CHAPTER 77 : A TALE OF THREE CITIES
Londoners rejoice on October the 2nd, as newspapers worldwide announce the last-minute agreement reached at Munich
Croydon airfield, near London, October the 2nd, 9:00 AM
No sooner did the Lockheed’s pilot cut the engines that the crowd broke through the line of harrowed police constables, which had been brought in lorries a few hours before. While policemen ran back towards the stopped plane in to protect the Prime Minister, or at least allow him to get out British Airways personnel hastily brought a small mobile stairway and opened the Lockheed’s door. Already a dozen microphones had been brought by the BBC and half a dozen broadcast news services. Elbowing their way through the crowd and policemen, journalists who had waited for the plane since dawn converged on the Lockheed, notebooks drawn and ready to consign the Prime Minister’s words for History. It had been decided, back in Munich, that Chamberlain’s landing would not be met by a Cabinet member, but would instead, after a short allocution to address the nation, head for Buckingham Palace to report to the King. After that, the Prime Minister’s motorcade would take him to Westminster for an extraordinary session of Parliament in which he would represent the situation in Central Europe to both Houses.
As Prime Minister Chamberlain stepped out of the small plane, he was welcomed by a glorious morning, which matched the mood of the expectant crowd. His first step onto Croydon Airfield’s tarmac was saluted by an explosion of cheers, and for one second he felt the bleary-eyed crowd of Londoners had surpassed in their fervour even the German citizens’ adoration for their Führer. These men and women, who had spent the past few days in terrible anguish at the prospect of armed conflict with Germany, had spontaneously decided to come after the BBC had hinted the Prime Minister was coming back with a negotiated settlement. Behind the thin line of police constables, Chamberlain could see workers that, judging by the five ‘clock shadows that showed on their faces, had probably come straight from their night shifts for a chance to see the Prime Minister. Contrasting with the proletarian caps, were the employees’ fedoras and bowler hats of every size and colour, that enthusiastic hands raised in the air in an explosion of joy. There were women as well, of every social class, and their faces radiated their collective relief at the idea their sons, brothers or husbands were not about to be sent to fight another war on the Continent. Chamberlain, though a man who rarely showed his emotions, felt moved to tears by the sincerity of the crowd’s trust and deference. No Propaganda Ministry had mobilized them, no political party had assembled them : they had come individually, freely as befitted the sons and daughters of Britannia, for a chance to hear what had been accomplished, in their name and for their sake.
And indeed they deserve to hear it, don’t they ? thought Chamberlain, walking to the row of microphones. To his right, the members of the press were struggling to catch the Prime Minister’s attention. Pinned on the lapels of their jackets, round badges showed which media company they represented. There, in a nutshell, stood the world : the BBC, Reuters, the Associated Press, the Columbia Broadcasting Service, Radio-Paris, and the Tass News Agency had all flocked to Croydon. Despite of what the cynical press magnates of Fleet Street thought, Peace, in 1938, seemed poised to sell even more newspaper than War ever did.
Croydon Airfield in quieter but not happier times
“Mr Prime Minister !” shouted a reporter, trying to get heard over the crowd’s cheers and his colleagues’ questions. “Mr Prime Minister, would you mind telling us about the results of the Conference ?”
“Mr Prime Minister, is this the end of the Sudetenland crisis ?” asked another one, waving his notebook frantically.
“Mr Prime Minister ! Look this way, please, Mr Prime Minister !” cried photographers, taking picture after picture in an explosion of flash lamps.
“Good friends !” said Chamberlain, raising a hand to ask for silence “Good friends, for the second time in our History a British Prime Minister has returned from Germany bringing Peace ! Yes, it is peace finally, after these long weeks of fear and anguish. As you know, I have met last night with the German Chancellor, Herr Hitler, and I am happy to announce that the Three Powers conference has reached an agreement over the Sudetenland dispute that had been threatening European peace since last spring”
“Hear, hear ! “ shouted a man in the crowd.
“Yes, friends, it is peace, peace for Europe, peace for the world, and peace for Britain !” said Chamberlain, producing a document from his breast pocket and brandishing it over his head. “The Three Powers have reaffirmed their commitment to European peace and security, which had been gravely threatened over the past few weeks by the troubles that occurred in Czech-controlled Sudetenland. The Three Powers have therefore devised a solution that, I am pleased to say, respects the dignity and addresses the concerns of all parties to the crisis. The document I have here, which bears my name and that of Chancellor Hitler, is the culmination of the three delegations’ work. Some of you, perhaps, have already heard what it contains, and I am sure all of you are going to hear and read about it in the coming days, but I nevertheless want to read it to you !
