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Authors: Roger Moorhouse
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of peace’.55
Four days later, while Germany waited for Britain’s response to
Hitler’s peace offensive, a curious episode tested German resolve
to the full. When Christabel Bielenberg visited the market that
October morning, she noticed immediately that something was
afoot. ‘What had happened?’ she asked herself:
There shouldn’t have been a cabbage-leaf left, instead the stalls were
only half cleared, only the do-or-diers were queuing and the other
ladies were standing round in animated groups. As I passed down
between the rows, one or two heads nodded smilingly in my direction.
It was the baker’s wife who enlightened me as she clipped off my bread
coupons and recklessly pushed an extra loaf into my old string bag.
‘We won’t be needing these much longer, Frau Dr,’ she said. ‘ Wieso ?’
‘Why, haven’t you heard? Peace, they say, peace negotiations are going
on at this very minute.’56
The same scene played out countless times across Germany that
morning. The rumour of peace spread like wildfire, overwhelming
the telephone system with the increased traffic. Though it had not
emanated from the German media, it nonetheless quoted reliable
sources, such as the Air Ministry and German radio. Wild claims were
trumpeted: Chamberlain’s government had fallen; the British King had
been forced to abdicate; peace had returned to Europe.
A few managed to remain circumspect. Helmuth James von Moltke,
for instance, wrote to his wife on 10 October of ‘a suggestion . . . that
the war may come to an end’. If it were true, he said, it would come
as a ‘welcome relief’, but, he conceded, ‘I don’t know if there’s anything
in it.’57 The majority of Berliners, however, rejected caution in favour
of celebration. According to William Shirer, there was tremendous
rejoicing all over Berlin. ‘The fat old women in the vegetable markets’,
he wrote, ‘tossed their cabbages in the air, wrecked their own stands
faith in the führer
31
in sheer joy, and made for the nearest pub to toast the peace with
Schnaps .’58 In a market in the suburb of Prenzlauer Berg, it was said
that traders abandoned the usual rationing procedure in the mistaken
belief that such pettifogging was now redundant.59 Christabel Bielenberg
recalled the scene in her suburb of Dahlem:
I was soon the centre of a chattering group all eager to tell me
exactly what was going on. Peace negotiations, oh yes, with the
British of course, a special envoy . . . No one seemed to know any
precise details. Most had got the news from someone who’d had it
from someone else; but one thing was certain: everyone . . . was
beside themselves, and our joy reached its peak when the police
sergeant, on duty guarding the market, pushed through the crowd
and added his voice, behind which was all the authority of the law,
to our babbling conjectures.60
The peace rumour was certainly not confined to the ‘babbling’
housewives at market stalls. In the university, it was relayed during
lectures with no doubts expressed as to its authenticity. Factories
stopped work to discuss the news, and even those in government
ministries began to celebrate.61 Cheering crowds of civilians greeted
troop transports returning from the Polish campaign: ‘You can go
home!’ they cried, ‘The war is over!’62
An American observer noted that the Germans he saw on the streets
of the capital that morning were smiling in a way that he hadn’t seen
since the time of the Anschluss . ‘On Potsdamer Platz’, he wrote, ‘I saw
people who had gone crazy with joy. Strangers grabbed strangers by
the arms to tell them the wonderful news. “Peace, brother, peace!”
Other people grabbed strangers and embraced them in a delirium of
joy. It looked like New Year’s Eve in the daytime.’63
As the rumour spread, it was embellished still further. Eden, it was
said, would take over from Chamberlain. The Duke of Windsor would
accede to
Four days later, while Germany waited for Britain’s response to
Hitler’s peace offensive, a curious episode tested German resolve
to the full. When Christabel Bielenberg visited the market that
October morning, she noticed immediately that something was
afoot. ‘What had happened?’ she asked herself:
There shouldn’t have been a cabbage-leaf left, instead the stalls were
only half cleared, only the do-or-diers were queuing and the other
ladies were standing round in animated groups. As I passed down
between the rows, one or two heads nodded smilingly in my direction.
It was the baker’s wife who enlightened me as she clipped off my bread
coupons and recklessly pushed an extra loaf into my old string bag.
‘We won’t be needing these much longer, Frau Dr,’ she said. ‘ Wieso ?’
‘Why, haven’t you heard? Peace, they say, peace negotiations are going
on at this very minute.’56
The same scene played out countless times across Germany that
morning. The rumour of peace spread like wildfire, overwhelming
the telephone system with the increased traffic. Though it had not
emanated from the German media, it nonetheless quoted reliable
sources, such as the Air Ministry and German radio. Wild claims were
trumpeted: Chamberlain’s government had fallen; the British King had
been forced to abdicate; peace had returned to Europe.
A few managed to remain circumspect. Helmuth James von Moltke,
for instance, wrote to his wife on 10 October of ‘a suggestion . . . that
the war may come to an end’. If it were true, he said, it would come
as a ‘welcome relief’, but, he conceded, ‘I don’t know if there’s anything
in it.’57 The majority of Berliners, however, rejected caution in favour
of celebration. According to William Shirer, there was tremendous
rejoicing all over Berlin. ‘The fat old women in the vegetable markets’,
he wrote, ‘tossed their cabbages in the air, wrecked their own stands
faith in the führer
31
in sheer joy, and made for the nearest pub to toast the peace with
Schnaps .’58 In a market in the suburb of Prenzlauer Berg, it was said
that traders abandoned the usual rationing procedure in the mistaken
belief that such pettifogging was now redundant.59 Christabel Bielenberg
recalled the scene in her suburb of Dahlem:
I was soon the centre of a chattering group all eager to tell me
exactly what was going on. Peace negotiations, oh yes, with the
British of course, a special envoy . . . No one seemed to know any
precise details. Most had got the news from someone who’d had it
from someone else; but one thing was certain: everyone . . . was
beside themselves, and our joy reached its peak when the police
sergeant, on duty guarding the market, pushed through the crowd
and added his voice, behind which was all the authority of the law,
to our babbling conjectures.60
The peace rumour was certainly not confined to the ‘babbling’
housewives at market stalls. In the university, it was relayed during
lectures with no doubts expressed as to its authenticity. Factories
stopped work to discuss the news, and even those in government
ministries began to celebrate.61 Cheering crowds of civilians greeted
troop transports returning from the Polish campaign: ‘You can go
home!’ they cried, ‘The war is over!’62
An American observer noted that the Germans he saw on the streets
of the capital that morning were smiling in a way that he hadn’t seen
since the time of the Anschluss . ‘On Potsdamer Platz’, he wrote, ‘I saw
people who had gone crazy with joy. Strangers grabbed strangers by
the arms to tell them the wonderful news. “Peace, brother, peace!”
Other people grabbed strangers and embraced them in a delirium of
joy. It looked like New Year’s Eve in the daytime.’63
As the rumour spread, it was embellished still further. Eden, it was
said, would take over from Chamberlain. The Duke of Windsor would
accede to
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