he have been right to assume that war was inevitable? It is true that he repeatedly took up Hitler on his offers, but did this display trust or was it rather a tactic of trying to pin Hitler down to solutions he had himself proposed? And was that tactic more than a deliberate gamble, adopted to gain time at a period when Britain was weak? If it was such a gamble, could it be avoided? It is true that many members of the Cliveden set had the ear of Chamberlain or his advisers. But on what grounds ought we to assume that the political advice of these people was taken? There is little evidence on the point, one way or the other. Is it usual in important political or business matters to take the advice of people whose conversation one enjoys over dinner? Even if Chamberlain's advisers and members of the 'Cliveden set' were of one mind on some issues, can we say whether the advisers were influenced or whether they simply chose to associate with people whose opinions they found congenial anyway? Thirdly, there is the question of British public opinion. The Chamberlain Government operated against the background of an almost universal determination not to have another war. This was not a party matter. Not only Labour was opposed to strong policies and to armaments (with their apparent implication of riches for arms profiteers). Businessmen and civil servants were no less insistent that the Government must try every expedient to avoid war and that the country, in its current economic difficulties, could anyway not afford rearmament. Together with this went the feeling that concepts like power and national ­ 3 ­ interest were disreputable and contradicted the ideals for which the 'war to end wars' had been fought between 1914 and 1918. People preferred more general notions like Western democracy, international justice and Anglo­Saxonism. The British public was not prepared to accept a commitment, especially any automatic commitment, to Europe. Withdrawal from Europe was a more popular note. Beyond that, there was undoubtedly widespread sympathy for Hitler's earlier ambitions and a certain, possibly naive, admiration for the dictators. There was also a lingering suspicion of France and a widespread fear of bolshevism, which rendered the public susceptible to Hitler's claim to be the bulwark of the West. In sum, the question is whether by 1937 Britain had the will (quite apart from the strength) to counter aggression. As against this it can be said that Chamberlain was a man of considerable strength of will, as well as the master of a large majority in Parliament. Why did he fail to give a strong lead to public opinion? Fundamentally, events in Europe amounted to a war between democracy and totalitarianism and it was culpably blind of Chamberlain to suppose, or to behave as if, Britain could stand aside. Against the first of these charges, in turn, could it be said that by the time Chamberlain came to power in 1937 it was too late; that the real culprit, if there is one, is Chamberlain's predecessor, Stanley Baldwin? As to the second charge, perhaps the European situation was not so simple as the 'civil war' concept implies. In any case, ought Chamberlain's conduct to have been determined by his feelings about the German political system? Totalitarianism may be a bad thing, but can relationships between countries be conducted in accordance with whether they approve or disapprove of each other's internal political systems or conduct? Could the British seem to interfere in Germany's domestic concerns any more than the Germans could interfere in Britain's?
The fourth aspect is that of the military preparedness of the two sides. Chamberlain was not short of information. The Government had, indeed, been informed about German plans with reasonable accuracy ever since 1933. The trouble was that Britain's own military situation was extremely weak. After 1918 it was felt that sending a great army to the continent had been a mistake, that Britain should not again abandon her traditional emphasis on naval power and amphibious strategy. This, together with the opinion of responsible men that Britain could not afford rearmament, gave her only slender military resources by the beginning of the 1930s. Not only the arms themselves were missing, but the arms industries had decayed. It would take time to build them up. Britain began her rearmament too late for it to have gathered steam by 1937­38. The arms programme of France was seriously behind schedule, too. At the same time, Germany was only one potential opponent. There were Britain's Mediterranean engagements, in Palestine as well as in facing up to Italy. There was also the Far East, and the danger which Japanese expansion in Asia posed to Singapore, Malaya, Australia and New Zealand. At the time of the Munich crisis it was obvious in London that not only would geographic reasons alone make it impossible to help the Czechs, but Britain could not even help herself. One of the most important sectors was air defence. Though fear of air attack was almost everywhere much exaggerated, the defence of Britain was an obvious requirement if Britain were to be effective anywhere. According to one of Chamberlain's close associates, at the time of Munich