Sir Earle Page, the Australian representative, did not of course attend the Chiefs of Staff Committee, nor did I invite him to the Defence Committee. By some means or other he was shown a copy of my minute to the Chiefs of Staff. He immediately telegraphed to his Government, and on January 24 we received a message from the Australian Prime Minister, Mr. Curtin, of which the following passages are material:
… Page has reported that the Defence Committee has been considering the evacuation of Malaya and Singapore. After all the assurances we have been given the evacuation of Singapore would be regarded here and elsewhere as an inexcusable betrayal.… We understood that it was to be made impregnable, and in any event it was to be capable of holding out for a prolonged period until the arrival of the main fleet.
Even in an emergency diversion of reinforcements should be to the Netherlands East Indies and not Burma. Anything else would be deeply resented, and might force the Netherlands East Indies to make a separate peace.
On the faith of the proposed flow of reinforcements, we have acted and carried out our part of the bargain. We expect you not to frustrate the whole purpose by evacuation.…
Every allowance must be made for the state of mind into which the Australian Government were thrown by the hideous efficiency of the Japanese war machine. The command of the Pacific was lost; their three best divisions were in Egypt and a fourth at Singapore. They realised that Singapore was in deadly peril, and they feared an actual invasion of Australia itself. All their great cities, containing more than half the whole population of the continent, were on the sea-coast. A mass exodus into the interior and the organising of a guerrilla without arsenals or supplies stared them in the face. Help from the Mother Country was far away, and the power of the United States could only slowly be established in Australasian waters. I did not myself believe that the Japanese would invade Australia across three thousand miles of ocean, when they had so much alluring prey in their clutch in the Dutch East Indies and Malaya. The Australian Cabinet saw the scene in a different light, and deep forebodings pressed upon them all. Even in these straits they maintained their party divisions rigidly. The Labour Government majority was only two. They were opposed to compulsory service even for Home Defence. Although the Opposition was admitted to the War Council no National Government was formed.
Mr. Curtin’s telegram was nevertheless both serious and unusual. The expression “inexcusable betrayal” was not in accordance with the truth or with military facts. A frightful disaster was approaching. Could we avoid it? How did the balance of loss and gain stand? At this time the destination of important forces still rested in our control. There is no “betrayal” in examining such issues with a realistic eye. Moreover, the Australian War Committee could not measure the whole situation. Otherwise they would not have urged the complete neglect of Burma, which was proved by events to be the only place we still had the means to save.
It is not true to say that Mr. Curtin’s message decided the issue. If we had all been agreed upon the policy we should, as I had suggested, certainly have put the case “bluntly” to Wavell. I was conscious however of a hardening of opinion against the abandonment of this renowned key point in the Far East. The effect that would be produced all over the world, especially in the United States, of a British “scuttle” while the Americans fought on so stubbornly at Corregidor was terrible to imagine. There is no doubt what a purely military decision should have been. By general agreement or acquiescence however all efforts were made to reinforce Singapore and to sustain its defence. The 18th British Division, part of which had already landed, went forward on its way.
The value of these and other reinforcements however was less than their numbers suggest. They needed time to get on their tactical feet, and had to be thrown into the losing battle as soon as they were landed. Great hopes were pinned on the Hurricane fighters, of which a considerable quantity had been sent. Here at last were aircraft of quality to match the Japanese. They were assembled with all speed and took the air. For a few days indeed they did much damage, but the conditions were strange to the newly arrived pilots, and before long the Japanese superiority in numbers began increasingly to take its toll. They dwindled fast. The Japanese now had a full five divisions. They came rapidly down the coast and on January 27 General Percival decided to retire to Singapore Island. Every man and vehicle had in the final stage to pass over the Causeway thither. The greater part of one brigade was lost in the early stages, but on the morning of January 31 the rest of the force had crossed and the Causeway was blown up behind them.
