December 1941

by Craig Shirley

  The smaller Senate chamber also had better acoustics. After the representatives, first dibs for seats went to the diplomatic corps and government bureaucrats. “Chairs for House members, the Supreme Court Justices and the President’s cabinet will be placed among the 96 desks of the Senators.”2 The Russian ambassador, Maxim Litvinoff, was seated next to Lord Halifax, the British ambassador. The envoys for other countries including Belgium, Luxembourg, South Africa, Denmark, Poland, Greece, and others were present while astonishingly the representatives for Canada and Australia—both part of the greater British Commonwealth—were “not in evidence.”3 And nearly as surprising, both Secretary of State Hull and Secretary of War Stimson were also absent.

  But the public was barred “from the history-making ceremonies because of the limited accommodations. Only people with access cards could get in, and the only people who could get access cards were congressional members, government officials, and those in the diplomatic corps.”4 These restrictions did not stop hundreds of Americans from queuing in a long snaking line in a vain attempt to get into the U.S. Capitol.

  All indications were that the prime minister was just as eager. The legislature opened for business at noon, and Churchill rose to speak at exactly 12:30 p.m. to an overflowing crowd. The attendees had their cameras taken away but, for the first time in the history of the Senate, a live broadcast was allowed and, again for the first time, movie cameras were also allowed in. Procedurally, the body was actually in recess though “unanimous consent was granted by the Senate to have the proceedings printed in the Congressional Record. . . .”5 It was an unusual method for accommodating an invited speaker who was not a member of the Senate. The Marquis de Lafayette had addressed the Senate in such a fashion during his farewell tour in 1824, yet another rare speaker to that body had been, ironically, the King of Hawaii, Kalahaua, in December of 1874.6

  In the well of the Senate and surrounded by a forest of microphones in front of the prime minister—CBS, NBC, MBS, and others—and a handful of politicians seated behind him including Vice President Henry Wallace and Majority Leader Alben Barkley of Kentucky, sound cameras could be heard whirling in the balcony. In front of Churchill were many though not all of the members of Congress, nearly all men. But, curiously enough, “women predominated” in the galleries which surrounded the room on three sides.7 Sentries were everywhere. Churchill was sporting a dark bow tie and three-piece Oxford gray suit, his left hand often gripping his lapel, his right index finger slashing the air for effect. Other times, his hands were on his hips, thumbs forwards, or used to grip both lapels. He was a master showman and like many showmen, more at ease in front of big crowds than in small settings.

  He was introduced by the president of the Senate, Vice President Henry Wallace, simply as “The Prime Minister of Great Britain!”8 Churchill then took a bronze green case out of his pocket and removed a pair of spectacles which he settled on his nose and ears.

  The air was electric and it was simply one more thrilling moment in a town that should have become used to thrilling moments long ago. He began with a joke. “I can’t help but reflect if my father had been American and my mother British, instead of the other way around, I might have gotten here on my own.”9 The appreciative Americans roared with laughter.

  Churchill made a fleeting reference to his own long and “not . . . uneventful” life as well as making the kind and gracious remarks any Englishman was known for, including a self-deprecating wit. Had he made it to Congress on his own, he joshed, “I would not have needed any invitation, but if I had it is hardly likely that it would have been unanimous.”10 A human quote machine in the best British traditions of Shakespeare, Wilde, Dickens, and Disraeli, Churchill was such a profoundly literate and quotable man that a term already was being coined in the American press to describe his style: Churchillian. He said America had “drawn the sword for freedom and cast away the shadow.”11 And, “Now we are the masters of our fate.”12

  Gesturing for emphasis, Churchill didn’t pull any punches, in the character of the British government under his rule. Since he had ascended to the prime ministership, Churchill had quite deliberately rejected the “gloss it over” happy talk, ignore the threat tenures, of Stanley Baldwin and Neville Chamberlin. Part of his falling out with Baldwin was over Churchill warning the British people of the military buildup by Nazi Germany and Adolf Hitler. Baldwin and the status quo he led in London wanted to appease Hitler or simply ignore him. Churchill felt this was irresponsible, but most did not agree with him until September 1, 1939, when Germany invaded Poland. Churchill was proven right but because the Poles had a mutual defense treaty with the British; it meant a new war for England. Churchill had little regard for his fellow Tory, Baldwin. “Stanley occasionally stumbles over the truth, but he always hastily picks himself up and hurries on as if nothing had happened.”13

  This Conservative Member of Parliament from Epping and relatively new prime minister hit the British subjects right between the eyes with the truth.