Britain had only six squadrons of modern fighters (against over one thousand German bombers); there were no modern heavy anti­aircraft guns; only one­third of the needed searchlights, and radar only in the Thames estuary. As against this, the Government's military advisers said that within a year Britain would have a radar chain along the entire eastern and southern coasts, enough heavy anti­aircraft guns to cover London and the chief industrial centres, and thirty­five squadrons of improved, modern, eight­gun fighter aircraft. According to the military professionals, what Britain most desperately needed was time. During the crisis General Ironside, soon to be Chief of the Imperial General Staff, confided to his diary: 'It would be madness for us to expose ourselves to annihilation for the sake of the Czechs'; and again, a week later, 'our defences are so bad that we should go to any lengths to put off the struggle'. Not everyone accepts these arguments. Over the Rhineland, it is suggested, the British missed a golden opportunity to press the French to intervene. If they had, the French army would have been quite strong enough to deal with the Germans and the Second World War could have been avoided. Chamberlain's critics also point out that if the allies were weak in 1938, there was the less reason to hand over the large and efficient Czech arms industry to Hitler, or to disillusion the other Eastern European countries about an alliance with the French and British; or to sacrifice the 35 well­ equipped Czech divisions which had stood ready to resist Hitler; or their equally well­prepared fortifications, which made a considerable impression on the German generals when they were able to inspect them peacefully and at their leisure. The critics also point out, correctly, that British intelligence consistently and grossly overestimated German strength. And if Britain was unready, they ask, who can be blamed for that if not the Government? They discount the argument that Chamberlain at Munich bought time for rearmament by saying that this is not what Chamberlain himself said and that there was no crash arms programme immediately afterwards. Moreover, rearmament would have been a contradiction of the policy of appeasement and trust in Hitler to which Chamberlain was committed. ­ 4 ­ If, therefore, he wanted both trust and rearmament, one or other of these wishes must have been mistaken. He stands condemned out of his own mouth. Finally, Britain's relative armaments position deteriorated during the year between Munich and the outbreak of the war. Germany's arms build­up was quicker. On this count, too, the pro­ Chamberlain argument breaks down. A war begun in 1938 would have been to Britain's and France's advantage. This may not be the end of the matter. It is not certain that the British could have overcome French hesitations in 1936 even if they had tried. In any case, could a German occupation of the Rhineland, at some time, really be prevented? Could the British Government, in the face of its domestic opinion, behave as if an armed clash was inevitable? As for the need to gain time, at Munich, the increment in fighter and radar strength between 1938 and 1939 may have given Britain the margin she required for survival in 1940, even though Germany's all­round strength grew still further in the interval. The Chiefs of Staff did not consider that the West would lose by delay, for the French army was thought to be strong enough to stop a German land offensive. Nor was rearmament necessarily a contradiction of appeasement. Britain needed military strength both as a backing for appeasement and as an insurance in case appeasement failed. Fifthly and finally, there are the arguments about Britain's diplomatic position. It has been said that appeasement was by definition a negation of the whole 1919 settlement and of collective security. It was also, seen from another point of view, a dishonourable withdrawal by Britain from many of her international engagements. This withdrawal increased the weakness of France, while the weakness in turn reinforced the arguments for appeasement. France had in any case been overburdened after 1919 as the main pillar of the
peace settlement in Europe, while being deprived both of the territorial guarantees against Germany for which she had asked, and of the British and American commitments for whose sake she had agreed to forgo her claims for territorial guarantees. Britain's whole position was further undermined by the broad hints given to Germany at the end of 1937 (and recorded in the published diplomatic papers) that peaceful changes in Europe, especially over Austria and Czechoslovakia, would be accepted. Hitler was given the green light. During the following twelve months and at Munich, Britain's potential allies in Eastern Europe were neglected, Stalin deceived about Britain's reliability and aims, and the whole European balance was allowed to swing further in Germany's favour. As Professor Tawney remarked, 'The ambition to be eaten last, which inspires our present policy, is intelligible but futile. We shall (if we remain edible) be eaten all the same, nor shall we be consulted as to the date of the ceremony'. The aim of separating Hitler