At home we no longer nursed illusions about a protracted defence. The only question was how long. Those of the heavy guns of the coast defences which could fire northwards were not of much use, with their limited ammunition, against the jungle-covered country in which the enemy was gathering. Only one squadron of fighter aircraft remained on the island, and only a single aerodrome was now usable. Losses and wastage had reduced the numbers of the garrison, now finally concentrated, from the 106,000 estimated by the War Office to about 85,000 men, including base and administrative units and various non-combatant corps. Of this total probably 70,000 were armed. The preparation of field defences and obstacles, though representing a good deal of local effort, bore no relation to the mortal needs which now arose. There were no permanent defences on the front about to be attacked. The spirit of the Army had been largely reduced by the long retreat and hard fighting on the peninsula. Behind all lay the city of Singapore, which at that time sheltered a population of perhaps a million of many races and a host of refugees.
On the morning of February 8 patrols reported that the enemy were massing in the plantations north-west of the island, and our positions were heavily shelled. At 10.45 p.m. the leading waves of assault were carried across the Johore Strait in armoured landing-craft brought, as the result of long and careful planning, to the launching sites by road. There was very heavy fighting and many craft were sunk, but the Australians were thin on the ground and enemy parties got ashore at many points. Next evening a new and similar attack developed around the Causeway, and again the enemy succeeded in gaining a footing. February 11 was a day of confused fighting on the whole front. The Causeway had been breached towards the enemy’s end, and they were able to repair it rapidly as soon as our covering troops withdrew. The Japanese Imperial Guards advanced across it that night. On the 13th the prepared scheme for evacuating to Java by sea some three thousand nominated individuals was put into effect. Those ordered to go included key men, technicians, surplus staff officers, nurses, and others whose services would be of special value for the prosecution of the war.
By now conditions in the city of Singapore were shocking. Civil labour had collapsed, failure of the water-supply seemed imminent, and reserves of food and ammunition for the troops had been seriously depleted by the loss of depots now in enemy hands. By this time the programme of organised demolitions had been put in hand. The guns of the fixed defences and nearly all field and anti-aircraft guns were destroyed, together with secret equipment and documents. All aviation petrol and aircraft bombs were burnt or blown up. Some confusion arose concerning demolitions in the naval base. The orders were issued, the floating dock was sunk and the caisson and pumping machinery of the graving-dock destroyed, but much else in the full plan was left incomplete. On the 14th Wavell sent me the following message, which seemed conclusive:
Have received telegram from Percival that enemy are close to town and that his troops are incapable of further counter-attack. Have ordered him to continue inflict maximum damage to enemy by house-to-house fighting if necessary. Fear however that resistance not likely to be very prolonged.
The reader will recall my minute to the Chiefs of Staff of January 21 about abandoning the defence of Singapore and diverting reinforcements to Rangoon, and how I did not press this point of view. When all our hearts hardened on fighting it out at Singapore, the only chance of success, and indeed of gaining time, which was all we could hope f
or, was to give imperative orders to fight in desperation to the end. These orders were accepted and endorsed by General Wavell, who indeed put the utmost pressure on General Percival. It is always right that whatever may be the doubts at the summit of war direction the general on the spot should have no knowledge of them and should receive instructions which are simple and plain. But now when it was certain that all was lost at Singapore I was sure it would be wrong to enforce needless slaughter, and without hope of victory to inflict the horrors of street fighting on the vast city, with its teeming, helpless, and now panic-stricken population. I told General Brooke where I stood, and found that he also felt that we should put no more pressure from home upon General Wavell, and should authorise him to take the inevitable decision, for which we should share the responsibility.
Sunday, February 15, 1942, was the day of the capitulation. There were only a few days of military food reserves, gun ammunition was very short, there was practically no petrol left for vehicles. Worst of all, the water-supply was expected to last only another twenty-four hours. General Percival was advised by his senior commanders that of the two alternatives, counter-attack or surrender, the first was beyond the capacity of the exhausted troops. He decided upon capitulation. The Japanese demanded and received unconditional surrender. Hostilities closed at 8.30 p.m.
