The War Cabinet authorised the immediate declaration of war upon Japan, for which all formal arrangements had been made. As Eden had already started on a journey to Moscow and I was in charge of the Foreign Office I sent the following letter to the Japanese Ambassador:
Foreign Office, December 8th
Sir,
On the evening of December jth His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom learned that Japanese forces without previous warning either in the form of a declaration of war or of an ultimatum with a conditional declaration of war had attempted a landing on the coast of Malaya and bombed Singapore and Hong Kong.
In view of these wanton acts of unprovoked aggression committed in flagrant violation of International Law and particularly of Article 1 of the Third Hague Convention relative to the opening of hostilities, to which both Japan and the United Kingdom are parties, His Majesty’s Ambassador at Tokyo has been instructed to inform the Imperial Japanese Government in the name of His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom that a state of war exists between our two countries.
I have the honour to be, with high consideration,
Sir,
Your obedient servant,
WINSTON S. CHURCHILL
Some people did not like this ceremonial style. But after all when you have to kill a man it costs nothing to be polite.
Parliament met at 3 p.m., and in spite of the shortness of notice the House was full. Under the British Constitution the Crown declares war on the advice of Ministers, and Parliament is confronted with the fact. We were therefore able to be better than our word to the United States, and actually declared war upon Japan before Congress could act. The Royal Netherlands Government had also made their declaration. Both Houses voted unanimously in favour of the decision.
We were not told for some time any details of what had happened at Pearl Harbour, but the story has now been exhaustively recorded. Until early in 1941 the Japanese naval plan for war against the United States was for their main fleet to give battle in the waters near the Philippines when the Americans, as might be expected, fought their way across the Pacific to relieve their garrison in this outpost. The idea of a surprise attack on Pearl Harbour originated in the brain of Admiral Yamamoto, the Japanese Commander-in-Chief. Preparation for this treacherous blow before any declaration of war went forward with the utmost secrecy, and by November 22 the striking force of six carriers, with supporting battleships and cruisers, was concentrated in an unfrequented anchorage in the Kurile Islands, north of Japan proper. Already the date of the attack had been fixed for Sunday, December 7, and on November 26 (East longitude date) the force sailed under the command of Admiral Nagumo. Keeping far to the northward of Hawaii, amidst the fog and gales of these northern latitudes, Nagumo approached his goal undetected. Before sunrise on the fateful day the attack was launched from a position about 275 miles to the north of Pearl Harbour. Three hundred and sixty aircraft took part, comprising bombers of all types, escorted by fighters. At 7.55 a.m. the first bomb fell. Ninety-four ships of the United States Navy were present in the harbour. Among them the eight battleships of the Pacific Fleet were the prime targets. The carriers, with strong cruiser forces, were fortunately absent on missions elsewhere. By 10 a.m. the battle was over and the enemy withdrew. Behind them lay a shattered fleet hidden in a pall of fire and smoke, and the vengeance of the United States. The battleship Arizona had blown up, the Oklahoma had capsized, the West Virginia and California had sunk at their moorings, and every other battleship, except the Pennsylvania, which was in dry dock, had been heavily damaged. Over two thousand Americans had lost their lives, and nearly two thousand others were wounded. The mastery of the Pacific had passed into Japanese hands, and the strategic balance of the world was for the time being fundamentally changed.