and Mussolini was also pursued long after it should have been clear that this was only a mirage. Finally, it was an act both of arrogance and folly for Chamberlain to reject President Roosevelt's tentative moves towards conciliation in Europe. Any American offer, any chance of more closely involving America in Europe should have been seized with both hands. Defenders of Chamberlain point out that Britain was in a position of great difficulty and had to move carefully. Just because France was so dependent upon Britain and unwilling to move on matters where she was not assured of British support, the effective centre of decision was London. And London faced not one potential enemy but three: Germany, Italy and Japan. As early as 1933­34 the British Chiefs of Staff resisted moves to make collective security a reality, on the grounds that the result would be to increase Britain's commitments. The attempt to keep Italy and Germany apart was an essential part of a sensible European strategy. It may even be (there is no direct evidence on this) that up to 1938 the British saw the possibility of a German move over Austria as a way of bringing Hitler into conflict with Mussolini, as the Austrian issue had done in 1934. Perhaps British policy on Austria attempted to do what Bismarck once did over Egypt, when he encouraged British involvement in that area of traditional French interest so as to foster Franco­British hostility. Even if it be true that the attempts to break the Axis and to appease Germany failed, it is also true that appeasement of Italy and Japan succeeded in avoiding a British conflict with either of them until 1940. In the actual situation of 1937­38 it would simply not have been practical politics for Britain to have accepted involvements in Eastern Europe. The security of France, Holland and Belgium was essential to Britain. Czechoslovakia was not. The situation might have been different if strong and reliable allies had been available. But the Soviet Union was politically untrustworthy and militarily weak. Military and diplomatic advice to the British Government was that in spite of her forthright declarations, the Soviet Union could not be relied upon to intervene effectively. Even if she had wanted to, Russian troops could not get to Czechoslovakia except by passing through Poland or Rumania. Neither country was willing to allow this. And even if that obstacle had been overcome, communications were so poor that it would have taken weeks to ferry a single Soviet division to the Czech front. The British Dominions were opposed to intervention in Eastern Europe. Australia and New Zealand wanted British strength available against Japan. As for the United States, Chamberlain noted at the time that it would be wise not to rely on her for anything other than words. So far as post­war studies and available documents go, he was right. The Roosevelt administration, bound by American isolationism, had no intention of allowing itself to become involved in an effort to settle Europe's affairs. Chamberlain may have been unwise to reject any American overture, ­ 5 ­ however tentative, but the Americans themselves were not concerned with anything more than non­ committal gestures of good will. In sum, the question is whether the diplomatic balance, and Britain's own position in 1937­38, were such that Chamberlain's policy was the only practical one. More, even if Chamberlain's reasons were wrong, could it be that he did the right thing for the wrong reasons? Certainly appeasement had this advantage: after Munich, no one could accuse the Western democracies of not having done their best to preserve peace. They had certainly tried. Yet if Britain had to abandon Czechoslovakia, was it necessary for Chamberlain virtually to act as Hitler's agent? Would it not have been more honest and less humiliating for him to have sat back and, under protest, accepted Germany's imposition of her own solution? In general, was Chamberlain right to assume that there is an objective 'justice' in international affairs whose practical realization can take precedence over the careful and continuing attempt to balance the real interests of nations against each other? Perhaps, indeed, Chamberlain did not make all the careful distinctions which these questions imply. Maybe he was not really sure where he was going, but worked, as most statesmen do, under pressure and largely in a fog of partial and conflicting information. The German March on Prague: The End of Appeasement The rejoicing which had greeted Munich quickly died away. Chamberlain's confidence, if it was ever real, quickly wore thin. This process was helped by Hitler's own insistence that Munich was a triumph, not of right, but of might. It was also helped by the alarming reports which the Government received about German intentions. Many people in London assumed that Munich had turned Hitler towards Eastern Europe. So did Stalin. The British Foreign Secretary himself assumed that Poland would now