The crowd erupted into a cheer again, the people’s relief almost tangible. To the men and women gathered around the Prime Minister, and beyond them for the immense majority of Britons, it truly was as if the reassuring words of the Prime Minister, in that sunny morning of October, had dispersed the night terrors of the past summer. Statesmen and economists, who had worried about the survivability of the British Empire should another war break out, now faced a brighter future where Britain and Germany would not only guarantee European peace, but would also ensure European’s security
vis-à-vis Bolshevist Russia. Merchants and stockbrokers, who a few days before had seen the investors’ confidence waver, now felt on safer ground as news of the Munich Agreement started to spread. Most importantly, millions of men and women who remembered all too well the horror and grief borne out of the Great War, were once again able to plan their children’s future.
“First, Germany and Czechoslovakia will establish a non-militarized zone of twenty miles on either side of a line going from Liberec to Trutnov, and a second line going from Liberec to Ceske Budojevice. No military unit of any type, regular or not, will be allowed along these two lines, with the exception of police units and of static defence garrisons. The de-militarization of that zone will be monitored by qualified observers the League of Nation, belonging to neutral nations”
Chamberlain paused, his vivacious eyes reading the faces of his audience. From what he could see, the concept of collective security sat well with a nation that felt it had barely avoided armed conflict.
Prime Minister Chamberlain delivers the good news at Croydon airport on October the 2nd, 1938.
“Second, a series of referendums will be held before the end of this month in the disputed territories, asking documented residents of these areas to choose between remaining a part of Czechoslovakia, or joining the German Reich. These referendums will be organized jointly by Czech and German officials, and will be monitored by League of Nations observers. There shall be eight such referendums, organized in Breclav, Ceske Budojevice, Chomutov, Eger, Klatovy, Liberec, Trutnov, and Usti, for these cities and the surrounding areas. The results will be proclaimed in Geneva , and immediately applied.”
Around Chamberlain, people were nodding approvingly, some of them clapping while others shouted “Good ol’ Neville !”. Noticing that at the outskirt of the airstrip the policemen were trying to open the way for his car, the newsmen elbowed their way through the crowd to reach their own cars, hoping for an interview at the doorstep of the Prime Minister’s Downing Street office.
“Finally, and regardless of the fate of each of these voting districts, any of their documented residents desiring to leave will be helped financially to settle in whatever country they choose. A special fund will be created in the next few days by the Three Powers and to which all European nations will, I am sure, contribute generously in the name of Peace. This, my good friends, is not only what I am now going to tell His Majesty and the Parliament, but also what I thought you needed to hear without further ado. Thank you”
As the Prime Minister put the folded paper back in his pocket, thunderous applause broke out, and the crowd started singing “For he’s a jolly good fellow”. It did not peter out before after the car had disappeared from sight.
*****
Approaching Paris, October the 2nd, 1938
Good grief, could this day go any worse ? thought de La Rocque as the airliner began its slow descent towards Le Bourget. Around him, the French delegation remained silent, on the lookout for a sign the Prime Minister was ready to talk. The plane had been silent as a tomb since it had finally left German airspace in its wake, with glum faces looking downward at shoes, dispatches, or reports.
Though the plane was still too high to see anything in detail, the Prime Minister could see the alternate gold-and-ochre pattern that indicated the harvest was under way. Without seeing them, he could imagine the men down there, shirtless men gathering the last bales of wheat, covered in sweat and dirt as they loaded the grain into carts and trailers, and taking a break before bringing the wheat bales to the farm, and then to the
Coopérative Agricole silos. He imagined the women in the kitchen, busy washing up the bowls and glasses of that morning’s breakfast and already preparing the hearty lunch that the men would need after long hours spent gathering and loading the bales. He imagined the kids running back and forth from the fields to the farmhouses, bringing bottles of water and wine that had been kept cool in the cellars, and telling the farmhands what it was the women were cooking for them. The older people would probably be helping with the small chores, and the crafty grandmother or the old patriarch of the family was probably already thinking about how much they could demand from the Coopérative manager, and how they would spend the money. The Prime Minister could almost picture the scene to its smallest detail, for it was what the young François de La Rocque had witnessed as a kid, whenever he stopped at the tenant farmers' that rented part of his grandparents’ estates after school.
