The Distributed Proofreaders Canada eBook of Their Finest Hour

This eBook is made available at no cost and with very few restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make a change in the eBook (other than alteration for different display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of the eBook. If either of these conditions applies, please contact a https://www.fadedpage.com administrator before proceeding. Thousands more FREE eBooks are available at https://www.fadedpage.com.

This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada, check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE.

This eBook was produced by: David T. Jones, Al Haines, John Routh & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net

During the period covered by this volume I bore a heavy burden of responsibility. I was Prime Minister, First Lord of the Treasury, Minister of Defence, and Leader of the House of Commons. After the first forty days we were alone, with victorious Germany and Italy engaged in mortal attack upon us, with Soviet Russia a hostile neutral actively aiding Hitler, and Japan an unknowable menace. However, the British War Cabinet, conducting His Majesty’s affairs with vigilance and fidelity, supported by Parliament and sustained by the Governments and peoples of the British Commonwealth and Empire, enabled all tasks to be accomplished and overcame all our foes.

I must again acknowledge the assistance of those who helped me with the previous volume, namely, Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Pownall, Commodore G. R. G. Allen, Colonel F. W. Deakin and Sir Edward Marsh. I must also thank the very large number of others who have kindly read these pages and commented upon them.

I again record my obligations to His Majesty’s Government for permission to reproduce the text of certain official documents of which the Crown copyright is legally vested in the Controller of His Majesty’s Stationery Office. At the request of His Majesty’s Government on security grounds, I have paraphrased some of the telegrams published in this volume. These changes have not altered in any way the sense or substance of the telegrams.

Now at last the slowly gathered, long-pent-up fury of the storm broke upon us. Four or five millions of men met each other in the first shock of the most merciless of all the wars of which record has been kept. Within a week the front in France, behind which we had been accustomed to dwell through the long years of the former war and the opening phase of this, was to be irretrievably broken. Within three weeks the long-famed French Army was to collapse in rout and ruin, and the British Army to be hurled into the sea with all its equipment lost. Within six weeks we were to find ourselves alone, almost disarmed, with triumphant Germany and Italy at our throats, with the whole of Europe in Hitler’s power, and Japan glowering on the other side of the globe. It was amid these facts and looming prospects that I entered upon my duties as Prime Minister and Minister of Defence and addressed myself to the first task of forming a Government of all parties to conduct His Majesty’s business at home and abroad by whatever means might be deemed best suited to the national interest.

Five years later almost to a day it was possible to take a more favourable view of our circumstances. Italy was conquered and Mussolini slain. The mighty German Army surrendered unconditionally. Hitler had committed suicide. In addition to the immense captures by General Eisenhower, nearly three million German soldiers were taken prisoners in twenty-four hours by Field Marshal Alexander in Italy and Field Marshal Montgomery in Germany. France was liberated, rallied and revived. Hand in hand with our allies, the two mightiest empires in the world, we advanced to the swift annihilation of Japanese resistance. The contrast was certainly remarkable. The road across these five years was long, hard, and perilous. Those who perished upon it did not give their lives in vain. Those who marched forward to the end will always be proud to have trodden it with honour.

LAND FORCES IN FIGHTING CONTACT WITH THE ENEMY
“EQUIVALENT DIVISIONS”

In giving an account of my stewardship and in telling the tale of the famous National Coalition Government, it is my first duty to make plain the scale and force of the contribution which Great Britain and her Empire, whom danger only united more tensely, made to what eventually became the common cause of so many states and nations. I do this with no desire to make invidious comparisons or rouse purposeless rivalries with our greatest ally, the United States, to whom we owe immeasurable and enduring gratitude. But it is to the combined interest of the English-speaking world that the magnitude of the British warmaking effort should be known and realised. I have therefore had a table made which I print on this page, which covers the whole period of the war. This shows that up till July, 1944, Britain and her Empire had a substantially larger number of divisions in contact with the enemy than the United States. This general figure includes not only the European and African spheres, but also all the war in Asia against Japan. Up till the arrival in Normandy in the autumn of 1944 of the great mass of the American Army, we had always the right to speak at least as an equal and usually as the predominant partner in every theatre of war except the Pacific and Australasian; and this remains also true, up to the time mentioned, of the aggregation of all divisions in all theatres for any given month. From July, 1944, the fighting front of the United States, as represented by divisions in contact with the enemy, became increasingly predominant, and so continued, mounting and triumphant, till the final victory ten months later.

Another comparison which I have made shows that the British and Empire sacrifice in loss of life was even greater than that of our valiant ally. The British total dead, and missing, presumed dead, of the armed forces, amounted to 303,240, to which should be added over 109,000 from the Dominions, India, and the colonies, a total of over 412,240. This figure does not include 60,500 civilians killed in the air raids on the United Kingdom, nor the losses of our merchant navy and fishermen, which amounted to about 30,000. Against this figure the United States mourn the deaths in the Army and Air Force, the Navy, Marines, and Coastguard, of 322,188.^[1] I cite these sombre rolls of honour in the confident faith that the equal comradeship sanctified by so much precious blood will continue to command the reverence and inspire the conduct of the English-speaking world.

On the seas the United States naturally bore almost the entire weight of the war in the Pacific, and the decisive battles which they fought near Midway Island, at Guadalcanal, and in the Coral Sea in 1942 gained for them the whole initiative in that vast ocean domain, and opened to them the assault of all the Japanese conquests, and eventually of Japan herself. The American Navy could not at the same time carry the main burden in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Here again it is a duty to set down the facts. Out of 781 German and 85 Italian U-boats destroyed in the European theatre, the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, 594 were accounted for by British sea and air forces, who also disposed of all the German battleships, cruisers, and destroyers, besides destroying or capturing the whole Italian Fleet.

U-BOAT LOSSES

In the air superb efforts were made by the United States to come into action—especially with their daylight Fortress bombers—on the greatest scale from the earliest moment after Pearl Harbour, and their power was used both against Japan and from the British Isles against Germany. However, when we reached Casablanca in January, 1943, it was a fact that no single American bomber plane had cast a daylight bomb on Germany. Very soon the fruition of the great exertions they were making was to come, but up till the end of 1943 the British discharge of bombs upon Germany had in the aggregate exceeded by eight tons to one those cast from American machines by day or night, and it was only in the spring of 1944 that the preponderance of discharge was achieved by the United States. Here, as in the armies and on the sea, we ran the full course from the beginning, and it was not until 1944 that we were overtaken and surpassed by the tremendous war effort of the United States.

It must be remembered that our munitions effort from the beginning of Lend-Lease in January, 1941, was increased by over one-fifth through the generosity of the United States. Through the materials and weapons which they gave us we were actually able to wage war as if we were a nation of fifty-eight millions instead of forty-eight. In shipping also the marvellous production of Liberty Ships enabled the flow of supplies to be maintained across the Atlantic. On the other hand, the analysis of shipping losses by enemy action suffered by all nations throughout the war should be borne in mind. Here are the figures:

Of these losses eighty per cent were suffered in the Atlantic Ocean, including British coastal waters and the North Sea. Only five per cent were lost in the Pacific.

This is all set down, not to claim undue credit, but to establish on a footing capable of commanding fair-minded respect the intense output in every form of war activity of the people of this small island, upon whom in the crisis of the world’s history the brunt fell.

It is probably easier to form a cabinet, especially a coalition cabinet, in the heat of battle than in quiet times. The sense of duty dominates all else, and personal claims recede. Once the main arrangements had been settled with the leaders of the other parties, with the formal authority of their organisations, the attitude of all those I sent for was like that of soldiers in action, who go to the places assigned to them at once without question. The party basis being officially established, it seemed to me that no sense of Self entered into the minds of any of the very large number of gentlemen I had to see. If some few hesitated, it was only because of public considerations. Even more did this high standard of behaviour apply to the large number of Conservative and National Liberal Ministers who had to leave their offices and break their careers, and at this moment of surpassing interest and excitement to step out of official life, in many cases forever.

The Conservatives had a majority of more than one hundred and twenty over all other parties in the House combined. Mr. Chamberlain was their chosen leader. I could not but realise that his supersession by me must be very unpleasant to many of them, after all my long years of criticism and often fierce reproach. Besides this, it must be evident to the majority of them how my life had been passed in friction or actual strife with the Conservative Party; that I had left them on Free Trade and had later returned to them as Chancellor of the Exchequer. After that I had been for many years their leading opponent on India, on foreign policy, and on the lack of preparations for war. To accept me as Prime Minister was to them very difficult. It caused pain to many honourable men. Moreover, loyalty to the chosen leader of the party is the prime characteristic of the Conservatives. If they had on some questions fallen short of their duty to the nation in the years before the war, it was because of this sense of loyalty to their appointed chief. None of these considerations caused me the slightest anxiety. I knew they were all drowned by the cannonade.

In the first instance I had offered to Mr. Chamberlain, and he had accepted, the leadership of the House of Commons, as well as the Lord Presidency. Nothing had been published. Mr. Attlee informed me that the Labour Party would not work easily under this arrangement. In a coalition the leadership of the House must be generally acceptable. I put this point to Mr. Chamberlain, and, with his ready agreement, I took the leadership myself, and held it till February, 1942. During this time Mr. Attlee acted as my deputy and did the daily work. His long experience in Opposition was of great value. I came down only on the most serious occasions. These were, however, recurrent. Many Conservatives felt that their party leader had been slighted. Everyone admired his personal conduct. On his first entry into the House in his new capacity (May 13) the whole of his party—the large majority of the House—rose and received him in a vehement demonstration of sympathy and regard. In the early weeks it was from the Labour benches that I was mainly greeted. But Mr. Chamberlain’s loyalty and support was steadfast, and I was sure of myself.

There was considerable pressure by elements of the Labour Party, and by some of those many able and ardent figures who had not been included in the new Government, for a purge of the “guilty men” and of Ministers who had been responsible for Munich or could be criticised for the many shortcomings in our war preparation. Among these Lord Halifax, Lord Simon, and Sir Samuel Hoare were the principal targets. But this was no time for proscriptions of able, patriotic men of long experience in high office. If the censorious people could have had their way, at least a third of the Conservative Ministers would have been forced to resign. Considering that Mr. Chamberlain was the leader of the Conservative Party, it was plain that this movement would be destructive of the national unity. Moreover, I had no need to ask myself whether all the blame lay on one side. Official responsibility rested upon the Government of the time. But moral responsibilities were more widely spread. A long, formidable list of quotations from speeches and votes recorded by Labour, and not less by Liberal, Ministers, all of which had been stultified by events, was in my mind and available in detail. No one had more right than I to pass a sponge across the past. I therefore resisted these disruptive tendencies. “If the present,” I said a few weeks later, “tries to sit in judgment on the past, it will lose the future.” This argument and the awful weight of the hour quelled the would-be heresy-hunters.

Early on the morning of May 11 I sent a message to Mr. Chamberlain: “No one changes houses for a month.” This avoided petty inconveniences during the crisis of the battle. I continued to live at Admiralty House and made its map room and the fine rooms downstairs my temporary headquarters. I reported to him my talk with Mr. Attlee and the progress made in forming the new Administration. “I hope to have the War Cabinet and the Fighting Services complete tonight for the King. The haste is necessitated by the battle. . . . As we [two] must work so closely together, I hope you will not find it inconvenient to occupy once again your old quarters which we both know so well in Number 11.”^[2] I added:

My experiences in those first days were peculiar. One lived with the battle, upon which all thoughts were centred and about which nothing could be done. All the time there was the Government to form and the gentlemen to see and the party balances to be adjusted. I cannot remember, nor do my records show, how all the hours were spent. A British Ministry at that time contained between sixty and seventy Ministers of the Crown, and all these had to be fitted in like a jigsaw puzzle, in this case having regard to the claims of three Parties. It was necessary for me to see not only all the principal figures, but, for a few minutes at least, the crowd of able men who were to be chosen for important tasks. In forming a Coalition Government the Prime Minister has to attach due weight to the wishes of the party leaders about whom among their followers shall have the offices allotted to the Party. By this principle I was mainly governed. If any who deserved better were left out on the advice of their party authorities, or even in spite of that advice, I can only express regret. On the whole, however, the difficulties were few.

In Clement Attlee I had a colleague of war experience long versed in the House of Commons. Our only differences in outlook were about Socialism, but these were swamped by a war soon to involve the almost complete subordination of the individual to the State. We worked together with perfect ease and confidence during the whole period of the Government. Mr. Arthur Greenwood was a wise counsellor of high courage and a good and helpful friend.

Sir Archibald Sinclair, as official leader of the Liberal Party, found it embarrassing to accept the office of Air Minister because his followers felt he should instead have a seat in the War Cabinet. But this ran contrary to the principle of a small War Cabinet. I therefore proposed that he should join the War Cabinet when any matter affecting fundamental political issues or party union was involved. He was my friend, and had been my second-in-command when in 1916 I commanded the 6th Royal Scots Fusiliers at Ploegsteerte (“Plug Street”), and personally longed to enter upon the great sphere of action I had reserved for him. After no little intercourse this had been amicably settled. Mr. Bevin, with whom I had made acquaintance at the beginning of the war, in trying to mitigate the severe Admiralty demands for trawlers, had to consult the Transport and General Workers’ Union, of which he was secretary, before he could join the team in the most important office of Minister of Labour. This took two or three days, but it was worth it. The Union, the largest of all in Britain, said unanimously that he was to do it, and stuck solid for five years till we won.

The greatest difficulty was with Lord Beaverbrook. I believed he had services to render of a very high quality. I had resolved, as the result of my experiences in the previous war, to remove the Supply and Design of Aircraft from the Air Ministry, and I wished him to become the Minister of Aircraft Production. He seemed at first reluctant to undertake the task, and of course the Air Ministry did not like having their Supply Branch separated from them. There were other resistances to his appointment. I felt sure, however, that our life depended upon the flow of new aircraft; I needed his vital and vibrant energy, and I persisted in my view.

In deference to prevailing opinions expressed in Parliament and the press it was necessary that the War Cabinet should be small. I therefore began by having only five members, of whom one only, the Foreign Secretary, had a Department. These were naturally the leading party politicians of the day. For the convenient conduct of business, it was necessary that the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the leader of the Liberal Party should usually be present, and as time passed the number of “constant attenders” grew. But all the responsibility was laid upon the five War Cabinet Ministers. They were the only ones who had the right to have their heads cut off on Tower Hill if we did not win. The rest could suffer for departmental shortcomings, but not on account of the policy of the State. Apart from the War Cabinet, no one could say “I cannot take the responsibility for this or that.” The burden of policy was borne at a higher level. This saved many people a lot of worry in the days which were immediately to fall upon us.

Here are the stages by which the National Coalition Government was built up day by day in the course of the great battle.

The War Cabinet

In my long political experience I had held most of the great offices of State, but I readily admit that the post which had now fallen to me was the one I liked the best. Power, for the sake of lording it over fellow-creatures or adding to personal pomp, is rightly judged base. But power in a national crisis, when a man believes he knows what orders should be given, is a blessing. In any sphere of action there can be no comparison between the positions of number one and number two, three, or four. The duties and the problems of all persons other than number one are quite different and in many ways more difficult. It is always a misfortune when number two or three has to initiate a dominant plan or policy. He has to consider not only the merits of the policy, but the mind of his chief; not only what to advise, but what it is proper for him in his station to advise; not only what to do, but how to get it agreed, and how to get it done. Moreover, number two or three will have to reckon with numbers four, five, and six, or maybe some bright outsider, number twenty. Ambition, not so much for vulgar ends, but for fame, glints in every mind. There are always several points of view which may be right, and many which are plausible. I was ruined for the time being in 1915 over the Dardanelles, and a supreme enterprise was cast away, through my trying to carry out a major and cardinal operation of war from a subordinate position. Men are ill-advised to try such ventures. This lesson had sunk into my nature.

At the top there are great simplifications. An accepted leader has only to be sure of what it is best to do, or at least to have made up his mind about it. The loyalties which centre upon number one are enormous. If he trips, he must be sustained. If he makes mistakes, they must be covered. If he sleeps, he must not be wantonly disturbed. If he is no good, he must be pole-axed. But this last extreme process cannot be carried out every day; and certainly not in the days just after he has been chosen.