fall into the German orbit. Everyone waited for Hitler to make his next move and tempers in Britain hardened. The Chiefs of Staff began to treat war as more or less inevitable. Neither the French nor the British Government was much surprised when, on 15th March 1939, Hitler occupied the remainder of Czechoslovakia, defenceless now that its mountain barriers were gone. It has been suggested that Czechoslovakia was in any case disintegrating, but that was not how people saw it at the time. For Hitler, the march on Prague was a milestone. For the British public, it was a turning­point. Hitler had occupied yet another country and without provocation. He had broken a formal agreement which he had signed a mere six months earlier. He had once more tricked the British and French Governments and made them look foolish. Critics like Winston Churchill were right, after all, when they said that no agreements could be made with such a man. In some ways worst of all was the fact that he had, for the first time, moved out from under the umbrella of 'national self­determination' which had covered his policies so far. By no stretch of the imagination could Czechoslovakia be part of a plan for uniting all Germans in one nation. Hitler's aims were not limited, after all. Those who said he was aiming at world domination were right. Even men who had shown sympathy for him changed their views. As the British Ambassador to Berlin, Sir Nevile Henderson, wrote later: 'By the occupation of Prague Hitler put himself unquestionably in the wrong, and destroyed the entire arguable validity of the German case as regards the Treaty of Versailles.' The change in the situation was underlined by Chamberlain. Almost at once his tone hardened. In point of fact, this change may have come more by coincidence than design. He was not surprised by Hitler's move, and it is not clear whether he regarded it as creating a new situation. But it happened that at about this time British rearmament reached a point which seemed to the British Cabinet to offer some measure of safety. A year before, in March 1938, Chamberlain had written: 'In the absence of a powerful ally, and until our armaments are completed, we must adjust our foreign policy to our circumstances, and even bear with patience and good humour actions which we should like to treat in very different fashion.' Since then rearmament, the plans for which had been laid well before Munich, had steadily proceeded. British aircraft production, for example, rose from 240 per month in 1938 to 660 per month in September 1939. In February 1939, and following French suggestions that the British should make good the loss of the Czechoslovak divisions, Chamberlain's Government decided to organize an army of 32 divisions. In April, for the first time in Britain's peace­time history, it was decided to introduce conscription. In mid­March, therefore, Chamberlain decided he could begin to be tough. A week after Prague, the Russians were informed of the remarkable progress of British rearmament and assured that the situation had been transformed. In Eastern Europe, the British Government began to hand out guarantees. Chamberlain wrote out a new British undertaking to a Poland which, rather surprisingly to some, had refused to fall in with German plans. On the 31st March Chamberlain informed the House of Commons that the Polish Government had been given an assurance to the effect that '….in the event of any action which clearly threatened Polish independence and which the Polish Government accordingly considered it vital to resist with their national forces, His Majesty's Government would feel themselves bound at once to lend the Polish Government all support in their power.' Formally, this guarantee went far beyond anything Britain had previously been willing to do. It was a full commitment, in peacetime, to Eastern Europe. This was unprecedented. More important still were the words '. . . any action . . . which the Polish Government . . . considered it vital to resist . . .' ­ 6 ­ This meant that Britain's reaction would depend not on the judgment of the British Government at the time, but on Poland's judgment of its own situation. This was to go very far indeed. In fact, the British guarantee was not entirely watertight and Chamberlain's Government had no intention of supporting Poland on every problem at issue between Warsaw and Berlin. The wording of the guarantee may have left it technically open to the British to give 'all support in their power' in a non­ military form. More important, perhaps, was the simple fact that Britain had no means of helping Poland. There was no expeditionary corps, and no way of getting it to Poland if there had been. Neither France nor Britain could launch an attack in the West which would have diverted the German army from the Polish front. Britain did not even send arms. Hitler used the new Anglo­Polish alliance as an excuse for denouncing both the Anglo­German naval agreement of 1935 and the German­Polish non­aggression pact of the previous year. But from the British point of view the guarantee was primarily a political demonstration. So was another guarantee, handed out to Rumania. Unless, of course, they could be backed up by wider arrangements. Most obviously, if one wanted to help Poland, there was the Soviet Union. As Lloyd George, the old leader from another war, said of the Polish guarantee: 'If we are going in without the help of Russia we are walking into a trap.'