I strongly urged that we should at once pool all our information, work together on equal terms, and share the results, if any, equally between us. The question then arose as to where the research plant was to be set up. We were already aware of the enormous expense that must be incurred, with all the consequent grave diversion of resources and brain-power from other forms of war effort. Considering that Great Britain was under close bombing attack and constant enemy air reconnaissance, it seemed impossible to erect in the Island the vast and conspicuous factories that were needed. We conceived ourselves at least as far advanced as our Ally, and there was of course the alternative of Canada, who had a vital contribution herself to make through the supplies of uranium she had actively gathered. It was a hard decision to spend several hundred million pounds sterling, not so much of money as of competing forms of precious war-energy, upon a project the success of which no scientist on either side of the Atlantic could guarantee. Nevertheless, if the Americans had not been willing to undertake the venture we should certainly have gone forward on our own power in Canada, or, if the Canadian Government demurred, in some other part of the Empire. I was however very glad when Mr. Roosevelt said he thought the United States would have to do it. We therefore took this decision jointly, and settled a basis of agreement. I shall continue the story in a later chapter. But meanwhile I have no doubt that it was the progress we had made in Britain and the confidence of our scientists in ultimate success imparted to the President that led him to his grave and fateful decision.
Late on the night of the 20th the Presidential train bore us back to Washington, which we reached about eight o’clock the next morning. We were heavily escorted to the White House, and I was again accorded the very large air-conditioned room, in which I dwelt in comfort at about thirty degrees below the temperature of most of the rest of the building. 1 glanced at the newspapers, read telegrams for an hour, had my breakfast, looked up Harry across the passage, and then went to see the President in his study. General Ismay came with me. Presently a telegram was put into the President’s hands. He passed it to me without a word. It said, “Tobruk has surrendered, with twenty-five thousand men taken prisoners.” This was so surprising that I could not believe it. I therefore asked Ismay to inquire of London by telephone. In a few minutes he brought the following message, which had just arrived from Admiral Harwood at Alexandria.*
Tobruk has fallen, and situation deteriorated so much that there is a possibility of heavy air attack on Alexandria in near future, and in view of approaching full moon period I am sending all Eastern Fleet units south of the Canal to await events. I hope to get H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth out of dock towards end of this week.*
This was one of the heaviest blows I can recall during the war. Not only were its military effects grievous, but it affected the reputation of the British armies. At Singapore eighty-five thousand men had surrendered to inferior numbers of Japanese. Now in Tobruk a garrison of twenty-five thousand (actually thirty-three thousand) seasoned soldiers had laid down their arms to perhaps one-half of their number. If this was typical of the morale of the Desert Army, no measure could be put upon the disasters which impended in North-East Africa. I did not attempt to hide from the President the shock I had received. It was a bitter moment. Defeat is one tiling; disgrace is another. Nothing could exceed the sympathy and chivalry of my two friends. There were no reproaches; not an unkind word was spoken. “What can we do to help?” said Roosevelt. I replied at once, “Give us as many Sherman tanks as you can spare, and ship them to the Middle East as quickly as possible.” The President sent for General Marshall, who arrived in a few minutes, and told him of my request. Marshall replied, “Mr. President, the Shermans are only just coming into production. The first few hundred have been issued to our own armoured divisions, who have hitherto had to be content with obsolete equipment. It is a terrible thing to take the weapons out of a soldier’s hands. Nevertheless, if the British need is so great they must have them; and we could let them have a hundred 105-mm. self-propelled guns in addition.”
To complete the story it must be stated that the Americans were better than their word. Three hundred Sherman tanks with engines not yet installed and a hundred self-propelled guns were put into six of their fastest ships and sent off to the Suez Canal. The ship containing the engines for all the tanks was sunk by a submarine off Bermuda. Without a single word from us the President and Marshall put a further supply of engines into another fast ship and dispatched it to overtake the convoy. “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”
On June 21, when we were alone together after lunch, Harry said to me, “There are a couple of American officers the President would like you to meet, as they are very highly thought of in the Army, by Marshall, and by him.” At five o’clock therefore Major-Generals Eisenhower and Clark were brought to my air-cooled room. I was immediately impressed by these remarkable but hitherto unknown men. They had both come from the President, whom they had just seen for the first time. We talked almost entirely about the major cross-Channel invasion in 1943, “Round-up”, as it was then called, on which their thoughts had evidently been concentrated. We had a most agreeable discussion, lasting for over an hour. I felt sure that these officers were intended to play a great part in it, and that was the reason why they had been sent to make my acquaintance. Thus began a friendship which across all the ups and downs of war I have preserved with deep satisfaction to this day.