A troubled Colonel de La Rocque returns to France
Christ, this century was not even been born. Have my memories aged as I did ? Have things changed since then ?
The Prime Minister in him fervently hoped they had. Under the auspices of Jean Ybarnegaray, the Agriculture Ministry had pushed for favourable loans to farmers, so they could modernize their methods and materiel. The banks now offered credit for farmers willing to buy trucks and tractors, and machinery was gradually replacing horse traction and manual tools. Throughout the country, power companies were pulling lines to bring modern comfort to places that had been left untouched by the last hundred years, and water companies were following so families would not depend upon simple wells anymore. While the Prime Minister felt proud that his Cabinet – which already was amongst the longest-living of the whole Republic – was opening the way for progress, the child de La Rocque had been, on the contrary, hoped the treasured memories could find a way to persist. Instead of being disrupted by the clamours of the world, he felt, the French farmers’ life should remain rhythmed by simpler things such as rain and early frost, planting and harvesting. Maybe, he felt, he could take some small modicum of consolation from the fact French farmers would not be called to arms after all ? Reluctantly, he turned away from the window through which could be seen the rolling wheat fields of the Beauce region.
Snap out of it. This day COULD be any worse, old fool, particularly if you keep looking away while your staff waits for directions.
“So, gentlemen, let’s get back to work. Our first priority is ‘Artois’. Has everything been countermanded ? I don’t want to read tomorrow that French planes mistakenly bombed Cologne.”
“The phone calls have all been placed, Mr Prime Minister” said Lt-General de Gaulle, checking a list of all bases and units that would have been activated to implement ‘Artois’, the operational code-name for a French offensive to seize the Ruhr basin. “The commanding officers have been ordered to leave the envelopes unopened, and to deliver them to the
Deuxième Bureau officers who’ll collect and destroy them. We’ll get confirmation tomorrow that ‘Artois’ has not been compromised in any way, and can therefore be updated for such a time it will become a necessity. And of course we’ll have to factor in what we learned about Japan”
That earned him a grunt. While the Prime Minister had agreed with his aides that the political situation in Prague and the prospect of a negotiated settlement made military action inadvisable, what he had just learned after boarding the plane at Fürstenfeldbruck still smarted. As the French delegation was climbing the mobile stairs to board the Bloch 220, exchanging handshakes with the German officials who had handled all the protocol, a German officer had slipped a folded note in the hand of Alexis Léger. The note was short and to the point. In neat, precise handwriting, someone had written “Germany and Japan about to conclude an alliance. Chamberlain informed this morning. Beware”. So far there had been little to confirm the assertion in the note, but it shed a new light over the change of attitude of the British delegation the day before. In the morning of the 1st of October, the British and French delegations were roughly on the same page, pushing for a limited referendum in the Sudetenland that would allow Czechoslovakia to keep the disputed land while Germany would get its Volksdeutsche back. That, for the French delegation, had the advantage of preserving the Czech fortification lines while at the same time removing a factor of ethnic unrest. But as the afternoon work session had resumed, the British Premier seemed to have lost interest in the territorial issue, and he had instead focused on setting up a much more ambitious referendum program that opened the door for a vast land transfer. As could be expected, the German delegation had changed tack accordingly, and the Peace Conference had immediately taken a new direction.
So it may be genuine, thought de la Rocque.
Chamberlain may have been informed about the Japanese development. It fits. At lunch break he is informed, and he decides to minimize the risks. And to deceive me. Would he do it ? What do you mean, ‘would he’ ? Of course he would ! We did the same to him about our war plans regarding Germany after all !
After supper, as the three delegations had returned to Hitler’s vast office in the
Führerbau to work on the final draft of the agreement, the French delegation hadn’t been able to detract the British and Germans from the idea of a series of large-scale referendums, with possible land transfers. Not that they had tried all that hard. Politically speaking, France would gain nothing from withdrawing from the conference – at best the British and Germans would strike a deal without de La Rocque, and at worst it would be seen as encouraging the PNU clique in Prague to defy the Three Powers Conference, which would inevitably lead to a European war. Electorally speaking, refusing what looked like a viable diplomatic solution would be the equivalent of slitting de La Rocque’s throat – launching ‘Artois’ under such circumstances would only be inviting even greater disasters. As the French delegates had been racking up their brains to find a way to preserve the Czech fortified border, Alexis Léger had gotten a note asking him to call Ambassador François-Poncet in Berlin urgently. Fearing the
Führerbau’s lines might be tapped, he had gone to the nearest phone booth and placed his call. Ten minutes later, the grim news of Bernex had been given to the French delegates, and had achieved to crush their spirits.
