Vann, Petrarca, Hannibal- You may have gathered that I'm not a huge Chamberlain fan. Let's see what others think of him.
September 17, 1938
De Lattre rapped the map confidently with his knuckles. "The British, French, and Czech air forces outnumber the Germans. The Royal Navy, with support from France, will obtain complete mastery over the North Sea. Our forces are mobilized and concentrated. They can launch an attack on an hour's notice." De Lattre leaned forward, his face shadowed by anger. "I say again, we can and must attack."
The room erupted in dismay. Daladier was frowning, while Gamelin threw his hands in the air in horror and disgust. De Lattre looked from face to face. Only Juin and de Gaulle were on his side- it stood to reason, since their armored corps would gain the lion's share of the glory from de Lattre's plan.
The Premier held up his hands for silence. "Enough! Enough!" He actually hopped nervously from one foot to the other. "Enough argument. I leave for London tonight- and there will be no disagreement, no second-guessing. It is vital that this government presents a united front in such a crisis." The military men stiffened immediately, their controversies momentarily forgotten. The civilians were less eager.
Daladier sighed. "General de Lattre, do not stir up this hornet's nest again. I have repeatedly stated that we will not declare war first. I will not be responsible for such bloodshed."
"With the Czechs, we outnumber the German ninety to seventy-five divisions-"
"I was listening, General. That is all." De Lattre snapped to furious attention. Daladier rubbed his eyes. "President Benes will not go to war without the express guarantee of British intervention. I am going to London to secure that guarantee."
"And if the British do not provide it?"
Daladier fixed de Lattre with a steely glare. Both men knew de Lattre could not be replaced at so critical a moment, but both men knew that safety was temporary.
"Then, General, I shall do everything in my power short of war to resolve this crisis. And your duty is to support that decision."
"I must protest-"
"If you wish to resign, feel free. Your protest is noted." The room was deathly silent. De Lattre's face burned with humiliation. Daladier dismissed him with a curt gesture.
De Lattre stormed down the corridor, followed by his generals. He stopped abruptly and pivoted on his heel. De Gaulle grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't, sir."
De Lattre's lip twitched in anger. Gamelin stepped in front of him.
"General de Lattre. Sir. We have our orders."
De Lattre slowly calmed. He nodded. Slowly, the French Army's commanders walked out of the Quai d'Orsay and into a dark autumn night.
September 17, 1938
De Lattre rapped the map confidently with his knuckles. "The British, French, and Czech air forces outnumber the Germans. The Royal Navy, with support from France, will obtain complete mastery over the North Sea. Our forces are mobilized and concentrated. They can launch an attack on an hour's notice." De Lattre leaned forward, his face shadowed by anger. "I say again, we can and must attack."
The room erupted in dismay. Daladier was frowning, while Gamelin threw his hands in the air in horror and disgust. De Lattre looked from face to face. Only Juin and de Gaulle were on his side- it stood to reason, since their armored corps would gain the lion's share of the glory from de Lattre's plan.
The Premier held up his hands for silence. "Enough! Enough!" He actually hopped nervously from one foot to the other. "Enough argument. I leave for London tonight- and there will be no disagreement, no second-guessing. It is vital that this government presents a united front in such a crisis." The military men stiffened immediately, their controversies momentarily forgotten. The civilians were less eager.
Daladier sighed. "General de Lattre, do not stir up this hornet's nest again. I have repeatedly stated that we will not declare war first. I will not be responsible for such bloodshed."
"With the Czechs, we outnumber the German ninety to seventy-five divisions-"
"I was listening, General. That is all." De Lattre snapped to furious attention. Daladier rubbed his eyes. "President Benes will not go to war without the express guarantee of British intervention. I am going to London to secure that guarantee."
"And if the British do not provide it?"
Daladier fixed de Lattre with a steely glare. Both men knew de Lattre could not be replaced at so critical a moment, but both men knew that safety was temporary.
"Then, General, I shall do everything in my power short of war to resolve this crisis. And your duty is to support that decision."
"I must protest-"
"If you wish to resign, feel free. Your protest is noted." The room was deathly silent. De Lattre's face burned with humiliation. Daladier dismissed him with a curt gesture.
De Lattre stormed down the corridor, followed by his generals. He stopped abruptly and pivoted on his heel. De Gaulle grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't, sir."
De Lattre's lip twitched in anger. Gamelin stepped in front of him.
"General de Lattre. Sir. We have our orders."
De Lattre slowly calmed. He nodded. Slowly, the French Army's commanders walked out of the Quai d'Orsay and into a dark autumn night.