Meanwhile the surrender of Tobruk reverberated round the world. On the 22nd Hopkins and I were at lunch with the President in his room. Presently Mr. Elmer Davis, the head of the Office of War Information, arrived with a bunch of New York newspapers, showing flaring headlines about “ANGER IN ENGLAND”, “TOBRUK FALL MAY BRING CHANGE OF GOVERNMENT”. “CHURCHILL TO BE CENSURED”, etc. I had been invited by General Marshall to visit one of the American Army camps in South Carolina. We were to start by train with him and Mr. Stimson on the night of June 23. Mr. Davis asked me seriously whether, in view of the political situation at home, I thought it wise to carry out the programme, which of course had been elaborately arranged. Might it not be misinterpreted if I were inspecting troops in America when matters of such vital consequence were taking place both in Africa and London? I replied that I would certainly carry out the inspections as planned, and that I doubted whether I should be able to provoke twenty members into the Lobby against the Government on an issue of confidence. This was in fact about the number which the malcontents eventually obtained.
Accordingly I started by train next night for South Carolina, and arrived at Fort Jackson the next morning. The train drew up, not at a station, but in the open plain. It was a very hot day, and we got out of the train straight on to the parade ground, which recalled the plains of India in the hot weather. We went first to an awning and saw the American armour and infantry march past. Next we watched the parachute exercises. They were impressive and convincing. I had never seen a thousand men leap into the air at once. I was given a “walkietalkie” to carry. This was the first time I had ever handled such a convenience. In the afternoon we saw the mass-produced American divisions doing field exercises with live ammunition. At the end I said to Ismay (to whom I am indebted for this account), “What do you think of it?” He replied, “To put these troops against German troops would be murder.” Whereupon I said, “You’re wrong. They are wonderful material and will learn very quickly.” To my American hosts however I consistently pressed my view that it takes two years or more to make a soldier. Certainly two years later the troops we saw in Carolina bore themselves like veterans.
We flew back to Washington on the afternoon of the 24th, where I received various reports, and next evening I set out for Baltimore, where my flying-boat lay. The President bade me farewell at the White House with all his grace and courtesy, and Harry Hopkins and Averell Harriman came to see me off. The narrow, closed-in gangway which led to the water was heavily guarded by armed American police. There seemed to be an air of excitement, a
nd the officers looked serious. Before we took off I was told that one of the plain-clothes men on duty had been caught fingering a pistol and heard muttering that he would “do me in”, with some other expressions of an unappreciative character. He had been pounced upon and arrested. Afterwards he turned out to be a lunatic. Crackpates are a special danger to public men, as they do not worry about the “get away”.
We came down at Botwood the next morning in order to refuel, and took off again after a meal of fresh lobsters. Thereafter I ate at stomach-time—i.e., with the usual interval between meals—and slept whenever possible. I sat in the co-pilot’s seat as, after flying over Northern Ireland, we approached the Clyde at dawn, and landed safely. My train was waiting, with Peck, one of my personal secretaries, and a mass of boxes, and four or five days’ newspapers. In an hour we were off to the South. It appeared that we had lost a by-election by a sweeping turn-over at Maldon. This was one of the by-products of Tobruk.
This seemed to me to be a bad time. I went to bed, browsed about in the files for a while, and then slept for four or five hours till we reached London. What a blessing is the gift of sleep! The War Cabinet were on the platform to greet me on arrival, and I was soon at work in the Cabinet Room.
