King Edward the Last by Ratcliffe Graeme

Author:Ratcliffe, Graeme [Ratcliffe, Graeme]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Publisher: Self-published
Published: 2014-10-02T04:00:00+00:00

For the first time in his life Neville Chamberlain entered an airplane, and together with Horace Wilson, flew to Germany. There was a lot of air turbulence and it proved to be a bumpy ride. Whether through bad nerves or airsickness, the Prime Minister was compelled to procure from the flight crew a receptacle in which to lose his breakfast. That afternoon at the conference, things were no less bumpy. The talks were held in the cold and echoing marble hall of the Fuhrerbrau, Hitler sitting before an enormous swastika hanging between brutally large columns; all around were dozens of his henchmen, each one idiosyncratic in his rendering of unattractiveness. The German Chancellor glared across a conference table the size of a paddock and spoke harshly, his voice churning with a throaty vibrato. “Das Reich wird die Beklemmung der dreieinhalb Millionen Deutschen im Sudetenland nicht dulden.”

Ribbentrop sat beside Chamberlain, elegantly translating the words and honeying the tone: “The Reich will not tolerate the oppression of the three and a half million Germans in the Sudetenland.”

“Das Beruaben dieser Leute ihrer Rechte muss ablaufen.”

“The depriving of these people of their rights must come to an end.”

Chamberlain smiled, exposing his teeth like a country parson. “Great Britain is not opposed in principle to the self-determination of these people.”

Ribbentrop translated the British Prime Minister’s words: “Grosbritannien ist night grundsatzlich an die.”

And so it went on for hours until all save Hitler were exhausted. Chamberlain and Wilson rose from their seats as a short recess was called. They walked out into the lobby and conferred. The Prime Minister was exasperated. “We should not be talking of going to war over a quarrel in a far-away country between people of whom we know nothing.”

“The Czechs have been calling,” said Wilson. “They’re desperate to know what’s going on.”

Chamberlain inhaled sharply, his irritation amplifying his confidential remarks to the broadcast level of a stage whisper. “They must leave this matter to us. If they do not, we will wash our hands of them.”

“Tell the Czechs they need not worry.”

Chamberlain turned around in surprise. “Herr von Ribbentrop!”

The Ambassador spoke in a voice that soothed, sympathetic to the Prime Minister’s anxiety. “My Fuhrer has no wish to include any Slavs in the Reich. Why would we want them? We only desire the German-speaking lands dishonestly held by Czechoslovakia.”

Chamberlain was feeling each of his 69 years. Broken by the torture of Hitler’s haranguing and intransigence, his voice was reduced to a rasp. “All we want is a fair and peaceful settlement.”

Ribbentrop’s arms opened wide and welcoming. “And that you shall have.”

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