CHAPTER VIII
THE U-BOAT PARADISE
DESPITE a substantial reconstruction of the Government, my own position had not seemed to be affected in all this period of political tension and change at home and disaster abroad. I was too much occupied with hourly business to have much time for brooding upon it. My personal authority even seemed to be enhanced by the uncertainties affecting several of my colleagues or would-be colleagues. I did not suffer from any desire to be relieved of my responsibilities. All I wanted was compliance with my wishes after reasonable discussion. Misfortunes only brought me and the Chiefs of Staff closer together, and this unity was felt through all the circles of the Government. There was no whisper of intrigue or dissidence, either in the War Cabinet or in the much larger number of Ministers of Cabinet rank. From outside however there was continuous pressure to change my method of conducting the war, with a view to obtaining better results than were now coming in. “We are all with the Prime Minister, but he has too much to do. He should be relieved of some of the burdens that fall upon him.” This was the persistent view, and many theories were pressed. But I was entirely resolved to keep my full power of war-direction. This could only be exercised by combining the offices of Prime Minister and Minister of Defence. More difficulty and toil are often incurred in overcoming opposition and adjusting divergent and conflicting views than by having the right to give decisions oneself. It is most important that at the summit there should be one mind playing over the whole field, faithfully aided and corrected, but not divided in its integrity. I should not of course have remained Prime Minister for an hour if I had been deprived of the office of Minister of Defence. The fact that this was widely known repelled all challenges, even under the most unfavourable conditions, and many well-meant suggestions of committees and other forms of impersonal machinery consequently fell to the ground. I must record my gratitude to all who helped me to succeed.
But the year 1942 was to provide many rude shocks. For the first six months everything went ill. In the Atlantic it proved the toughest of the whole war. The U-boat fleet had grown to nearly two hundred and fifty, of which Admiral Doenitz could report nearly a hundred operational, with fifteen more a month. They ravaged American waters almost uncontrolled. By the end of January thirty-one ships, of nearly 200,000 tons, had been sunk off the United States and Canadian coast. Soon the attack spread southward off Hampton Roads and Cape Hatteras, and thence to the coast of Florida. The great sea highway teemed with defenceless American and Allied shipping. Along it the precious tanker fleet moved in unbroken procession to and from the oil ports of Venezuela and the Gulf of Mexico, and here and in the Caribbean, amid a wealth of targets, the U-boats chose to prey chiefly on the tankers. Neutrals of all kinds were assailed. Week by week the scale of massacre grew. In February they destroyed seventy-one ships, of 384,000 tons, in the Atlantic, of which all but two were sunk in the American zone. This was the highest rate of loss which we had so far suffered. It was soon to be surpassed.
18 + s.w.w.
THE BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC MERCHANT SHIPS SUNK BY U-BOAT IN THE ATLANTIC
THE BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC MERCHANT SHIPS SUNK BY U-BOAT IN THE ATLANTIC
All this destruction, far exceeding anything known in this war, though not reaching the catastrophic figures of the worst period of 1917, was caused by no more than twelve to fifteen boats working in the area at one time. The protection afforded by the United States Navy was for several months hopelessly inadequate. It is surprising indeed that during two years of the advance of total war towards the American continent more provision had not been made against this deadly onslaught. Under the President’s policy of “all aid to Britain short of war” much had been done for us. We had acquired fifty old destroyers and ten American Revenue cutters. In exchange we had given the invaluable West Indian bases. But the vessels were now sadly missed by our Ally. After Pearl Harbour the Pacific pressed heavily on the United States Navy. Still, with all the information they had about our protective measures, both before and during the struggle, it is remarkable that no plans had been made for coastal convoys and for multiplying small craft. Neither had the Coastal Air Defence been developed. The American Army Air Force, which controlled almost all military shore-based aircraft, had no training in anti-submarine warfare, whereas the Navy, equipped with float-planes and amphibians, had not the means to carry it out, and in these crucial months an effective American defence system was only achieved with painful, halting steps.