The fundamental changes in the machinery of war direction were more real than apparent. “A Constitution,” said Napoleon, “should be short and obscure.” The existing organisms remained intact. No official personalities were changed. The War Cabinet and the Chiefs of the Staff Committee at first continued to meet every day as they had done before. In calling myself, with the King’s approval, Minister of Defence, I had made no legal or constitutional change. I had been careful not to define my rights and duties. I asked for no special powers either from the Crown or Parliament. It was, however, understood and accepted that I should assume the general direction of the war, subject to the support of the War Cabinet and of the House of Commons. The key-change which occurred on my taking over was, of course, the supervision and direction of the Chiefs of the Staff Committee by a Minister of Defence with undefined powers. As this Minister was also the Prime Minister, he had all the rights inherent in that office, including very wide powers of selection and removal of all professional and political personages. Thus for the first time the Chiefs of Staff Committee assumed its due and proper place in direct daily contact with the executive Head of the Government, and in accord with him had full control over the conduct of the war and the armed forces.

The position of the First Lord of the Admiralty and of the Secretaries of State for War and Air was decisively affected in fact though not in form. They were not members of the War Cabinet, nor did they attend the meetings of the Chiefs of Staff Committee. They remained entirely responsible for their Departments, but rapidly and almost imperceptibly ceased to be responsible for the formulation of strategic plans and the day-to-day conduct of operations. These were settled by the Chiefs of Staff Committee acting directly under the Minister of Defence and Prime Minister, and thus with the authority of the War Cabinet. The three Service Ministers, very able and trusted friends of mine whom I had picked for these duties, stood on no ceremony. They organised and administered the ever-growing forces, and helped all they could in the easy practical English fashion. They had the fullest information by virtue of their membership of the Defence Committee and constant access to me. Their professional subordinates, the Chiefs of Staff, discussed everything with them and treated them with the utmost respect. But there was an integral direction of the war to which they loyally submitted. There never was an occasion when powers were abrogated or challenged, and anyone in this circle could always speak his mind; but the actual war direction soon settled into a very few hands, and what had seemed so difficult before became much more simple—apart, of course, from Hitler. In spite of the turbulence of events and the many disasters we had to endure, the machinery worked almost automatically, and one lived in a stream of coherent thought capable of being translated with great rapidity into executive action.

Although the awful battle was now going on across the Channel, and the reader is no doubt impatient to get there, it may be well at this point to describe the system and machinery for conducting military and other affairs which I set on foot and practised from my earliest days of power. I am a strong believer in transacting official business by The Written Word. No doubt, surveyed in the after-time, much that is set down from hour to hour under the impact of events may be lacking in proportion or may not come true. I am willing to take my chance of that. It is always better, except in the hierarchy of military discipline, to express opinions and wishes rather than to give orders. Still, written directives coming personally from the lawfully constituted Head of the Government and Minister specially charged with Defence counted to such an extent that, though not expressed as orders, they very often found their fruition in action.

To make sure that my name was not used loosely, I issued during the crisis of July the following minute:

When I woke about 8 A.M., I read all the telegrams, and from my bed dictated a continuous flow of minutes and directives to the Departments and to the Chiefs of Staff Committee. These were typed in relays as they were done, and handed at once to General Ismay, Deputy Secretary (Military) to the War Cabinet, and my representative on the Chiefs of Staff Committee, who came to see me early each morning. Thus he usually had a good deal in writing to bring before the Chiefs of Staff Committee when they met at 10.30. They gave all consideration to my views at the same time as they discussed the general situation. Thus between three and five o’clock in the afternoon, unless there were some difficulties between us requiring further consultation, there was ready a whole series of orders and telegrams sent by me or by the Chiefs of Staff and agreed between us, usually giving all the decisions immediately required.

In total war it is quite impossible to draw any precise line between military and non-military problems. That no such friction occurred between the Military Staff and the War Cabinet Staff was due primarily to the personality of Sir Edward Bridges, Secretary to the War Cabinet. Not only was this son of a former Poet Laureate an extremely competent and tireless worker, but he was also a man of exceptional force, ability, and personal charm, without a trace of jealousy in his nature. All that mattered to him was that the War Cabinet Secretariat as a whole should serve the Prime Minister and War Cabinet to the very best of their ability. No thought of his own personal position ever entered his mind and never a cross word passed between the civil and military officers of the Secretariat.

In larger questions, or if there were any differences of view, I called a meeting of the War Cabinet Defence Committee, which at the outset comprised Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Attlee, and the three Service Ministers, with the Chiefs of the Staff in attendance. These formal meetings got fewer after 1941.^[3] As the machine began to work more smoothly, I came to the conclusion that the daily meetings of the War Cabinet with the Chiefs of Staff present were no longer necessary. I therefore eventually instituted what came to be known among ourselves as the “Monday Cabinet Parade.” Every Monday there was a considerable gathering—all the War Cabinet, the Service Ministers, and the Minister of Home Security, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Secretaries of State for the Dominions and for India, the Minister of Information, the Chiefs of Staff, and the official head of the Foreign Office. At these meetings each Chief of Staff in turn unfolded his account of all that had happened during the previous seven days; and the Foreign Secretary followed them with his story of any important developments in foreign affairs. On other days of the week the War Cabinet sat alone, and all important matters requiring decision were brought before them. Other Ministers primarily concerned with the subjects to be discussed attended for their own particular problems. The members of the War Cabinet had the fullest circulation of all papers affecting the war, and saw all important telegrams sent by me. As confidence grew, the War Cabinet intervened less actively in operational matters, though they watched them with close attention and full knowledge. They took almost the whole weight of Home and Party affairs off my shoulders, thus setting me free to concentrate upon the main theme. With regard to all future operations of importance, I always consulted them in good time; but while they gave careful consideration to the issues involved, they frequently asked not to be informed of dates and details, and indeed on several occasions stopped me when I was about to unfold these to them.

I had never intended to embody the office of Minister of Defence in a Department. This would have required legislation, and all the delicate adjustments I have described, most of which settled themselves by personal good will, would have had to be thrashed out in a process of ill-timed constitution-making. There was, however, in existence and activity under the personal direction of the Prime Minister the Military Wing of the War Cabinet Secretariat, which had in pre-war days been the Secretariat of the Committee of Imperial Defence. At the head of this stood General Ismay, with Colonel Hollis and Colonel Jacob as his two principals, and a group of specially selected younger officers drawn from all three Services. This Secretariat became the staff of the Office of the Minister of Defence. My debt to its members is immeasurable. General Ismay, Colonel Hollis, and Colonel Jacob rose steadily in rank and repute as the war proceeded, and none of them was changed. Displacements in a sphere so intimate and so concerned with secret matters are detrimental to continuous and efficient despatch of business.

After some early changes almost equal stability was preserved in the Chiefs of Staff Committee. On the expiry of his term as Chief of the Air Staff, in September, 1940, Air Marshal Newall became Governor-General of New Zealand, and was succeeded by Air Marshal Portal, who was the accepted star of the Air Force. Portal remained with me throughout the war. Sir John Dill, who had succeeded General Ironside in May, 1940, remained C.I.G.S. until he accompanied me to Washington in December, 1941. I then made him my personal Military Representative with the President and head of our Joint Staff Mission. His relations with General Marshall, Chief of Staff of the United States Army, became a priceless link in all our business, and when he died in harness some two years later he was accorded the unique honour of a resting-place in Arlington Cemetery, the Valhalla hitherto reserved exclusively for American warriors. He was succeeded as C.I.G.S. by Sir Alan Brooke, who stayed with me till the end.

From 1941, for nearly four years, the early part of which was passed in much misfortune and disappointment, the only change made in this small band either among the Chiefs or in the Defence Staff was due to the death in harness of Admiral Pound. This may well be a record in British military history. A similar degree of continuity was achieved by President Roosevelt in his own circle. The United States Chiefs of Staff—General Marshall, Admiral King, and General Arnold, subsequently joined by Admiral Leahy—started together on the American entry into the war, and were never changed. As both the British and Americans presently formed the Combined Chiefs of Staff Committee, this was an inestimable advantage for all. Nothing like it between allies has ever been known before.

I cannot say that we never differed among ourselves even at home, but a kind of understanding grew up between me and the British Chiefs of Staff that we should convince and persuade rather than try to overrule each other. This was, of course, helped by the fact that we spoke the same technical language, and possessed a large common body of military doctrine and war experience. In this ever-changing scene we moved as one, and the War Cabinet clothed us with ever more discretion, and sustained us with unwearied and unflinching constancy. There was no division, as in the previous war, between politicians and soldiers, between the “Frocks” and the “Brass Hats”—odious terms which darkened counsel. We came very close together indeed, and friendships were formed which I believe were deeply valued.

The efficiency of a war administration depends mainly upon whether decisions emanating from the highest approved authority are in fact strictly, faithfully, and punctually obeyed. This we achieved in Britain in this time of crisis, owing to the intense fidelity, comprehension, and whole-hearted resolve of the War Cabinet upon the essential purpose to which we had devoted ourselves. According to the directions given, ships, troops, and aeroplanes moved, and the wheels of factories spun. By all these processes, and by the confidence, indulgence, and loyalty by which I was upborne, I was soon able to give an integral direction to almost every aspect of the war. This was really necessary because times were so very bad. The method was accepted because everyone realised how near were death and ruin. Not only individual death, which is the universal experience, stood near, but, incomparably more commanding, the life of Britain, her message, and her glory.

Any account of the methods of government which developed under the National Coalition would be incomplete without an explanation of the series of personal messages which I sent to the President of the United States and the heads of other foreign countries and the Dominion Governments. This correspondence must be described. Having obtained from the Cabinet any specific decisions required on policy, I composed and dictated these documents myself, for the most part on the basis that they were intimate and informal correspondence with friends and fellow-workers. One can usually put one’s thought better in one’s own words. It was only occasionally that I read the text to the Cabinet beforehand. Knowing their views, I used the ease and freedom needed for the doing of my work. I was of course hand-in-glove with the Foreign Secretary and his Department, and any differences of view were settled together. I circulated these telegrams, in some cases after they had been sent, to the principal members of the War Cabinet, and, where he was concerned, to the Dominions Secretary. Before despatching them I, of course, had my points and facts checked departmentally, and nearly all military messages passed through Ismay’s hands to the Chiefs of Staff. This correspondence in no way ran counter to the official communications or the work of the Ambassadors. It became, however, in fact the channel of much vital business, and played a part in my conduct of the war not less, and sometimes even more, important than my duties as Minister of Defence.

The very select circle, who were entirely free to express their opinion, were almost invariably content with the drafts and gave me an increasing measure of confidence. Differences with American authorities, for instance, insuperable at the second level, were settled often in a few hours by direct contact at the top. Indeed, as time went on, the efficacy of this top-level transaction of business was so apparent that I had to be careful not to let it become a vehicle for ordinary departmental affairs. I had repeatedly to refuse the requests of my colleagues to address President Roosevelt personally on important matters of detail. Had these intruded unduly upon the personal correspondence, they would soon have destroyed its privacy and consequently its value.

My relations with the President gradually became so close that the chief business between our two countries was virtually conducted by these personal interchanges between him and me. In this way our perfect understanding was gained. As Head of the State as well as Head of the Government, Roosevelt spoke and acted with authority in every sphere; and, carrying the War Cabinet with me, I represented Great Britain with almost equal latitude. Thus a very high degree of concert was obtained, and the saving in time and the reduction in the number of people informed were both invaluable. I sent my cables to the American Embassy in London, which was in direct touch with the President at the White House through special coding machines. The speed with which answers were received and things settled was aided by clock-time. Any message which I prepared in the evening, night, or even up to two o’clock in the morning, would reach the President before he went to bed, and very often his answer would come back to me when I woke the next morning. In all, I sent him nine hundred and fifty messages and received about eight hundred in reply. I felt I was in contact with a very great man who was also a friend and the foremost champion of the high causes which we served.

The Cabinet being favourable to my trying to obtain destroyers from the American Government, I drafted during the afternoon of May 15 my first message to President Roosevelt since I became Prime Minister. To preserve the continuity of our correspondence I signed myself “Former Naval Person,” and to this fancy I adhered almost without exception throughout the war.

On May 18 a reply was received from the President welcoming the continuance of our private correspondence and dealing with my specific requests. The loan or gift of the forty or fifty older destroyers, it was stated, would require the authorisation of Congress, and the moment was not opportune. He would facilitate to the utmost the Allied Governments obtaining the latest types of United States aircraft, anti-aircraft equipment, ammunition, and steel. In all this the representations of our agent, the highly competent and devoted Mr. Purvis (presently to give his life in an air accident) would receive most favourable consideration. The President would consider carefully my suggestion that a United States Squadron might visit Irish ports. About the Japanese, he merely pointed to the concentration of the American Fleet at Pearl Harbour.

On Monday, May 13, I asked the House of Commons, which had been specially summoned, for a vote of confidence in the new Administration. After reporting the progress which had been made in filling the various offices, I said, “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.” In all our long history no Prime Minister had ever been able to present to Parliament and the nation a programme at once so short and so popular. I ended:

Upon these simple issues the House voted unanimously, and adjourned till May 21.

Thus, then, we all started on our common task. Never did a British Prime Minister receive from Cabinet colleagues the loyal and true aid which I enjoyed during the next five years from these men of all Parties in the State. Parliament, while maintaining free and active criticism, gave continuous, overwhelming support to all measures proposed by the Government, and the nation was united and ardent as never before. It was well indeed that this should be so, because events were to come upon us of an order more terrible than anyone had foreseen.

The First Week, May 10 to May 16

At the moment in the evening of May 10 when I became responsible, no fresh decision about meeting the German invasion of the Low Countries was required from me or from my colleagues in the new and still unformed Administration. We had long been assured that the French and British staffs were fully agreed upon General Gamelin’s Plan D, and it had already been in action since dawn. In fact, by the morning of the 11th the whole vast operation had made great progress. On the seaward flank General Giraud’s Seventh French Army had already begun its adventurous dash into Holland. In the centre the British armoured-car patrols of the 12th Lancers were upon the river Dyle, and to the south of our front all the rest of General Billotte’s First Group of Armies were hastening forward to the Meuse. The opinion of the Allied military chiefs was that Plan D, if successful, would save anything from twelve to fifteen divisions by shortening the front against Germany, and then, of course, there was the Belgian Army of twenty-two divisions besides the Dutch Army of ten divisions, without which our total forces in the West were numerically inferior. I did not therefore in the slightest degree wish to interfere with the military plans, and awaited with hope the impending shock.

Nevertheless, if in the after-light we look back upon the scene, the important paper written by the British Chiefs of Staff on September 18,^[1] 1939, becomes prominent. In this it had been affirmed that unless the Belgians were effectively holding their front on the Meuse and the Albert Canal, it would be wrong for the British and French to rush to their aid; but that they should rather stand firm on the French frontier, or at the most swing their left hand slightly forward to the line of the Scheldt. Since those days of September, 1939, agreement had been reached to carry out General Gamelin’s Plan D. Nothing had, however, happened in the interval to weaken the original view of the British Chiefs of Staff. On the contrary, much had happened to strengthen it. The German Army had grown in strength and maturity with every month that had passed, and they now had a vastly more powerful armour. The French Army, gnawed by Soviet-inspired Communism and chilled by the long, cheerless winter on the front, had actually deteriorated. The Belgian Government, staking their country’s life upon Hitler’s respect for international law and Belgian neutrality, had not achieved any effective joint planning between their army chiefs and those of the Allies. The anti-tank obstacles and defensive line which were to have been prepared on the front Namur-Louvain were inadequate and unfinished. The Belgian Army, which contained many brave and resolute men, could hardly brace itself for a conflict for fear of offending neutrality. The Belgian front had been, in fact, overrun at many points by the first wave of German assault, even before General Gamelin gave the signal to execute his long-prepared plan. The most that could now be hoped for was success in that very “encounter battle” which the French High Command had declared itself resolved to avoid.

On the outbreak of the war eight months before, the main power of the German Army and Air Force had been concentrated on the invasion and conquest of Poland. Along the whole of the Western Front, from Aix-la-Chapelle to the Swiss frontier, there had stood 42 German divisions without armour. After the French mobilisation, France could deploy the equivalent of 70 divisions opposite to them. For reasons which have been explained, it was not deemed possible to attack the Germans then. Very different was the situation on May 10, 1940. The enemy, profiting by the eight months’ delay and by the destruction of Poland, had armed, equipped, and trained about 155 divisions, of which ten were armoured (“Panzer”). Hitler’s agreement with Stalin had enabled him to reduce the German forces in the East to the smallest proportions. Opposite Russia, according to General Halder, the German Chief of Staff, there was “no more than a light covering force, scarcely fit for collecting customs duties.” Without premonition of their own future, the Soviet Government watched the destruction of that “Second Front” in the West for which they were soon to call so vehemently and to wait in agony so long. Hitler was therefore in a position to deliver his onslaught on France with 126 divisions and the whole of the immense armour weapon of ten Panzer divisions, comprising nearly three thousand armoured vehicles, of which a thousand at least were heavy tanks.

