by Richard Mead
Just like the wedding, there was no grand funeral. The coffin was taken to a chapel of rest at Charlestown, where it was covered with flowers, prior to the cremation in Truro, which was attended by the immediate family and Ken Spence, but not by Daphne. She made it very clear in the notice placed in The Times, that there was also to be no memorial service. Although Boy had had to attend many in the past, she believed that he had disliked them. Once the cremation was over, Daphne was able to look ahead and as the months passed she found to her surprise that the immense strain under which she had been living had lifted and that she was free to move forward. There was a big gap in her life but she still had Menabilly – and when the lease came to an end she had been promised Kilmarth, the dower house of the estate – she had the family and was deriving increasing pleasure from her grandchildren, and she had her writing. Increasingly she chose to remember not the sad invalid of the last few months, but the dashing Guards officer who had wooed her so romantically.
Boy’s reputation at the time of his death was still high. Few people outside the close circle of family and friends knew of his breakdown or the difficulties he had experienced during his last years. Even those with whom he had come into close contact, such as his colleagues at Civil Defence or fellow parishioners at the church, had seen a different person to those who lived with him. He had not yet attracted serious criticism over the part he had played in ‘Market Garden’ and was, if anything, the beneficiary of the admiration which the man in the street felt for the airborne forces as a whole. He was remembered with respect in the Army – Jock Colville wrote to Daphne that on the day Boy’s death was announced he had been having lunch with four generals, including the newly appointed Chief of the General Staff, Sir James Cassels,1 and that she would have been very proud of what they had to say about him.
This regard was demonstrated very visibly just over three years later when the Parachute Regiment decided to name its newly built regimental headquarters and depot in Aldershot the Browning Barracks.2 Daphne, accompanied by Tessa, Kits and Hacker, unveiled the plaque commemorating the event on 6 June 1968. Her host was the Deputy Colonel Commandant of the regiment, Major General Napier Crookenden, who had served in 6 Airborne Division. Also present were a number of Boy’s former wartime comrades, including John Frost, Mark Henniker, Freddie Gough and James Hill, together with Jock Pearson, the founder of the Airborne Forces Security Fund, and Leslie Hollinghurst. The unveiling ceremony was followed by a parachute drop, one of the parachutists presenting a statuette of an airborne soldier to Daphne.
Interest in ‘Market Garden’, far from diminishing after what was now more than twenty years since the events themselves, continued to grow. Roy Urquhart had published his own account of the Arnhem battle in 1958, including the first attribution of the ‘bridge too far’ comment to Boy. Serious historians, notably Christopher Hibbert in 1962, also began to provide much deeper analysis and just two years after Boy’s death the Irish-American author and journalist Cornelius Ryan started work on a major new account of the whole operation. Ryan had already established a considerable reputation following the publication of his books on the Normandy landings and the fall of Berlin in 1959 and 1966 respectively. The Longest Day and The Last Battle were the product of meticulous research, written in an attractive style which owed much to his background as a war correspondent.
In March 1967 Daphne was approached by Frederic Kelly, Ryan’s research assistant, for her recollections. She replied that she had known little or nothing about the operation at the time and that Boy had not talked about it subsequently, but she was helpful in recommending other potential sources of information. In a further letter she emphasized that Boy had felt deeply about the losses of men, but had never, as far as she was aware, regretted what had been done from a strategic or tactical point of view. She also went out of her way to mention the regard which Boy had entertained for Gavin.
A Bridge Too Far was eventually published in 1974 and Daphne was sent a copy. As far as she could tell, the description and assessment of Boy’s role was balanced and fair, and she took no exception to it. Two months after publication the author succumbed to the cancer from which he had been suffering for four years, but before he died, he extracted a promise from the legendary American film producer Joseph E. Levine that he would make a film of the book.
