Three Hours

It does not take long to change the fate of a nation. In Venice last week, grey and chilly in the early spring, sober, spectacled Chancellor Kurt von-Schuschnigg of Austria and his Foreign Minister Dr. Guido Schmidt sat across a table from Benito Mussolini and his Foreign Minister son-in-law, Count Galeazzo Ciano. Three hours later the conference was over and the world knew that the restoration of Archduke Otto to the Hapsburg throne was once more postponed indefinitely, that Germany was again closer to Anschluss with Austria than at any time since the assassination of Chancellor Dollfuss. and that Italy, who was once ready to defend Austrian independence with troops at the Brenner Pass, would do so no longer. Present in Venice at the time was Mussolini Mouthpiece Virginio Gayda, editor of Giornale d'ltalia. Quickly he filed the following inspired editorial:

"The Austrian Nazis will soon be called on to share the Fatherland Front's responsibilities, which is the first step in their direct participation in the Austrian Government.

"We believe the appointment of a National Socialist official to the Fatherland Front is imminent. He, together with Chancellor Schuschnigg and the

Secretary General Dr. Guido Zernatto of the Fatherland Front, will negotiate for a new settlement of all problems still outstanding between the two national political movements." Symbolically, the German liner Milwaukee, decks jampacked with 600 Nazi tourists, had sailed through the lagoon right to the entrance of the Grand Canal, and dropped her mudhooks smack before the purple plaster walls of the Hotel Royal Danieli, reserved for the Austrian delegation. Grinning broadly Il Duce went out to the cruise ship to set foot for the first time on Nazi territory, drink a glass of champagne and toast the German merchant marine. Day after the fateful three-hour conference, pious Chancellor Schuschnigg went unnoticed and unattended to lay a wreath on the tomb of Austrian sailors killed in a submarine off Venice during the War. Only solace that Chancellor Schuschnigg could take back over the Alps with him was a few more commercial agreements with Italy.

Vividly this looked like the end of Austrian independence, but shrewd Chancellor Schuschnigg. who has pulled his country through many a losing streak before this, still had a two-spot up his sleeve: Czechoslovakia.

All things being equal Benito Mussolini would still like an independent Austria.

British and French rearmament have driven Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany together. The compromise that wiseacres have been predicting for months is that Germany will stick to a peaceful penetration of Austria, not try again a rude putsch as at the time of the Dollfuss assassination. Czechoslovakia on the other hand pokes a long territorial finger into Germany's midriff, which finger supports a large German population. Cafe gossips have convinced themselves that Germany is ready to march into Czechoslovakia within a month, the more dramatic-minded of them have even picked May 10, two days before the British Coronation, as the probable date. Czechoslovakia has a large army, one of the greatest munitions plants in the world (Skoda) and a poor reputation as a fighting nation. Austrian backing, however, might hold the Nazi army at bay long enough to shame Britain and France into action.

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