These mighty forces were deployed from the North Sea to Switzerland in the following order:

The O.K.H. (Supreme Army Command) Reserve consisted of about 47 divisions, of which 20 were in immediate reserve behind the various Army Groups, and 27 in general reserve.

Opposite this array, the exact strength and disposition or which was, of course, unknown to us, the First Group of Armies, under General Billotte, consisting of 51 divisions of which 9 were held in G.Q.G. (Grand Quartier Général Reserve), including 9 British divisions, stretched from the end of the Maginot Line near Longwy to the Belgian frontier, and behind the frontiers to the sea in front of Dunkirk. The Second and Third Groups of Armies, under Generals Prételat and Besson, consisting, with the reserves, of 43 divisions, guarded the French frontier from Longwy to Switzerland. In addition the French had the equivalent of 9 divisions occupying the Maginot Line—a total of 103 divisions. If the armies of Belgium and Holland became involved, this number would be increased by 22 Belgian and 10 Dutch divisions. As both these countries were immediately attacked, the grand total of Allied divisions of all qualities nominally available on May 10 was therefore 135, or practically the same number as we now know the enemy possessed. Properly organised and equipped, well trained and led, this force should, according to the standards of the previous war, have had a good chance of bringing the invasion to a stop.

However, the Germans had full freedom to choose the moment, the direction, and the strength of their attack. More than half of the French Army stood on the southern and eastern sectors of France, and the fifty-one French and British divisions of General Billotte’s Army Group No. 1, with whatever Belgian and Dutch aid was forthcoming, had to face the onslaught of upwards of seventy hostile divisions under Bock and Rundstedt between Longwy and the sea. The combination of the almost cannon-proof tank and dive-bomber aircraft, which had proved so successful in Poland on a smaller scale, was again to form the spearhead of the main attack, and a group of five Panzer and three motorised divisions under Kleist, included in Germany Army Group A, was directed through the Ardennes on Sedan and Monthermé.

To meet such modern forms of war the French deployed about 2300 tanks, mostly light. Their armoured formations included some powerful modern types, but more than half their total armoured strength was held in dispersed battalions of light tanks, for co-operation with the infantry. Their six armoured divisions, with which alone they could have countered the massed Panzer assault, were widely distributed over the front, and could not be collected together to operate in coherent action. Britain, the birthplace of the tank, had only just completed the formation and training of her first armoured division (328 tanks), which was still in England.

The German fighter aircraft now concentrated in the West were far superior to the French in numbers and quality. The British Air Force in France comprised the ten fighter squadrons (Hurricanes) which could be spared from vital Home Defence, eight squadrons of Battles, six of Blenheims, and five of Lysanders. Neither the French nor the British air authorities had equipped themselves with dive-bombers, which at this time, as in Poland, became prominent, and were to play an important part in the demoralisation of the French infantry and particularly of their coloured troops.

During the night of 9/10 May, heralded by widespread air attacks against airfields, communications, headquarters, and magazines, all the German forces in the Bock and Rundstedt Army Groups sprang forward towards France across the frontiers of Belgium, Holland, and Luxembourg. Complete tactical surprise was achieved in nearly every case. Out of the darkness came suddenly innumerable parties of well-armed ardent storm troops, often with light artillery, and long before daybreak a hundred and fifty miles of front were aflame. Holland and Belgium, assaulted without the slightest pretext of warning, cried aloud for help. The Dutch had trusted to their waterline; all the sluices not seized or betrayed were opened, and the Dutch frontier guards fired upon the invaders. The Belgians succeeded in destroying the bridges of the Meuse, but the Germans captured intact two across the Albert Canal.

By Plan D, the First Allied Army Group, under General Billotte, with its small but very fine British army, was, from the moment when the Germans violated the frontier, to advance east into Belgium. It was intended to forestall the enemy and stand on the line Meuse-Louvain-Antwerp. In front of that line, along the Meuse and the Albert Canal, lay the main Belgian forces. Should these stem the first German onrush, the Army Group would support them. It seemed more probable that the Belgians would be at once thrown back onto the Allied line. And this, in fact, happened. It was assumed that in this case the Belgian resistance would give a short breathing-space, during which the French and British could organise their new position. Except on the critical front of the French Ninth Army, this was accomplished. On the extreme left or seaward flank the Seventh French Army was to seize the islands commanding the mouth of the Scheldt, and, if possible, to assist the Dutch by an advance toward Breda. It was thought that on our southern flank the Ardennes were impassable for large modern armies, and south of that again began the regular fortified Maginot Line, stretching out to the Rhine and along the Rhine to Switzerland. All therefore seemed to depend upon the forward left-handed counter-stroke of the Allied Northern Armies. This again hung upon the speed with which Belgium could be occupied. Everything had been worked out in this way with the utmost detail, and only a signal was necessary to hurl forward the Allied force of well over a million men. At 5.30 A.M. on May 10, Lord Gort received a message from General Georges ordering “Alertes 1, 2, and 3”; namely, instant readiness to move into Belgium. At 6.45 A.M. General Gamelin ordered the execution of Plan D, and the long-prepared scheme of the French High Command, to which the British had subordinated themselves, came at once into action.

Mr. Colijn, when as Dutch Prime Minister he visited me in 1937, had explained to me the marvellous efficiency of the Dutch inundations. He could, he explained, by a telephone message from the luncheon table at Chartwell, press a button which would confront an invader with impassable water obstacles. But all this was nonsense. The power of a great State against a small one under modern conditions is overwhelming. The Germans broke through at every point, bridging the canals or seizing the locks and water-controls. In a single day all the outer line of the Dutch defences was mastered. At the same time the German Air Force began to use its might upon a defenceless country. The Dutch hope that they would be bypassed by the German right-handed swing as in the former war was vain.

The case of Belgium requires more searching statement. Several hundreds of thousands of British and French graves in Belgium mark the struggle of the previous war. The policy of Belgium in the years between the wars had not taken sufficient account of the past. The Belgian leaders saw with worried eyes the internal weakness of France and the vacillating pacifism of Britain. They clung to a strict neutrality. In the years before they were again invaded, their attitude towards the two mighty arrays which confronted each other was, officially at any rate, quite impartial. Great allowance must be made for the fearful problems of a small State in such a plight, but the French High Command had for years spoken bitterly of the line taken by the Belgian Government. Their only chance of defending their frontier against a German attack lay in a close alliance with France and Britain. The line of the Albert Canal and other water fronts was highly defensible, and had the British and French armies, aided by the Belgian armies, after the declaration of war, been drawn up on the Belgian frontiers in good time, a very strong offensive might have been prepared and launched from these positions against Germany. But the Belgian Government deemed that their safety lay in the most rigid neutrality, and their only hope was founded on German good faith and respect for treaties.

Even after Britain and France had entered into war, it was impossible to persuade them to rejoin the old alliance. They declared they would defend their neutrality to the death, and placed nine-tenths of their forces on their German frontier, while at the same time they strictly forbade the Anglo-French Army to enter their country and make effective preparations for their defence or for forestalling counter-strokes. The construction of new lines and the anti-tank ditch during the winter of 1939 by the British armies, with the French First Army on their right, along the Franco-Belgian frontier, had been the only measure open to us. It is a haunting question whether the whole policy of Plan D should not have been reviewed upon this basis, and whether we would not have been wiser to stand and fight on the French frontier, and amid these strong defences invite the Belgian Army to fall back upon them, rather than make the hazardous and hurried forward leap to the Dyle or the Albert Canal.

No one can understand the decisions of that period without realising the immense authority wielded by the French military leaders and the belief of every French officer that France had the primacy in the military art. France had conducted and carried the main weight of the terrible land fighting from 1914 to 1918. She had lost fourteen hundred thousand men killed. Foch had held the supreme command, and the great British and Imperial armies of sixty or seventy divisions had been placed, like the Americans, unreservedly under his orders. Now the British Expeditionary Army numbered but three or four hundred thousand men, spread from the bases at Havre and along the coast forward to the line, compared with nearly a hundred French divisions, or over two million Frenchmen, actually holding the long front from Belgium to Switzerland. It was natural, therefore, that we should place ourselves under their command, and that their judgment should be accepted. It had been expected that General Georges would take full command of the French and British armies in the field from the moment when war was declared, and General Gamelin was expected to retire to an advisory position on the French Military Council. However, General Gamelin was averse from yielding his control as Generalissimo. He retained the supreme direction. A vexatious conflict of authority took place between him and General Georges during the eight months’ lull. General Georges, in my opinion, never had the chance to make the strategic plan in its integrity and on his own responsibility.

The British General Staff and our headquarters in the field had long been anxious about the gap between the northern end of the Maginot Line and the beginning of the British fortified front along the Franco-Belgian frontier. Mr. Hore-Belisha, the Secretary of State for War, raised the point in the War Cabinet on several occasions. Representations were made through military channels. Considering, however, our relatively small contribution, the Cabinet and our military leaders were naturally shy of criticising those whose armies were ten times as strong as our own. The French thought that the Ardennes were impassable for large modern armies. Marshal Pétain had told the Senate Army Commission: “This sector is not dangerous.” A great deal of field work was done along the Meuse, but nothing like a strong line of pillboxes and anti-tank obstacles, such as the British had made along the Belgian sector, was attempted. Moreover, General Corap’s Ninth French Army was mainly composed of troops who were definitely below the French standards. Out of its nine divisions, two were of cavalry, partly mechanised, one was a fortress division, two (61st and 53d) belonged to a secondary category, two (22d and 18th) were not much inferior to active divisions; only two were divisions of the permanent regular army. Here, then, from Sedan to Hirson on the Oise, along a front of fifty miles, there were no permanent fortifications, and only two divisions of professional troops.

One cannot be strong everywhere. It is often right and necessary to hold long sectors of a frontier with light covering forces, but this, of course, should be only with the object of gathering larger reserves for counter-attacks when the enemy’s striking-points are revealed. The spreading of forty-three divisions, or half the mobile French army, from Longwy to the Swiss frontier, the whole of which was either defended by the Maginot Line forts or by the broad, swift-flowing Rhine, with its own fortress system behind it, was an improvident disposition. The risks that have to be run by the defender are more trying than those which an assailant, who is presumably the stronger at the point of attack, must dare. Where very long fronts are concerned, they can only be met by strong mobile reserves which can rapidly intervene in a decisive battle. A weight of opinion supports the criticism that the French reserves were inadequate, and, such as they were, badly distributed. After all, the gap behind the Ardennes opened the shortest road from Germany to Paris, and had for centuries been a famous battleground. If the enemy penetrated here, the whole forward movement of the Northern Armies would be deprived of its pivot, and all their communications would be endangered equally with the capital.

Looking back, we can see that Mr. Chamberlain’s War Cabinet, in which I served and for whose acts or neglects I take my full share of responsibility, ought not to have been deterred from thrashing the matter out with the French in the autumn and winter of 1939. It would have been an unpleasant and difficult argument, for the French at every stage could say: “Why do you not send more troops of your own? Will you not take over a wider sector of the front? If reserves are lacking, pray supply them. We have five million men mobilised.^[2] We follow your ideas about the war at sea: we conform to the plans of the British Admiralty. Pray show a proper confidence in the French Army and in our historic mastery of the art of war on land.”

Hitler and his generals were in little doubt as to the military views and general arrangements of their opponents. During this same autumn and winter the German factories had poured out tanks, the plants for making which must have been well advanced at the Munich crisis in 1938, and bore abundant fruit in the eight months that had passed since war began. They were not at all deterred by the physical difficulties of traversing the Ardennes. On the contrary, they believed that modern mechanical transport and vast organised road-making capacity would make this region, hitherto deemed impassable, the shortest, surest, and easiest method of penetrating France and of rupturing the whole French scheme of counter-attack. Accordingly, the German Supreme Army Command (O.K.H.) planned their enormous onrush through the Ardennes to sever the curling left arm of the Allied Northern Armies at the shoulder-joint. The movement, though on a far larger scale and with different speeds and weapons, was not unlike Napoleon’s thrust at the Plateau of Pratzen in the battle of Austerlitz, whereby the entire Austro-Russian turning move was cut off and ruined and their centre broken.

At the signal the Northern Armies sprang to the rescue of Belgium and poured forward along all the roads amid the cheers of the inhabitants. The first phase of Plan D was completed by May 12. The French held the left bank of the Meuse to Huy, and their light forces beyond the river were falling back before increasing enemy pressure. The armoured divisions of the French First Army reached the line Huy-Hannut-Tirlemont. The Belgians, having lost the Albert Canal, were falling back to the line of the river Gette and taking up their prescribed position from Antwerp to Louvain. They still held Liége and Namur. The French Seventh Army had occupied the islands of Walcheren and South Beveland, and were engaged with mechanised units of the German Eighteenth Army on the line Herenthals—Bergen-op-Zoom. So rapid had been the advance of the French Seventh Army that it had already outrun its ammunition supplies. The superiority in quality though not in numbers of the British Air Force was already apparent. Thus up till the night of the 12th there was no reason to suppose that the operations were not going well.

However, during the 13th Lord Gort’s Headquarters became aware of the weight of the German thrust on the front of the French Ninth Army. By nightfall the enemy had established themselves on the west bank of the Meuse, on either side of Dinant and Sedan. The French G.Q.G. (Grand Quartier Général) were not yet certain whether the main German effort was directed through Luxembourg against the left of the Maginot Line or through Maastricht towards Brussels. Along the whole front Louvain-Namur-Dinant to Sedan an intense, heavy battle had developed, but under conditions which General Gamelin had not contemplated, for at Dinant the French Ninth Army had no time to install themselves before the enemy was upon them.

During the 14th the bad news began to come in. At first all was vague. At 7 P.M. I read to the Cabinet a message received from M. Reynaud stating that the Germans had broken through at Sedan, that the French were unable to resist the combination of tanks and dive-bombing, and asking for ten more squadrons of fighters to re-establish the line. Other messages received by the Chiefs of Staff gave similar information, and added that both Generals Gamelin and Georges took a serious view of the situation and that General Gamelin was surprised at the rapidity of the enemy’s advance. In fact, Kleist’s Group, with its immense mass of armour, heavy and light, had completely scattered or destroyed the French troops on their immediate front, and could now move forward at a pace never before known in war. At almost all points where the armies had come in contact, the weight and fury of the German attack was overpowering. They crossed the Meuse in the Dinant sector with two more armoured divisions. To the north the fighting on the front of the French First Army had been most severe. The First and Second British Corps were still in position from Wavre to Louvain, where our Third Division, under General Montgomery, had had sharp fighting. Farther north the Belgians were retiring to the Antwerp defences. The French Seventh Army on the seaward flank was recoiling even quicker than it had advanced.

From the moment of the invasion we began “Operation Royal Marine,” the launching of the fluvial mines into the Rhine, and in the first week of the battle nearly 1700 were “streamed.”^[3] They produced immediate results. Practically all river traffic between Karlsruhe and Mainz was suspended, and extensive damage was done to the Karlsruhe barrage and a number of pontoon bridges. The success of this device was, however, lost in the deluge of disaster.

All the British air squadrons fought continuously, their principal effort being against the pontoon bridges in the Sedan area. Several of these were destroyed and others damaged in desperate and devoted attacks. The losses in the low-level attacks on the bridges from the German anti-aircraft artillery were cruel. In one case, of six aircraft only one returned from the successful task. On this day alone we lost a total of sixty-seven machines, and being engaged principally with the enemy’s anti-aircraft forces, accounted for only fifty-three German aircraft. That night there remained in France of the Royal Air Force only 206 serviceable aircraft out of 474.

This detailed information came only gradually to hand. But it was already clear that the continuance of fighting on this scale would soon completely consume the British Air Force in spite of its individual ascendancy. The hard question of how much we could send from Britain without leaving ourselves defenceless and thus losing the power to continue the war pressed itself henceforward upon us. Our own natural promptings and many weighty military arguments lent force to the incessant, vehement French appeals. On the other hand, there was a limit, and that limit if transgressed would cost us our life.

At this time all these issues were discussed by the whole War Cabinet, which met several times a day. Air Chief Marshal Dowding, at the head of our metropolitan fighter command, had declared to me that with twenty-five squadrons of fighters he could defend the island against the whole might of the German Air Force, but that with less he would be overpowered. This would have entailed not only the destruction of all our airfields and our air power, but of the aircraft factories on which our whole future hung. My colleagues and I were resolved to run all risks for the sake of the battle up to that limit—and those risks were very great—but not to go beyond it, no matter what the consequences might be.

