‘Now there’s a paradox for you; Churchill is supposed to come to power because of the military defeats suffered by Chamberlain’s government. If your advice is followed, the defeats shouldn’t happen, so how will Churchill become PM?’
‘Somehow,’ said Don grimly, ‘I have a feeling that it will be arranged.’
‘And there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask: what about the wider paradox? Suppose any one of your grandparents were to be killed as a result of the changes you’re causing? Or that your parents never meet? What will happen to you?’
‘Good question. I’ve given it some thought myself. Of course, I could just disappear in a puff of smoke, but that wouldn’t be the end of the problem; if I’d never existed, I couldn’t have returned here in the first place, so none of the last few months could have happened, so I couldn’t have changed events, so I would have lived to return here – and so on. The thinking becomes rather circular.’
‘So where does that leave you?’
‘There are just two possibilities: either all of my forebears survive and my parents meet up as before regardless of all the changes, or the parallel worlds theory is correct.’
‘The what?’
‘Parallel worlds. The idea is that there is an infinite number of worlds existing in parallel in some undetectable dimension, each different in some small way from the next. They are connected by an equally infinite number of branching points; occasions when something different happened and changed history. So my return to the past would have kicked me onto an entirely different branch; what happens here can’t affect the world I came from, that just continues as before on a parallel track.’
Mary snuggled up to him. ‘Well, just make sure that you stay on this track from now on!’
Summer 1935
Time seemed to pass with ever-increasing speed. Intensive consultations with his military interviewers were interspersed by anxious scanning of the news as the European tragedy began to unfold. The celebrations in early May to mark the Silver Jubilee of the King and Queen included reviews of Britain’s military and naval forces. Shortly afterwards Lord Londonderry, Secretary of State for War, announced a trebling of the strength of the Royal Air Force based at home to 1,500 machines by March 31 1937; the existing thirty-four airfields were to be increased to sixty-five and in addition, seventy-one new squadrons were to be formed.
Charles Dunning was naturally reticent but could occasionally be prompted into revealing progress. ‘The Defence Requirements Committee has been considering how to act on your advice,’ he said, ‘although we did of course have to disguise it as the strongly-held views of the best military minds. They have agreed that the Army should be restructured to concentrate on armoured warfare including capacity for amphibious landings and the development of close co-operation with the RAF. An experimental paratroop brigade is to be formed and secret trials of the rectangular wing-parachute you sketched are due soon. The Fleet Air Arm is to be handed over to the Navy within the next few months; Coastal Command will remain with the RAF but under Naval operational control – that took a hell of a lot of haggling and a number of premature retirements to achieve. The discussions over the Naval Treaty are working out as you suggested and the Royal Marines are being strengthened, with their amphibious role being more clearly defined. Radar is coming along fine; Tizard sends his best wishes, by the way.’
‘What about the basic education and training side? We will need far more electrical engineers and factory capacity in order to keep up with the demands for radio and radar systems.’
Dunning grinned sardonically. ‘Much more difficult – did you ever see the educational establishment move quickly? We’ve made a start, though, in offering generous bursaries to able students in these areas, and will be identifying electronics shadow factories as well as those for weapons production.’
The military contacts were more forthcoming. Geoffrey Taylor, despite his cautious and deliberate manner, had obviously warmed to his task. The Army’s biggest deficiency – the development of competitive, reliable tanks – was being tackled with vigour. Tank design was assigned to a planning body including Vickers, the only private firm with substantial tank-building experience, car firms to provide mass-production expertise, military officers and the Ministry. An integrated family of armoured fighting vehicles was being developed with reliability, ease of use and maintenance and the ability to be upgraded as top priorities. New artillery, mortars, anti-tank weapons and small arms were being designed.
News on the aircraft front was also encouraging. Morgan reported the selection of the Rolls-Royce PV12 Merlin and the sleeve-valve Bristol Hercules (still some months away from running) as the RAF’s future front-line piston engines. Napier had been assigned to develop Whittle’s centrifugal fan gas turbine, and advanced project teams at Rolls-Royce and Bristol were working with the Royal Aircraft Establishment to develop Griffith’s axial flow turbines for jet and turboprop engines respectively.
Fighter guns were a priority; as well as developing the 0.303 inch, a slightly larger version of the Browning (the ‘Vickers-Browning’) was being designed to take the Vickers 0.5 inch cartridge, somewhat smaller than the American equivalent. Hispano-Suiza in France were being pursued for a licence for their new 20 mm HS-404 cannon which was still in the process of being designed, and the development of a belt-feed mechanism for it was being given a high priority to ensure that both could enter service by the end of the 1930s.
Meanwhile, development of the Spitfire and Hurricane had been given top priority with arrangements already underway for their mass production. Don was acutely conscious of the fact that as soon as war was imminent, the War Ministry would be inclined to freeze current designs in the interests of achieving mass production. Accordingly, he discussed with Morgan the types of aircraft which would have a long service life to ensure that they would be in production by 1938. Among other proposals, de Havilland was to be strongly encouraged to design a wooden, twin-engined high-speed unarmed bomber as soon as possible.
