THE LAST GOOD WAR: A Novel by Paul Wonnacott

decided she had better change the subject. Quickly.
    “We were just talking about the war scare. We had a difference of opinion within the Foreign Office. Uncle Michal thinks the western powers are willing to go to war if Hitler attacks us. Stefan doesn't. Why don't we hear the two sides in more detail? Stefan?” She hoped to put her half-brother on the spot.
    “I agree with Uncle Michal on the critical point, that Britain and France can't or won't do much to help us, at least not unless we can hold out for six months or more—until the spring weather makes operations in the West possible. So let's put ourselves in their shoes. Why blunder into a war with Hitler, if they can't actually help us? Not clear.”
    Zambrowski arrived with an extra table setting, but paused; Anna's mother seemed uncomfortable. Ryk took the hint. “Thanks, but I've already eaten. Must be off. Sorry to interrupt.” He closed the thick, paneled door behind him.
    Anna picked up the conversation, again looking on the bright side. “Won't the prospect of war with Britain and France discourage other countries from joining Hitler's war—Italy, Hungary, or Lithuania?”
    “Point well taken,” replied Stefan, managing to sound patronizing towards Anna even when he was agreeing. “They could also have other reasons—their honor, and to make sure that Hitler doesn't pick them off one by one. It's particularly important for France to get the British committed. If the British don't come through this time—after all their huffing and puffing—the French may feel that they won't be able to count on Britain if Hitler moves West.
    “But this point isn't very strong. If Hitler defeats us and then does have a go at France, Britain will have to fight or give up any hope of stopping Hitler. They will be in a much better position to help France than to help us.
    “Now let's look at the British-French case for bluffing, without actually coming to our aid. What's the very best they can hope for? That Hitler will be restrained by their threats. Not very likely, I'm sorry to say. Here again, I agree with Uncle Michal.” Stefan was showing that, surprisingly, he did have some diplomatic skills, something Anna had always doubted.
    “What's the next best, from their point of view, if Hitler does attack us?” he continued. “The British, in particular, don't much like either the Nazis or Communists. If they can't really help us, what's the point of declaring war?”
    Stefan paused, allowing the question to sink in. No one ventured an answer, so he continued.
    “Why not just take a pass, and hope that Hitler keeps right on going east, trying to seize Lebensraum in Russia? The Germans and Russians might bleed one another white, fighting it out. The two great tyrannies might collapse without Britain and France having to fight at all. Even if Hitler does turn west once he's finished with us”—Anna was appalled by Stefan's coldbloodedness—“Britain and France will have gained another six months or so to rearm.”
    Again the dog barked. There were muffled voices in the hall. Anna jumped up and rushed from the room. After a few minutes, she reappeared, hand in hand with Kaz, and introduced him to Uncle Michal, Aunt Maria, and Stefan, who had not been able to make the wedding. The family made light conversation for several minutes, talking of the weather, crops, and the new floral arrangement encircled by the driveway. Then Josef dragged the conversation back to the threat of war.
    “Mother's allowed us to break the house rules—to talk politics,” he explained to Kaz. “If Hitler attacks, nobody thinks the French or British will be willing or able to help us much. You're a military man; what's your opinion?”
    “Willing to help? That's a political question. As you said, I'm a military man. Able to help? I'm uncertain. The French have more tanks than the Germans, and they're just as good. But tanks are made for offense; they're made to be used in