About half-past seven on the morning of the 15th I was woken up with the news that M. Reynaud was on the telephone at my bedside. He spoke in English, and evidently under stress. “We have been defeated.” As I did not immediately respond he said again, “We are beaten; we have lost the battle.” I said, “Surely it can’t have happened so soon?” But he replied, “The front is broken near Sedan; they are pouring through in great numbers with tanks and armoured cars”—or words to that effect. I then said, “All experience shows that the offensive will come to an end after a while. I remember the 21st of March, 1918. After five or six days they have to halt for supplies, and the opportunity for counter-attack is presented. I learned all this at the time from the lips of Marshal Foch himself.” Certainly, this was what we had always seen in the past and what we ought to have seen now. However, the French Premier came back to the sentence with which he had begun, which proved indeed only too true: “We are defeated; we have lost the battle.” I said I was willing to come over and have a talk.

On this day Corap’s French Ninth Army was in a state of complete dissolution, and its remnants were divided up between General Giraud of the Seventh French Army, who took over from Corap in the north, and the headquarters of the Sixth French Army, which was forming in the south. A gap of some fifty miles had in fact been punched in the French line, through which the vast mass of enemy armour was pouring. By the evening of the 15th, German armoured cars were reported to be in Liart and Montcornet, the latter sixty miles behind the original front. The French First Army was also pierced on a five-thousand yards front south of Limal. Farther north all attacks on the British were repulsed. The German attack and the retirement of the French division on their right compelled the making of a British defensive flank facing south. The French Seventh Army had retreated into the Antwerp defences west of the Scheldt, and was being driven out of the islands of Walcheren and South Beveland.

On this day also the struggle in Holland came to an end. Owing to the “Cease Fire” order given by the Dutch High Command at 11 A.M., only a very few Dutch troops could be evacuated.

Of course this picture presented a general impression of defeat. I had seen a good deal of this sort of thing in the previous war, and the idea of the line being broken, even on a broad front, did not convey to my mind the appalling consequences that now flowed from it. Not having had access to official information for so many years, I did not comprehend the violence of the revolution effected since the last war by the incursion of a mass of fast-moving heavy armour. I knew about it, but it had not altered my inward convictions as it should have done. There was nothing I could have done if it had. I rang up General Georges, who seemed quite cool, and reported that the breach at Sedan was being plugged. A telegram from General Gamelin also stated that, although the position between Namur and Sedan was serious, he viewed the situation with calm. I reported Reynaud’s message and other news to the Cabinet at 11 A.M., the Chiefs of Staff being present.

On the 16th the German spearheads stood along the line La Capelle-Vervins-Marle-Laon, and the vanguards of the German Fourteenth Corps were in support at Montcornet and Neufchâtel-sur-Aisne. The fall of Laon confirmed the penetration of over sixty miles inward upon us from the frontier near Sedan. Under this threat and the ever-increasing pressure on their own front, the First French Army and the British Expeditionary Force were ordered to withdraw in three stages to the Scheldt. Although none of these details were available even to the War Office, and no clear view could be formed of what was happening, the gravity of the crisis was obvious. I felt it imperative to go to Paris that afternoon. My colleagues accepted the fact that I must go, and said they would look after everything at home.

We had to expect that the disastrous events on the front would bring new foes upon us. Although there were no indications of a change in Italian policy, the Minister of Shipping was given instructions to thin out the shipping in the Mediterranean. No more British ships were to come homewards from Aden. We had already diverted round the Cape the first convoy carrying the Australian troops to England. The Defence Committee were instructed to consider action in the event of war with Italy, particularly with regard to Crete. Schemes for evacuating civilians from Aden and Gibraltar were put into operation.

At about 3 P.M. I flew to Paris in a Flamingo, a Government passenger plane, of which there were three. General Dill, Vice-Chief of the Imperial General Staff, came with me, and Ismay.

It was a good machine, very comfortable, and making about a hundred and sixty miles an hour. As it was unarmed, an escort was provided, but we soared off into a rain-cloud and reached Le Bourget in little more than an hour. From the moment we got out of the Flamingo, it was obvious that the situation was incomparably worse than we had imagined. The officers who met us told General Ismay that the Germans were expected in Paris in a few days at most. After hearing at the Embassy about the position, I drove to the Quai d’Orsay, arriving at 5.30 o’clock. I was conducted into one of its fine rooms. Reynaud was there, Daladier, Minister of National Defence and War, and General Gamelin. Everybody was standing. At no time did we sit down around a table. Utter dejection was written on every face. In front of Gamelin on a student’s easel was a map, about two yards square, with a black ink line purporting to show the Allied front. In this line there was drawn a small but sinister bulge at Sedan.

The Commander-in-Chief briefly explained what had happened. North and south of Sedan, on a front of fifty or sixty miles, the Germans had broken through. The French army in front of them was destroyed or scattered. A heavy onrush of armoured vehicles was advancing with unheard-of speed toward Amiens and Arras, with the intention, apparently, of reaching the coast at Abbeville or thereabouts. Alternatively they might make for Paris. Behind the armour, he said, eight or ten German divisions, all motorised, were driving onwards, making flanks for themselves as they advanced against the two disconnected French armies on either side. The General talked perhaps five minutes without anyone saying a word. When he stopped there was a considerable silence. I then asked: “Where is the strategic reserve?” and, breaking into French, which I used indifferently (in every sense): “Où est la masse de manoeuvre?” General Gamelin turned to me and, with a shake of the head and a shrug, said: “Aucune.”

There was another long pause. Outside in the garden of the Quai d’Orsay clouds of smoke arose from large bonfires, and I saw from the window venerable officials pushing wheelbarrows of archives onto them. Already, therefore, the evacuation of Paris was being prepared.

Past experience carries with its advantages the drawback that things never happen the same way again. Otherwise I suppose life would be too easy. After all, we had often had our fronts broken before; always we had been able to pull things together and wear down the momentum of the assault. But here were two new factors that I had never expected to have to face. First, the overrunning of the whole of the communications and countryside by an irresistible incursion of the armoured vehicles, and secondly no strategic reserve. “Aucune.” I was dumbfounded. What were we to think of the great French Army and its highest chiefs? It had never occurred to me that any commanders having to defend five hundred miles of engaged front would have left themselves unprovided with a mass of manoeuvre. No one can defend with certainty so wide a front; but when the enemy has committed himself to a major thrust which breaks the line, one can always have, one must always have, a mass of divisions which marches up in vehement counter-attack at the moment when the first fury of the offensive has spent its force.

What was the Maginot Line for? It should have economised troops upon a large sector of the frontier, not only offering many sally-ports for local counter-strokes, but also enabling large forces to be held in reserve: and this is the only way these things can be done. But now there was no reserve. I admit this was one of the greatest surprises I have had in my life. Why had I not known more about it, even though I had been so busy at the Admiralty? Why had the British Government, and the War Office above all, not known more about it? It was no excuse that the French High Command would not impart their dispositions to us or to Lord Gort except in vague outline. We had a right to know. We ought to have insisted. Both armies were fighting in the line together. I went back again to the window and the curling wreaths of smoke from the bonfires of the State documents of the French Republic. Still the old gentlemen were bringing up their wheelbarrows, and industriously casting their contents into the flames.

There was a considerable conversation in changing groups around the principals of which M. Reynaud has published a detailed record. I am represented as urging that there should be no withdrawal of the Northern Armies, that on the contrary they should counter-attack. Certainly this was my mood. But here was no considered military opinion.^[4] It must be remembered that this was the first realisation we had of the magnitude of the disaster or of the apparent French despair. We were not conducting the operations, and our army, which was only a tenth of the troops on the front, was serving under the French command. I and the British officers with me were staggered at the evident conviction of the French Commander-in-Chief and leading Ministers that all was lost, and in anything that I said I was reacting violently against this. There is, however, no doubt that they were quite right, and that the most rapid retreat to the south was imperative. This soon became obvious to all.

Presently General Gamelin was speaking again. He was discussing whether forces should now be gathered to strike at the flanks of the penetration, or “Bulge,” as we called such things later on. Eight or nine divisions were being withdrawn from quiet parts of the front, the Maginot Line; there were two or three armoured divisions which had not been engaged; eight or nine more divisions were being brought from Africa and would arrive in the battle zone during the next fortnight or three weeks. General Giraud had been placed in command of the French army north of the gap. The Germans would advance henceforward through a corridor between two fronts on which warfare in the fashion of 1917 and 1918 could be waged. Perhaps the Germans could not maintain the corridor, with its ever-increasing double flank guards to be built up, and at the same time nourish their armoured incursion. Something in this sense Gamelin seemed to say, and all this was quite sound. I was conscious, however, that it carried no conviction in this small but hitherto influential and responsible company. Presently I asked General Gamelin when and where he proposed to attack the flanks of the Bulge. His reply was: “Inferiority of numbers, inferiority of equipment, inferiority of method”—and then a hopeless shrug of the shoulders. There was no argument; there was no need of argument. And where were we British anyway, having regard to our tiny contribution—ten divisions after eight months of war, and not even one modern tank division in action?

This was the last I saw of General Gamelin. He was a patriotic, well-meaning man and skilled in his profession, and no doubt he has his tale to tell.^[5]

The burden of General Gamelin’s, and indeed of all the French High Command’s subsequent remarks, was insistence on their inferiority in the air and earnest entreaties for more squadrons of the Royal Air Force, bomber as well as fighter, but chiefly the latter. This prayer for fighter support was destined to be repeated at every subsequent conference until France fell. In the course of his appeal, General Gamelin said that fighters were needed not only to give cover to the French Army, but also to stop the German tanks. At this I said: “No. It is the business of the artillery to stop the tanks. The business of the fighters is to cleanse the skies (nettoyer le ciel) over the battle.” It was vital that our metropolitan fighter air force should not be drawn out of Britain on any account. Our existence turned on this. Nevertheless, it was necessary to cut to the bone. In the morning, before I started, the Cabinet had given me authority to move four more squadrons of fighters to France. On our return to the Embassy and after talking it over with Dill, I decided to ask sanction for the despatch of six more. This would leave us with only the twenty-five fighter squadrons at home, and that was the final limit.

It was a rending decision either way. I told General Ismay to telephone to London that the Cabinet should assemble at once to consider an urgent telegram which would be sent over in the course of the next hour or so. Ismay did this in Hindustani, having previously arranged for an Indian Army officer to be standing by in his office. This was my telegram:

The reply came at about 11.30. The Cabinet said “Yes.” I immediately took Ismay off with me in a car to M. Reynaud’s flat. We found it more or less in darkness. After an interval M. Reynaud emerged from his bedroom in his dressing-gown and I told him the favourable news. Ten fighter squadrons! I then persuaded him to send for M. Daladier, who was duly summoned and brought to the flat to hear the decision of the British Cabinet. In this way I hoped to revive the spirits of our French friends, as much as our limited means allowed. Daladier never spoke a word. He rose slowly from his chair and wrung my hand. I got back to the Embassy about 2 A.M., and slept well, though the cannon fire in petty aeroplane raids made one roll over from time to time. In the morning I flew home, and, in spite of other preoccupations, pressed on with construction of the second level of the new Government.

The Second Week: Weygand

May 17 to May 24

The War Cabinet met at 10 A.M. on the 17th, and I gave them an account of my visit to Paris, and of the situation so far as I could measure it.

I said I had told the French that unless they made a supreme effort we should not be justified in accepting the grave risk, to the safety of our country that we were incurring by the despatch of the additional fighter squadrons to France. I felt that the question of air reinforcements was one of the gravest that a British Cabinet had ever had to face. It was claimed that the German air losses had been four or five times our own, but I had been told that the French had only one-quarter of their fighter aircraft left. On this day Gamelin thought the situation “lost,” and is reported to have said: “I will guarantee the safety of Paris only for today, tomorrow [the 18th], and the night following.” In Norway it appeared that Narvik was likely to be captured by us at any moment, but Lord Cork was informed that in the light of the news from France no more reinforcements could be sent to him.

The battle crisis grew hourly in intensity. At the request of General Georges, the British Army prolonged its defensive flank by occupying points on the whole line from Douai to Péronne, thus attempting to cover Arras, which was a road centre vital to any southward retreat. That afternoon the Germans entered Brussels. The next day they reached Cambrai, passed St. Quentin, and brushed our small parties out of Péronne. The French Seventh, the Belgian, the British, and the French First Army all continued their withdrawal to the Scheldt, the British standing along the Dendre for the day, and forming the detachment “Petreforce” (a temporary grouping of various units under Major-General Petre) for the defence of Arras.

At midnight (May 18-19) Lord Gort was visited at his headquarters by General Billotte. Neither the personality of this French general nor his proposals, such as they were, inspired confidence in his allies. From this moment the possibility of a withdrawal to the coast began to present itself to the British Commander-in-Chief. In his despatch published in March, 1941, he wrote: “The picture was now [night of the 19th] no longer that of a line bent or temporarily broken, but of a besieged fortress.”

As the result of my visit to Paris and the Cabinet discussions I already found it necessary to pose a general question to my colleagues.

The swift fate of Holland was in all our minds. Mr. Eden had already proposed to the War Cabinet the formation of Local Defence Volunteers, and this plan was energetically pressed. All over the country, in every town and village, bands of determined men came together armed with shotguns, sporting rifles, clubs and spears. From this a vast organisation was soon to spring. But the need of Regulars was also vital.

I also thought it necessary, with the approval of my colleagues, to send the following grave telegrams to President Roosevelt in order to show how seriously the interests of the United States would be affected by the conquest and subjugation not only of France but of Great Britain. The Cabinet pondered over these drafts for a while, but made no amendment.

Far-reaching changes were now made by M. Reynaud in the French Cabinet and High Command. On the 18th Marshal Pétain was appointed Vice-President of the Council. Reynaud himself, transferring Daladier to Foreign Affairs, took over the Ministry of National Defence and War. At 7 P.M. on the 19th he appointed Weygand, who had just arrived from the Levant, to replace General Gamelin. I had known Weygand when he was the right-hand man of Marshal Foch, and had admired his masterly intervention in the Battle of Warsaw against the Bolshevik invasion of Poland in August, 1920—an event decisive for Europe at that time. He was now seventy-three, but was reported to be efficient and vigorous in a very high degree. General Gamelin’s final Order (No. 12), dated 9.45 A.M. on May 19, prescribed that the Northern Armies, instead of letting themselves be encircled, must at all costs force their way southward to the Somme, attacking the Panzer divisions which had cut their communications. At the same time the Second Army and the newly forming Sixth were to attack northward towards Mézières. These decisions were sound. Indeed, an order for the general retreat of the Northern Armies southward was already at least four days overdue. Once the gravity of the breach in the French centre at Sedan was apparent, the only hope for the Northern Armies lay in an immediate march to the Somme. Instead, under General Billotte, they had only made gradual and partial withdrawals to the Scheldt and formed the defensive flank to the right. Even now there might have been time for the southward march.

The confusion of the northern command, the apparent paralysis of the First French Army, and the uncertainty about what was happening had caused the War Cabinet extreme anxiety. All our proceedings were quiet and composed, but we had a united and decided opinion, behind which there was silent passion. On the 19th we were informed (4.30 P.M.) that Lord Gort was “examining a possible withdrawal towards Dunkirk if that were forced upon him.” The C.I.G.S. (Ironside) could not accept this proposal, as, like most of us, he favoured the southward march. We therefore sent him to Lord Gort with instructions to move the British Army in a southwesterly direction and to force his way through all opposition in order to join up with the French in the south, and that the Belgians should be urged to conform to this movement, or, alternatively, that we would evacuate as many of their troops as possible from the Channel ports. He was to be told that we would ourselves inform the French Government of what had been resolved. At the same Cabinet we sent Dill to General Georges’ Headquarters, with which we had a direct telephone. He was to stay there for four days and tell us all he could find out. Contacts even with Lord Gort were intermittent and difficult, but it was reported that only four days’ supplies and ammunition for one battle were available.

