In June 1940 the French signed an armistice with the Germans. The British had been killed, captured, or had departed. The refugees turned round and began the walk home. Hitler took two old comrades on a tour of the 1914 18 battlefields, where he had served as a corporal.
Hitler now ruled a vast proportion of Europe: from the Arctic Ocean to the Bay of Biscay. Stalin, his new friend was supplying oil, cattle, grain, and coal. Rumania, Hungary, and the Balkans were all anxious to do business with their rich and powerful neighbour, as teams of German technicians investigated the resources of the conquered lands.
The German victories had been a direct result of brilliant generalship and highly skilled, well-equipped armies with good morale. Yet by the spring of 1940 — in spite of months of war with Britain — the Wehrmacht had made no preparations whatsoever for any direct assault upon a hostile shoreline.
Unlike the Anglo-American armies later in the war, the Germans had no landing craft for tanks, trucks, or men; no artificial breakwaters, no trained beach-masters, or any system of sea-route marking. In fact, the only army with any experience, or adequate equipment, was the Japanese army, which operated its own sea transport. It had made amphibious landings on the banks of the Yangtse river in 1938. At the time there had been a flutter of interest from military commentators but, apart from some experiments by the United States Marine Corps, no high commands envisaged a need for such techniques.
It was not until 12 July 1940 that the OKW the High Command of the Wehrmacht prepared a memorandum about invading England. Even then General Alfred Jodl, its author, described it as being 'in the form of a river crossing on a broad front." He called it operation Lowe (Lion). Hitler took this memo and used it as a basis for his Directive No. 16, 'on preparations for a landing operation against England." He changed the name to Seelowe (Sea-lion).
Hitler's Directive No. 16, a top-secret document of which only seven copies were made, asked the army and navy chiefs for more proposals. But the Luftwaffe had a specific task: it must reduce the RAF morally and physically to a state where it could not deliver any significant attack upon the invasion units. To Göring that seemed possible.
In the heady days of that summer anything seemed possible. In Berlin representatives from the Welsh Nationalist movement were already talking of their coming role. So was a senior official of the IRA, which had been exploding bombs in England for several months before the war. The Welshmen made no progress with the Germans; the Irishman was sent home in a U-boat in August 1940, but died en route and was buried at sea, his body shrouded in a German naval ensign.
In France the German army was devoting some of its finest units to preparations for a great victory parade through Paris. Generaloberst Heinz Guderian, architect of the blitzkrieg, was in the capital, along with many other senior members of the army and air force. Feldmarschall Hugo Sperrle, commander of Air Fleet 3, had made it his headquarters.
Units rehearsed for the victory procession included massed motorcycles and tanks. German flags were prepared for all the facades in the Place de la Concorde, and blue hortensias for the Etoile. Press reports of the event were prepared but not yet dated. The only cloud on the horizon was a growing fear that the widespread publicity would invite a decidedly unfriendly fly past by the RAF. On 20 July caution prevailed; the whole scheme was abandoned and the men went back to their units.
By that time, Berlin had enjoyed a victory parade. It was a modest affair. Local conscripts of the 218th Infantry Division marched through the Brandenburg Gate. Joseph Goebbels, Minister for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, took the salute. Hitler was not present. He was saving himself for the following evening, when the whole Reichstag and an astounding array of Generals had been summoned to hear his speech. Appropriately this glittering event took place in the Kroll Opera House. Hitler's speech was a long one and he used it to claim personal credit for the victories of 1940. "I advised the German forces of the possibility of such a development and gave them the necessary detailed orders," said the ex-Corporal to one of the most dazzling arrays of military brains ever gathered under one roof. "I planned to aim for the Seine and Loire rivers, and also get a position on the Somme and the Aisne from which the third attack could be made."
One eye-witness was William Shirer, who later described Hitler as an actor who this day mixed the confidence of the conqueror with a humility that always goes down well when a man is on top. Almost in passing, Hitler offered Churchill a chance to make peace. It was 'an appeal to reason," said Hitler. Whether he hoped that his appeal would bring peace is still argued. Some say it was no more than a way of 'proving' to the German public that it was the British and more specifically Churchill who wanted the war. We shall never know. It was in Hitler's nature to seek opportunities and pursue those that seemed most promising. "So oder so," he would repeatedly tell the men around him: achieve it either this way or that way.
When the applause of that multitude of Generals, politicians, and foreign dignitaries died away, Hitler began to distribute the honours. He created no less than twenty-seven new Generals. Mostly they were men who had commanded armies or panzer groups to win for him the great victories in Poland, Norway, and the west. But artfully Hitler arranged that yes-men such as Alfred Jodl and Wilhelm Keitel who had told Hitler, 'my Führer, you are the greatest military commander of history' got double promotions and seniority. While Gustav von Wietersheim — whose motorized infantry corps had consolidated the panzer thrust by which Guderian skewered France — was passed over because he had argued with the Führer in 1938. The lesson was learned by some.
So many new promotions were announced that there was not time for the Generals to receive Hitler's personal congratulations. As each name was called, a General stood up and gave the Nazi salute. There was then a brief pause while other officers leaned across to shake hands and, according again to Shirer, slap the back of the officer honoured..
By the time that Hitler had finished creating Generals, and no less than a dozen Field Marshals, there could have been few men in the opera house who did not understand that this was a cunning piece of megalomania that, while thoroughly debasing the coinage of high rank, defined Hitler as the man who owned the mint.
It was an unprecedented step. The Kaiser made only five Field Marshals in the whole of the First World War. Even General Erich Ludendorff had failed to find a baton in his knapsack. Now Hitler made twelve after less than a year of war, and the fighting had covered only a few weeks. But the new Generalfeldmarschalle were delighted. In Germany such exalted rank, from which the holder could neither be retired nor demoted (or even promoted), brought the provision of an office, a secretary, a staff officer, motor vehicles and horses, and full pay and privileges. And all this for life or until defeat. A Field Marshal ranked above Reich Chancellor in the protocol lists but not above Führer, which was a new post invented by Hitler for himself.
In order to rescue Göring from the new squalor of Field Marshal rank, Hitler invented a post for him too. Göring received an extra-large baton. Hitler passed it to where Göring was sitting alone in the Speaker's Chair, and the Reichsmarschall could not resist opening the box to get a glimpse of it. And for Göring an old medal, the Grosskreuz, was revived. From this date onwards Göring can be seen in photographs wearing his special uniform with the huge cross dangling at his neck.