Levine was an independent producer, with a number of highly successful films to his name, including The Graduate and The Lion in Winter. He was enthralled by Ryan’s work and determined to bring it to the screen, so much so that he put a substantial amount of his own money into the project. He immediately set about assembling the production team, making two key decisions. To write the screenplay he chose William Goldman, who had built up a considerable reputation as one of Hollywood’s finest scriptwriters, among other things winning an Academy Award for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Goldman read Ryan’s book and was not deterred by the enormous scope of the operation, believing that the essence of it could be distilled into a powerful narrative. To him it would be an anti-war film, in his own words ‘a chance to say that war sucks’.
As the director, Levine made a more surprising choice. Richard Attenborough had made a name for himself as an actor in a career of more than thirty years, but he had only directed two films, Oh! What a Lovely War and Young Winston. He, too, relished the challenge of the enormous project. He concurred with another of Levine’s decisions, which was to assemble a stellar cast of top American, British and German actors. Heading the list was Dirk Bogarde, who was to play Boy. Bogarde was a friend of Attenborough’s and one of his neighbours in France, but he was there on his merits, with a fine career in films to his credit. He had served in the army during the war and claimed to have met Boy,3 whom he had not liked, thinking him conceited and arrogant, a not unusual reaction from someone who had known him only from a distance.
The news of the film worried Daphne, whose experience of the transfer to celluloid of her own books had not always been a happy one. She was particularly distrustful of scriptwriters, a number of whom had taken liberties with her texts, and she wrote to Attenborough requesting sight of the screenplay. In the spring of 1976 he sent her the outline and she was horrified by what she read, as it was apparent that Boy would be cast in a very unflattering role. Goldman had written out of the story all the top commanders, notably Eisenhower, Montgomery (except in a newsreel sequence at the beginning and in a passing comment at the end), Dempsey and Brereton, leaving Boy and Horrocks as the most senior officers represented. Horrocks was in the event to be sympathetically portrayed by Edward Fox, as were the two American divisional commanders by the actors concerned, notably Ryan O’Neal as Gavin, but Adair and Thomas were nowhere to be seen. Even without them, it was clear that it was the British who were going to be portrayed as the bunglers. As Goldman was to say subsequently, ‘The Americans did pretty well’, and whilst this was unquestionably true of 82 and 101 Airborne Divisions, it was also convenient for the box office in the country with the largest audience. It would certainly not have looked good to have included a scene showing Brereton’s obduracy over the timing of the lifts or the location of the drop zones, both of which had a far greater adverse impact on the operation than any decision of Boy’s.
Of the key characters in the line of command, this left Boy and Roy Urquhart. The latter was to be the main victim in the film, beset by problems, including the distance of the drop and landing sites from the objective, the failure of the signals equipment and, worst of all, the apparent lack of any knowledge of the existence in the Arnhem area of German armour. Much was made of the last of these, the key sequence being the presentation by Brian Urquhart (called Major Fuller in the film so as not to confuse the audience) to Boy of the aerial photos of the tanks and his subsequent despatch on sick leave on the grounds of nervous exhaustion.
Daphne wrote immediately to Attenborough, raising a number of serious reservations, including directions on Boy’s appearance which gave the im
pression that he would be portrayed as something of a dandy. Attenborough replied to reassure her that he would deal with these. One matter to which she attached great importance was Boy’s association with the title of the film, which, she pointed out quite reasonably, demonstrated clearly that he had entertained serious doubts about the plan. The line was amended very simply by changing Bogarde’s words in the original script from, ‘We just went a bridge too far’ to ‘Well, as you know, I’ve always thought that we tried to go a bridge too far.’ Although the new version did show Boy in a better light than the old, its inclusion in the penultimate scene would still make it appear to the viewer that he was being wise after the event. Clearly the more truthful approach would have been to put the words in his mouth close to the beginning, where they belonged. However, this would have spoilt the storyline being developed by Goldman, which cast Boy as the villain.
