The eight days’ voyage, with its enforced reduction of current business, with no Cabinet meetings to attend or people to receive, enabled me to pass in review the whole war as I saw and felt it in the light of its sudden vast expansion. I recalled Napoleon’s remark about the value of being able to focus objects in the mind for a long time without being tired—“fixer les objets longtemps sans être fatigué”. As usual I tried to do this by setting forth my thought in typescript by dictation. In order to prepare myself for meeting the President and for the American discussions and to make sure that I carried with me the two Chiefs of Staff, Pound and Portal, and General Dill, and that the facts could be checked in good time by General Hollis and the Secretariat, I produced three papers on the future course of the war, as I conceived it should be steered. Each paper took four or five hours, spread over two or three days. As I had the whole picture in my mind it all came forth easily, but very slowly. In fact, it could have been written out two or three times in longhand in the same period. As each document was completed after being checked I sent it to my professional colleagues as an expression of my personal convictions. They were at the same time preparing papers of their own for the combined Staff conferences. I was glad to find that although my theme was more general and theirs more technical there was our usual harmony on principles and values. No differences were expressed which led to argument, and very few of the facts required correction. Thus, though nobody was committed in a precise or rigid fashion, we all arrived with a body of doctrine of a constructive character on which we were broadly united.
The first paper assembled the reasons why our main objective for the campaign of 1942 in the European theatre should be the occupation of the whole coastline of Africa and of the Levant from Dakar to the Turkish frontier by British and American forces. The second dealt with the measures which should be taken to regain the command of the Pacific, and specified May 1942 as the month when this could be achieved. It dwelt particularly upon the need to multiply aircraft-carriers by improvising them in large numbers. The third declared as the ultimate objective the liberation of Europe by the landing of large Anglo-American armies wherever was thought best in the German-conquered territory, and fixed the year 1943 as the date for this supreme stroke.
So many tales have been published of my rooted aversion from large-scale operations on the Continent that it is important that the truth should be emphasised. I always considered that a decisive assault upon the German-occupied countries on the largest possible scale was the only way in which the war could be won, and that the summer of 1943 should be chosen as the target date. The scale of the operation contemplated by me was already before the end of 1941 set at forty armoured divisions and a million other troops as essential for the opening phase. When I notice the number of books which have been written on a false assumption of my attitude on this issue, I feel bound to direct the attention of the reader to the authentic and responsible documents written at the time, of which other instances will be given as the account proceeds.*
I gave these three papers to the President before Christmas. I explained that while they were my own personal views, they did not supersede any formal communications between the Staffs. I couched them in the form of memoranda for the British Chiefs of Staff Committee. Moreover, I told him they were not written expressly for his eye, but that I thought it important that he should know what was in my mind and what I wanted to have done and, so far as Great Britain was concerned, would try to bring to action. He read them immediately after receiving them, and the next day asked whether he might keep copies of them. To this I gladly assented.
I felt indeed that the President was thinking very much along the same lines as I was about action in French North Africa. We were now Allies, and must act in common and on a greater scale. I was confident that he and I would find a large measure of agreement and that the ground had been well prepared. I was therefore in a hopeful mood, and, as will be seen, I eventually obtained the President’s agreement to an expedition to North Africa (Operation “Torch”), which constituted our first great joint amphibious offensive.
While however it is vital to plan the future, and sometimes possible to forecast it in certain respects, no one can help the time-table of such mighty events being deranged by the actions and counter-strokes of the enemy. All the objectives in these memoranda were achieved by the British and United States forces in the order there set forth. My hopes that General Auchinleck would clear Libya in February 1942 were disappointed. He underwent a series of grievous reverses which will presently be described. Hitler, perhaps encouraged by this success, determined upon a large-scale effort to fight for Tunis, and presently moved about a hundred thousand fresh troops thither through Italy and across the Mediterranean. The British and American Armies therefore became involved in a larger and longer campaign in North Africa than I had contemplated. A delay of four months was for this reason enforced upon the time-table. The Anglo-American Allies did not obtain control of the whole North African shore from Tunis to Egypt until May 1943. The supreme plan of crossing the Channel to liberate France, for which I had earnestly hoped and worked, could not therefore be undertaken that summer, and was perforce postponed for one whole year, till the summer of 1944.
Subsequent reflection and the full knowledge we now possess have convinced me that we were fortunate in our disappointment. The year’s delay in the expedition saved us from what would at that date have been at the best an enterprise of extreme hazard, with the probability of a world-shaking disaster. If Hitler had been wise he would have cut his losses in North Africa and would have met us in France with double the strength he had in 1944, before the newly raised American armies and staffs had reached their full professional maturity and excellence, and long before the enormous armadas of landing-craft and the floating harbours (Mulberries) had been specially constructed. I am sure now that even if Operation “Torch” had ended as I hoped in 1942, or even if it had never been tried, the attempt to cross the Channel in 1943 would have led to a bloody defeat of the first magnitude, with measureless reactions upon the result of the war. I became increasingly conscious of this during the whole of 1943, and therefore accepted as inevitable the postponement of “Overlord”, while fully understanding the vexation and anger of our Soviet Ally.