Before the three delegations returned to their quarters to plan for their return to their capital, the Munich Agreement had been signed by the three heads of government, and the German Chancellor had announced it was now up to the French and British to make sure the Czech would abide – their failure to do so, in his opinion, would free Germany from having to honour any of its commitments. Reynaud and Runciman had therefore called the Czech embassy in Berlin, asking for a meeting as soon as humanly possible. With Europe waiting with baited breath for a diplomatic solution to the Sudetenland crisis, Ambassador Mastny hadn’t lost a minute, and had scheduled a meeting for that same evening. What he would hear in a few hours was that, should Czechoslovakia refuse to comply with the decisions of the Three Powers Conference, France and Great Britain would consider their previous guarantees to his government null and void. The whole matter, then, would be left to the German Reich, whose intentions left little doubts as to what method would be used to settle the question once and for good. That it was up to Reynaud, the most vocal partisan of Czechoslovakia in France, to deliver the news, owed less to History’s cruel irony than to Richemont’s cynical calculations. First, he had told the Prime Minister, it would convince Prague that the French Cabinet was not kidding, and that they’d better comply with the terms of the agreement, however bitter they might be. Second, given Reynaud’s own charisma, and given Laval’s bitter betrayal, it ensured that the ebullient Foreign Minister would forever be linked to the conference’s results, and to de La Rocque’s Cabinet.
You’d think we’d spend more time deceiving our enemies than deceiving our friends, thought de la Rocque sombrely.
“So, Bernex” he said, eager to return to less ambiguous issues. “What the Hell happened down there ?’
“We are not sure yet” said Richemont “and what little we know comes from General Loustaunau-Lacau’s early reports. The resort was attacked this afternoon by a group of men, wearing Italian Black Shirts uniforms, and who sneaked into the resort under cover of the foul weather. They were very well armed, with automatic weapons and grenades, with which they ambushed the guards and soldiers. Apparently René was shot in the neck at the beginning of the attack – not fatally so but he was losing blood and the Chasseurs Alpins medic was wounded at the soldiers’ quarters, so...”
“Bloody Hell”
“The soldiers had a rough time reacting, but they managed to kill three of the attackers. The others are nowhere to be found, but the Swiss border is not far away from the resort, and it took time to coordinate a police action with them. We have Gendarmes and soldiers searching the area, just in case. The uniforms and weapons found are consistent with Black Shirts, and we know that they had a major rebellion in Northern Italy a few months ago. Loustaunau has been clear on one thing : whoever was behind the attack knew all there was to know about the meeting with the Italian intelligence service. He says there are many hypothesis”, said Richemont more hesitantly, “and that the moment of the attack, after the departure of the Italians, could be significant”
“What ?” asked a stunned Prime Minister, leaning back into the airliner seat. "What did you just say, Henri ?”
“
Mon Colonel, Loustaunau thinks the fact the assassins waited after the departure of the Italians to attack could, er, indicate that the assault might indicate that, er, could be an indication that…”
"He thinks our ALLIES could have planned and executed the attack ?” roared de La Rocque, slowly taking his lit cigarette out of his mouth.
“He thinks it is one hypothesis amongst many, Colonel” said Richemont rapidly. “There’s no evidence backing it for the time being. It could also be some destitute Blackshirts who waited because the assault would have become too risky with the Italians bodyguards around. Anyway, Loustaunau’s advice is to increase our intelligence assets in Italy - and to reduce the amount of information we give them.”
“So we undo what René had just negotiated with them ?” said de La Rocque, his attention caught by a movement in front of them. The plane’s radio had opened the cockpit’s door, and after a curt nod by Inspector Marguet, was walking their way down the aisle. “Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like it. But I agree, until we can know who we can trust out there, only drip-feed them. If it happens Loustaunau-Lacau is right, Henri, I swear…”
“Excuse me, Monsieur le Premier Ministre”, interrupted Richemont, turning to face the radio.
