by Richard Mead
In spite of this mild reproach, Mountbatten could be counted on to reciprocate Boy’s loyalty. He met the Military Secretary, General Sir Colville Wemyss, two days after his return to the UK and informed him that most of the success of SACSEA was due to Boy, who in his opinion was one of the three or four soldiers who really counted in the Army. Lecturing shortly afterwards at the Imperial Defence College on the invitation of Slim, now its Commandant, he told the assembled students, all senior officers of considerable promise: ‘When General Pownall left, I lost the most experienced staff officer in the British Army … He was relieved by an officer who had never attended this college, or any other form of staff college or held any other form of staff job. He took on the most difficult staff job in the whole war, and I have no hesitation in saying that he was the best Chief of Staff anybody had. I do not say that there is any connection between his training and his performance. I merely state these two unrelated facts to show the overriding importance of character and ability.’15
Mountbatten had agreed to lobby for the urgent relief of both Boy and Denning, and his meeting with Wemyss was to that end. Boy himself had been having second thoughts about even remaining in the Army. By the time he wrote his letter to Mountbatten on 1 June, his thoughts had clarified: ‘You know I have no desire for recognition or advancement and curiously enough I have taken an absolute dislike of soldiering during this war and I have enjoyed this job with you much more than any command I’ve held, and the thought of having to command troops again fills me with horror. That is the truth and I want you to know it. I may get over it, but I doubt it.’ The personal legacy of Market Garden was clearly apparent, even if it had taken Boy eighteen months to appreciate it fully. However, he had no ideas about what else he might do and had no financial resources to fall back on other than an army pension.
In fact Boy’s future had already been decided by the time Mountbatten met Wemyss. Boy was to relieve none other than Wemyss himself, who had been in his job for four years and was looking forward to retirement. It was at least a staff job and not a command appointment and it promised employment for some time, albeit in London and thus separated once again from the family in Cornwall. He wrote to Daphne with the news – ‘Duck you know God is being good to me … we have a great deal to be thankful for’16 – also suggesting that they might moor Fanny Rosa on the Thames and live there in the summer months.
The date fixed for his relief took some time in coming and in the meantime things were going badly again in the Netherlands East Indies, so he was completely preoccupied right up to the end with the situation there, the handover to his successor, Major General ‘Dixie’ Redman, and the arrangements for transporting MFV 224. He had persuaded Air Chief Marshal Pirie, Park’s successor, to allocate him an Avro York for his personal use, which enabled him to bring back not only his kit, but also presents for the family and a generous supply of alcohol. He also took with him his Personal Assistant, Maureen Luschwitz, who he had discovered had never visited England, having been brought up in Australia prior to working in India.
Boy flew out from Kellang airfield near Changi on 12 July, reflecting that he could look back on the previous eighteen months with a certain amount of satisfaction. A few days later Pirie wrote to Mountbatten: ‘I am afraid that SACSEA is now beginning to disintegrate with the departure of Boy Browning from Changi the other evening when the scene reminded me of the departure of famous film stars from Los Angeles airfield, the glamorous Maureen standing at the doorway of the York with an enormous bunch of flowers.’17
Chapter 26
Return (July 1946–December 1947)
To many of the servicemen returning from the war, and to their wives, fiancées or girlfriends, the reunion was a disappointment, and so it proved to be for Boy and Daphne. Boy’s arrival at Northolt on 19 July – he had broken his journey in New Delhi to take farewell of Auchinleck and the many friends and colleagues he had made there, and in Cairo, where he stayed with Dempsey, now C-in-C Middle East – was a much more formal affair than Daphne would have wished. She looked somewhat askance at Maureen Luschwitz. Boy had mentioned his Personal Assistant in a few of his letters, but she could not help wondering if this attractive girl was in some way romantically involved with her husband (although this had never been the case). Even when they reached the London flat where they would stay for the first night, there was a distinct lack of passion and this was to continue throughout Boy’s leave, which was spent largely at Menabilly.