  Now he did the same with Congress and the American people.

  Early in his political career, he started out as a conservative, left to become a liberal, and then later in life, returned to the conservative fold. As Churchill put it: “Anyone can rat, but it takes a certain amount of ingenuity to re-rat.”14 He was a conservative like Baldwin and Chamberlain, but a far different kind, similar in many ways to the American conservatism of the Founders, which was essentially an anti-status quo movement of ideas. Churchill never feared or looked down on the citizenry, again like the American Founding Fathers. “I am a child of the House of Commons. I was brought up . . . to believe in democracy; trust the people.”15 He embraced his predecessor, the great Benjamin Disraeli, when Disraeli lamented that the world in his time was “for the few and for the very few.”16

  While never mentioning Lincoln, he scored impressively by taking a populist position against “privilege and monopoly,” saying, “I have always steered confidently toward the Gettysburg ideal of government of the people, by the people, for the people.” He gave the inner looking Americans a quick thumb-nail sketch of his life and career in Parliament where members were “servants of the state, and would be ashamed to be its masters.”17

  In his half hour speech, he said that while 1942 would start off badly for the Allies, the year—or maybe not until 1943—would finish much better as the full industrial and political might of America would become felt in the war. “He predicted that in a year or 16 months the flow of munitions in the United States and Britain will produce results in war power ‘beyond anything that has been seen of foreseen in the dictatorial states.’” Expanding, he said it was reasonable to “hope that end of 1942 will find us quite definitely in a better position than now and the year 1943 will find us able to take the initiative on an ample scale.”18 It took a lot of courage to tell the citizens of the Allied Powers they might not taste victory for another year or more. And yet he also saw hope.

  “But here in Washington, in these memorable days, I have found an Olympian fortitude which, far from being based upon complacency, is only the mark of an inflexible purpose and the proof of a sure, well-grounded confidence in the final outcome.” He was interrupted repeatedly with applause and huzzahs. He spoke of the common bonds and common mission of Great Britain and the United States. “Now that we are together, now that we are linked in a righteous comradeship of arms, now that our two nations, each in perfect unity, have joined all the life energies in a common resolve, you will see milestones upon which a steady light will glow and brighten.”19

  He concluded by telling the American legislators of his faith and mission. “I will say that he must indeed have a blind soul who cannot see that some great purpose and design is being worked out here below, for which we have the honor to be the faithful servant. It is not given to us to peer into the mysteries of the future; yet, in the days to come, the British and American peoples will, for their own safety and for the good of all, walk tog
ether in majesty, in justice and in peace.”20

  When he finally sat down, he was showered with several minutes of applause. The Senate chamber hadn’t heard such eloquence and oratory since the “Great Triumvirate” of Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and John C. Calhoun. As he left, Churchill raised his right hand and with his index and middle fingers, formed the “V” for victory sign. The audience went wild again and he left to the sound of thunderous approbation.

  With characteristic irony, he once said that history would be kind to him because he intended to write it. With this extraordinary speech to Congress, he wrote a big chapter in that history of his life and times. On Capitol Hill, they called it “Churchill Day.” One of those attending, Senator Ernest McFarland of Arizona, mentioned to Churchill that his wife missed the event because she was ill and in the hospital. With that, Churchill telephoned the woman to say he “hoped she would have a speedy recovery.”21

  Roosevelt listened on radio, along with millions of Americans and Brits. Afterwards, the precise articulation of Churchill was uniformly praised by the often tongue-tied and inarticulate politicians of Washington.