In the Philippines, where General MacArthur commanded, our American Allies had yet another set of misfortunes. A warning indicating a grave turn in diplomatic relations had been received on November 20. Admiral Hart, commanding the modest United States Asiatic Fleet, had already been in consultation with the adjacent British and Dutch naval authorities, and, in accordance with his war plan, had begun to disperse his forces to the southward, where he intended to assemble a striking force in Dutch waters in conjunction with his prospective allies. He had at his disposal only one heavy and two light cruisers, besides a dozen old destroyers and various auxiliary vessels. His strength lay almost entirely in his submarines, of which he had twenty-eight. At 3 a.m. on December 8 Admiral Hart intercepted a message giving the staggering news of the attack on Pearl Harbour. He at once warned all concerned that hostilities had begun, without waiting for confirmation from Washington. At dawn the Japanese dive-bombers struck, and throughout the ensuing days the air attacks continued on an ever-increasing scale. On the 10th the naval base at Cavite was completely destroyed by fire, and on the same day the Japanese made their first landing in the north of Luzon. Disasters mounted swiftly. Most of the American air forces were destroyed in battle or on the ground, and by December 20 the remnants had been withdrawn to Port Darwin, in Australia. Admiral Hart’s ships had begun their southward dispersal some days before, and only the submarines remained to dispute the sea with the enemy. On December 21 the main Japanese invasion force landed in Lingayen Gulf, threatening Manila itself, and thereafter the march of events was not unlike that which was already in progress in Malaya; but the defence was more prolonged. Thus the long-nurtured plans of Japan exploded in a blaze of triumph.
Both Hitler and his staff were astonished. Jodl tells at his trial how Hitler “came in the middle of the night to my chart room [in East Prussia] in order to transmit this news to Field-Marshal Keitel and myself. He was completely surprised”. On the morning of December 8 however he gave the German Navy orders to attack American ships wherever found. This was three days before the official declaration of war by Germany on the United States.
I convened a meeting, mostly Admiralty, in the Cabinet War Room at ten o’clock on the night of the 9th to review the naval position. We were about a dozen. We tried to measure the consequences of this fundamental change in our war position against Japan. We had lost the command of every ocean except the Atlantic. Australia and New Zealand and all the vital islands in their sphere were open to attack. We had only one key weapon in our hands. The Prince of Wales and the Repulse had arrived at Singapore. They had been sent to these waters to exercise that kind of vague menace which capital ships of the highest quality whose whereabouts is unknown can impose upon all hostile naval calculations. How should we use them now? Obviously they must go to sea and vanish among the innumerable islands. There was general agreement on that.
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I thought myself they should go across the Pacific to join what was left of the American Fleet. It would be a proud gesture at this moment, and would knit the English-speaking world together. We had already cordially agreed to the American Navy Department withdrawing their capital ships from the Atlantic. Thus in a few months there might be a fleet in being on the west coast of America capable of fighting a decisive sea battle if need be. The existence of such a fleet and of such a fact would be the best possible shield to our brothers in Australasia. We were all much attracted by this line of thought. But as the hour was late we decided to sleep on it, and settle the next morning what to do with the Prince of Wales and the Repulse.
Within a couple of hours they were at the bottom of the sea.
I was opening my boxes on the 10th when the telephone at my bedside rang. It was the First Sea Lord. His voice sounded odd. He gave a sort of cough and gulp, and at first I could not hear quite clearly. “Prime Minister, I have to report to you that the Prince of Wales and the Repulse have both been sunk by the Japanese—we think by aircraft. Tom Phillips is drowned.” “Are you sure it’s true?” “There is no doubt at all.” So I put the telephone down. I was thankful to be alone. In all the war I never received a more direct shock. The reader of these pages will realise how many
efforts, hopes, and plans foundered with these two ships. As I turned over and twisted in bed the full horror of the news sank in upon me. There were no British or American capital ships in the Indian Ocean or the Pacific except the American survivors of Pearl Harbour, who were hastening back to California. Over all this vast expanse of waters Japan was supreme, and we everywhere were weak and naked.
I went down to the House of Commons as soon as they met at eleven that morning to tell them myself what had happened, and next day I made them a full statement upon the new situation. There was much anxiety and not a little discontent with the long-drawn battle in Libya, which evidently hung in the balance. I did not at all conceal the prospect that very severe punishment awaited us at the hands of Japan. On the other hand, the Russian victories had revealed the fatal error of Hitler’s Eastern campaign, and winter was still to assert its power. The U-boat war was at the moment under control, and our losses greatly reduced. Finally, four-fifths of the world were now fighting on our side. Ultimate victory was certain. In this sense I spoke.
