Darkest Hour

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Darkest Hour Page 17

by Anthony McCarten


  HALIFAX: THE DEADLY DANGER HERE IS THIS ROMANTIC FANTASY OF FIGHTING TO THE END!!! What is ‘the end’ if not the destruction of all? There is nothing heroic in going down fighting if it can be avoided. Nothing even remotely patriotic in death or glory if the odds are on the former; nothing inglorious in trying to shorten a war that we are clearly losing.

  WINSTON: Europe is still –

  HALIFAX (cutting him off): EUROPE IS LOST! Lost. And before our forces are wiped out completely, this is the time to negotiate in order to obtain the best conditions possible. It would not be in Hitler’s interests to insist on outrageous terms. He will know his own weaknesses. He will be reasonable.

  WINSTON (unable to bear this talk): When will the lesson be learned? How many more dictators must be wooed, appeased – good God, given immense privileges – before we learn . . . that you can’t reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth!

  HALIFAX: Prime Minister. I feel I must have it on record, that if all you can foresee is fighting to the end, and you would not even be prepared to discuss peace terms should Hitler offer them, then you should know that I feel we must part ways.

  Part ways?

  Churchill knew full well that Halifax’s resignation at this time would be catastrophic. Deprived of Halifax’s cooling counsel, the Prime Minister, still viewed by many as a loose cannon, would almost certainly face a vote of no confidence in the House, a vote he would in all likelihood lose. The entire Conservative Party would split along pro-peace and anti-peace lines. So he was, in the moment, facing not only a well-reasoned argument (a patriotic one just as potent as his own), but also a decision upon which his premiership teetered.

  Halifax wrote in his diary that Churchill ‘surprised and mellowed’ when he said ‘that he would not join France in asking for terms but if he were told what the terms offered were, he would be prepared to consider them’.

  This would be the zenith of Halifax’s power and influence, for he had steered a reluctant leader from almost histrionic talk of victory at all costs to a serious embrace of the notion of peace talks, to a consideration of when, not if, such talks should take place.

  With Winston’s capitulation to Halifax, the War Cabinet quickly agreed that a reply would be sent to the French consenting to an approach of some kind to keep them ‘in good temper’ and because ‘we had heard that President Roosevelt had now made an approach on the lines indicated. It would only confuse the issue and might jeopardise our chances of getting a favourable reply from President Roosevelt if we were now to barge in on our own.’

  As soon as the meeting was over, the victorious but still exasperated Lord Halifax requested a private meeting with Churchill in the gardens of No. 10. As he was walking out of the Cabinet Room, he confided to Cadogan, ‘I can’t work with Winston any longer.’ To this Cadogan replied, ‘Nonsense: his rodomontades probably bore you as much as they do me, but don’t do anything silly under the stress of that.’

  Roberts writes in The Holy Fox:

  the hyperbole which did so much to stiffen the public morale in 1940 struck Halifax as melodramatic and best reserved for public broadcasts. He had heard it all throughout his political life and it smacked to him of the histrionic and dangerous posturing which illustrated all the famous Churchillian lack of judgement . . . Halifax was keenly aware that the imminent onslaught probably spelt the end of Britain’s empire and way of life and he also – probably wrongly – thought it may have been avoidable.

  When he retired to the garden with Churchill, he again threatened his resignation but found Winston ‘full of apologies and affection’.

  His threats had achieved their desired outcome, at least for now, and Halifax returned to the Foreign Office. Over tea, he recounted the meeting to Cadogan, who told him he ‘hoped he really wouldn’t give way to an annoyance to which we were all subject and that, before he did anything, he would consult Neville’. Halifax agreed that he would, reassuring Cadogan that ‘he wasn’t one to take hasty decisions’.

  Back at Downing Street, word of the heated meeting spread quickly. Jock Colville wrote in his diary: ‘The Cabinet are feverishly considering our ability to carry on the war alone in such circumstances, and there are signs that Halifax is being defeatist. He says that our aim can no longer be to crush Germany but rather to preserve our own integrity and independence.’