The reasons for their failure to connect, mentally or physically, are difficult to pin down precisely but there seem to be two possible candidates. Firstly, Boy had been working in top gear – as he knew no other – for so long that he could hardly remember how to relax. Secondly, both of them had changed over the six years since they had last lived together. Boy was less open and more reflective, and had moreover been deeply affected by his experiences of the war, not all of which had been good. Daphne was even more independent than she had been, successful in her chosen career and reluctant to prejudice in any way what she had achieved. Whatever the reasons, the upshot was that both of them waited in vain for the other to demonstrate their love. Daphne in particular felt rejected, but was unable to discuss it openly. The only common ground they shared was sailing but, although they spent time on ‘Yggy’, the erstwhile emotions failed to emerge.
Daphne may have felt rejected, but it was actually she who had suggested in a letter over two months before Boy’s return that he should have a separate room at Menabilly. He had conceded that he was so used to being in his own small shell that it was impossible to say how he would react on his return and agreed that she should prepare a room for him, although he had expressed a preference to share with her. In the event he moved straight into the separate room, whose connecting door remained firmly closed from both sides.
Whilst Boy and Daphne had changed, the same was also true of the children, simply because they were all eighteen months older. Tessa, still a child in 1944, was now a pretty teenager. Flavia had been old enough to remember her father before he left for the Far East, but to Kits he was virtually a stranger. Having had no real experience of children other than the occasional brief wartime visit, Boy experienced great difficulty in dealing with them. With Tessa, who was now eating with the adults whilst her siblings were still confined to the nursery, he made the mistake initially of trying to treat her as grown up and was consequently disappointed when she was unable to respond appropriately. The two younger children frequently proved to be an irritation and the old flashes of temper returned, although as usual they never lasted for long. He tried hard, for instance by inventing a game called the Monkey Olympics, which among other events involved the two younger ones participating in a race over obstacles set up in the house, with Boy’s teddy bears playing the role of spectators on the sofa, but still Flavia and Kits were upset by the disturbance in what they had come to believe was the natural order and were frightened by his outbursts. Having been allowed a lot of freedom, the imposition of greater discipline was not to their liking.
Daphne did little to help manage his attitude. Her letters had kept him abreast of most of the family developments and she had on one occasion asked him to write to Tessa about looking after her personal appearance, but other than ensuring that Kits was put down for the right house at Eton he had not been asked to make any decisions and she was prepared for this to continue. She was highly protective of Kits, always her favourite, partly as a result of which Boy found it difficult to establish a strong rapport with his son.
Another issue was the presence of Tod in the house. With the children growing up and needing some education, which she had little inclination to provide herself, Daphne had asked her old governess to fulfil the same role with the next generation. With Boy’s agreement, Tod had been installed in the autumn of 1945 and had been a great success with her three charges. Unfortunately she and Boy reacted like oil and water. She had a tendency to pontificate on matters on which
she was not an expert, but about which he knew a lot, which infuriated him. The atmosphere could become poisonous, especially after one episode in which Tod had complained of a sore throat and asked if anyone knew a good remedy. ‘Cut it, my dear Tod’, had been the reply, occasioning barely suppressed hilarity in the family, but sending Tod off in high dudgeon to her room, from which she was only persuaded to emerge after Boy had been forced by Daphne to make an abject apology. The feud continued, although he readily acknowledged that she was necessary not only to the education of the children, but also to the running of the household, in which Daphne showed scant interest. He delighted in making snide comments to Tod, particularly when she rose to the bait.
On the positive side, any issues which may have arisen in Daphne’s mind over Maureen Luschwitz were quickly dispelled. She was invited down to stay at Menabilly and found favour not only with Daphne, but also with the children. Of a much younger generation than their parents1 and naturally vivacious, she was able to join in their games and become a friend to them all. She was to make her home in England and to continue working for Boy until her marriage in 1955. Boy, for his part, continued to get on well with Daphne’s mother Muriel, and was very fond of her two sisters, Angela, who was living with Muriel in Ferryside, and Jeanne, who was painting in St Ives.