I used the coldest form of factual narration, avoiding all promises of early success. The House was very silent, and seemed to hold its judgment in suspense. I did not seek or expect more.
CHAPTER V
A VOYAGE AMID WORLD WAR
MANY serious reasons required my presence in London at this moment when so much was molten. I never had any doubt that a complete understanding between Britain and the United States outweighed all else, and that I must go to Washington at once with the strongest team of expert advisers who could be spared. It was thought too risky for us to go by air at this season in an unfavourable direction. Accordingly we travelled on the 12th to the Clyde. The Prince of Wales was no more. The King George V was watching the Tirpitz. The newborn Duke of York could carry us, and work herself up to full efficiency at the same time. The principals of our party were Lord Beaverbrook, a member of the War Cabinet; Admiral Pound, First Sea Lord; Air-Marshal Portal, Chief of the Air Staff; and Field-Marshal Dill, who had now been succeeded by General Brooke as Chief of the Imperial General Staff. I was anxious that Brooke should remain in London in order to grip the tremendous problems that awaited him. In his place I invited Dill, who was still in the centre of our affairs, trusted and respected by all, to come with me to Washington. Here a new sphere was to open to him.
With me also came Lord Moran, who had during 1941 become my constant medical adviser. This was his first voyage with me, but afterwards he came on all the journeys. To his unfailing care I probably owe my life. Although I could not persuade him to take my advice when he was ill, nor could he always count on my implicit obedience to all his instructions, we became devoted friends. Moreover, we both survived.
It was hoped to make the passage at an average of 20 knots in seven days, having regard to zigzags and détours to avoid the plotted U-boats. The Admiralty turned us down the Irish Channel into the Bay of Biscay. The weather was disagreeable. There was a heavy gale and a rough sea. The sky was covered with patchy clouds. We had to cross the out-and-home U-boat stream from the Western French ports to their Atlantic hunting grounds. There were so many of them about that our captain was ordered by the Admiralty not to leave our flotilla behind us; but the flotilla could not make more than six knots in the heavy seas, and we paddled along at this pace round the South of Ireland for forty-eight hours. We passed within four hundred miles of Brest, and I could not help remembering how the Prince of Wales and the Repulse had been destroyed by shore-based torpedo aircraft attack the week before. The clouds had prevented all but an occasional plane of our air escort from joining us, but when I went on the bridge I saw a lot of unwelcome blue sky appearing. However, nothing happened, so all was well. The great ship with her attendant destroyers plodded on. But we became impatient with her slow speed. On the second night we approached the U-boat stream. Admiral Pound, who took the decision, said that we were more likely to ram a U-boat than to be torpedoed by one ourselves. The night was pitch-black. So we cast off our destroyers and ran through alone at the best speed possible in the continuing rough weather. We were battened down and great seas beat upon the decks. Lord Beaverbrook complained that he might as well have travelled in a submarine.
Our very large deciphering staff could of course receive by wireless a great deal of business. To a limited extent we could reply. When fresh escorts joined us from the Azores they could take in by daylight Morse signals from us in code, and then, dropping off a hundred miles or so, could transmit them without revealing our position. Still, there was a sense of radio claustrophobia—and we were in the midst of world war.
The fighting proceeded in all the theatres. Hong Kong had been attacked by Japan at nearly the same moment of time as Pearl Harbour. I had no illusions about its fate under the overwhelming impact of Japanese power. Twelve months earlier I had deprecated strengthening our garrison. Their loss was certain and they should have been reduced to a symbolical scale, but I had allowed myself to be drawn from this position and reinforcements had been sent. From the outset they were faced with a task beyond their powers. For a week they held out. Every man who could bear arms took part in a desperate resistance. Their tenacity was matched by the fortitude of the British civilian population. On Christmas Day the limit of endurance was reached and capitulation became inevitable. Another set of disasters loomed upon us in Malaya. The Japanese landings on the peninsula were accompanied by damaging raids on our airfields which badly crippled our already weak air forces and soon made the northerly aerodromes unusable. By the end of the month our troops, several times heavily engaged, were in action a full hundred and fifty miles from the position they had first held, and the Japanese had landed at least three full divisions, including their Imperial Guard. The quality of the enemy planes, speedily deployed on captured airfields, exceeded all expectations. We had been thrown on to the defensive and our losses were severe.