Helmsford was equally encouraging about the Navy’s plans. The fifteen-inch gun battleship design was proceeding well, as were the new aircraft carriers with their angled decks to enable planes to land without crashing into the ones waiting to take off (‘steam catapults were considered, but would have taken too long to develop’). Don had advised against the armoured decks used by most RN war-built carriers because of the loss of hangar space and aircraft capacity. Just as important were the aircraft for them; Bristol had been given the contract to develop Hercules-powered fighters and multi-role torpedo/dive bomber/reconnaissance planes, with as much commonality as possible.
Otherwise, concentration in the naval field was on enhanced anti-aircraft and anti-submarine capabilities, with advanced fire-control systems, the commissioning of Bofors to speed up their development of 57 mm as well as 40 mm automatic guns and the development of ahead-throwing anti-submarine mortars (Don’s mention of the ‘Squid’ promptly led to the name being adopted) with their associated pencil-beam Asdic sets. Don had been surprised to discover that ahead-throwing weapons had already been built and tested, but development was just about to be abandoned when his arrival led to a re-think.
By the autumn of 1935 the international situation was clearly worsening. On September 5th Italy walked out of the League of Nations Council meeting called to discuss the Italo-Abyssinian crisis. This was followed in October by an Italian attack on Abyssinia, countered by the urgent reinforcement of British forces in the Middle East. In November, German army recruits were required to swear allegiance to Hitler as well as to the nation. Don read the news with a mixture of anxiety, despondency and an uncertain hope that perhaps, this time, he could reduce the scale of the suffering to come. Mary was a patient, unfailing support.
‘You have done everything you can,’ she said for what was probably the hundredth time, ‘you know all the arguments for keeping your existence secret. There is too much hatred and frustration bottled up fo
r anyone to prevent what is going to happen. All you can do is to try to ensure that it is ended quickly, with an outcome that keeps Russia out of as much of Europe as possible.’
‘I know, but I feel so helpless. It’s not just the big picture, it’s the personal aspect as well.’ Mary took him in her arms, feeling the tension slowly leaving him as she stroked his neck.
‘It’s your parents you’re thinking of again, isn’t it? It must be so hard for you.’
Don grunted wearily. ‘Fortunately they’re still young children. I can’t help wondering about them, although I know Charles is right when he tells me to leave them alone.’
‘Well, what would you gain from seeing them? They’re just like any other children, and won’t even meet for years yet.’
He sighed reluctantly. ‘I suppose you’re right, but I still feel I should be introducing them to each other, or something!’
Mary grinned. ‘From what I know of young children, that would just put them off each other for life!’
Spring to Autumn 1936
In the following year the pace of events quickened, although not all of them were concerned with the impending conflict. In January King George V died, and Don winced at reading the praise heaped upon his heir, the man who would not become King Edward VIII.
Spring saw rapid developments. In March, the political Left won the Spanish elections; yet another harbinger of war. In the same month, Hitler repudiated the Treaty of Locarno and sent German troops into the Rhineland, previously demilitarised following the last war. As a result of their ineffectual response, the French government was voted out of office in May in favour of Leon Blum’s left-wing Popular Front. Churchill warned that failure to match Hitler’s growing military strength could end in disaster for Britain. A government White Paper on defence, published in March, identified weaknesses and proposed increased spending. Newspapers were filled with concern about the adequacy of the country’s defences and the threat of war.
Far from being worried, Dunning seemed quietly pleased. ‘Every time the Nazis make an aggressive move that you’ve predicted, your stock goes up and your recommendations are given even more attention. People are feeling increasingly confident about being able to cope with the future.’ No doubt, thought Don rather cynically, the attention isn’t doing Dunning’s status any harm either. However, his evident good humour paid off in a special treat; an unexpected trip for Mary and himself.
Dunning refused to state the destination or purpose, but the big Humber cruised steadily south until it reached Southampton late in the afternoon. Dunning led them to the water’s edge near packed crowds and they looked out over the Solent. By now, Don knew what to expect. The weather was cool and cloudy, but the sun broke through as a huge passenger liner steamed slowly down the Solent.
‘The Queen Mary!’ Mary said, ‘how wonderful!’
‘Off on her maiden voyage,’ added Dunning, ‘first Cherbourg, then on to New York. Sure to win the Blue Riband.’
Don watched the magnificent ship with a strange mixture of emotions. Awe, at the majestic vessel. Excitement, at the noisy pride of the crowds. Perhaps above all, nostalgia, for an era he had never known. He thought about Jumbo Jets crammed with bleary-eyed, irritable passengers, and sighed.
The summer of 1936 saw no relief from the steady build-up of tension, as piece after piece dropped into place. In May, Italy conquered Abyssinia. The next month, Leon Blum’s Popular Front government gave way to concerted strike action by signing the Matignon Agreement, giving French workers high pay for shorter hours and further damaging an already lamentable industrial performance. In July, a right-wing revolt erupted in Spain; the Spanish Civil War had begun. In August, the Berlin Olympics were held.
The bad news wasn’t restricted to Europe. Throughout the summer and autumn, Arabs rioted against the growing numbers of Jews in Palestine; British troops were involved. Don felt particularly low when he read this news.