In other ways some semblance of peacetime normality began to emerge. Boy loved cars and owned a number of different types after the War, but those he had left behind in 1944 remained his favourites. One of them, a Ford V8 originally purchased in 1932 and always known as ‘Fordie’, had been rescued from its mothballed state and painted Eton blue, but the other, an MG sports car garaged in London, needed attention before it could be made roadworthy. Daphne had now bought Hunkin’s boatyard, which was starting to find new work under the auspices of John Prescott, who had retired from the Army and lived close by, whilst Boy assumed his position as the Commodore of the Royal Fowey Yacht Club and was able to hoist his pennant on ‘Yggy’, now fully functional again. However, in spite of these small improvements to life, the two months of Boy’s leave were not quite the soothing balm for which he and Daphne had hoped and it was with some relief to them both that he reported for duty as Military Secretary on 16 September.
The title of Military Secretary is an old one, dating back to 1795. Until 1904 the appointee had been the right-hand man of the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army, and as such was in a position of considerable power and influence, but with the abolition of the role of the C-in-C in 1904, the allegiance of the Military Secretary was transferred to the Secretary of State for War and his authority significantly diminished. His department remained, nonetheless, a very important one, dealing as it did with the appointment, promotion and retirement of officers, with selections for staff and extra-regimental appointments and with honours and awards. The Military Secretary himself was expected to have at his fingertips the backgrounds and current appointments of all general officers and those colonels and brigadiers2 who were deemed suitable for promotion. When there was a demand for a particular position to be filled, he was required to produce appropriate suggestions. He was the Secretary of the No 1 Appointments Board,3 which dealt with all appointments of general officer rank and which was chaired by the CIGS, with the Adjutant-General, the Quartermaster-General, the VCIGS and the GOCs-in-C of Eastern Command and Anti-Aircraft Command as members. He also vetted all proposals for orders and decorations, which he passed on with his recommendations to the Secretary of State prior to their being placed before the King. His part in these processes meant that he was liable to become the subject of discreet lobbying by his brother officers, at least to ensure that their names were uppermost in his mind when it came to appointments or honours. He therefore had to be himself an officer of impeccable probity.
The Military Secretary necessarily had a close relationship with the Secretary of State for War, to whom he acted as adviser on all these issues and thus straddled the divide between the military and the political. When Boy took up the role the Secretary of State was still J. J. Lawson, whom Boy had met in Singapore and for whom he entertained some regard. He was succeeded almost immediately by F. J. Bellenger, for whom Boy had much less time, and then in late 1947 by Emmanuel Shinwell, whom Boy admired greatly in spite of the gulf between their respective backgrounds.4
The holders of the office of Military Secretary had for the most part been distinguished soldiers, but they had veered between those on their way up and those on their way out. Boy’s predecessor, Colville Wemyss, might be regarded as one of the latter, whilst Lord Gort in 1937 was certainly one of the former, holding the office immediately before becoming CIGS. Notwithstanding the constitutional attachment to the Secretary of State, the appointment was usually in the hands of the CIGS5 of the time and it is certain that Boy himself was recommended by Brooke, who retired in June 1946, and approved by his successor, Montgomery. (Brooke had in fact, back in 1945, considered Boy suitable for appointment as VCIGS, but Montgomery was committed to bringing into this role one of his close protégés, Frank Simpson, in the event a highly capable officer.) Once again, Boy’s lack of a Staff College qualification did not stand in his way.