  The Defence Committee met at 7 p.m. to discuss the latest news from France. Churchill described the situation now faced by the BEF as ‘even more desperate, and their only choice would be to fight their way in retreat back to the coast, taking as heavy a toll of the enemy as they could on the way’. This present danger should, Churchill added, bring no reproach upon Britain, which had done everything possible in her power to support her Allies. He outlined in detail the failings of the French military leaders and the weaknesses of the Belgians, which the British ‘were now paying the price for’ and which had contributed ‘to the disaster with which our Army was now faced’.

  When the meeting concluded, Churchill received yet another difficult update. It was confirmed by Major-General Sir Edward Spears that the King of Belgium had ‘telegraphed to his Chief of Staff to send a plenipotentiary to the Germans to ascertain under what conditions an armistice could be arranged, and had suggested “cease fire” at midnight tonight, the 27th–28th May’. The Defence Committee agreed that the British and French Governments would immediately dissociate themselves from the Belgian armistice, and the War Cabinet was summoned for 10 p.m. that evening.

  Churchill informed the War Cabinet of this latest news and confirmed that British and French forces had been ordered to fight on. There was strong sympathy for Leopold III, despite his surrender, and the Prime Minister stressed the ‘importance of ensuring the King’s safety . . . Any grounds for recrimination lay rather in the Belgian action on the outbreak of war than in the more immediate past.’ The Belgians’ insistence on neutrality and their subsequent resistance in allowing the Allies to enter the country had wasted a vital opportunity to establish a strong presence on the country’s western frontier at a time when ‘the bulk of the German Army had been engaged in Poland’. This had left the BEF in ‘the most serious peril’, for ‘Lord Gort had no troops with which to close the gap and prevent the Germans breaking through to Dunkirk’.

  The Minister for Information, Duff Cooper, suggested that with this new development ‘a statement should be issued referring to the gallant defence by the British troops . . . and the public should be given some indication of the serious position in which the B.E.F. had been placed’. He made particular reference to the ‘cheerful tone’ that still existed in the French communiqués reported in the British press, and that ‘there was no doubt that the public were, at the moment, quite unprepared for the shock realisation of the true position’. Churchill agreed ‘that the seriousness of the situation should be emphasised but he would depreciate any detailed statement or attempt to assess the results of the battle, until the situation had been further cleared up. The announcement of the Belgian Armistice would go a long way to prepare the public for bad news.’ Cooper did not think this was strong enough, and argued that there was a real danger in suddenly making an announcement that so thoroughly contradicted what the public had been reading in the papers. He suggested that ‘it would be as well to remind the public of the constant German efforts to drive a wedge between the two peoples. At the same time editors could be asked to tone down the French announcements.’ Churchill concluded the meeting with the suggestion that ‘it would be necessary for him to make a full statement in Parliament, although it might be another week before the situation had cleared sufficiently to allow him to do so’.

  He returned to Admiralty House with Jock Colville and ‘at midnight, after reading a few papers and after saying “Pour me out a whisky and soda, very weak, there’s a good boy”, he went up to bed’.

  What price would we pay to know his thoughts, to know the depths of his fears and self-doubts as he lay on the si
ngle bed, willing sleep to carry him off. Was Halifax right? Was he himself wrong? Had he done the right thing or would he and the nation live to regret his decision to let his Foreign Secretary move forward with his plan for a negotiated peace?

  Lord Halifax described Tuesday, 28 May, as ‘a very black day’. Admiral Sir Roger Keyes had returned to London following the cease-fire of the Belgian Army at four o’clock that morning. Churchill invited him to brief the 11.30 a.m. War Cabinet.

  There Keyes made it clear that he, too, believed that the ‘Belgian Government were entirely responsible for the chaos caused . . . [and that] only the King’s personality had held the Belgian Army together for the last four days. If the King had left when pressed to do so by His Majesty’s Government three days ago, the morale of the Army would have cracked at once.’ Churchill read out the terms of the German—Belgian armistice:

  (1) All Belgian troops movements forbidden. Belgian troops must line up on the side of the road to await orders. They must make known their presence by means of white signs, flags, &c.