19*
CHAPTER XII
THE VOTE OF CENSURE
THE chatter and criticisms of the Press, where the sharpest pens were busy and many shrill voices raised, found its counterpart in the activities of a few score of Members in the House of Commons, and a fairly glum attitude on the part of our immense majority. A party Government might well have been overturned at this juncture, if not by a vote, by the kind of intensity of opinion which led Mr. Chamberlain to relinquish power in May 1940. But the National Coalition Government, fortified by a reconstruction in February, was massive and overwhelming in its strength and unity. All its principal Ministers stood together around me, with never a thought that was not loyal and robust. I seemed to have maintained the confidence of all those who watched with full knowledge the unfolding story and shared the responsibilities. No one faltered. There was not a whisper of intrigue. We were a strong, unbreakable circle, and capable of withstanding any external political attack and of persevering in the common cause through every disappointment.
We had had a long succession of misfortunes and defeats—Malaya, Singapore, Burma; Auchinleck’s lost battle in the Desert; Tobruk, unexplained, and, it seemed, inexplicable; the rapid retreat of the Desert army and the loss of all our conquests in Libya and Cyrenaica; four hundred miles of retrogression towards the Egyptian frontier; over fifty thousand of our men casualties or prisoners. We had lost vast masses of artillery, ammunition, vehicles, and stores of all kinds. We were back again at Mersa Matruh, at the old positions of two years before, but this time with Rommel and his Germans triumphant, pressing forward in our captured lorries fed with our oil supplies, in many cases firing our own ammunition. Only a few more marches, one more success, and Mussolini and Rommel would enter Cairo, or its ruins, together. All hung in the balance, and after the surprising reverses we had sustained, and in face of the unknown factors at work, who would predict how the scales would turn?
The Parliamentary situation required prompt definition. It seemed however rather difficult to demand another Vote of Confidence from the House so soon after that which had preceded the collapse of Singapore. It was therefore very convenient when on June 25 the discontented Members decided among themselves to place a Vote of Censure on the Order Paper. It read as follows:
That this House, while paying tribute to the heroism and endurance of the Armed Forces of the Crown in circumstances of exceptional difficulty, has no confidence in the central direction of the war.
It stood in the name of Sir John Wardlaw-Milne, an influential member of the Conservative Party. He was chairman of the powerful all-party Finance Committee, whose reports of cases of administrative waste and inefficiency I had always studied with close attention. The Committee had a great deal of information at their disposal and many contacts with the outer circle of our war machine. When it was also announced that the motion would be seconded by Admiral of the Fleet Sir Roger Keyes, and supported by the former Secretary of State for War, Mr. Hore-Belisha, it was at once evident that a serious challenge had been made. Indeed, in some newspapers and in the lobbies the talk ran of an approaching political crisis which would be decisive.
I said at once that we would give full opportunity for public debate, and fixed July 1 for the occasion. There was one announcement I felt it necessary to make, and I telegraphed to Auchinleck: “When I speak in the Vote of Censure debate on Thursday, about 4 p.m., I deem it necessary to announce that you have taken the command in supersession of Ritchie as from June 25.”
The battle crisis in Egypt grew steadily worse, and it was widely believed that Cairo and Alexandria would soon fall to Rommel’s flaming sword. Mussolini indeed made preparations to fly to Rommel’s headquarters with the idea of taking part in the triumphal entry to one or both of these cities. It seemed that we should reach a climax on the Parliamentary and Desert fronts at the same moment. When it was realised by our critics that they would be faced by our united National Government some of their ardour evaporated, and the mover of the motion offered to withdraw it if the critical situation in Egypt rendered public discussion untimely. We had however no intention of letting them escape so easily. Considering that for nearly three weeks the whole world, friend or foe, had been watching with anxiety the mounting political and military tension, it was impossible not to bring matters to a head.
The debate was opened by Sir John Wardlaw-Milne in an able speech in which he posed the main issue. This motion was “not an attack upon officers in the field. It is a definite attack upon the central direction here in London, and I hope to show that the causes of our failure lie here far more than in Libya or elsewhere. The first vital mistake that we made in the war was to combine the offices of Prime Minister and Minister of Defence.” He dilated upon the “enormous duties” cast upon the holder of the two offices. “We must have a strong, full-time leader as the chief of the Chiefs of Staff Committee. I want a strong and independent man appointing his generals and his admirals and so on. I want a strong man in charge of all three branches of the Armed Forces of the Crown … strong enough to demand all the weapons which are necessary for victory … to see that his generals and admirals and air marshals are allowed to do their work in their own way and are not interfered with unduly from above. Above all, I want a man who, if he does not get what he wants, will immediately resign.… We have suffered both from the want of the closest examination by the Prime Minister of what is going on here at home, and also by the want ofthat direction which we should get from the Minister of Defence, or other officer, whatever his title might be, in charge of the Armed Forces.… It is surely clear to any civilian that the series of disasters of the past few months, and indeed of the past two years, is due to fundamental defects in the central administration of the war.”