At the morning War Cabinet of May 20, we again discussed the situation of our Army. Even on the assumption of a successful fighting retreat to the Somme, I thought it likely that considerable numbers might be cut off or driven back on the sea. It is recorded in the minutes of the meeting: “The Prime Minister thought that as a precautionary measure the Admiralty should assemble a large number of small vessels in readiness to proceed to ports and inlets on the French coast.” On this the Admiralty acted immediately and with ever-increasing vigour as the days passed and darkened. Operational control had been delegated on the 19th to Admiral Ramsay, commanding at Dover, whose resources at that time comprised thirty-six personnel vessels of various sorts based on Southampton and Dover. On the afternoon of the 20th, in consequence of the orders from London, the first conference of all concerned, including representatives of the Shipping Ministry, was held at Dover to consider “the emergency evacuation across the Channel of very large forces.” It was planned if necessary to evacuate from Calais, Boulogne, and Dunkirk, at a rate of ten thousand men from each port every twenty-four hours. Thirty craft of passenger-ferry type, twelve naval drifters, and six small coasters were provided as a first instalment. On May 22 the Admiralty ordered forty Dutch skoots which had taken refuge with us to be requisitioned and manned with naval crews. These were commissioned between May 25 and May 27. From Harwich round to Weymouth sea-transport officers were directed to list all suitable ships up to a thousand tons, and a complete survey was made of all shipping in British harbours. These plans for what was called “Operation Dynamo” proved the salvation of the Army ten days later.

The direction of the German thrust had now become more obvious. Armoured vehicles and mechanised divisions continued to pour through the gap towards Amiens and Arras, curling westward along the Somme towards the sea. On the night of the 20th, they entered Abbeville, having traversed and cut the whole communications of the Northern Armies. These hideous, fatal scythes encountered little or no resistance once the front had been broken. The German tanks—the dreaded “chars allemands”—ranged freely through the open country, and aided and supplied by mechanised transport advanced thirty or forty miles a day. They had passed through scores of towns and hundreds of villages without the slightest opposition, their officers looking out of the open cupolas and waving jauntily to the inhabitants. Eye-witnesses spoke of crowds of French prisoners marching along with them, many still carrying their rifles, which were from time to time collected and broken under the tanks. I was shocked by the utter failure to grapple with the German armour, which, with a few thousand vehicles, was compassing the entire destruction of mighty armies, and by the swift collapse of all French resistance once the fighting front had been pierced. The whole German movement was proceeding along the main roads, at no point on which did they seem to be blocked.

Already on the 17th I had asked the Chief of the Air Staff: “Is there no possibility of finding out where a column of enemy armoured vehicles harbours during the dark hours, and then bombing? We are being ripped to pieces behind the front by these wandering columns.”

Weygand’s first act was to cancel Gamelin’s Instruction No. 12. It was not unnatural that he should wish to see the situation in the north for himself, and to make contact with the commanders there. Allowances must be made for a general who takes over the command in the crisis of a losing battle. But now there was no time. He should not have left the summit of the remaining controls and have become involved in the delays and strains of personal movement. We may note in detail what followed. On the morning of the 20th, Weygand, installed in Gamelin’s place, made arrangements to visit the Northern Armies on the 21st. After learning that the roads to the north were cut by the Germans, he decided to fly. His plane was attacked, and forced to land at Calais. The hour appointed for his conference at Ypres had to be altered to 3 P.M. on the 21st. Here he met King Leopold and General Billotte. Lord Gort, who had not been notified of time and place, was not present, and the only British officer in attendance was Admiral Keyes, who was attached to the King and had no military command. The King described this conference as “four hours of confused talking.” It discussed the co-ordination of the three armies, the execution of the Weygand plan, and if that failed the retirement of the British and French to the Lys, and the Belgians to the Yser. At 8 P.M. General Weygand had to leave. Lord Gort did not arrive till eight, when he received an account of the proceedings from General Billotte. Weygand drove back to Calais, embarked on a submarine for Dieppe, and returned to Paris. Billotte drove off in his car to deal with the crisis, and within the hour was killed in a motor collision. Thus all was again in suspense.

On the 21st, Ironside returned and reported that Lord Gort, on receiving the Cabinet instructions, had put the following points to him:

(1) That the southward march would involve a rearguard action from the Scheldt at the same time as an attack into an area already strongly held by the enemy armoured and mobile formations. During such a movement both flanks would have to be protected.

(2) That sustained offensive operations were difficult in view of the administrative situation; and

(3) That neither the French First Army nor the Belgians were likely to be able to conform to such a manoeuvre if attempted.

Ironside added that confusion reigned in the French High Command in the north; that General Billotte had failed to carry out his duties of co-ordination for the past eight days and appeared to have no plans; that the British Expeditionary Force were in good heart and had so far had only about five hundred battle casualties. He gave a vivid description of the state of the roads, crowded with refugees, scourged by the fire of German aircraft. He had had a rough time himself.

Two fearsome alternatives therefore presented themselves to the War Cabinet. The first, the British Army at all costs, with or without French and Belgian co-operation, to cut its way to the south and the Somme, a task which Lord Gort doubted its ability to perform; the second, to fall back on Dunkirk and face a sea evacuation under hostile air attack with the certainty of losing all the artillery and equipment, then so scarce and precious. Obviously great risks should be run to achieve the first, but there was no reason why all possible precautions and preparations should not be taken for the sea evacuation if the southern plan failed. I proposed to my colleagues that I should go to France to meet Reynaud and Weygand and come to a decision. Dill was to meet me there from General Georges’ Headquarters.

This was the moment when my colleagues felt it right to obtain from Parliament the extraordinary powers for which a bill had been prepared during the last few days. This measure would give the Government practically unlimited power over the life, liberty, and property of all His Majesty’s subjects in Great Britain. In general terms of law the powers granted by Parliament were absolute. The Act was to “include power by Order in Council to make such Defence Regulations making provision for requiring persons to place themselves, their services, and their property at the disposal of His Majesty as appear to him to be necessary or expedient for securing the public safety, the defence of the Realm, the maintenance of public order, or the efficient prosecution of any war in which His Majesty may be engaged, or for maintaining supplies or services essential to the life of the community.”

In regard to persons, the Minister of Labour was empowered to direct anyone to perform any service required. The regulation giving him this power included a fair wages clause which was inserted in the Act to regulate wage conditions. Labour supply committees were to be set up in important centres. The control of property in the widest sense was imposed in equal manner. Control of all establishments, including banks, was imposed under the authority of Government orders. Employers could be required to produce their books, and excess profits were to be taxed at 100 per cent. A Production Council to be presided over by Mr. Greenwood was to be formed, and a Director of Labour Supply to be appointed.

This bill was accordingly presented to Parliament on the afternoon of the 22d by Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Attlee, the latter himself moving the second reading. Both the Commons and the Lords with their immense Conservative majorities passed it unanimously through all its stages in a single afternoon, and it received the Royal Assent that night:

When I arrived in Paris on May 22, there was a new setting. Gamelin was gone; Daladier was gone from the war scene. Reynaud was both Prime Minister and Minister of War. As the German thrust had definitely turned seaward, Paris was not immediately threatened. Grand Quartier Général (G.Q.G.) was still at Vincennes. M. Reynaud drove me down there about noon. In the garden some of those figures I had seen round Gamelin—one a very tall cavalry officer—were pacing moodily up and down. “C’est l’ancien régime,” remarked the aide-de-camp. Reynaud and I were brought into Weygand’s room and afterwards to the map room, where we had the great maps of the Supreme Command. Weygand met us. In spite of his physical exertions and a night of travel, he was brisk, buoyant, and incisive. He made an excellent impression upon all. He unfolded his plan of war. He was not content with a southward march or retreat for the Northern Armies. They should strike southeast from around Cambrai and Arras in the general direction of St. Quentin, thus taking in flank the German armoured divisions at present engaged in what he called the St. Quentin-Amiens pocket. Their rear, he thought, would be protected by the Belgian Army, which would cover them towards the east, and if necessary towards the north. Meanwhile a new French army under General Frère, composed of eighteen to twenty divisions drawn from Alsace, from the Maginot Line, from Africa, and from every other quarter, were to form a front along the Somme. Their left hand would push forward through Amiens to Arras, and thus by their utmost efforts establish contact with the armies of the north. The enemy armour must be kept under constant pressure. “The Panzer divisions must not,” said Weygand, “be allowed to keep the initiative.” All necessary orders had been given so far as it was possible to give orders at all. We were now told that General Billotte, to whom he had imparted his whole plan, had just been killed in the motor accident. Dill and I were agreed that we had no choice, and indeed no inclination, except to welcome the plan. I emphasised that “it was indispensable to reopen communications between the armies of the north and those of the south by way of Arras.” I explained that Lord Gort, while striking southwest, must also guard his path to the coast. To make sure there was no mistake about what was settled, I myself dictated a résumé of the decisions and showed it to Weygand, who agreed. I reported accordingly to the Cabinet and sent the following telegram to Lord Gort:

It will be seen that Weygand’s new plan did not differ except in emphasis from the cancelled Instruction No. 12 of General Gamelin. Nor was it out of harmony with the vehement opinion which the War Cabinet had expressed on the 19th. The Northern Armies were to shoulder their way southward by offensive action, destroying, if possible, the armoured incursion. They were to be met by a helpful thrust through Amiens by the new French Army Group under General Frère. This would be most important if it came true. In private I complained to M. Reynaud that Gort had been left entirely without orders for four consecutive days. Even since Weygand had assumed command three days had been lost in taking decisions. The change in the Supreme Command was right. The resultant delay was evil.

I slept the night at the Embassy. The air raids were trivial; the guns were noisy, but one never heard a bomb. Very different indeed were the experiences of Paris from the ordeal which London was soon to endure. I had a keen desire to go to see my friend General Georges at his headquarters at Compiègne. Our liaison officer with him, Brigadier Swayne, was with me for some time and gave me the picture of the French armies so far as he knew it, which was only part of the way. I was persuaded that it would be better not to intrude at this time, when this vast and complicated operation was being attempted in the teeth of every form of administrative difficulty and frequent breakdowns in communication.

In the absence of any supreme war direction, events and the enemy had taken control. On the 17th, Gort had begun to direct troops to the line Ruyaulcourt-Arleux and to garrison Arras, and was constantly strengthening his southern flank. The French Seventh Army, less the Sixteenth Corps, which had suffered heavily in the Walcheren fighting, had moved south to join the First French Army. It had traversed the British rear without serious disturbance. On the 20th, Gort had informed both Generals Billotte and Blanchard that he proposed to attack southward from Arras on May 21 with two divisions and an armoured brigade, and Billotte had agreed to co-operate with two French divisions from the First French Army. This army of thirteen divisions was gathered in an oblong some nineteen miles by ten—Maulde-Valenciennes-Denain-Douai. The enemy had crossed the Scheldt on the 20th around Oudenarde, and the three British corps, which still faced east, withdrew on the 23d to the defences we had erected in the winter along the Belgian frontier, from which they had advanced so eagerly twelve days before. On this day the B.E.F. were put on half rations. The impression of French helplessness derived from many sources led me to protest to Reynaud.

I reported this message to the War Cabinet when they met at 11.30 A.M., pointing out that the whole success of the Weygand plan was dependent on the French taking the initiative, which they showed no signs of doing. We met again at 7 P.M.

Some account of the small battle fought by the British around Arras must be given here. General Franklyn, who commanded, intended to occupy the area Arras-Cambrai-Bapaume. He had the 5th and 50th British Divisions and the 1st Army Tank Brigade. His plan was to attack with this armour and one brigade of each division, the whole under General Martel, round the western and southern sides of Arras, with an immediate objective on the river Sensée. The French were to co-operate with two divisions on the east to the Cambrai-Arras road. The British divisions consisted of only two brigades each, and the tanks numbered sixty-five Mark I and eighteen Mark II, all of whose tracks, the life of which was short, were wearing out. The attack began at 2 P.M. on May 21, and soon found itself engaged with much stronger opposition than was expected. French support on the eastern flank did not materialise, and on the western was limited to one light mechanised division. The enemy armour actually consisted of about four hundred tanks of the 7th and 8th German Armoured Divisions, a general named Rommel commanding the former.

At first the attack prospered, and four hundred prisoners were taken, but the line of the river Sensée was not reached, and the German counter-attack in overwhelming numbers with full air support caused heavy casualties. The 12th Lancers presently reported strong enemy columns moving towards St. Pol and threatening to turn the western flank. During the night the Army Tank Brigade, the 13th Brigade of the 5th Division, and the 151st Brigade of the 50th Division gradually withdrew to the river Scarpe. Here three British brigades stood until the afternoon of the 22d, and in this neighbourhood repulsed various attacks. We still held Arras, but the enemy gradually tended to swing round towards Béthune. The French light mechanised division guarding our western flank was forced from Mont St. Eloi, and the enemy tanks soon after approached Souchez. By 7 P.M. on the 23d the British eastern flank was under heavy pressure, and the enemy reaching Lens had encircled the western flank. Thus the position was precarious. We were hopelessly outnumbered, beset by masses of armour, and almost surrounded. At 10 P.M. General Franklyn informed General Headquarters that unless his force was withdrawn during the night its retirement would become impossible. He was told that orders to withdraw had been sent him three hours before. The operation had some temporary effect on the enemy; they recorded it at the time as “heavy British counter-attacks with armour,” which caused them considerable anxiety.

In pursuance of the Weygand plan, Gort proposed to General Blanchard, who now commanded the northern group, that two British divisions, one French division, and the French Cavalry Corps should attack southward between the Canal du Nord and the Scheldt Canal. Two French divisions had in fact twice previously reached the outskirts of Cambrai, but on each occasion they were bombed and withdrew. In all these days this was the only offensive action of the French First Army.

In London we had no knowledge of the progress of this forlorn attempt at Arras to break the encircling line. However, during the 24th very reproachful telegrams arrived from Reynaud. The shorter of his two messages tells the story.

Up to this time General Weygand had been counting on General Frère’s army advancing northward on Amiens, Albert, and Péronne. They had, in fact, made no noticeable progress, and were still forming and assembling. The following are my replies to M. Reynaud:

There was a very strong feeling in Cabinet and high military circles that the abilities and strategic knowledge of Sir John Dill, who had been since April 23 Vice-Chief of the Imperial General Staff, should find their full scope in his appointment as our principal Army adviser. No one could doubt that his professional standing was in many ways superior to that of Ironside.

As the adverse battle drew to its climax, I and my colleagues greatly desired that Sir John Dill should become C.I.G.S. We had also to choose a Commander-in-Chief for the British Island, if we were invaded. Late at night on May 25, Ironside, Dill, Ismay, myself, and one or two others in my room at Admiralty House were trying to measure the position. General Ironside volunteered the proposal that he should cease to be C.I.G.S., but declared himself quite willing to command the British Home Armies. Considering the unpromising task that such a command was at the time thought to involve, this was a spirited and selfless offer. I therefore accepted General Ironside’s proposal; and the high dignities and honours which were later conferred upon him arose from my appreciation of his bearing at this moment in our affairs. Sir John Dill became C.I.G.S. on May 27. The changes were generally judged appropriate for the time being.

May 24 to May 31

Only Hitler was prepared to violate the neutrality of Belgium and Holland. Belgium would not invite the Allies in until she was herself attacked. Therefore the military initiative rested with Hitler. On May 10 he struck his blow. The First Army Group, with the British in the centre, instead of standing behind their fortifications, leaped forward into Belgium on a vain, but belated, mission of rescue. The French had left the gap opposite the Ardennes ill fortified and weakly guarded. An armoured inroad on a scale never known in war broke the centre of the French line of armies, and in forty-eight hours threatened to cut all the northern armies alike from their southern communications and from the sea. By the 14th at the latest the French High Command should have given imperative orders to these armies to make a general retreat at full speed, accepting not only risks but heavy losses of material. This issue was not faced in its brutal realism by General Gamelin. The French commander of the northern group, Billotte, was incapable of taking the necessary decisions himself. Confusion reigned throughout the armies of the threatened left wing.

As the superior power of the enemy was felt, they fell back. As the turning movement swung round their right, they formed a defensive flank. If they had started back on the 14th, they could have been on their old line by the 17th and would have had a good chance of fighting their way out. At least three mortal days were lost. From the 17th onwards the British War Cabinet saw clearly that an immediate fighting march southward would alone save the British Army. They were resolved to press their view upon the French Government and General Gamelin, but their own commander, Lord Gort, was doubtful whether it was possible to disengage the fighting fronts, and still more to break through at the same time. On the 19th, General Gamelin was dismissed, and Weygand reigned in his stead. Gamelin’s “Instruction No. 12,” his last order, though five days late, was sound in principle, and also in conformity with the main conclusions of the British War Cabinet and Chiefs of Staff. The change in the supreme command, or want of command, led to another three days’ delay. The spirited plan which General Weygand proposed after visiting the northern armies was never more than a paper scheme. In the main it was the Gamelin plan, rendered still more hopeless by further delay.

