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.