A Dramatic Moment in Danzig: The Night Before the War

On the night of August 31, 1939, the Free City of Danzig found itself teetering on the brink of war. At 10:30 PM, I bade farewell to the British representative, F. Shepherd, after we exchanged thoughts on our last few days, which had been consumed with the burning of sensitive reports and private documents.

At around 11:00 PM, as I remained alone in my home, a loud ringing at the inner door startled me. The outer door, I noticed, had been opened with a key from the driveway. There was no sign of the household staff. A second, more forceful ring followed, prompting me to answer the door myself. Two men stood there, introducing themselves sharply as representatives of the secret state police.

They informed me that I was not to leave the house, that the phone lines had been cut, and that I was to prepare for the arrival of the Gauleiter (Forster) later that night, who had an important message for me. I replied that I was retiring for the night and would meet the Gauleiter the next morning.

At 4:00 AM, I was woken by the first explosions, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in history. By 8:00 AM, the Gauleiter arrived with a large entourage. He gave me a brief speech, stating that I represented the Treaty of Versailles, but that the Führer had torn it up. In two hours, the swastika flag would fly over the former residence of the High Commissioners, all Polish representatives had been arrested, and I was to leave the territory within two hours. I responded with a brief protest, to which the Gauleiter nonchalantly remarked, “Personally, I have nothing against you,” a statement that brought an unexpected air of absurdity to the situation.

Turning my back on him, I sat behind the wheel of my car and drove off, with a police car trailing me. I lost it near the Westerplatte ferry, continuing my journey through Königsberg and on to Kaunas.

The next day, September 1, 1939, at 4:45 AM, the attack on Westerplatte began. The peninsula, just off Danzig, hosted a fortified Polish munitions depot manned by approximately 218 soldiers. The shots fired by the German battleship *Schleswig-Holstein* are still considered the official start of World War II.

The cruiser *Schleswig-Holstein* fired on the Westerplatte on September 1, 1939, marking the beginning of a conflict that would reshape the world forever.

Danzig