In the hideous dilemma which now presented itself, we accepted the Weygand plan and made loyal and persistent, though now ineffectual, efforts to carry it out until the 25th, when, all the communications being cut, our weak counter-attack being repulsed with the loss of Arras, the Belgian front being broken and King Leopold about to capitulate, all hope of escape to the southward vanished. There remained only the sea. Could we reach it, or must we be surrounded and broken up in the open field? In any case the whole artillery and equipment of our army, irreplaceable for many months, must be lost. But what was that compared with saving the army, the nucleus and structure upon which alone Britain could build her armies of the future? Lord Gort, who had from the 25th onwards felt that evacuation by sea was our only chance, now proceeded to form a bridgehead around Dunkirk and to fight his way into it with what strength remained. All the discipline of the British, and the qualities of their commanders, who included Brooke, Alexander, and Montgomery, were to be needed. Much more was to be needed. All that man could do was done. Would it be enough?

A much-disputed episode must now be examined: General Halder, Chief of the German General Staff, has declared that at this moment Hitler made his only effective direct personal intervention in the battle. He became, according to this authority, “alarmed about the armoured formations because they were in considerable danger in a difficult country, honeycombed with canals, without being able to attain any vital results.” He felt he could not sacrifice armoured formations uselessly, as they were essential to the second stage of the campaign. He believed, no doubt, that his air superiority would be sufficient to prevent a large-scale evacuation by sea. He therefore, according to Halder, sent a message to him through Brauchitsch, ordering “the armoured formations to be stopped, the points even taken back.” Thus, says Halder, the way to Dunkirk was cleared for the British Army. At any rate we intercepted a German message sent in clear at 11.42 A.M. on May 24, to the effect that the attack on the line Dunkirk-Hazebrouck-Merville was to be discontinued for the present. Halder states that he refused, on behalf of Supreme Army Headquarters, to interfere in the movement of Army Group Rundstedt, which had clear orders to prevent the enemy from reaching the coast. The quicker and more complete the success here, he argued, the easier it would be later to repair the loss of some tanks. The next day he was ordered to go with Brauchitsch to a conference.

The excited discussion finished with a definite order by Hitler, to which he added that he would ensure execution of his order by sending personal liaison officers to the front. Keitel was sent by plane to Army Group Rundstedt, and other officers to the front command posts. “I have never been able,” says General Halder, “to figure how Hitler conceived the idea of the useless endangering of the armoured formations. It is most likely that Keitel, who was for a considerable time in Flanders in the First World War, had originated these ideas by his tales.”

Other German generals have told much the same story, and have even suggested that Hitler’s order was inspired by a political motive, to improve the chances of peace with England after France was beaten. Authentic documentary evidence has now come to light in the shape of the actual diary of Rundstedt’s headquarters written at the time. This tells a different tale. At midnight on the 23d orders came from Brauchitsch at O.K.H., placing the Fourth Army under Rundstedt for “the last act” of “the encirclement battle.” Next morning Hitler visited Rundstedt, who represented to him that his armour, which had come so far and so fast, was much reduced in strength and needed a pause wherein to reorganise and regain its balance for the final blow against an enemy who his staff diary says was “fighting with extraordinary tenacity.” Moreover, Rundstedt foresaw the possibility of attacks on his widely dispersed forces from north and south; in fact, the Weygand Plan, which, if it had been feasible, was the obvious Allied counter-stroke. Hitler “agreed entirely” that the attack east of Arras should be carried out by infantry and that the mobile formations should continue to hold the line Lens-Béthune-Aire-St. Omer-Gravelines in order to intercept the enemy forces under pressure from Army Group B in the northeast. He also dwelt on the paramount necessity of conserving the armoured forces for further operations. However, very early on the 25th a fresh directive was sent from Brauchitsch as the Commander-in-Chief ordering the continuation of the advance by the armour. Rundstedt, fortified by Hitler’s verbal agreement, would have none of it. He did not pass on the order to the Fourth Army Commander, Kluge, who was told to continue to husband the Panzer divisions. Kluge protested at the delay, but it was not till next day, the 26th, that Rundstedt released them, although even then he enjoined that Dunkirk was not yet itself to be directly assaulted. The diary records that the Fourth Army protested at this restriction, and its Chief of Staff telephoned on the 27th: “The picture in the Channel ports is as follows. Big ships come up the quayside, boards are put down and the men crowd on the ships. All material is left behind. But we are not keen on finding these men, newly equipped, up against us later.”

It is therefore certain that the armour was halted; that this was done on the initiative not of Hitler but of Rundstedt. Rundstedt no doubt had reasons for his view both in the condition of the armour and in the general battle, but he ought to have obeyed the formal orders of the Army Command, or at least told them what Hitler had said in conversation. There is general agreement among the German commanders that a great opportunity was lost.

There was, however, a separate cause which affected the movements of the German armour at the decisive point.

After reaching the sea at Abbeville on the night of the 20th, the leading German armoured and motorised columns had moved northward along the coast by Etaples towards Boulogne, Calais, and Dunkirk, with the evident intention of cutting off all escape by sea. This region was lighted in my mind from the previous war, when I had maintained the mobile Marine Brigade operating from Dunkirk against the flanks and rear of the German armies marching on Paris. I did not therefore have to learn about the inundation system between Calais and Dunkirk, or the significance of the Gravelines waterline. The sluices had already been opened, and with every day the floods were spreading, thus giving southerly protection to our line of retreat. The defence of Boulogne, but still more of Calais, to the latest hour stood forth upon the confused scene, and garrisons were immediately sent there from England. Boulogne, isolated and attacked on May 22, was defended by two battalions of the Guards and one of our few anti-tank batteries, with some French troops. After thirty-six hours’ resistance, it was reported to be untenable, and I consented to the remainder of the garrison, including the French, being taken off by sea. This was effected by eight destroyers on the night of May 23-24 with a loss of only two hundred men. I regretted this decision.

Some days earlier I had placed the conduct of the defence of the Channel ports directly under the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, with whom I was in constant touch. I now resolved that Calais should be fought to the death, and that no evacuation by sea could be allowed to the garrison, which consisted of one battalion of the Rifle Brigade, one of the 60th Rifles, the Queen Victoria Rifles, and a battalion of the Royal Tank Regiment, with twenty-one Light and twenty-seven Cruiser tanks and an equal number of Frenchmen. It was painful thus to sacrifice these splendid trained Regular troops, of which we had so few, for the doubtful advantage of gaining two or perhaps three days, and the unknown uses that could be made of these days. The Secretary of State for War and the C.I.G.S. agreed to this hard measure. The telegrams and minutes tell the tale.

This did less than justice to our troops. But I print it as I wrote it at the time.

The final decision not to relieve the garrison was taken on the evening of May 26. Till then the destroyers were held ready. Eden and Ironside were with me at the Admiralty. We three came out from dinner and at 9 P.M. did the deed. It involved Eden’s own regiment, in which he had long served and fought in the previous struggle. One has to eat and drink in war, but I could not help feeling physically sick as we afterwards sat silent at the table.

Calais was the crux. Many other causes might have prevented the deliverance of Dunkirk, but it is certain that the three days gained by the defence of Calais enabled the Gravelines waterline to be held, and that without this, even in spite of Hitler’s vacillations and Rundstedt’s orders, all would have been cut off and lost.

Upon all this there now descended a simplifying catastrophe. The Germans, who had hitherto not pressed the Belgian front severely, on the 24th of May broke the Belgian line on either side of Courtrai, which is but thirty miles from Ostend and Dunkirk. The King of the Belgians soon considered the situation hopeless, and prepared himself for capitulation.

By May 23 the First and Second Corps of the British Expeditionary Force, withdrawn by stages from Belgium, were back again on the frontier defences north and east of Lille, which they had built for themselves during the winter. The German scythe-cut round our southern flank had reached the sea, and we had to shield ourselves from this. As the facts forced themselves upon Gort and his headquarters, troops had successfully been sent to positions along the canal line La Bassée-Béthune-Aire-St. Omer-Watten. These, with elements of the French Sixteenth Corps, touched the sea at the Gravelines waterline. The British Third Corps was responsible in the main for this curled-in flank facing south. There was no continuous line, but only a series of defended “stops” at the main crossings, some of which, like St. Omer and Watten, had already fallen to the enemy. The indispensable roads northward from Cassel were threatened. Gort’s reserve consisted only of the two British divisions, the 5th and 50th, which had, as we have seen, just been so narrowly extricated from their southerly counter-attack made at Arras in forlorn fulfilment of the Weygand plan. At this date the total frontage of the B.E.F. was about ninety miles, everywhere in close contact with the enemy.

To the south of the B.E.F. lay the First French Army, having two divisions in the frontier defences and the remainder, comprising eleven divisions in no good shape, cramped in the area north and east of Douai. This army was under attack from the southeast claw of the German encirclement. On our left the Belgian Army was being driven back from the Lys Canal at many places, and with their retirement northward a gap was developing north of Menin.

In the evening of the 25th, Lord Gort took a vital decision. His orders still were to pursue the Weygand plan of a southerly attack towards Cambrai, in which the 5th and 50th Divisions, in conjunction with the French, were to be employed. The promised French attack northward from the Somme showed no sign of reality. The last defenders of Boulogne had been evacuated. Calais still held out. Gort now abandoned the Weygand plan. There was in his view no longer hope of a march to the south and to the Somme. Moreover, at the same time the crumbling of the Belgian defence and the gap opening to the north created a new peril, dominating in itself. A captured order of the German Sixth Army showed that one corps was to march northwestward towards Ypres and another corps westward towards Wytschaete. How could the Belgians withstand this double thrust?

Confident in his military virtue, and convinced of the complete breakdown of all control, either by the British and French Governments or by the French Supreme Command, Gort resolved to abandon the attack to the southward, to plug the gap which a Belgian capitulation was about to open in the north, and to march to the sea. At this moment here was the only hope of saving anything from destruction or surrender. At 6 P.M. he ordered the 5th and 50th Divisions to join the Second British Corps to fill the impending Belgian gap. He informed General Blanchard, who had succeeded Billotte in command of the First Army Group, of his action; and this officer, acknowledging the force of events, gave orders at 11.30 P.M. for a withdrawal on the 26th to a line behind the Lys Canal west of Lille, with a view to forming a bridgehead around Dunkirk.

Early on May 26, Gort and Blanchard drew up their plan for withdrawal to the coast. As the First French Army had farther to go, the first movements of the B.E.F. on the night of May 26/27 were to be preparatory, and rearguards of the British First and Second Corps remained on the frontier defences till the night of May 27/28. In all this Lord Gort had acted upon his own responsibility. But by now we also at home, with a somewhat different angle of information, had already reached the same conclusions. On the 26th a telegram from the War Office approved his conduct, and authorised him “to operate towards the coast forthwith in conjunction with the French and Belgian armies.” The emergency gathering on a vast scale of naval vessels of all kinds and sizes was already in full swing.

The reader must now look at the diagram which shows the general areas held on the night of May 25/26 by the British divisions.

On the western flank of the corridor to the sea the position remained largely unchanged during the 26th. The localities held by the 48th and 44th Divisions came under relatively little pressure. The 2d Division, however, had heavy fighting on the Aire and La Bassée Canals, and they held their ground. Farther to the east a strong German attack developed around Carvin, jointly defended by British and French troops. The situation was restored by the counter-attack of two battalions of the 50th Division, which were in bivouac close by. On the left of the British line the 5th Division, with the 143d Brigade of the 48th Division under command, had travelled through the night, and at dawn took over the defence of the Ypres-Comines Canal to close the gap which had opened between the British and Belgian armies. They were only just in time. Soon after they arrived the enemy attacked, and the fighting was heavy all day. Three battalions of the 1st Division in reserve were drawn in. The 50th Division, after bivouacking south of Lille, moved northward to prolong the flank of the 5th Division around Ypres. The Belgian Army, heavily attacked throughout the day and with their right flank driven in, reported that they had no forces with which to regain touch with the British line, and also that they were unable to fall back to the line of the Yser Canal in conformity with the British movement.

Meanwhile, the organisation of the bridgeheads around Dunkirk was proceeding. The French were to hold from Gravelines to Bergues, and the British thence along the canal by Furnes to Nieuport and the sea. The various groups and parties of all arms which were arriving from both directions were woven into this line. Confirming the orders of the 26th, Lord Gort received from the War Office a telegram, despatched at 1 P.M. on the 27th, telling him that his task henceforward was “to evacuate the maximum force possible.” I had informed M. Reynaud the day before that the policy was to evacuate the British Expeditionary Force, and had requested him to issue corresponding orders. Such was the breakdown in communications that at 2 P.M. on the 27th the commander of the First French Army issued an order to his corps, “La bataille sera livrée sans esprit de recul sur la position de la Lys.”

Four British divisions and the whole of the First French Army were now in dire peril of being cut off around Lille. The two arms of the German encircling movement strove to close the pincers upon them. Although we had not in those days the admirable map rooms of more coherent periods, and although no control of the battle from London was possible, I had for three days past been harrowed by the position of the mass of Allied troops around Lille, including our four fine divisions. This, however, was one of those rare but decisive moments when mechanical transport exercises its rights. When Gort gave the order, all these four divisions came back with surprising rapidity almost in a night. Meanwhile, by fierce battles on either side of the corridor, the rest of the British army kept the path open to the sea. The pincer-claws, which were delayed by the 2d Division, and checked for three days by the 5th Division, eventually met on the night of May 29 in a manner similar to the great Russian operation round Stalingrad in 1942. The trap had taken two and a half days to close, and in that time four British divisions and a great part of the First French Army, except the Fifth Corps, which was lost, withdrew in good order through the gap, in spite of the French having only horse transport, and in spite of the main road to Dunkirk being already cut and the secondary roads filled with retiring troops, long trains of transport, and many thousands of refugees.

The question about our ability to go on alone, which I had asked Mr. Chamberlain to examine with other Ministers ten days before, was now put formally by me to our military advisers. I drafted the reference purposely in terms which, while giving a lead, left freedom to the Chiefs of Staff to express their view, whatever it might be. I knew beforehand that they were absolutely determined; but it is wise to have written records of such decisions. I wished, moreover, to be able to assure Parliament that our resolve was backed by professional opinion. Here it is, with the answer:

This report, which of course was written at the darkest moment before the Dunkirk Deliverance, was signed not only by the three Chiefs of Staff, Newall, Pound, and Ironside, but by the three Vice-Chiefs, Dill, Phillips, and Peirse. Reading it in after years, I must admit that it was grave and grim. But the War Cabinet and the few other Ministers who saw it were all of one mind. There was no discussion. Heart and soul we were together.

My telegram did not reach Admiral Keyes until after his return to England on the 28th. In consequence this particular message was not delivered to King Leopold. The fact is not, however, important because on the afternoon of the 27th between five and six o’clock Admiral Keyes spoke to me on the telephone. The following passage is taken from his report.

I gave King Leopold the Prime Minister’s message, but he said that he had made up his mind that he must stay with his Army and people. . . .

During the morning of the 28th, Lord Gort met General Blanchard again. I am indebted to General Pownall, Lord Gort’s Chief of Staff, for this record made by him at the time:

In the early hours of the 28th, the Belgian Army surrendered. Lord Gort had intimation of this only one hour before the event, but the collapse had been foreseen three days earlier, and in one fashion or another the gap was plugged. I announced this event to the House in far more moderate terms than those M. Reynaud had thought it right to use:

Concern was expressed by the French Government that my reference to King Leopold’s action was in sharp contrast to that of M. Reynaud. I thought it my duty, when speaking in the House on June 4, alter a careful examination of the fuller facts then available, and in justice not only to our French Ally, but also to the Belgian Government now in London, to state the truth in plain terms.

All this day of the 28th, the escape of the British Army hung in the balance. On the front from Comines to Ypres and thence to the sea, facing east and attempting to fill the Belgian gap, General Brooke and his Second Corps fought a magnificent battle. For two days past, the 5th Division had held Comines against all attacks, but as the Belgians withdrew northward, and then capitulated, the gap widened beyond repair. The protection of the flank of the B.E.F. was now their task. First the 50th Division came in to prolong the line; then the 4th and 3d Divisions, newly withdrawn from east of Lille, hastened in motor transports to extend the wall of the vital corridor that led to Dunkirk. The German thrust between the British and Belgian armies was not to be prevented, but its fatal consequence, an inward turn across the Yser, which would have brought the enemy onto the beaches behind our fighting troops, was foreseen and everywhere forestalled.

The Germans sustained a bloody repulse. Orders were given to the British artillery, both field and medium, to fire off all their ammunition at the enemy, and the tremendous fire did much to quell the German assault. All the time, only about four miles behind Brooke’s struggling front, vast masses of transport and troops poured back into the developing bridgehead of Dunkirk, and were fitted with skilful improvisation into its defences. Moreover, within the perimeter itself, the main east-west road was at one time completely blocked by vehicles, and a one-way track was cleared only by bulldozers hurling them into the ditches on either side.

