This was becoming a trial of strength and the government was close to losing. But there was no evidence that Churchill was engaging in the issue. Colville noted:
The PM is sufficiently undismayed by the air raids to take note of trivialities. Yesterday he sent the following note: ‘The First Sea Lord. Surely you can run to a new Admiralty flag. It grieves me to see the present dingy object every morning. WSC’”.41
But the tide seemed to be turning. The late edition of the Evening Standard reported that the Ministries of Transport and Home Security were examining police reports, and the reports of their own observers on the use of Tubes as dormitories. It was “understood” that these stated that there had been “no trouble of any kind” the previous night. The paper further “understood” that: “there will be no question of banning the tubes for use as dormitories. Sleepers will be allowed to continue using them unofficially, but in controlled numbers”.
As to air operations on the day, these had been much reduced by frontal-driven rain. Fighter Command escaped loss, and only one Blenheim was downed, against eight aircraft lost by the Luftwaffe.
And in Berlin, with no fanfare, the process of dismantling Sealion was proceeding. Hitler had agreed that the notification time for assembling the fleet could be extended from ten to fifteen days, allowing some vessels to be put back into commercial use. With that came the release of the ships held for Operation Herbstreise (Autumn Journey). This was a deception operation to be mounted from Norway. Two days prior to the actual landings, three light cruisers and the gunnery training ship Bremse and other light naval forces were to have escorted the liners Europa, Bremen, Gneisenau and Potsdam, with ten transport steamers, towards the east coast of England between Aberdeen and Newcastle, simulating a landing in the north.42
Yet, in sunny Rome, Italian Foreign Minister Ciano was meeting his German counterpart, von Ribbentrop. He told Ciano that bad weather, and especially the clouds, had even more than the RAF prevented the success of the plan. The invasion would take place anyway, as soon as there were a few days of fine weather. “The landing is ready and possible. English territorial defence is non-existent. A single German division will suffice to bring about a complete collapse”, he said.43
DAY 73 – FRIDAY 20 SEPTEMBER 1940
Rainstorms and a howling gale lashed the Channel coasts once again, making it even more evident that there could be no invasion. The weather was not sufficient to prevent two-way bomber traffic, but it clearly ruled out the idea of flat-bottomed barges crossing the Channel. RAF photo-reconnaissance brought reassuring evidence. Five destroyers and a torpedo boat had withdrawn from Cherbourg, and the assemblies of barges were already beginning to disperse.44 Churchill told Colville that he was “doubtful whether the invasion will be tried in the near future”, but said there was no doubt that every preparation had been made.45
The day fighting was now virtually irrelevant. The Germans were relying mainly on fighter sweeps to make nuisance raids. Nonetheless, Fighter Command lost seven aircraft, with two others lost, making nine downed against three to the Luftwaffe, one of which was to anti-aircraft fire. The focus had moved to the night. Everything had changed. The New York Times reported: “Huge bombs fall”. The Germans were using mines, dropped by parachute over the city. Called “land mines” – they could flatten a whole block in a terrifying display of raw power.
The battle was now for hearts and minds. And the government, having set its face against the use of the Tubes as air-raid shelters, was now in danger of losing it. Contradicting the earlier Evening Standard report, the Yorkshire Post headlined its lead story: “A decision against deep shelters”. The government, reported the London correspondent, was not going to build “deep” shelters. Nor, he wrote, “will the Government allow the continued general use as shelters of Underground railway stations. The tube’s essential transport function must not be impeded”. The report continued:
Ministers feel sure that the public will realise that the use of tubes to carry workers to and from work at night is vital to the war-effort, and will accordingly appreciate the attitude which the Government have felt obliged to take. If need be, Ministers are prepared to ensure that the public do not use them as shelters. The authorities will, however, continue to allow limited numbers of genuinely stranded persons to remain on the stations during raids.
The increasingly unpopular Anderson ventured out of his Whitehall office to have a look for himself, but showed little understanding of what was at stake. Reporting to the War Cabinet, his main concern seems to have been “the character of the persons who took refuge there”. He came up with a scheme for requisitioning basements of commercial premises and, for areas where there was insufficient provision, setting up an elaborate transport scheme run by local authorities to move people to areas where there were shelters.46
Anthony Eden was far more concerned that photographs in the press of ruined houses and buildings were giving an “exaggerated idea” of the general aspect of London in the present time. It was “bad propaganda”, disturbing to Londoners in the fighting services who were serving at a distance from their homes, he said. Churchill was preoccupied with the dislocation of production by air-raid warnings, reminding colleagues of the scheme to deal with single aircraft flying over. Policy was already not to give a “red” siren warning, and this “must be adhered to”.47
Earlier in the day, the Daily Express had not only given its front page to the shelter crisis but had run an editorial which had bordered on the frenetic. “Listen people of London,” it said, “this is the truth”. In like vein, it continued:
It is your destiny to lead Britain to victory. It is your right as citizens of the greatest city this world has ever known to show all others the way. It is not an easy way. Victory cannot be achieved by seeking safety and forgetting the rest. But the results of your endurance will be glorious. There will be a crown for your courage.