Bogarde later claimed that he had been concerned about the character that he was asked to portray. In a 1983 letter to Geoffrey Powell, who had been a company commander in the 156th Parachute Battalion at Arnhem and was engaged in writing what would be one of the best accounts of ‘Market Garden’, The Devil’s Highway, he wrote about Boy: ‘I did my very best to honour the man, because it was clear to me then that the U.S. Makers were determined to have a ‘fall guy’… and it was to be Browning.’ Colonel John Waddy, one of Powell’s fellow company commanders and the British Military Advisor on the film, recalled that, during the rehearsal for the scene between Boy and Major Fuller, Bogarde was accused by Attenborough of departing too much from the script, and responded immediately: ‘I won’t have a British general made to look a fool.’ Waddy had been shown the script himself on his appointment and was told by Attenborough: ‘I can’t change it and neither can you.’ He was instructed to confine himself to ensuring the accuracy of how the airborne soldiers fought.
About a month before the film was due to be premiered in London, Daphne received a tip-off from a journalist that it would not show Boy in a good light. In desperation she wrote to Jim Orr and Mountbatten to see if they could intercede in some way, and both sent letters to Attenborough. In his reply to Mountbatten, the director told him of his attempt to satisfy Daphne’s concerns, particularly about the ‘bridge too far’ remark, but emphasized that in many people’s view the operation had been a failure and that there must therefore be some implied criticism of both Montgomery and Boy, which although true was a gross oversimplification of the complex reasons for failure. By now in any event the horse had well and truly bolted, so there was little point in attempting to shut the stable door. Mountbatten, who was asked by Daphne to boycott the premiere, was in a particularly difficult position. He and the Duchess of Kent had been invited to be the guests of honour and the proceeds from the premiere were to benefit charities with which they were associated. He had been a friend of Attenborough’s for many years, having first met him on the set of In Which We Serve, Noël Coward’s 1942 film based on Mountbatten’s career as a destroyer captain, in which Attenborough had played a minor but important role. Finally, his grandson Norton Knatchbull had been in the production team as location manager. He was unlikely to do anything to rock the boat, even had it been possible.
The film premiered in London on 23 June 1977. It was generally well received by the critics, few of whom realized that it was littered with historical inaccuracies, although for the most part these did not detract from the action, which conveyed the sense of the battle very well. A few of the inaccuracies did cause great offence, notably the depiction of the taking of the Nijmegen road bridge by 82 Airborne Division before the tanks of the Grenadier Guards had started rolling across and the suggestion that those same tanks had without good reason failed to press on to Arnhem. The Grenadiers themselves were extremely upset about these two episodes, the one seemingly designed to flatter American audiences, the other putting the blame firmly on the regiment for the failure to relieve Frost at the Arnhem bridge. The editor of the Guards Magazine also expressed the anger of the regiment at the ‘inaccurate and derogatory’ portrayal of Boy.
Mountbatten, on the other hand, wrote to Daphne on the day after the premiere: ‘Candidly, neither I nor the ‘Royal Party’, nor several friends and, above all, soldiers with whom I discussed the film, could find anything really detrimental to Boy in the film. I think perhaps they made a mistake in casting Dirk Bogarde in the role, for although Dirk is a fine actor, he is not the personality one would wish to see reflected in Boy.’ In finding nothing detrimental to him, Mountbatten was in a minority amongst those who knew Boy well, but he put his finger on the more important issue, the characterization by Bogarde.
The newspaper critics, whilst praising the film in general, seized on this. Patrick Gibbs in the Daily Telegraph wrote: ‘As portrayed by Dirk Bogarde and, of course by the script-writer, who is William Goldman, this general is not one I would have trusted to run a cocktail party’ and wondered if the depiction might not be actionable. Penelope Gilliatt in The New Yorker saw the character as ‘a suave lieutenant-general looking out for himself.’ The interpretation of the character by a combination of Attenborough, Goldman and Bogarde was indeed totally at odds with the evidence of most of those who knew him well. He was portrayed as a languid and complacent officer, determined to get the operation started regardless of risk and, once on the ground, leading a life of comfort in his luxurious quarters. Given the evidence of his frequent presence at the HQs of XXX Corps, Guards Armoured Division and various subordinate units and the fact that he wrote to Daphne on D+5 that he had not washed more than his face and neck since landing, this last was a travesty of the truth.