  After a lunch with the congressional leadership, the British prime minister left the Capitol but spotting a group of fans and supporters, “he strolled across the Capitol Plaza until he was within a few feet of the cheering crowd of spectators gathered there. Bowing and smiling and waving his black hat at the crowd which was dotted with sight-seeing American soldiers, he bade them farewell with the ‘V’ sign.”22

  That day, Churchill also met with FDR to discuss the economics of war. They had already covered the military aspects and the diplomatic. Now they had to figure out how to pay for it and how much it would cost to win the world by winning a war. They met with economists and budget experts from their respective governments, both civilian and military. Estimates of the cost to the Allies for 1942 alone totaled $40 billion.23 The cost alone for three indoor shooting ranges at Ft. Dix, New Jersey, was over $100,000.24

  In the Senate, a national lottery was proposed as a means of raising needed revenue.25 The plan behind the lottery was also to put the government in direct competition with illegal gaming in the country. Its goal would be to “kill the numbers racket, slot machines, pinball nickel grabbers and bookie establishments.” Prizes would range from $100 to $1,000 dollars.26

  Churchill and Roosevelt were guided in their discussions by a detailed memo on the “Victory Program” authored in abstruse bureaucratese by Henry Stimson. The cost of ginning up a worldwide machine to wage war and destroy the enemy would be put to paper in black and white. Everything from “Planes, Spare Engines and Parts” to “Small Arms and Automatic Weapons and AC Cannon” were covered in a budget of $33,347,460,905 for 1942 but this was just for the Army and the Air Corps. Stimson was still reviewing the navy’s and the Maritime Commission’s budget needs.27 President Roosevelt also reviewed a memo authored by Army Chief of Staff George Marshall making recommendations on the Africa campaign and putting troops in Casablanca.28

  Before Pearl Harbor, the president tended to be cautious in his projections of public spending, reluctant to antagonize a frugal-minded Congress. On December 7, all of that changed—irrevocably. The very same Congress that had almost voted against the draft was now, after Pearl Harbor, endorsing new and colossal funding requests from FDR that previously were unthinkable. Roosevelt was setting ostensibly far-fetched production goals and in response, a newly quiescent Congress simply opened the spending floodgates. The mobilization for war was releasing sweeping political and economic forces that would forever transform American society. Washington would never again be a relatively small, southern town.

  Even though Congress was out of session, in recognition of the holidays, congressional committees kept meeting to go over the financing of the war and slash projected or hoped for billions from domestic programs to help pay for the military. To win the war, the New Deal would have to be shelved. Progressive senator Robert La Follette of Wisconsin pitched a fit, denouncing the suggested elimination or cutbacks of the Farm Security Administration, the National Youth Administration, and the Civilian Conservation Corps, saying this would “knock some of the major props of Federal support out from under our social structure in the lower income levels.”29

  More motivational posters were coming out now, definitely better than the first ones of the war. The Red Cross released one of a downright sexy brunette nurse, shapely with full lips, in white nurse’s garb and blue cape, with Uncle Sam standing behind her, his left hand gently on her shoulder.30 Others told civilians “DON’T 1) Talk Loosely to Strangers 2) Spread Rumors.” This poster, it was reported “was designed for taverns . . . to warn drinkers against inadvertently passing on valuable military information or causing trouble by spreading rumors. Loose talk is dangerous in wartime!”31 Another encouraged buying (what else?) war bonds.