From his office in Hobart House, Boy approached the new job with his usual vigour. This was a difficult time for the British Army, during which there was intense political pressure to reduce its size in the pursuit of lower government expenditure, whilst at the same time maintaining the old imperial commitments, some left-over business from the war, such as the involvement in the Dutch East Indies and the demands of an army of occupation in Europe. The manpower was shrunk over two years from nearly three million to just over one million. As far as generals were concerned, the strategy was to retire officers in their mid-to-late 50s and concentrate on the substantial pool of talent and experience available among the younger ones. This required great tact, especially as Montgomery had pronounced views about most of the general officers in the Army and was ready to express them forcefully. He favoured those who had seen active service over those who had served largely in the War Office or on other static staffs, notwithstanding the fact that many of the latter possessed skills which would be much in demand. Unlike Brooke, who had tended to convey bad news himself, Montgomery delegated this to Boy.
Montgomery, however, was away on his travels for much of the time, and the work of the War Office was led by his Vice-Chief, Simpson, with whom Boy had a good relationship. Of the other members of the Army Council, the one with whom he had most day-to-day contact was the Adjutant-General, his old friend O’Connor. The Adjutant-General’s Department dealt with all personnel matters in the Army and there was thus something of an overlap with the Military Secretary’s Department. During the Second World War, as had also happened in the Great War, there had been some movement in responsibility from the former to the latter, the most significant one being the management of the careers of all regular officers. Towards the end of Boy’s time as Military Secretary a committee was established to look at the issue again, with the result that career management reverted to the Adjutant-General, although the Military Secretary retained the role of court of appeal for officers who were dissatisfied on matters relating to their promotion.
Boy was anxious to meet as many as possible of the senior officers on whom he was expected to hold an opinion. Accordingly he travelled around all the commands in the UK and, in the second week of February 1947, he set off on a longer journey. His knowledge of both ALFSEA and India Command was good, but he was very much out of date with what was happening in Europe. His first call was to the largest contingent, the British Army of the Rhine. He flew initially to Cologne where he met Dick McCreery, the GOC-in-C, and then embarked on a special train which took him in great comfort to all the key subordinate HQs on the way to Hamburg. The winter of 1946/7 was a particularly harsh one – at Menabilly all the pipes froze and there were power cuts, leaving the house freezing cold – but a thaw had set in briefly and his progress was unimpeded by the
weather. From Hamburg he flew on to Berlin, where he stayed with Brian Robertson, the Deputy Military Governor of the British Zone in Germany and one of the few very senior generals previously unknown to him.
Germany was at the time in a desperate state and Robertson and his staff were struggling to provide sufficient fuel and food for the devastated country to get through the bitter winter and simultaneously to create the conditions for reconstruction. Boy was particularly horrified by the condition of Berlin, which was still in ruins after being nearly destroyed by the Russians. However, although he found the country ‘pretty grim’, the mood among the officers he met was more cheerful than he had experienced at home. He flew from Berlin to Vienna, where he stayed in the house of the absent British High Commissioner, before travelling on to Klagenfurt in the British Sector, once again by train and this time in the Royal Coach, which was attached specially for him. Boy had one final destination, Egypt, where he stayed once more with Dempsey and where he was pleased to see some sunshine before experiencing again the rigours of the winter.
Boy was now living during the week in Whitelands House, a solid block of flats overlooking the Duke of York’s Headquarters, near the Sloane Square end of the King’s Road. The flat, on the sixth floor, had three small bedrooms, a bathroom, a sitting room and a small kitchen and was rather gloomy. It was within walking distance of his job, but he usually drove, as he was able to keep his car in the garage underneath the building. There was a small restaurant on the ground floor from which it was possible to order a meal to be sent up and whilst he was out the flat was looked after by his daily help, Mrs Lester, who adored him and used to do whatever mending he required. His sister Grace and her close friend Helen McSwinney had lived there during the war6 and the lease was owned by Helen’s mother. Grace was now living most of the time with her mother Nancy7 at Rousham, where she took up farming. Helen bought a house in Dorset, where Grace joined her after Nancy’s death, following which Boy took over the Whitelands lease.
