“He said, ‘And then you wake up,’ mein Fuhrer,” Schmidt replied.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s slang, sir. It means he doesn’t believe you.”

“Donnerwetter!” Hitler could see the Allies’ propaganda mill spewing out endless lies. They would shout that he was a murderer, that he’d got rid of his own henchman to start a war. They would make him look bad to all the neutrals in Europe and Asia and the Americas. The Allies had trounced Germany and Austria-Hungary in the propaganda war during the World War. Now they had a great chance to do it again.

“If you are truly innocent of this crime, then do not assume the guilt of plunging the world into battle because of it,” Daladier said.

“This is madness!” Hitler cried. “If I had ordered Henlein killed, maybe a guilty conscience would keep me from taking advantage of it. But my conscience is clean.” Of this, anyhow he added, but only to himself. He got angrier by the word as he went on, “Konrad Henlein must have vengeance. The Sudeten Germans must have vengeance. Germany, to which they were about to return, must have vengeance. Czechoslovakia must be punished. If you want to line up behind a pack of skulking, cowardly assassins, go ahead-and be damned to you!”

“Mein Fuhrer-” Goring began.

“No!” Hitler roared. He was in full spate now. Nothing could stop him, or even slow him down. “They want war? They can have war! They will have war! War!…War! War! War!”

He threw open the doors to his office. “Is everything all right, mein Fuhrer?” one of the guards asked. “We could hear you shouting…”

So even the thick oak doors hadn’t muffled him? Well, too bad! “It is war!” he bellowed. “Colonel Hossbach!”

“Ja, mein Fuhrer?” his adjutant said.

“Begin Case Green. Immediately! War with Czechoslovakia! Now!” Yes, Hitler had what he most wanted, handed to him by, of all people, a Czech.