“Keep the tubes free,” it implored:
Here is the situation. It is true that there is more safety from bombs in the London tubes than anywhere else. But the tubes were built to get the worker to and from his desk and bench. That is their function, which is a hundred times more vital now that the siege is on.
For the tube is the one means of transport unlikely to be seriously damaged by bombs. And it must be kept free for the workers. Your safety will count for nothing if the work of the City is allowed to slow and falter and stop.
The Glasgow Herald noted that Göring, having failed to get results so far, was “trying to force an early issue by trying to destroy London’s morale”. It argued that the Cockney, “that stout fellow”, is determined that the effort will fail, then pronouncing that “patience is required from everyone for a little longer until the menace of night bombing is mastered”. But patience was running out and the menace of night bombing was very far from being mastered.
Thousands of Londoners were taking matters in their own hands. They had again flocked to the Tubes for shelter. At some stations, they began to arrive as early as 4 p.m., with bedding and bags of food to sustain them for the night. By the time the evening rush hour was in progress, they had already staked their “pitches” on the platforms. This time, police did not intervene. Some station managers, on their own initiatives, provided additional toilet facilities. Transport Minister John Reith, and the chairman of London Transport, Lord Ashfield, ventured into Holborn Station to see things for themselves.
The atmosphere was unpleasant. Travellers were jostled by “Tube night boarders” carrying their bedding. The overcrowding was “disgraceful”, a passenger said, and the station actually “stinks”. But virtually every station between Edgware and the Strand had been occupied, turned into an overcrowded dormitory. The atmosphere had been so thick and heavy at one station that a reporter investigating conditions felt “faint”. The situation was untenable.
DAY 74 – SATURDAY 21 SEPTEMBER 1940
Overnight, the Guardian observed, East Enders had not b
een taking the least bit of notice of the government’s call to “refrain” from using the Tubes as shelters. Still less were they listening to the entreaties of the Express. The government had two options. It could try to enforce its ban, calling out the police and perhaps even troops to evict women and children at the points of bayonets. Or it could cave in and make the best of the situation. It took the sensible option. And, as what it called part of its “deep shelter extension policy”, it decided to close the short section of line from Holborn to the Aldwych and turn the tunnel into an air-raid shelter.
Only now did Churchill send an “action this day” minute to his permanent secretary, Sir Edward Bridges, copy to Anderson and Reith. In it, he recalled having asked the Cabinet “the other day” whether the Tubes could be used as air-raid shelters, “even at the expense of transport facilities”. This would have been on 13 September, when he had been told by Reith that their use as shelters was “inadvisable”. Now, after eight days of inaction from himself, Churchill was now asking what had happened to supersede “the former decisive arguments”. “Pray let me have more information about this,” he wrote. “I still remain in favour of widespread utilization of the Tubes”, he added, asking for a “short report on one sheet of paper” on details of changes necessary to make the Underground system more accessible.48 That evening, Reith wrote in his diary of a “Silly ‘action this day’ memo from the PM about Tubes”.49
It was certainly “silly” in the sense that the immediate crisis was past. There can be no doubt at all that the people of London – or, at the very least, tens of thousands of Londoners – had openly defied the government in an egregious episode of mass civil disobedience, with the acquiescence of the police and transport authorities. The government had thus been confronted with the choice of enforcing its policy or backing down, and had chosen the latter.
Had it taken the “strong action” that Churchill had wanted, not only against demonstrators but against those who were openly defying the government, one can only speculate as to what might have happened. It may even be the case that the police would have refused to obey orders. Had they not done so, there could well have been bloody riots. There had been a riot in Portsmouth when the police had sought to enforce a policy of keeping air-raid shelters locked through the day, to prevent interruptions to war production. When a group had tried to force their way into a shelter, the police had drawn their truncheons and made a baton charge.50
London riots, in front of the world’s press, would have been far worse and, in the febrile mood of the times, might not have ended there. A perverse decision could have triggered the very event that Hitler and Göring so much wanted – and expected. At this point, the people possibly came as close to rebellion as they ever did throughout the war. Never again did there seem to be the precise combination of circumstances and the degree of tension experienced in these closing days of September. If there was a true pivotal moment in the entire war, when it could have been lost, it was maybe this day, 21 September.
To what extent this was ever a threat is almost impossible to tell. Political correspondent Laurence Thompson, writing of the general period, recorded that on the nights of 7 and 8 September there had been something which an eye witness “choosing the words with care” described to him as “near panic”. It had not been on a large scale, nor lasting beyond that short time, but it had been watched with anxiety because of pre-war anticipations, and the contagious quality of the panic which had so recently been seen in France and Belgium.
Such had been the sensitivity of even the suggestion of panic that Sir Harold Scott, chief administrative officer of the London Civil Defence Region was at pains to dispel any idea that it had been seen. He assured Thompson that he was “certain there was no panic of any importance”. By coincidence, a long piece by Ritchie Calder was published in the New Statesman. Among other things, he set out the background to the South Hallsville School incident. He was caustic about those who so glibly claimed to be able to characterize the state of morale of the East Enders, as he described the inefficiency and incompetence of the officials and government institutions.