‘We haven’t even begun this war yet, but more are already being lined up.’
He had to explain this to Mary; wars after 1945 in which Britain would not be involved had understandably been of little interest to the interviewers. Mary seemed particularly thoughtful.
‘My mother was Jewish,’ she said. Don looked at her speechlessly, thinking of all she had heard about the Holocaust. She raised her arms and shrugged helplessly. ‘Why does the world have to be like this?’ Don had no answer.
October 1936 saw a huge Nazi rally in Nuremberg and clashes between Mosley’s Blackshirts and anti-fascist demonstrators in the East End of London. At the beginning of December, Mary found Don looking at the newspaper, sadness on his face.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked quickly. Don gestured at the paper. Mary looked at the item featured large on the page. The Crystal Palace had burned down.
‘I never saw it,’ said Don regretfully. ‘It was the first thing which made me realise what had happened to me. And I never went to see it.’
1937–1938
The winter was marked by major events at each end of the social scale; unemployed workers marched from Jarrow to London, and King Edward VIII abdicated in order to marry Wallace Simpson. For Don, a much more significant event took place. On 1st January 1937 the Washington and London Naval Treaties expired and the keel-plates of the battleships King George V and Prince of Wales were laid at Walker-on-Tyne and Birkenhead respectively. So much was in Don’s history; but these were to a different design, guided by his advice. It was the first concrete evidence he had received of the impact he was making.
The months skimmed by, a continual round of meetings with ever more urgent questions being asked as the nation’s defence expenditure rose rapidly in the face of the German threat. Don found it more and more difficult to offer helpful advice. He felt drained dry of everything he had ever learned about the personalities, policies, strategies, tactics, equipment and events of the period.
Every now and then, his absorption was punctuated by a news item; the bombing of Guernica, the destruction of the Hindenburg at Lakehurst, the coronation of King George VI, the fall of Blum’s government, followed by further rapid changes of government in France. The Japanese onslaught on China opened yet another chapter in the growing volume of the world’s suffering, while European leaders scurried to and fro, meeting Hitler, trying to avoid the inevitable.
In early 1938 Dunning announced, with unusual good humour, that they were going on a tour, chaperoned by Geoffrey Taylor and himself.
‘Something of a working visit,’ he qualified apologetically, ‘but I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.’
Their first stop turned out to be an almost deserted rifle range ‘somewhere in Surrey.’ A small group of Army officers was huddled around some objects on a bench. Don was introduced as ‘a senior civil servant in the Ministry’ and the group parted to show him the weapons gleaming against the wooden bench. A Bren light machine gun was instantly recognisable. The warrant officer picked up a smaller weapon lying next to it. It was a short, brutal looking rifle, all metal pressings with a minimum of wood, a curved magazine jutting down behind the pistol grip.
‘This is the new BSA rifle, called the Besal for short, which it is,’ he laughed, ignoring the groans from the others. ‘Action based on the Bren, but turned upside down and located within the stock, behind the handgrip. Calibre three-oh-three inch, self-loading with semi-automatic fire only. Empty cases are ejected straight upwards, but are deflected to one side by this rubber-padded underside of the cheekpiece, which can be instantly flipped over for left-handers. Weight ten pounds with a full fifteen-round magazine, which is interchangeable with the thirty-round Bren magazine. Like a go?’
Don declined, mildly alarmed. He had studied armaments, but firing them was something he had no experience of. The WO seemed disappointed, but not surprised. Doubtless his opinion of civil servants had just been confirmed. Taylor did not hesitate. He picked up the Besal, cycled the action with brisk efficiency then fired a rapid
series of shots at the distant target. Don retrieved a distant memory; the Besal had actually been a simplified machine gun based on the Bren, which had not been adopted. Oh well, fairly close, he thought.
‘This other beauty is the new Solen sub-machine gun,’ continued the WO. Don, who had been slow to clap his hands over his ears when the Besal fired, barely heard him but hastily covered his ears again as Taylor picked up a weapon even uglier and more brutal looking. ‘Based on the Solothurn SI-100 but simplified by Enfield for mass production. Chambered for the nine-by-twenty-five millimetre Mauser Export cartridge, longer and more powerful than the Luger round used in most such weapons. Gives it an effective range of around two hundred yards, which is enough for most purposes. Available with a wooden stock, like this one, or a folding metal one.’ Taylor enjoyed this one even more, firing off the 32-round side-mounted magazine in short, controlled bursts.
Next came a conventional-looking self-loading pistol. ‘Based on the American Colt M Nineteen-eleven, modified to fire the nine-by-twenty-five millimetre cartridge and with a two-row magazine holding fifteen rounds.’ Dunning stepped forward this time, raised the gun, pulled back and released the slide, then fired off the entire magazine in a seemingly interminable string of concussions.
Dunning was smiling as they left. ‘We’ve told the Army that these are meant for paratroops and marines, who’ll need lots of firepower. Of course, we’re preparing to mass-produce them instead of the Lee-Enfield Number Four bolt-action rifles.’ Taylor snorted amiably, but made no comment.
THE FORESIGHT WAR Page 4