  (2) Orders must be given forbidding destruction of war material and stores.

  (3) German troops must be allowed to proceed to the coast.

  (4) Free passage to Ostend is demanded and no destruction permitted.

  (5) All Resistance will be overcome.

  If Britain desired a foretaste of what the Germans might demand of it, here it was.

  ‘Considerable numbers’ of British troops had now begun to arrive at Dunkirk, and the First Sea Lord relayed a report from Vice-Admiral Ramsay at Dover that ‘11,400 men had arrived the previous night and 2,500 more were in passage across the Channel’. The first reports of the infamous lines of soldiers waiting for evacuation were confirmed, with ‘2,000 troops on the beaches and 7,000 among the sand dunes’ of Dunkirk, which was now ‘covered with a pall of smoke’. However, the Cabinet were informed that the Air Officer Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hugh Dowding, had sent a message to say he was ‘deeply concerned’ with the current aircraft losses incurred by the RAF protecting the BEF on the beaches of Dunkirk, and that ‘our fighter defences were almost at cracking point’. He stressed that ‘if this exceptional effort had to be repeated over Dunkirk the following day, the situation would be serious’.

  Duff Cooper once more stressed the urgency ‘for a frank statement of the desperate situation of the British Expeditionary Force’, outlining fears that ‘unless this was given out, public confidence would be badly shaken and the civil population would not be ready to accept the assurances of the Government of the chances of our ultimate victory’. He suggested he make a ‘short statement’ on the BBC news at 1 p.m. Churchill agreed to this, and confirmed that he too would make a statement to the House of Commons on the same subject that afternoon.

  Though not broadcast live, Churchill’s statement to the House was also a statement to the nation, so he needed it to both prepare the public yet also rally their spirits. His speech was brief but hopeful, and suggested that a thinly veiled answer to the question of a negotiated peace that had so troubled select members of the War Cabinet was beginning to form in his mind:

  The situation of the British and French Armies now engaged in a most severe battle and beset on three sides and from the air, is evidently extremely grave. The surrender of the Belgian Army in this manner adds appreciably to their grievous peril. But the troops are in good heart, and are fighting with the utmost discipline and tenacity . . . I expect to make a statement to the House on the general position when the result of the intense struggle now going on can be known and measured . . . Meanwhile, the House should prepare itself for hard and heavy tidings. I have only to add that nothing which may happen in this battle can in any way relieve us of our duty to defend the world cause to which we have vowed ourselves; nor should it destroy our confidence in our power to make our way, as on former occasions in our history, through disaster and through grief to the ultimate defeat of our enemies.

  The House responded positively to Churchill’s note of defiance, with MPs standing to congratulate him and saying, ‘[W]e have not yet touched the fringe of the resolution of this country’, and that ‘the dignified statement of the Prime Minister reflects not only the feeling of the whole House but the feeling of the whole nation’. Galvanized by this reception, Churchill departed the Chamber and proceeded to his room in the House of Commons for a 4 p.m. meeting with the War Cabinet.

  The same select group who had witnessed the previous day’s fiery standoff between the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary convened once more to discuss the issue of Italy, in what Roberts describes as ‘an atmosphere pregnant with the sense of impending doom’.

  Lord Halifax spoke first. During the morning meeting, he had informed the Cabinet of the ‘wholly negative reply’ that President Roosevelt had received from Mussolini. Since then, another message had been received from the French Government requesting that a direct approach be made to Italy by Britain and France. Now he repeated his proposal that ‘we should give a clear indication that we should like to see mediation by Italy’, but Churchill, still buoyed from his speech to the Commons, said he felt it was ‘clear that the French purpose was to see Signor Mussolini acting as intermediary between ourselves and Herr Hitler’ and that ‘he was determined not to get into this position’. Halifax – surely thinking ‘here we go again!’ at yet another row-back from Churchill – disagreed strongly with this suggestion, saying that Reynaud’s proposal was ‘that we should say that we were prepared to fight to the death for our independence, but that, provided this could be secured, there were certain concessions that we were prepared to make to Italy’. This was true in respect of Reynaud’s proposal, but Halifax failed to mention that he was in fact referring to a wider European Settlement via Italy. Further than that, he also omitted to mention that the genesis of this idea came from his meeting with the Italian Ambassador, Giuseppe Bastianini, on 25 May, not from the French, who purely wanted to keep Italy from also attacking them.

