marshal’s request, which was repeated several times” to en-
deavor to resolve the impasse. Göring now promised that if
London sent plenipotentiaries he would submit concrete written
proposals, particularly on Poland. “The Führer,” he warned,
however, “is not likely to make any concessions at present on the
Tschechei.” Dahlerus left that evening for The Hague in neutral
Holland, and waited once again.
Although the head of the secret service dictated a note to
Chamberlain the next day reading, “We should be extremely
chary over placing any reliance on Göring,” the Foreign Office
did not entirely dismiss the notion of dealing with him. Antici-
pating “possible developments,” their squeamish Central De-
partment vetoed one “most offensive” leaflet that would have
called the German public’s attention to the field marshal’s drug
problem, his corpulence, and his “impulsive, vain, jovial, and
coarse nature.” “He is the one,” noted one Foreign Office official,
“[whom] we should try not to offend more than is necessary.”
Göring’s balancing act was common knowledge in conser-
vative military circles. Colonel Helmuth Groscurth of the Ab-
wehr took note in his diary on November that Göring was op-
posed to Yellow. Hitler obstinately pressed ahead with his own
preparations, admonishing his generals assembled on the
twenty-third that time was running out for Germany. “To hope
for a compromise,” he told them candidly, “is infantile.”
As winter set in, the few remaining clandestine channels
between London and Berlin slowly froze over.
Göring had always understood the purpose of the Nazi-Soviet
alliance it was a pact with Beelzebub to drive out Satan. Hitler
had had to calm the fears of the more obtuse members of his
party on two or three occasions. “In history,” he lectured the
top party officials on October , according to Darré’s diary, “the