In the afternoon of the 28th, Gort ordered a general withdrawal to the bridgehead, which now ran Gravelines-Bergues-Furnes-Nieuport. On this front the British divisions stood from right to left, and from Bergues to the sea by Nieuport, in the following order: 46th, 42d, 1st, 50th, 3d, and 4th. By the 29th, a large part of the B.E.F. had arrived within the perimeter, and by this time the naval measures for evacuation were beginning to attain their full effect. On May 30, General Headquarters reported that all British divisions, or the remains of them, had come in.

More than half the First French Army found their way to Dunkirk, where the great majority were safely embarked. But the line of retreat of at least five divisions was cut by the German pincer movement west of Lille. On the 28th, they attempted to break out westward, but in vain; the enemy closed in upon them from all sides. All through the next three days the French in Lille fought on gradually contracting fronts against increasing pressure, until on the evening of the 31st, short of food and with their ammunition exhausted, they were forced to surrender. About fifty thousand men thus fell into German hands. These Frenchmen, under the gallant leadership of General Molinié, had for four critical days contained no less than seven German divisions which otherwise could have joined in the assaults on the Dunkirk perimeter. This was a splendid contribution to the escape of their more fortunate comrades and of the British Expeditionary Force.

It was a severe experience for me, bearing so heavy an overall responsibility, to watch during these days in flickering glimpses this drama in which control was impossible, and intervention more likely to do harm than good. There is no doubt that by pressing in all loyalty the Weygand plan of retirement to the Somme as long as we did, our dangers, already so grave, were increased. But Gort’s decision, in which we speedily concurred, to abandon the Weygand plan and march to the sea, was executed by him and his staff with masterly skill, and will ever be regarded as a brilliant episode in British military annals.

May 26 to June 4

There was a short service of intercession and prayer in Westminster Abbey. The English are loth to expose their feelings, but in my stall in the choir I could feel the pent-up, passionate emotion, and also the fear of the congregation, not of death or wounds or material loss, but of defeat and the final ruin of Britain.

It was Tuesday, May 28, and I did not attend the House until that day week. There was no advantage to be gained by a further statement in the interval, nor did Members express a wish for one. But everyone realised that the fate of our Army and perhaps much else might well be decided by then. “The House,” I said, “should prepare itself for hard and heavy tidings. I have only to add that nothing which may happen in this battle can in any way relieve us of our duty to defend the world cause to which we have vowed ourselves; nor should it destroy our confidence in our power to make our way, as on former occasions in our history, through disaster and through grief to the ultimate defeat of our enemies.” I had not seen many of my colleagues outside the War Cabinet, except individually, since the formation of the Government, and I thought it right to have a meeting in my room at the House of Commons of all Ministers of Cabinet rank other than the War Cabinet Members. We were perhaps twenty-five round the table. I described the course of events, and I showed them plainly where we were, and all that was in the balance. Then I said quite casually, and not treating it as a point of special significance: “Of course, whatever happens at Dunkirk, we shall fight on.”

There occurred a demonstration which, considering the character of the gathering—twenty-five experienced politicians and Parliament men, who represented all the different points of view, whether right or wrong, before the war—surprised me. Quite a number seemed to jump up from the table and come running to my chair, shouting and patting me on the back. There is no doubt that had I at this juncture faltered at all in the leading of the nation, I should have been hurled out of office. I was sure that every Minister was ready to be killed quite soon, and have all his family and possessions destroyed, rather than give in. In this they represented the House of Commons and almost all the people. It fell to me in these coming days and months to express their sentiments on suitable occasions. This I was able to do, because they were mine also. There was a white glow, overpowering, sublime, which ran through our island from end to end.

Accurate and excellent accounts have been written of the evacuation of the British and French armies from Dunkirk. Ever since the 20th the gathering of shipping and small craft had been proceeding under the control of Admiral Ramsay, who commanded at Dover. On the evening of the 26th (6.57 P.M.) an Admiralty signal put “Operation Dynamo” into play, and the first troops were brought home that night. After the loss of Boulogne and Calais only the remains of the port of Dunkirk and the open beaches next to the Belgian frontier were in our hands. At this time it was thought that the most we could rescue was about 45,000 men in two days. Early the next morning, May 27, emergency measures were taken to find additional small craft “for a special requirement.” This was no less than the full evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force. It was plain that large numbers of such craft would be required for work on the beaches, in addition to bigger ships which could load in Dunkirk Harbour. On the suggestion of Mr. H. C. Riggs, of the Ministry of Shipping, the various boatyards, from Teddington to Brightlingsea, were searched by Admiralty officers, and yielded upwards of forty serviceable motor-boats or launches, which were assembled at Sheerness on the following day. At the same time lifeboats from liners in the London docks, tugs from the Thames, yachts, fishing-craft, lighters, barges, and pleasure-boats—anything that could be of use along the beaches—were called into service. By the night of the 27th a great tide of small vessels began to flow towards the sea, first to our Channel ports, and thence to the beaches of Dunkirk and the beloved Army.

The Admiralty did not hesitate to give full rein to the spontaneous movement which swept the seafaring population of our south and southeastern shores. Everyone who had a boat of any kind, steam or sail, put out for Dunkirk, and the preparations, fortunately begun a week earlier, were now aided by the brilliant improvisation of volunteers on an amazing scale. The numbers arriving on the 29th were small, but they were the forerunners of nearly four hundred small craft which from the 31st were destined to play a vital part by ferrying from the beaches to the off-lying ships almost a hundred thousand men. In these days I missed the head of my Admiralty map room, Captain Pim, and one or two other familiar faces. They had got hold of a Dutch schuit which in four days brought off eight hundred soldiers. Altogether there came to the rescue of the Army under the ceaseless air bombardment of the enemy about eight hundred and sixty vessels, of which nearly seven hundred were British and the rest Allied.

Here is the official list in which ships not engaged in embarking troops are omitted:

British Ships

Meanwhile ashore around Dunkirk the occupation of the perimeter was effected with precision. The troops arrived out of chaos and were formed in order along the defences, which even in two days had grown. Those men who were in best shape turned about to form the line. Divisions like the 2d and 5th, which had suffered most, were held in reserve on the beaches and were then embarked early. In the first instance there were to be three corps on the front, but by the 29th, with the French taking a greater share in the defences, two sufficed. The enemy had closely followed the withdrawal, and hard fighting was incessant, especially on the flanks near Nieuport and Bergues. As the evacuation went on, the steady decrease in the number of troops, both British and French, was accompanied by a corresponding contraction of the defence. On the beaches among the sand dunes, for three, four, or five days scores of thousands of men dwelt under unrelenting air attack. Hitler’s belief that the German Air Force would render escape impossible, and that therefore he should keep his armoured formations for the final stroke of the campaign, was a mistaken but not unreasonable view.

Three factors falsified his expectations. First, the incessant air-bombing of the masses of troops along the seashore did them very little harm. The bombs plunged into the soft sand, which muffled their explosions. In the early stages, after a crashing air raid, the troops were astonished to find that hardly anybody had been killed or wounded. Everywhere there had been explosions, but scarcely anyone was the worse. A rocky shore would have produced far more deadly results. Presently the soldiers regarded the air attacks with contempt. They crouched in the sand dunes with composure and growing hope. Before them lay the grey but not unfriendly sea. Beyond, the rescuing ships and—Home.

The second factor which Hitler had not foreseen was the slaughter of his airmen. British and German air quality was put directly to the test. By intense effort Fighter Command maintained successive patrols over the scene, and fought the enemy at long odds. Hour after hour they bit into the German fighter and bomber squadrons, taking a heavy toll, scattering them and driving them away. Day after day this went on, till the glorious victory of the Royal Air Force was gained. Wherever German aircraft were encountered, sometimes in forties and fifties, they were instantly attacked, often by single squadrons or less, and shot down in scores, which presently added up into hundreds. The whole Metropolitan Air Force, our last sacred reserve, was used. Sometimes the fighter pilots made four sorties a day. A clear result was obtained. The superior enemy were beaten or killed, and for all their bravery mastered, or even cowed. This was a decisive clash. Unhappily, the troops on the beaches saw very little of this epic conflict in the air, often miles away or above the clouds. They knew nothing of the loss inflicted on the enemy. All they felt was the bombs scourging the beaches, cast by the foes who had got through, but did not perhaps return. There was even a bitter anger in the Army against the Air Force, and some of the troops landing at Dover or at Thames ports in their ignorance insulted men in Air Force uniform. They should have clasped their hands; but how could they know? In Parliament I took pains to spread the truth.

But all the aid of the sand and all the prowess in the air would have been vain without the sea. The instructions given ten or twelve days before had under the pressure and emotion of events borne amazing fruit. Perfect discipline prevailed ashore and afloat. The sea was calm. To and fro between the shore and the ships plied the little boats, gathering the men from the beaches as they waded out or picking them from the water, with total indifference to the air bombardment, which often claimed its victims. Their numbers alone defied air attack. The Mosquito Armada as a whole was unsinkable. In the midst of our defeat glory came to the island people, united and unconquerable; and the tale of the Dunkirk beaches will shine in whatever records are preserved of our affairs.

Notwithstanding the valiant work of the small craft, it must not be forgotten that the heaviest burden fell on the ships plying from Dunkirk Harbour where two-thirds of the men were embarked. The destroyers played the predominant part as the casualty lists on page 100 show. Nor must the great part played by the personnel ships with their mercantile crews be overlooked.

The progress of the evacuation was watched with anxious eyes and growing hope. On the evening of the 27th, Lord Gort’s position appeared critical to the Naval authorities, and Captain Tennant, R.N., from the Admiralty, who had assumed the duties of Senior Naval Officer at Dunkirk, signalled for all available craft to be sent to the beaches immediately, as “evacuation tomorrow night is problematical.” The picture presented was grim, even desperate. Extreme efforts were made to meet the call, and a cruiser, eight destroyers, and twenty-six other vessels were sent. The 28th was a day of tension, which gradually eased as the position on land was stabilised with the powerful help of the Royal Air Force. The naval plans were carried through despite severe losses on the 29th, when three destroyers and twenty-one other vessels were sunk and many others damaged.

There was never any question of our leaving the French behind. Here was my order before any request or complaint from the French was received:

On the 30th I held a meeting of the three Service Ministers and the Chiefs of Staff in the Admiralty War Room. We considered the events of the day on the Belgian coast. The total number of troops brought off had risen to 120,000, including only 6000 French; 850 vessels of all kinds were at work. A message from Admiral Wake Walker at Dunkirk said that, in spite of intense bombardment and air attack, 4000 men had been embarked in the previous hour. He also thought that Dunkirk itself would probably be untenable by the next day. I emphasised the urgent need of getting off more French troops. To fail to do so might do irreparable harm to the relations between ourselves and our ally. I also said that when the British strength was reduced to that of a corps we ought to tell Lord Gort to embark and return to England, leaving a corps commander in charge. The British Army would have to stick it out as long as possible so that the evacuation of the French could continue.

Knowing well the character of Lord Gort, I wrote out in my own hand the following order to him, which was sent officially by the War Office at 2 P.M. on the 30th:

It is possible that this last message influenced other great events and the fortunes of another valiant commander. When I was at the White House at the end of December, 1941, I learned from the President and Mr. Stimson of the approaching fate of General MacArthur and the American garrison at Corregidor. I thought it right to show them the way in which we had dealt with the position of a Commander-in-Chief whose force was reduced to a small fraction of his original command. The President and Mr. Stimson both read the telegram with profound attention, and I was struck by the impression it seemed to make upon them. A little later in the day Mr. Stimson came back and asked for a copy of it, which I immediately gave him. It may be (for I do not know) that this influenced them in the right decision which they took in ordering General MacArthur to hand over his command to one of his subordinate generals, and thus saved for all his future glorious services the great Commander who would otherwise have perished or passed the war as a Japanese captive. I should like to think this was true.

On the 30th, members of Lord Gort’s staff in conference with Admiral Ramsay at Dover informed him that daylight on June 1 was the latest time up to which the eastern perimeter might be expected to hold. Evacuation was therefore pressed on with the utmost urgency to ensure, so far as possible, that a British rearguard of no more than about four thousand men would then remain ashore. Later it was found that this number would be insufficient to defend the final covering positions, and it was decided to hold the British sector until midnight June 1/2, evacuation proceeding meanwhile on the basis of full equality between French and British forces.

Such was the situation when on the evening of May 31 Lord Gort in accordance with his orders handed over his command to Major-General Alexander and returned to England.

To avoid misunderstandings by keeping personal contact it was necessary for me to fly to Paris on May 31 for a meeting of the Supreme War Council. With me in the plane came Mr. Attlee and Generals Dill and Ismay. I also took General Spears, who had flown over on the 30th with the latest news from Paris. This brilliant officer and Member of Parliament was a friend of mine from the First Great War. Half French by birth, liaison officer between the left of the French and the right of the British Armies, he had taken me round the Vimy Ridge in 1916, and had made me friends with General Fayolle, who commanded the Thirty-Third French Corps. Speaking French with a perfect accent and bearing five wound stripes on his sleeve, he was a personality at this moment fitted to our anxious relations. When Frenchmen and Englishmen are in trouble together and arguments break out, the Frenchman is often voluble and vehement, and the Englishman unresponsive or even rude. But Spears could say things to the high French personnel with an ease and force which I have never seen equalled.

This time we did not go to the Quai d’Orsay, but to M. Reynaud’s room at the War Office in the Rue Saint-Dominique. Attlee and I found Reynaud and Marshal Pétain opposite to us as the only French Ministers. This was the first appearance of Pétain, now Vice-President of the Council, at any of our meetings. He wore plain clothes. Our Ambassador, Dill, Ismay, and Spears were with us, and Weygand and Darlan, Captain de Margerie, head of Reynaud’s private office, and a M. Baudouin of the Secretariat represented the French.

The first question was the position in Norway. I said that the British Government was of the considered opinion that the Narvik area should be evacuated at once. Our troops there, the destroyers involved, and a hundred anti-aircraft guns were badly wanted elsewhere. We therefore proposed an evacuation beginning on June 2. The British Navy would transport and repatriate the French forces, the King of Norway and any Norwegian troops who wished to come. Reynaud said that the French Government agreed with this policy. The destroyers would be urgently required in the Mediterranean in the event of war with Italy. The sixteen thousand men would be very valuable on the line of the Aisne and the Somme. This matter was therefore settled.

I then turned to Dunkirk. The French seemed to have no more idea of what was happening to the northern armies than we had about the main French front. When I told them that 165,000 men, of whom 15,000 were French, had been taken off, they were astonished. They naturally drew attention to the marked British preponderance. I explained that this was due largely to the fact that there had been many British administrative units in the back area who had been able to embark before fighting troops could be spared from the front. Moreover, the French up to the present had had no orders to evacuate. One of the chief reasons why I had come to Paris was to make sure that the same orders were given to the French troops as to the British. The three British divisions now holding the centre would cover the evacuation of all the Allied forces. That, and the sea-transport, would be the British contribution to offset the heavy Allied losses which must now be faced. His Majesty’s Government had felt it necessary in the dire circumstances to order Lord Gort to take off fighting men and leave the wounded behind. If present hopes were confirmed, 200,000 able-bodied troops might be got away. This would be almost a miracle. Four days ago I would not have wagered on more than 50,000 as a maximum. I dwelt upon our terrible losses in equipment. Reynaud paid a handsome tribute to the work of the British Navy and Air Force, for which I thanked him. We then spoke at some length upon what could be done to rebuild the British forces in France.

I intervened at once to say that the British would not embark first, but that the evacuation should proceed on equal terms between the British and the French—“Bras-dessus, bras-dessous.” The British would form the rearguard. This was agreed.

The conversation next turned to Italy. I expressed the British view that if Italy came in we should strike at her at once in the most effective manner. Many Italians were opposed to war, and all should be made to realise its severity. I proposed that we should strike by air-bombing at the northwestern industrial triangle enclosed by the three cities of Milan, Turin, and Genoa. Reynaud agreed that the Allies must strike at once; and Admiral Darlan said he had a plan ready for the naval and aerial bombardment of Italy’s oil supplies, largely stored along the coast between the frontier and Naples. The necessary technical discussions were arranged.

I then mentioned my desire that more Ministers of the Administration I had just formed should become acquainted with their French opposite numbers as soon as possible. For instance, I should like Mr. Bevin, the Minister of Labour and trade-union leader, to visit Paris. Mr. Bevin was showing great energy, and under his leadership the British working class was now giving up holidays and privileges to a far greater extent than in the last war. Reynaud cordially assented.