  Churchill continued, stating that he believed ‘the French were trying to get us on to the slippery slope’. Here again the use of that term, ‘slippery slope’, one almost patented to irritate Halifax. And then, the revelation of an all new position: ‘The position would be entirely different when Germany had made an unsuccessful attempt to invade this country.’

  Was Winston, having agreed to consider a peace deal, now adding the caveat that it should be pursued only after a failed German attempt to invade Britain?

  The idea that Britain, without an army (as it now looked), was equipped to repel a German invasion (which looked likely) was a notion that Halifax did not even want his name linked to.

  He spoke again, happy to dismiss the French proposal, saying there was little prospect that anything would come of it, but focusing on his key concern: his idea of a European settlement or ‘wider aspect’ talks. Hammering this main theme, he felt there was a ‘larger issue’ involved: ‘Assuming that Signor Mussolini wished to play the part of mediator, and that he could produce terms which would not affect our independence, he thought that we ought to be prepared to consider such terms.’ Halifax rejected Churchill’s assertion that Britain would get better terms in several months’ time, after Germany had attempted a failed invasion. He believed quite the opposite, and stated that ‘we must not ignore the fact that we might get better terms before France went out of the war and our aircraft factories were bombed, than we might get in three months’ time’.

  The argument continued, with Churchill adding that:

  Signor Mussolini, if he came in as mediator, would take his whack out of us. It was impossible to imagine that Herr Hitler would be so foolish as to let us continue our re-armament. In effect, his terms would put us completely at his mercy. We should get no worse terms if we went on fighting, even if we were beaten, than were open to us now.

  Halifax was understandably infuriated. He could not fathom what Churchill felt was ‘so wrong’ in the proposed idea of mediatio
n. Chamberlain, sensing this frustration, came in on Halifax’s side, saying, ‘It was clear to the world that we were in a tight corner, and he did not see what we should lose if we said openly that, while we would fight to the end to preserve our independence, we were ready to consider decent terms if such were offered to us.’

  Faced with losing Chamberlain’s support to Halifax, Churchill returned to his rhetorical roots and stated, ‘[T]he nations which went down fighting rose again, but those which surrendered tamely were finished.’ Greenwood agreed, and said that ‘he did not feel that this was a time for ultimate capitulation’. This too incensed Halifax, who – surely feeling that his every word was being deliberately misconstrued – replied, ‘Nothing in his suggestion could even remotely be described as ultimate capitulation.’

  Attlee was worried about public reaction to any word of Anglo-French talks with Germany, and cautioned that ‘it was necessary to pay regard to public opinion in this country . . . when the public realised the true position, they would sustain a severe shock. They would have to make a great effort to maintain their morale, and there was grave danger that, if we did what France wanted, we should find it impossible to rally the morale of the people.’

  In a final attempt to diffuse the tension in the room, and broker some consensus, Chamberlain tried to keep alive the peace process while accepting that the French would be of little use in advancing it. He agreed with the Foreign Secretary’s view on both points: that if Britain could succeed in negotiating terms which ‘although grievous, would not threaten our independence, we should be right to consider such terms’, and then added that the French approach to Mussolini would not achieve this ‘at this present time’.

  At 6.15 p.m. the meeting adjourned. Halifax, with Chamberlain’s help, had kept alive the prospect of peace talks, at least for now. And it was Halifax and Chamberlain whom Winston asked to remain to draft a letter to the French, saying, in effect, thanks but no thanks.

 

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