“Monsieur le Secrétaire Général” said the man, handing a few sheets of paper to Richemont. "We have received radio messages for the Prime Minister”
“Thank you” said Richemont, waving the man away. “Let’s see. Fabry reports on the meeting with that British General. The Hôpital de la Salpêtrière has radioed news about your son’s legs, and... uh-ho”
“What ?” asked de La Rocque, suddenly worried “Is it about Jean-François ?”
“Er, no, sir. Le Bourget airport signals there are thousands of people waiting for our plane to land – basically they have overrun the passenger terminal and are flooding the airstrips. Daladier is amongst them, of all people, with a delegation of Senators”
“Good grief” whispered de la Rocque, who sank in his seat. “They don’t lose time, don’t they ? No sooner have the first cables been sent about that botched-up agreement that they come for the lynching. Oh well, I guess we’ll have to look defiant and…”
“With due respect, mon Colonel, that won’t be necessary” said Richemont, handing the radio despatch to his boss. “Apparently, they want to acclaim you”
“To acclaim me ?” said de La Rocque, taken aback.
“That’s what the message says” replied Richemont, pointing at a paragraph.
“To acclaim me. The bloody fools” sighed de La Rocque, shaking his head. “Ah, les cons !”
The French Left wants to have its share of “Peace’s Munich triumph”
*****
Approaching Berlin-Tempelhof airport
His cap lying on the seat next to him, Adolf Hitler looked at the anxious face of his Foreign Minister, who was the embodiment of anxiety. For a man who was a true hardliner, and who always adopted the most radical solution for any problem regardless of its nature or practicality, von Ribbentrop never failed to amuse Hitler, with his eagerness to please that bordered on obsession. What he and the
Abwehr had delivered the day before was, for every political commentator, a staggering success for the Reich, and yet he was worried Hitler might be displeased by the fact a negotiated settlement had been found.
“
Es ist gut, my dear Joachim.
Es ist sehr gut. You have won, in one stroke of your pen, a victory that History will say equals those of Hindenburg or Ludendorff”
“Thank you mein Führer” said von Ribbentrop, with evident relief.
Actually, Hitler was impressed. After the plans for an Austrian
Anschluss had been shelved away, in the aftermath of Mussolini’s assassination, there had been many voices to demand von Ribbentrop’s head – some of them quite literally. But Hitler had silenced them, as he knew that, whatever the man’s faults might be, he was the one he needed to make sure the Foreign Ministry seconded his projects, his ambitions, and his dreams. The way von Ribbentrop had orchestrated the whole Sudetenland crisis was proof enough the man knew how to bounce back, and how to think on his feet. Even with League of Nations supervision, there was little doubt that the referendums would favour Germany, whose territory would increase significantly, along with its population and industry. Czechoslovakia, once the anvil upon which France had hoped to crush German dreams of domination in Central Europe, was now in peril – and Ribbentrop’s next moves would ensure it would perish indeed. The Foreign Minister’s
Dienstelle, his own private secret service, was already probing Emil Hacha, who had abandoned the Presidency of the Czech Republic in late September amongst suspicion from senior PNU officials that he had to be arrested preventatively. With help from the Abwehr and the German Foreign Ministry, Hacha had managed to leave Prague for Bratislava, and then to Budapest, evading the PNU police force which now had him on a black list of politicians to be detained as “enemies of the Czech State”.
While they probably didn’t understand it fully yet, the Czech hardliners' last hurrah, far from being a daring sortie, was a march to the gallows. The noose was already tightening around their neck, and the ink of the Munich Agreement would barely have time to dry before the commitments it contained would be violated by three of Czechoslovakia’s neighbours. From the West, the Third German Reich was ready to send important forces – three divisions’ worth of armed soldiers. To keep up with the pretence that only police forces would be sent, the soldiers would sport the steel plaque of Feldgendarmerie troopers around their neck. Their task would be to keep the order and to establish de facto German sovereignty in the areas where the referendums would take place. From the East, Hungary’s Regent Horthy had already met with Monsignors Hlinka and Tiso, the two leading figures of the Slovak People's Party. The Regent had pledged steadfast support to an independent Slovak nation, and stood ready to send Hungarian “volunteers” in Slovak uniforms across the border to bolster up the semi-regular forces that Tiso and the Slovak Party were setting up. Finally, from the North, Poland was also ready to pounce upon the coal-rich district of Teschen. Under the pretence of defending their nationals who lived there, the Poles would send two regiments’ worth of infantry into the district. Within six months, von Ribbentrop had promised, Czechoslovakia would be no more, its territory carved up by its neighbours, with Germany getting the lion’s share.