It had been intended that we should steam up the Potomac and motor to the White House, but we were all impatient after nearly ten days at sea to end our journey. We therefore arranged to fly from Hampton Roads, and landed after dark on December 22 at the Washington airport. There was the President waiting in his car. I clasped his strong hand with comfort and pleasure. We soon reached the White House, which was to be in every sense our home for the next three weeks. Here we were welcomed by Mrs. Roosevelt, who thought of everything that could make our stay agreeable.
I must confess that my mind was so occupied with the whirl of events and the personal tasks I had to perform that my memory till refreshed had preserved but a vague impression of these days. The outstanding feature was of course my contacts with the President. We saw each other for several hours every day, and lunched always together, with Harry Hopkins as a third. We talked of nothing but business, and reached a great measure of agreement on many points, both large and small. Dinner was a more social occasion, but equally intimate and friendly. The President punctiliously made the prehminary cocktails himself, and I wheeled him in his chair from the drawing-room to the lift as a mark of respect, and thinking also of Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak before Queen Elizabeth. I formed a very strong affection, which grew with our years of comradeship, for this formidable politician who had imposed his will for nearly ten years upon the American scene, and whose heart seemed to respond to many of the impulses that stirred my own. As we both, by need or habit, were forced to do much of our work in bed, he visited me in my room whenever he felt inclined, and encouraged me to do the same to him. Hopkins was just across the passage from my bedroom, and next door to him my travelling m
ap room was soon installed. The President was much interested in this institution, which Captain Pim had perfected. He liked to come and study attentively the large maps of all the theatres of war which soon covered the walls, and on which the movement of fleets and armies was so accurately and swiftly recorded. It was not long before he established a map room of his own of the highest efficiency.
The days passed, counted in hours. Quite soon I realised that immediately after Christmas I must address the Congress of the United States, and a few days later the Canadian Parliament in Ottawa. These great occasions imposed heavy demands on my life and strength, and were additional to all the daily consultations and mass of current business. In fact, I do not know how I got through it all.
Simple festivities marked our Christmas. The traditional Christmas tree was set up in the White House garden, and the President and I made brief speeches from the balcony to enormous crowds gathered in the gloom. He and I went to church together on Christmas Day, and I found peace in the simple service and enjoyed singing the well-known hymns, and one, “O little town of Bethlehem”, I had never heard before. Certainly there was much to fortify the faith of all who believe in the moral governance of the universe.
17*
It was with heart-stirrings that I fulfilled the invitation to address the Congress of the United States. The occasion was important for what I was sure was the all-conquering alliance of the English-speaking peoples. I had never addressed a foreign Parliament before. Yet to me, who could trace unbroken male descent on my mother’s side through five generations from a lieutenant who served in George Washington’s army, it was possible to feel a blood-right to speak to the representatives of the great Republic in our common cause. It certainly was odd that it should all work out this way; and once again I had the feeling, for mentioning which I may be pardoned, of being used, however unworthy, in some appointed plan.
I spent a good part of Christmas Day preparing my speech. The President wished me good luck when on December 26 I set out in the charge of the leaders of the Senate and House of Representatives from the White House to the Capitol. There seemed to be great crowds along the broad approaches, but the security precautions, which in the United States go far beyond British custom, kept them a long way off, and two or three motor-cars filled with armed plain-clothes policemen clustered around as escort. On getting out I wished to walk up to the cheering masses in a strong mood of brotherhood, but this was not allowed. Inside the scene was impressive and formidable, and the great semicircular hall, visible to me through a grille of microphones, was thronged.
I must confess that I felt quite at home, and more sure of myself than I had sometimes been in the House of Commons. What I said was received with the utmost kindness and attention. I got my laughter and applause just where I expected them. The loudest response was when, speaking of the Japanese outrage, I asked, “What sort of people do they think we are?” The sense of the might and will-power of the American nation streamed up to me from the august assembly. Who could doubt that all would be well? Afterwards the leaders came along with me close up to the crowds which surrounded the building, so that I could give them an intimate greeting; and then the Secret Service men and their cars closed round and took me back to the White House, where the President, who had listened in, told me I had done quite well.
I travelled by the night train of December 28-29 to Ottawa, to stay with Lord Athlone, the Governor-General. On the 29th I attended a meeting of the Canadian War Cabinet. Thereafter Mr. Mackenzie King, the Prime Minister, introduced me to the leaders of the Conservative Opposition, and left me with them. These gentlemen were unsurpassed in loyalty and resolution, but at the same time they were rueful not to have the honour of waging the war themselves, and at having to listen to so many of the sentiments which they had championed all their lives expressed by their Liberal opponents.