  It would take more than posters and bonds to see the U.S. through the days ahead. Churchill was right in preparing the American and the British people for more bad news because it was coming hour by hour and day after day. After all, the Allies were up against “wicked men,” but in the end, they “would be called to terrible account.”32 Some of that bad news included word from Wake Island that the Japanese captured almost four hundred marines and another thousand civilians, mostly construction workers on the island.33

  News from Europe was grave as well. The Russian counteroffensive against the German invasion appeared to have slowed and the Germans were digging in, resisting harder. Even the Soviet propaganda tabloid Izvestia reported that “the Germans had heavily fortified this place and exerted every effort to stop our offensive. Stubborn street engagements ensued. . . .”34 The New York Tribune reported that “German resistance is increasing all along the front.”35 And the German war industry was turned up even higher, as more and more of their women went to work in the factories. The Germans also had another brutal advantage: slave labor from the occupied territories.

  The Germans claimed they had sunk twenty-seven British ships in the month of December alone. The Japanese claimed they’d destroyed forty British planes in the air and another eight on the ground in a new assault on Rangoon, Burma.36 The Japanese were occupying Thailand and had, since the first hours of the war, with nary a squeak from the Allies, who were too busy holding on by their fingernails to other territories in the Western Pacific.

  New reports were coming from Hong Kong that suggested civilian riots had broken out there in the last days as the Japanese had cut off the water supply. The outpost had been bombed forty-five times in eight days by planes not including the constant shelling from the sea.37

  There was good news from Midway. For the first time in days, Allies received communications from its embattled forces there, and amazingly it appeared as if the marines had successfully held the island. “We are still here,” flashed one message.38 “The Navy said today its force of Marines on Midway Island is still holding out. The Midway garrison was in communication with headquarters here yesterday but the Navy would not discuss the messages nor how the Marines were faring on the mid-Pacific isle.”39

  The really bad news was rolling in from Manila. The Japanese forces were advancing on the city from two directions, laying waste to everything in their path, military and civilian. They “intensified a two-way assault on Manila, with an artillery fight northwest of the capital and a tank battle to the southeast, where Japanese pressure has been increased an Army communiqué declared late today. Casualties were reported heavy in the tank battle.”40 The Japanese trickle of tanks put ashore had rapidly become a caravan. Tokyo made public claims that they had destroyed the entire American fleet operating in the waters around the islands of the Philippines.

  The threat to the civilian population of 600,000 had forced the decision on Douglas MacArthur to declare Manila an “open city,” meaning it would be neutral and that all warring parties would agree to not conduct any battles there. He did so, he declared, “to spare the me
tropolitan area from the possible ravages of attack. . . .”41 Japanese planes flew over the city, but stopped dropping bombs and American anti-aircraft guns stopped firing on those planes when over the city. Under the rules of engagement, all belligerents were supposed to steer clear of such designated areas. Douglas MacArthur had already departed his headquarters in Manila to take personal command of the army in the field.

  The Roosevelt administration was faced with the very real possibility of losing the Philippines to the Japanese. “Washington reports conceded that eventual loss of the Philippines archipelago was distinctly possible as Japanese hordes poured onto Luzon, and Manila was threatened from several sides simultaneously.”42

  All through history, military battles were planned by old men, but executed by young men. This war was no different. The American army and navy were comprised of downy-faced boys, not much removed from being tucked into feather beds by their mothers; but if possible, the Japanese troops were even younger, some as young as fifteen years of age, sweating it out and struggling and fighting in the jungles of the Philippines, whose people were also putting what were essentially little more than boys into the life-and-death struggle of the fight.

  In the background of the national debate of late December 1941 were the beginnings of a small pushback against the “First War Powers Act of 1941,” as it had become known, and all the power granted President Roosevelt over most forms of private or privately owned communications in America as of December 18, 1941.

  The Espionage Act of 1917 had never been repealed. The more radically restrictive Sedition Act of 1918 had been repealed by 1921. Essentially, one had the freedom of expression in America, but only up to a point. Among the verboten verbiage were “false statements to interfere with the success of the United States,” which was so open to interpretation as to cause a chilling effect on the ability of anybody and everybody to express their own opinion. Only the overt act of treason was a constitutional offense. That standard was a bit more fixed; an individual had to act to topple the government by “levying war” against the U.S. or “give aid and comfort to the enemy,” as specified in Article Three, Section Three.43