But, the crisis had now passed. That evening, in a postscript to the 6 p.m. BBC news, Clement Attlee, then Lord Privy Seal, spoke to the nation of the “Battle of Britain”, telling his audience:
Those who have been killed in air raids have died for their country no less than the soldier killed in battle, for this present air attack is not directed primarily on our factories, docks, and public services, but on the spirit of our people. It is here that Hitler is sustaining his heaviest defeat.
Stating that he was one of those charged with the duty of working at the centre, and thus was able to survey the whole field with a full knowledge of what was happening, Attlee said, “I speak with a deep sense of confidence in the success of our cause”.
After paying a tribute to the work of the RAF, he continued:
Our forces on land are in good heart I include in these forces, not only the Navy, Army, Air Force, and Home Guard but also the civil defence services, police workers in industry and, indeed, all the men, women and children of our nation. We are all in this war. I believed that the Battle of Britain was “the turning point of the war.
Defeat of this attack, he said, marks the turning of the tide. We may have to endure worse things yet. There is no room for easy optimism. But there is very cause for confidence.51
Churchill was at Chequers later that evening, and gave no hint of the passing of the crisis. He was joined by Lord Gort and Dowding for dinner. This was the first day that the existence of the codename Sealion had shown up in the top secret Enigma intercepts of German radio traffic, and conversation turned to the invasion. The Prime Minister hypothesized that the Germans could mount a surprise invasion during the autumn fogs. Ismay, his military advisor, was sceptical, but too polite to tell the Prime Minister he was talking “rot”.52 Colville, in his record of the discussion, did not mention shelters, and remarked not on the distant drone of German bombers as they pounded London once more, for the fifteenth consecutive night.
Churchill, on the other hand, sent Alan Brooke a paper from Samuel Hoare in Spain, giving details of a talk with a reliable American who had come from Germany. Speaking on 7 September, he had said he was certain that Hitler would attack within a fortnight. This day was the last day of the fortnight, and the weather forecast was for a perfect sea.53
Through the day, Fighter Command had only lost one aircraft, a Hurricane colliding with a machine-gun post at its home base, as it was taking off. Bomber Command despatched aircraft to attack shipping and barges at Calais, Ostend and Boulogne, without loss. It was also reported that Jersey Airport had been “heavily attacked”.54 A combination of accidents, enemy fighters and flak lost the Luftwaffe eleven aircraft. This had been one of those better days.
12.
Consequences
I am aware, of course, that there are many demands, including anti-invasion preparations, made upon our limited naval forces but I should be failing in my duty if I did not represent, in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for putting a stop to the present exorbitant risks to which our Merchant Shipping is being exposed.
Ronald Cross, Minister of Shipping, 30 September 1940
The day battle was about to peter out. The objective (as far as it was ever real) of gaining air superiority for the invasion had ceased to have any relevance. If the theory of Douhet “terror bombing” meant anything, then the adverse effect on morale should also have been measurable, but that moment had passed as well. Instead, a new crisis was emerging – a catastrophic and increasing loss of merchant shipping, which threatened the very survival of Britain. And convoy escorts were sitting in the ports waiting for an invasion, while the U-boats enjoyed a killing spree.
DAY 75 – SUNDAY 22 SEPTEMBER 1940
The British Government climb-down was hailed by the New York Times with the headline: “Public opinion wins demand for use of subways in raids
–– government yields”. The paper added, with neat irony, a sentiment that was to be repeated down the decades: “Slum clearance by Nazis – homeless move to West End”. And, already, there was an element of organization creeping in. At Piccadilly Underground Station, a broad white line was being painted on the platform, to mark the division between shelter and throughway for passengers. People were queuing as early as 2.30 p.m. and by six, every available space on the City line platforms was occupied.1
Home Intelligence captured a shift in mood. Morale was “excellent”. People were more cheerful, it said, adding a note which perhaps reflected the essence of J. B. Priestley’s talk: “The feeling of being on the front line stimulates many people and puts them on their mettle in overcoming transport and shelter difficulties”. The mood of crisis had gone. London conversation was now almost exclusively about air raids, “gossipy, not panicky, and it is centred in personal matters”.
Priestley was back in the Sunday Express, telling his readers: Let us say what we mean. “We are fighting for liberty and democracy. You have said it, I have said it, and they have said it. And most of us have meant what we said”, he wrote. But, he added, the words picked out as a pull-quote in a white-on-black box:
To put it bluntly, millions of people do not believe yet that we are really fighting for democracy. They consider that our talk is on the same level as Hitler’s talk about a new and more equitable European order. They think it is all eyewash.
A post-war world, he argued, should be a democratic one. “If our representatives seem to stand for the Right People rather than the Whole People, then there will be some excuse for outsiders imagining that our talk of democracy is a mere trick of propaganda”.
Many Not the Few: The Stolen History of the Battle of Britain Page 32