All this was making its point, but Sir John then made a digression. “It would be a very desirable move—if His Majesty the King and His Royal Highness would agree—if His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester were to be appointed Commander-in-Chief of the British Army—without of course administrative duties.” This proved injurious to his case, as it was deemed a proposal to involve the Royal Family in grievous controversial responsibilities. Also the appointment of a Supreme War Commander with almost unlimited powers and his association with a Royal Duke seemed to have some flavour of dictatorship about it. From this moment the long and detailed indictment seemed to lose some of its pith. Sir John concluded, “The House should make it plain that we require one man to give his whole time to the winning of the war, in complete charge of all the Armed Forces of the Crown, and when we have got him let the House strengthen him to carry out the task with power and independence.”
The motion was seconded by Sir Roger Keyes. The Admiral, who had been pained by his rem
oval from the position of Director of Combined Operations, and still more by the fact that I had not always been able to take his advice while he was there, was hampered in his attack by his long personal friendship with me. He concentrated his criticisms mainly upon my expert advisers—meaning of course the Chiefs of Staff. “It is hard that three times in the Prime Minister’s career he should have been thwarted—in Gallipoli, in Norway, and in the Mediterranean—in carrying out strategical strokes which might have altered the whole course of two wars, each time because his constitutional naval adviser declined to share the responsibility with him if it entailed any risk.” The inconsistency between this argument and that of the mover did not pass unnoticed. One of the members of the Independent Labour Party, Mr. Stephen, interrupted to point out that the mover had proposed “a Vote of Censure on the ground that the Prime Minister has interfered unduly in the direction of the war; whereas the seconder seems to be seconding because the Prime Minister has not sufficiently interfered in the direction of the war.” This point was apparent to the House.
“We look to the Prime Minister,” said Admiral Keyes, “to put his house in order, and to rally the country once again for its immense task.” Here another Socialist made a pertinent intervention. “The motion is directed against the central direction of the war. If the motion is carried the Prime Minister has to go; but the honourable and gallant Member is appealing to us to keep the Prime Minister there.” “It would be,” said Sir Roger, “a deplorable disaster if the Prime Minister had to go.” Thus the debate was ruptured from its start.
Nevertheless, as it continued the critics increasingly took the lead. The new Minister of Production, Captain Oliver Lyttelton, who dealt with the complaints made against our equipment, had a stormy passage in the full, detailed account which he gave of this aspect. Strong Conservative support was given to the Government from their back benches, Mr. Boothby in particular making a powerful and helpful speech. Lord Winterton, the Father of the House, revived the force of the attack, and concentrated it upon me. “Who is the Minister of the Government who practically controlled the Narvik operation? It is the present Prime Minister, who was then First Lord of the Admiralty.… No one dares put the blame, where it should be put constitutionally, on the Prime Minister.… If whenever we have disasters we get the same answer, that whatever happens you must not blame the Prime Minister, we are getting very close to the intellectual and moral position of the German people—’The Fuehrer is always right.’ … During the thirty-seven years in which I have been in this House I have never seen such attempts to absolve a Prime Minister from Ministerial responsibility as are going on at present.… We never had anything in the last war comparable with this series of disasters. Now, see what this Government get off with—because ‘the Fuehrer is always right.’ We all agree that the Prime Minister was the Captain-General of our courage and constancy in 1940. But a lot has happened since 1940. If this series of disasters goes on the right honourable gentleman, by one of the greatest acts of self-abnegation which any man could carry out, should go to his colleagues—and there is more than one suitable man for Prime Minister on the Treasury Bench now—and suggest that one of them should form a Government, and that the right honourable gentleman himself would take office under him. He might do so, perhaps, as Foreign Secretary, because his management of our relations with Russia and with the United States has been perfect.”
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