The reaction was immediate and came largely through the correspondence columns of The Times. Daphne had lined up Shan Hackett to write a letter to the editor in the event that the film turned out as she feared. Hackett was a good choice, as he was not numbered among the most devoted supporters of Boy and was known to have harboured serious doubts about the operation. His letter, published on 25 June, was scathing:
Sir, It would be difficult to imagine Sir Richard Attenborough unkind, unthinkable to find him lacking in regard for the truth. It must be said, however, that the portrayal of Sir Frederick Browning in the film A Bridge Too Far is both untruthful and unkind.
It is untruthful because it shows a superficial, heartless, shallow person who is uncaring – even almost flippant – about the fate of brave men committed to his charge and displays, instead of strength of character, a petulant obstinacy born of weakness. He was not like that at all and could not have commanded such widespread loyalty if he had been.
It is unkind because it will affront very many men who knew Browning well and, though some might say he had his faults (and who has not?), gave him their admiration and respect, but also, though he is dead, there are those still living who were closer to him still and knew him even better, and these will be deeply and unnecessarily wounded … .
The fault, I am sure, lies in the writing of the script. I was shown this before shooting and Sir Richard was kind enough to listen to some observations from me on the caricature of Boy Browning it contained. I was grateful to see, in the outcome, he had offered a picture of this brave, austere, dedicated professional officer, who will be remembered as both stern and charming, considerably less cruel than that imagined by the script-writer. It still goes much too far.
I suppose that a script-writer needed a character like that for structural purposes in telling the story as he saw it, and that a director should probably not stray too far from what he is given. The pity is that a tragic conflict in a high-minded man, of a kind that carries an echo of Racine, might have provided for an actor as good as Bogarde under the sensitive direction he could expect from Attenborough a memorable and moving role. A great opportunity was missed here too.
Others weighed in subsequently, including Daphne’s son-in-law Alastair Tower and Freddie Gough. Cyril Ray,4 who had been a war correspondent attached to 82 Airborne Division and w
ho met Boy during the operation, wrote: ‘I do not recognize the man I knew in battle and in peacetime in the Browning of the film … Boy Browning was debonair in manner, dapper in appearance … the dapper and debonair is one all the easier to caricature by anyone wishing to please a box office, and easier still if he is dead, which Browning is, and which other generals who took part in the operation are not.’
One letter came not to The Times, but directly to Daphne some three months after the film had been released. It read:
Dear Lady Browning
I have now seen the film of Cornelius Ryan’s book ‘A Bridge Too Far’ and was appalled at the portrayal of General Browning. Of course it is too late, but I have written to the Director expressing my feelings, and I understand that there was a considerable correspondence in The London Times.
I remember your late husband with great affection and find it monstrous that a man so talented, so responsible, so magnetic and so full of imagination and vitality should be portrayed as Dirk Bogarde portrayed him in the film. I was also distressed by the account of his relationship with me during the preparations for Operation Market Garden. Although we did not always agree, and I, at the time, had no idea of the appalling pressure he was under and the tragic dilemma he was in, he always treated me with the utmost kindness and friendliness. Indeed it would have been odd if he had not, since I had been working for him for some three years and we knew each other well.
I can imagine that this film must have been most distressing to you, and this particular aspect of it certainly disgusted me. I suppose it is some consolation that enough people know the truth, all those who worked with General Browning and those who knew him, but I wish there was something more one could do about it. If you feel there is anything that I could do, I would be most glad to do it.
