Chapter I: Part VII
Chapter I: The Hammerblow
Part VII
January 7, 1936
In the grand dining room of the Hôtel de Crillon, Walter Friedmann sat at a moonlit table, awaiting the arrival of his contact at eight. Lying on Paris’ historic Place de la Concorde, the Hôtel de Crillon was an icon of Continental opulence in the style of the old Parisian salons. Dating to the 18th century, the Hôtel de Crillon had for centuries played host to royalty, presidents, industrialists, artists and celebrities. Not seventeen years prior, it had been home to the American delegation to the Paris Peace Conference that drafted the crushing Treaty of Versailles.
As a Special Deputy to Foreign Minister Konstantin von Neurath, Friedmann was fully aware of the building’s significance, and with that in mind, chose it as the setting for this evening’s meeting. von Neurath had dispatched him to Paris to assure the French government of Germany’s peaceful intentions. The French were unwilling, Friedmann had reported to von Neurath the day before, to engage in formal talks. French foreign minister Pierre Etienne Flandin was stirring up a considerable diplomatic flap about German moves into the Rhineland, and Friedmann had to settle for a backchannel meeting with one of his deputies.
von Neurath had wired him earlier in the day that the Führer was prepared to offer a twenty-five year mutual nonaggression pact between Germany, France and Britain in return for a six-point renegotiation of the Treaty of Versailles. Friedmann had been told little of the man the French were sending, and accordingly prepared a number of possible strategies to use in negotiations, depending upon the temperament of the Frenchman.
The Hôtel de Crillon, on the Place de la Concorde.
At the far end of the dining room, Friedmann saw the
maître d'hôtel gesture in his direction and lead a portly, round-faced man in his direction. When they were an appropriate distance from the table, Friedmann rose and offered the French minister his hand. “Walter Friedmann.”
“Paul Amiot. I hope you are comfortable speaking French, yes?”
“Of course, of course. A pleasure.” The tall, hawk-like
maître d'hôtel handed each man a menu, and bowing, withdrew.
Friedmann managed to exchange pleasantries with Amiot until the Nova Scotia smoked salmon wedges arrived.
Carefully weighing his second strategy, Friedmann waited until the Frenchman’s mouth was hopelessly full before launching into his proposition.
“First, as I have just received word from our Führer, Germany is prepared to offer a momentous accord to the other two Principal Powers. Our government is willing to conclude a twenty-five year mutual pact of nonaggression between our three countries.”
Amiot sputtered. “Mmphlnd?”
“Yes, England is the third country.” In the process of swallowing, Amiot nodded vigorously for Friedmann to continue. “In return, Germany would require a renegotiation of the Treaty of Versailles to reflect the restored balance of peace in modern Europe.”
Amiot wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What would this include, Herr Friedmann?”
“First, Germany insists upon the legal recognition of the reoccupation of the Rhineland. Alternatively, the Führer is willing to demilitarize the entire stretch within one hundred kilometers of the border if France pledges to do the same on its own side of the border. Second, all restrictions on German arms beyond those imposed upon France and Britain are to be waived. Alternatively, the Führer shall agree to limit German army strength to 30 divisions if both France and Britain limit themselves to 45 divisions each. Third, the German navy must be allowed up to one hundred fifty thousand gross tons for its combined fleet, provided that France and Britain limit themselves to one hundred fifty thousand and two hundred fifty thousand gross tons respectively. Fourth, Germany shall be fully re-allowed the use of submarines, though the Führer would also be amenable to their complete abolition by each of the three nations. Also --”
Amiot’s lobster had arrived.
“Go ahead, I’m the one talking anyway. As I was saying, Monsieur Amiot, the fifth point is immediate forgiveness of all outstanding war reparations. The Führer was particularly insistent upon this point.”
The French diplomat frowned, but a large chunk of
buerre blanc-coated lobster tail stopped his protestations deep in his throat.
“Finally,” Friedmann continued, “Article 231 of the Treaty -- the so-called ‘War Guilt Clause’ -- shall be stricken entirely. ”
“I must protest,” Amiot managed to say. “Your first point would require France to scrap the entire Maginot Line.”
“In the interest of fairness,” Friedmann began, pausing until Amiot was again defenseless for surfeit of asparagus, “Germany must be allowed to fortify its own border just as France has done.”
The stout little Frenchman turned a deep shade of red, but could only move his head in a gesture that was neither shake nor nod.
“Is this satisfactory, then? Minister Flandin will be pleased with you, I am sure.”
Amiot seemed to recover himself, throwing back his mop of limp brown hair and drawing himself upward in his seat. “Herr Friedmann, you are brilliant, you know. But I am afraid that even in the face of the many fair points you presented, my government would be unwilling to conclude such an agreement.”
“Why ever not, Monsieur Amiot?”
“I am afraid, Herr Friedmann, that such an agreement would disrupt the balance of power, endangering the neutral Low Countries.”
“Such is Germany’s commitment to a lasting peace in Europe that we are prepared to offer the solemn guarantee of the Netherlands, Luxembourg and, of course, Belgium.”
Amiot’s eyes widened. “The solemn guarantee of Belgium?”
“Yes. The Führer is most committed to ensuring the perpetual inviolability of Belgium and the Low Countries.”
At this, Amiot pursed his lips, enticed. “Herr Friedmann, I do believe that my government would consider such a proposal with the excep --”
“Good then! If you can arrange for me discreet negotiations with representatives of Great Britain and Belgium, I shall in return convey to the Führer France’s willingness to reach this historic accord.”
That night, Friedmann cabled von Neurath from the German embassy with a single word: “Success”.