Everyone in our party worked incessantly while the Duke of York plodded westwards, and all our thoughts were focused on the new and vast problems we had to solve. We looked forward with eagerness, but also with some anxiety, to our first direct contact as allies with the President and his political and military advisers. We knew before we left that the outrage of Pearl Harbour had stirred the people of the United States to their depths. The official reports and the Press summaries we had received gave the impression that the whole fury of the nation would be turned upon Japan. We feared lest the true proportion of the war as a whole might not be understood. We were conscious of a serious danger that the United States might pursue the war against Japan in the Pacific and leave us to fight Germany and Italy in Europe, Africa, and in the Middle East.
The first Battle of the Atlantic against the U-boats had turned markedly in our favour. We did not doubt our power to keep open our ocean paths. We felt sure we could defeat Hitler if he tried to invade the Island. We were encouraged by the strength of the Russian resistance. We were unduly hopeful about our Libyan campaign. But all our future plans depended upon a vast flow of American supplies of all kinds, such as were now streaming across the Atlantic. Especially we counted on planes and tanks, as well as on the stupendous American merchant-ship construction. Hitherto, as a non-belligerent, the President had been able and willing to divert large supplies of equipment from the American armed forces, since these were not engaged. This process was bound to be restricted now that the United States was at war with Germany, Italy, and above all Japan. Home needs would surely come first? Already, after Russia had been attacked, we had rightly sacrificed to aid the Soviet armies a large portion of the equipment and supplies now at last arriving from our factories. The United States had diverted to Russia even larger quantities of supplies than we otherwise would have received ourselves. We had fully approved of all this on account of the splendid resistance which Russia was offering to the Nazi invader.
It had been none the less hard to delay the equipment of our own forces, and especially to withhold vitally needed
weapons from our army fiercely engaged in Libya. We must presume that “America first” would become the dominant principle with our Ally. We feared that there would be a long interval before American forces came into action on a great scale, and that during this period of preparation we should necessarily be greatly straitened. This would happen at a time when we ourselves had to face a new and terrible antagonist in Malaya, the Indian Ocean, Burma, and India. Evidently the partition of supplies would require profound attention and would be fraught with many difficulties and delicate aspects. Already we had been notified that all the schedules of deliveries under Lend-Lease had been stopped pending readjustment. Happily the output of the British munitions and aircraft factories was now acquiring scope and momentum, and would soon be very large indeed. But a long array of “bottlenecks” and possible denials of key items, which would affect the whole range of our production, loomed before our eyes as our battleship drove on through the incessant gales. Beaverbrook was, as usual in times of trouble, optimistic. He declared that the resources of the United States had so far not even been scratched; that they were immeasurable, and that once the whole force of the American people was diverted to the struggle results would be achieved far beyond anything that had been projected or imagined. Moreover, he thought the Americans did not yet realise their strength in the production field. All the present statistics would be surpassed and swept away by the American effort. There would be enough for all. In this his judgment was right.
All these considerations paled before the main strategic issue. Should we be able to persuade the President and the American Service chiefs that the defeat of Japan would not spell the defeat of Hitler, but that the defeat of Hitler made the finishing off of Japan merely a matter of time and trouble? Many long hours did we spend revolving this grave issue. The two Chiefs of Staff and General Dill with Hollis and his officers prepared several papers dealing with the whole subject and emphasising the view that the war was all one. As will be seen, these labours and fears both proved needless.
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