On the 30th I spoke to the Canadian Parliament. The preparation of my two transatlantic speeches, transmitted all over the world, amid all the flow of executive work, which never stopped, was an extremely hard exertion. Delivery is no serious burden to a hard-bitten politician, but choosing what to say and what not to say in such an electric atmosphere is anxious and harassing. I did my best. The most successful point in the Canadian speech was about the Vichy Government, with whom Canada was still in relations.
It was their duty [in 1940] and it was also their interest to go to North Africa, where they would have been at the head of the French Empire. In Africa, with our aid, they would have had overwhelming sea-power. They would have had the recognition of the United States, and the use of all the gold they had lodged beyond the seas. If they had done this Italy might have been driven out of the war before the end of 1940, and France would have held her place as a nation in the councils of the Allies and at the conference table of the victors. But their generals misled them. When I warned them that Britain would fight on alone whatever they did, their generals told their Prime Minister and his divided Cabinet, “In three weeks England will have her neck wrung like a chicken.” Some chicken! Some neck!
This went very well. I quoted, to introduce a retrospect, Sir Harry Lauder’s song of the last war which began:
If we all look back on the history of the past
We can just tell where we are.
The words “that grand old comedian” were on my notes. On the way down I thought of the word “minstrel”. What an improvement! I rejoice to know that he was listening and was delighted at the reference. I am so glad I found the right word for one who, by his inspiring songs and valiant life, rendered measureless service to the Scottish race and to the British Empire.
I was lucky in the timing of these speeches in Washington and Ottawa. They came at the moment when we could all rejoice at the creation of the Grand Alliance, with its overwhelming potential force, and before the cataract of ruin fell upon us from the long, marvellously prepared assault of Japan. Even while I spoke in confident tones I could feel in anticipation the lashes which were soon to score our naked flesh. Fearful forfeits had to be paid not only by Britain and Holland but by the United States, in the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and in all the Asiatic lands and islands they lap with their waves. An indefinite period of military disaster lay certainly before us. Many dark and weary months of defeat and loss must be endured before the light would come again. When I returned in the train to Washington on New Year’s Eve I was asked to go into the carriage filled with many leading Pressmen of the United States. It was with no illusions that I wished them all a glorious New Year. “Here’s to 1942. Here’s to a year of toil—a year of struggle and peril, and a long step forward towards victory. May we all come through safe and with honour!”
CHAPTER VI
ANGLO-AMERICAN ACCORDS
THE first major design which was presented to me by Mr. Roosevelt after my arrival from England had been the drawing up of a solemn Declaration to be signed by all the nations at war with Germany and Italy, or with Japan. The President and I, repeating our methods in framing the Atlantic Charter, prepared drafts of the Declaration and blended them together. In principle, in sentiment, and indeed in language, we were in full accord. At home the War Cabinet was at once surprised and thrilled by the scale on which the Grand Alliance was planned. There was much rapid correspondence, and some difficult points arose about what Governments and authorities should sign the Declaration, and also on the order of precedence. We gladly accorded the first place to the United States, and on my return to the White House all was ready for the signature of the United Nations Pact. Many telegrams had passed between Washington, London, and Moscow, but now all was settled. The President had exerted his most fervent efforts to persuade Litvinov, the Soviet Ambassador, newly restored to favour by the turn of events, to accept the phrase “religious freedom”. He was invited to luncheon with us in the President’s room on purpose. After his hard experiences in his own country he had to be careful. Later on the President had a long talk with him alone about h
is soul and the dangers of hell-fire. The accounts which Mr. Roosevelt gave us on several occasions of what he said to the Russian were impressive. Indeed, on one occasion I promised Mr. Roosevelt to recommend him for the position of Archbishop of Canterbury if he should lose the next Presidential election. I did not however make any official recommendation to the Cabinet or the Crown upon this point, and as he won the election in 1944 it did not arise. Litvinov reported the issue about “religious freedom” in evident fear and trembling to Stalin, who accepted it as a matter of course. The War Cabinet also got their point in about “social security”, with which, as the author of the first Unemployment Insurance Act, I cordially concurred. After a spate of telegrams had flowed about the world for a week agreement was reached throughout the Grand Alliance.
The title of “United Nations” was substituted by the President for that of “Associated Powers”. I thought this a great improvement. I showed my friend the lines from Byron’s Childe Harold:
Here, where the sword United Nations drew,
Our countrymen were warring on that day!
And this is much—and all—which will not pass away.
The President was wheeled in to me on the morning of January 1. I got out of my bath, and agreed to the draft. The Declaration could not by itself win battles, but it set forth who we were and what we were fighting for. Later that day Roosevelt, I, Litvinov, and Soong, representing China, signed this majestic document in the President’s study. It was left to the State Department to collect the signatures of the remaining twenty-two nations. The final text must be recorded here.
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