Adolf Hitler returns to Berlin
“Now that this Czech business is as good as done, it’s time to look to the future, Ribbentrop. Nineteen thirty nine will be the year of the Reich’s rebirth, the year of the Reich’s zenith”
“Yes mein Führer. Already the Soviets are making discreet approaches, through the Bulgarians. They clearly are washing their hands off the Czechs”
“The year of our zenith” repeated Hitler, crossing his hands over his knee and leaning back to look at the specially-made Junkers that was his official plane for trips within Germany. The plane was gently coming down, as it approached the landing strips of Tempelhof. Already the passengers could see the fields, and the grey ribbons of asphalts that composed the web of autobahns radiating from the German capital.
The Munich talks had been a welcome distraction – a good opportunity to weigh down Germany’s adversaries. Hitler was reassured. This was not 1914, the Western democracies were wary of war and their hearts longed for peace – something Hitler felt inclined to give them, under certain conditions. When, three years ago, he had finally asserted his absolute power over Germany, he had believed there had to be a war, at least with France, so the Reich could turn its attention east to the real prize. Now, he was not so sure. If the French and British could be detached from the Poles, and given their hostility to the Soviets, then maybe there were things to say in favour of a Russian campaign first. With Russia out of the game, Germany would be able to dictate its terms to all of Europe.
“Mein Führer” whispered Ribbentrop, visibly surprised “look at that !”
As Hitler turned his gaze towards the airport, he too was taken aback. Under a forest of Nazi flags, a human sea was moving, waving at the plane. Viewed from above, the sight was both frightening and inebriating, with the human waves crashing on the cordon of SA troopers who, their back to the crowd and their arms locked with the next officer’s, looked like castaways about to drown. Arms stretched to salute the plane, mouths open to shout their love and admiration for their Führer, the Berliners offered Adolf Hitler a welcome worthy of a semi-God.
Relief in London, doubt in Paris, triumph in Berlin
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Game effects : Czechoslovakia folds, the Sudetenland will be transferred to Germany.
Author’s notes / Historical notes :
Hitler’s musing about whether to strike east or west first is my own little tinkering with History. Hitler said – and wrote – that a war with France was necessary, and nothing he did showed he had any inclination to negotiate in good faith with the Western democracies. He planned localized wars Germany could win one at a time, but he also expressed anger at Ribbentrop when the Allies did declare war to Germany over Danzig, so I thought it might be interesting to have him mulling over his next move. Striking France and then turn against Russia, or destroy Russia and then tell France and England they’d better dance to his tune ? Ah, decisions, decisions !
“
Ah, les cons !” (“Ah, the bloody fools !”) was, in OTL, how Daladier reacted when he heard people were literally invading the airport where his Bloch 220 (yep, I got a picture of not only the right model, but the right individual plane as well !

) was scheduled to land. While Chamberlain was apparently very satisfied of the results of Munich, Daladier considered it was a diplomatic disaster, and when he got the message that a large crowd was waiting for him, his first reaction was that they had come to heckle and insult him. When told they wanted to applaud him, he had this little cri du coeur.
Chamberlain’s Croydon speech, as I give it here, is a mix of what he really said at Croydon and what he did say later, in front of 10, Downing Street.
The threats to the Czech ambassador are alas historical, though in OTL it was Henderson who delivered them, telling Mastny and Masaryk that this was the opinion of the British government, which was shared by the French cabinet. At the same time, France’s Foreign Minister Bonnet and von Ribbentrop apparently had had a little conversation during which Bonnet expressed the same kind of sympathy for German demands that the French government had already showed for Italy’s desires to conquer Abyssinia.
In OTL Joachim
von Ribbentrop was actually disappointed by the results of Munich. Always a man of extreme solutions, he had hoped there would be a war with Czechoslovakia, allowing Germany to wipe out that nation from the map. Hitler liked him because he never had to boost von Ribbentrop – quite the contrary he sometimes had to calm him down a little. Von Brickendrop’s zeal apparently came from the fact he felt rejected by old Nazis (whose ties with Hitler went back to 1923), and so he made it a point to out-Nazi them at every opportunity.
Poland in OTL did help Germany carve up Czechoslovakia, for it did want to get hold of the coal-rich, Polish-populated district of Teschen. Churchill’s comment about feeding the crocodile, hoping he’ll eat you last, really did apply to Colonel Beck, the Polish Foreign Minister.