Our disasters might have been far greater had the Germans sent their heavy surface ships raiding into the Atlantic, but Hitler was obsessed with the idea that we intended to invade Northern Norway at an early date. With his powerful one-track mind he sacrificed a glittering chance and concentrated every available surface ship and many a precious U-boat in Norwegian waters. “Norway,” he said, “is the zone of destiny in this war.” It was indeed, as the reader is aware, most important, but at this time the German opportunity lay in the Atlantic. In vain the admirals argued for a naval offensive. Their Fuehrer remained adamant, and his strategic decision was strengthened by the shortage of oil fuel. Already in January he had sent the Tirpitz, his only battleship, but the strongest in the world, to Trondheim, and on the 12th he determined to recall to their home ports the battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, which had been blockaded in Brest for nearly a year. This led to an incident which caused so much commotion and outcry in England that it requires a digression.
The serious losses in the Mediterranean and the temporary disablement of our whole Eastern Fleet had forced us to send almost all our torpedo-carrying aircraft to protect Egypt against potential overseas invasion. But all possible preparations were made to watch Brest and to attack any sortie with bomb and torpedo by air and sea. Mines were also laid along the presumed route both in the Channel and near the Dutch coast. The Admiralty expected that the passage of the Dover Strait would be attempted by night; but the German admiral preferred to use darkness to elude our patrols when leaving Brest and run the Dover batteries in daylight. He sailed from Brest before midnight on the 11th.
The morning of the 12th was misty, and when the enemy ships were spotted the Radar of our patrolling aircraft broke down. Our shore Radar also failed to detect them. At the time we thought this an unlucky accident. We have learnt since the war that General Martini, the chief of the German Radar, had made a careful plan. The German jamming, hitherto somewhat ineffective, was invigorated by the addition of much new equipment, but in order that nothing should be suspicious it was brought into operation gradually, so that the jamming should appear only a little more vicious each day. Our operators therefore did not complain
unduly, and nobody suspected anything unusual. By February 12 however the jamming had grown so strong that our sea-watching Radar was in fact useless. It was not until 11.25 a.m. that the Admiralty received the news. By then the escaping cruisers and their powerful air and destroyer escort were within twenty miles of Boulogne. Soon after noon the Dover batteries opened fire with their heavy guns, and the first striking force of five motor torpedo boats immediately put to sea and attacked. Six torpedo-carrying Swordfish aircraft from Manston, in Kent, led by Lieutenant-Commander Esmonde (who had led the first attack on the Bismarck), set off without waiting for more than ten Spitfires in support. The Swordfish, fiercely attacked by enemy fighters, discharged their torpedoes against the enemy, but at a heavy cost. None returned, and only five survivors were rescued. Esmonde was awarded a posthumous V.C.
Successive waves of bombers and torpedo-bombers assailed the enemy till nightfall. There was much bitter and confused fighting with the German fighters, in which we suffered more severe losses than the enemy with his superior numbers. When the German cruisers were off the Dutch coast at about 3.30 p.m. five destroyers from Harwich pressed home an attack, launching their torpedoes at about 3,000 yards under tremendous fire. Unscathed either by the Dover batteries or the torpedoes, the squadron held its course, and by the morning of the 13th all their ships had reached home. The news astonished the British public, who could not understand what appeared to them, not unnaturally, to be a proof of the German mastery of the English Channel. Our Secret Service soon found out that both the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau had fallen victims to our air-laid mines. It was six months before the Scharnhorst was capable of service, and the Gneisenau never appeared again in the war. This however could not be made public and national wrath was vehement.
The Second World War Page 69