After some talk about Tangier and the importance of keeping Spain out of the war, I spoke on the general outlook. I said:

Reynaud thanked us for what we had said. He was sure that the morale of the German people was not up to the level of the momentary triumph of their army. If France could hold the Somme with the help of Britain and if American industry came in to make good the disparity in arms, then we could be sure of victory. He was most grateful, he said, for my renewed assurance that if one country went under the other would not abandon the struggle.

After we rose from the table, some of the principals talked together in the bay window in a somewhat different atmosphere. Chief among these was Marshal Pétain. Spears was with me helping me out with my French and speaking himself. The young Frenchman, Captain de Margerie, had already spoken about fighting it out in Africa. But Marshal Pétain’s attitude, detached and sombre, gave me the feeling that he would face a separate peace. The influence of his personality, his reputation, his serene acceptance of the march of adverse events, apart from any words he used, was almost overpowering to those under his spell. One of the Frenchmen, I cannot remember who, said in their polished way that a continuance of military reverses might in certain eventualities enforce a modification of foreign policy upon France. Here Spears rose to the occasion, and addressing himself particularly to Marshal Pétain said in perfect French: “I suppose you understand, M. le Maréchal, that that would mean blockade?” Someone else said: “That would perhaps be inevitable.” But then Spears to Pétain’s face: “That would not only mean blockade but bombardment of all French ports in German hands.” I was glad to have this said. I sang my usual song: we would fight on whatever happened or whoever fell out.

Again we had a night of petty raids, and in the morning I departed. Here was the information that awaited me on my return:

May 31 and June 1 saw the climax though not the end at Dunkirk. On these two days over 132,000 men were safely landed in England, nearly one-third of them having been brought from the beaches in small craft under fierce air attack and shell fire. On June 1 from early dawn onward the enemy bombers made their greatest efforts, often timed when our own fighters had withdrawn to refuel. These attacks took heavy toll of the crowded shipping, which suffered almost as much as in all the previous week. On this single day our losses by air attack, by mines, E-boats, or other misadventure were thirty-one ships sunk and eleven damaged.

The final phase was carried through with much skill and precision. For the first time it became possible to plan ahead instead of being forced to rely on hourly improvisations. At dawn on June 2, about four thousand British with seven anti-aircraft guns and twelve anti-tank guns remained with the considerable French forces holding the contracting perimeter of Dunkirk. Evacuation was now possible only in darkness, and Admiral Ramsay determined to make a massed descent on the harbour that night with all his available resources. Besides tugs and small craft, forty-four ships were sent that evening from England, including eleven destroyers and fourteen minesweepers. Forty French and Belgian vessels also participated. Before midnight the British rearguard was embarked.

This was not, however, the end of the Dunkirk story. We had been prepared to carry considerably greater numbers of French that night than had offered themselves. The result was that when our ships, many of them still empty, had to withdraw at dawn, great numbers of French troops, many still in contact with the enemy, remained ashore. One more effort had to be made. Despite the exhaustion of ships’ companies after so many days without rest or respite, the call was answered. On June 4, 26,175 Frenchmen were landed in England, over 21,000 of them in British ships.

British and Allied Troops Landed in England

Finally, at 2.23 P.M. that day the Admiralty in agreement with the French announced that “Operation Dynamo” was now completed.

Parliament assembled on June 4, and it was my duty to lay the story fully before them both in public and later in secret session. The narrative requires only a few extracts from my speech, which is extant. It was imperative to explain not only to our own people but to the world that our resolve to fight on was based on serious grounds, and was no mere despairing effort. It was also right to lay bare my own reasons for confidence.

I ended in a passage which was to prove, as will be seen, a timely and important factor in United States decisions.

The friendship between the British and Italian peoples sprang from the days of Garibaldi and Cavour. Every stage in the liberation of Northern Italy from Austria and every step towards Italian unity and independence had commanded the sympathies of Victorian Liberalism. This had bred a warm and enduring response. The declaration in the original Treaty of Triple Alliance between Italy, Germany, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire stipulated that in no circumstances should Italy be drawn into war with Great Britain. British influence had powerfully contributed to the Italian accession to the Allied cause in the First World War. The rise of Mussolini and the establishment of Fascism as a counter to Bolshevism had in its early phases divided British opinion on party lines, but had not affected the broad foundations of good will between the peoples. We have seen that until Mussolini’s designs against Abyssinia had raised grave issues, he had ranged himself with Great Britain in opposition to Hitlerism and German ambitions. I have told in the previous volume the sad tale of how the Baldwin-Chamberlain policy about Abyssinia brought us the worst of both worlds, how we estranged the Italian dictator without breaking his power and how the League of Nations was injured without Abyssinia being saved. We have also seen the earnest but futile efforts made by Mr. Chamberlain, Sir Samuel Hoare, and Lord Halifax to win back during the period of appeasement Mussolini’s lost favour. And finally there was the growth of Mussolini’s conviction that Britain’s sun had set and that Italy’s future could with German help be founded on the ruins of the British Empire. This had been followed by the creation of the Berlin-Rome Axis, in accordance with which Italy might well have been expected to enter the war against Britain and France on its very first day.

It was certainly only common prudence for Mussolini to see how the war would go before committing himself and his country irrevocably. The process of waiting was by no means unprofitable. Italy was courted by both sides, and gained much consideration for her interests, many profitable contracts, and time to improve her armaments. Thus the twilight months had passed. It is an interesting speculation what the Italian fortunes would have been if this policy had been maintained. The United States with its large Italian vote might well have made it clear to Hitler that an attempt to rally Italy to his side by force of arms would raise the gravest issues. Peace, prosperity, and growing power would have been the prize of a persistent neutrality. Once Hitler was embroiled with Russia, this happy state might have been almost indefinitely prolonged with ever growing benefits, and Mussolini might have stood forth in the peace or in the closing year of the war as the wisest statesman the sunny peninsula and its industrious and prolific people had known. This was a more agreeable situation than that which in fact awaited him.

At the time when I was Chancellor of the Exchequer under Mr. Baldwin in the years after 1924, I did what I could to preserve the traditional friendship between Italy and Britain. I made a debt settlement with Count Volpi which contrasted very favourably with the arrangements made with France. I received the warmest expressions of gratitude from the Duce, and with difficulty escaped the highest decoration. Moreover, in the conflict between Fascism and Bolshevism there was no doubt where my sympathies and convictions lay. On the two occasions in 1927 when I met Mussolini our personal relations had been intimate and easy. I would never have encouraged Britain to make a breach with him about Abyssinia or roused the League of Nations against him unless we were prepared to go to war in the last extreme. He, like Hitler, understood and in a way respected my campaign for British rearmament, though he was very glad British public opinion did not support my view.

In the crisis we had now reached of the disastrous Battle of France, it was clearly my duty as Prime Minister to do my utmost to keep Italy out of the conflict, and though I did not indulge in vain hopes, I at once used what resources and influence I might possess. Six days after becoming Head of the Government I wrote at the Cabinet’s desire the appeal to Mussolini which, together with his answer, was published two years later in very different circumstances.

From this moment we could have no doubt of Mussolini’s intention to enter the war at his most favourable moment. His resolve had in fact been made as soon as the defeat of the French armies was obvious. On May 13 he had told Ciano that he would declare war on France and Britain within a month. His official decision to declare war on any date suitable after June 5 was imparted to the Italian Chiefs of Staff on May 29. At Hitler’s request the date was postponed to June 10.

On May 26, while the fate of the Northern Armies hung in the balance and no one could be sure that any would escape, Reynaud flew over to England to have a talk with us about this topic which had not been absent from our minds. The Italian declaration of war must be expected at any moment. Thus France would burn upon another front, and a new foe would march hungrily upon her in the South. Could anything be done to buy off Mussolini? That was the question posed. I did not think, there was the slightest chance, and every fact that the French Premier used as an argument for trying only made me surer there was no hope. However, Reynaud was under strong pressure at home, and we on our side wished to give full consideration to our Ally, whose one vital weapon, her Army, was breaking in her hand. M. Reynaud has published a full account of his visit, and especially of his conversations.^[1] Lord Halifax, Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Attlee, and Mr. Eden were also at our meetings. Although there was no need to marshal the grave facts, M. Reynaud dwelt not obscurely upon the possible French withdrawal from the war. He himself would fight on, but there was always the possibility that he might soon be replaced by others of a different temper.

We had already on May 25 at the instance of the French Government made a joint request to President Roosevelt to intervene. In this message Britain and France authorised him to state that we understood Italy had territorial grievances against them in the Mediterranean, that we were disposed to consider at once any reasonable claims, that the Allies would admit Italy to the Peace Conference with a status equal to that of any belligerent, and that we would invite the President to see that any agreement reached now would be carried out. The President acted accordingly; but his addresses were repulsed by the Italian dictator in the most abrupt manner. At our meeting with Reynaud we had already this answer before us. The French Premier now suggested more precise proposals. Obviously, if these were to remedy Italy’s “state of servitude in her own sea,” they must affect the status both of Gibraltar and Suez. France was prepared to make similar concessions about Tunis.

We were not able to show any favour to these ideas. This was not because it was wrong to examine them or because it did not seem worth while at this moment to pay a heavy price to keep Italy out of the war. My own feeling was that at the pitch in which our affairs lay, we had nothing to offer which Mussolini could not take for himself or be given by Hitler if we were defeated. One cannot easily make a bargain at the last gasp. Once we started negotiating for the friendly mediation of the Duce, we should destroy our power of fighting on. I found my colleagues very stiff and tough. All our minds ran much more on bombing Milan and Turin the moment Mussolini declared war, and seeing how he liked that. Reynaud, who did not at heart disagree, seemed convinced or at least content. The most we could promise was to bring the matter before the Cabinet and send a definite answer the next day. Reynaud and I lunched alone together at the Admiralty. The following telegram, the greater part of which is my own wording, embodies the conclusions of the War Cabinet:

This did not prevent the French Government from making a few days later a direct offer of their own to Italy of territorial concessions, which Mussolini treated with disdain. “He was not interested,” said Ciano to the French Ambassador on June 3, “in recovering any French territories by peaceful negotiation. He had decided to make war on France.”^[2] This was only what we had expected.

I now gave daily a series of directions to make sure that if we were subjected to this odious attack by Mussolini we should be able to strike back at once.

At the Supreme War Council in Paris on May 31, which has already been described, it was agreed that the Allies should undertake offensive operations against selected objectives in Italy at the earliest possible moment and that the French and British naval and air staffs should concert their plans. We had also agreed that in the event of Italian aggression against Greece, of which there were indications, we should make sure that Crete did not fall into enemy hands. I pursued the same theme in my minutes.

An early Italian plan, favoured particularly by Ciano, had been that Italian action in Europe should be confined to the launching of an attack on Yugoslavia, thus consolidating Italy’s power in Eastern Europe and strengthening her potential economic position. Mussolini himself was for a time won over to this idea. Graziani records that at the end of April the Duce told him, “We must bring Yugoslavia to her knees; we have need of raw materials and it is in her mines that we must find them. In consequence my strategic directive is—defensive in the west (France) and offensive in the east (Yugoslavia). Prepare a study of the problem.”^[3] Graziani claims that he advised strongly against committing the Italian armies, short as they were of equipment, particularly of artillery, to a repetition of the Isonzo campaign of 1915. There were also political arguments against the Yugoslav plan. The Germans were anxious at this moment to avoid disturbing Eastern Europe. They feared it would provoke British action in the Balkans and might inadvertently tempt Russia to further activity in the East. I was not aware of this aspect of Italian policy.

In spite of the extreme efforts made by the United States, of which Mr. Hull has given an impressive account in his memoirs,^[4] nothing could turn Mussolini from his course. Our preparations to meet the new assault and complication were well advanced when the moment came. On June 10 at 4.45 P.M. the Italian Minister for Foreign Affairs informed the British Ambassador that Italy would consider herself at war with the United Kingdom from 1 A.M. the next day. A similar communication was made to the French Government. When Ciano delivered his note to the French Ambassador, M. François-Poncet remarked as he reached the door: “You too will find the Germans are hard masters.” The British Ambassador, Sir Percy Loraine, received the announcement with perfect composure and apparent indifference. He asked only one question: Was Ciano’s statement early news or was it in fact the declaration of war? Ciano replied it was the latter. Loraine then made a formal bow and left the room without another word.^[5] From his balcony in Rome Mussolini announced to well-organised crowds that Italy was at war with France and Britain. It was, as Ciano is said to have apologetically remarked later on, “A chance which comes only once in five thousand years.” Such chances, though rare, are not necessarily good.

Forthwith the Italians attacked the French troops on the Alpine front and Great Britain reciprocally declared war on Italy. The five Italian ships detained at Gibraltar were seized and orders were given to the Navy to intercept and bring into controlled ports all Italian vessels at sea. On the night of the 12th our bomber squadrons, after a long flight from England which meant light loads, dropped their first bombs upon Turin and Milan. We looked forward, however, to a much heavier delivery as soon as we could use the French airfields at Marseilles.

It may be convenient at this point to dispose of the brief Franco-Italian campaign. The French could only muster three divisions with fortress troops equivalent to three more to meet invasion over the Alpine passes and along the Riviera coast by the western group of Italian armies. These comprised thirty-two divisions under Prince Umberto. Moreover, strong German armour, rapidly descending the Rhone Valley, soon began to traverse the French rear. Nevertheless the Italians were still confronted and even pinned down at every point on the new front by the French Alpine units, even after Paris had fallen and Lyons was in German hands. When on June 18, Hitler and Mussolini met at Munich the Duce had little cause to boast. A new Italian offensive was therefore launched on June 21. The French Alpine positions, however, proved impregnable, and the major Italian effort towards Nice was halted in the suburbs of Mentone. But although the French army on the southeastern borders saved its honour, the German march to the south behind them made further fighting impossible, and the conclusion of the armistice with Germany was linked with a French request to Italy for the cessation of hostilities.

My account of this Italian tragedy may fittingly be closed here by the letter which the unlucky Ciano wrote me shortly before his execution at the orders of his father-in-law.

A speech from President Roosevelt had been announced for the night of the 10th. About midnight I listened to it with a group of officers in the Admiralty War Room, where I still worked. When he uttered the scathing words about Italy, “On this tenth day of June, 1940, the hand that held the dagger has struck it into the back of its neighbor,” there was a deep growl of satisfaction. I wondered about the Italian vote in the approaching presidential election; but I knew that Roosevelt was a most experienced American party politician, although never afraid to run risks for the sake of his resolves. It was a magnificent speech, instinct with passion and carrying to us a message of hope. While the impression was strong upon me, and before going to bed, I expressed my gratitude.

The rush for the spoils had begun. But Mussolini was not the only hungry animal seeking prey. To join the Jackal came the Bear.

I have recorded in the previous volume the course of Anglo-Soviet relations up till the outbreak of war and the hostility, verging upon an actual breach with Britain and France, which arose during the Russian invasion of Finland. Germany and Russia now worked together as closely as their deep divergences of interest permitted. Hitler and Stalin had much in common as totalitarians, and their systems of government were akin. M. Molotov beamed on the German Ambassador, Count Schulenburg, on every important occasion, and was forward and fulsome in his approval of German policy and praise for Hitler’s military measures. When the German assault had been made upon Norway he had said (April 7) that “the Soviet Government understood the measures which were forced upon Germany. The English had certainly gone much too far. They had disregarded completely the rights of neutral nations. . . . We wish Germany complete success in her defensive measures.”^[6] Hitler had taken pains to inform Stalin on the morning of May 10 of the onslaught he had begun upon France and the neutral Low Countries. “I called on Molotov,” wrote Schulenburg. “He appreciated the news, and added that he understood that Germany had to protect herself against Anglo-French attack. He had no doubt of our success.”^[7]

Although these expressions of their opinion were of course unknown till after the war, we were under no illusions about the Russian attitude. We nonetheless pursued a patient policy of trying to re-establish relations of a confidential character with Russia, trusting to the march of events and to their fundamental antagonisms to Germany. It was thought wise to use the abilities of Sir Stafford Cripps as Ambassador to Moscow. He willingly accepted this bleak and unpromising task. We did not at that time realise sufficiently that Soviet Communists hate extreme left-wing politicians even more than they do Tories or Liberals. The nearer a man is to Communism in sentiment, the more obnoxious he is to the Soviets unless he joins the party. The Soviet Government agreed to receive Cripps as Ambassador, and explained this step to their Nazi confederates. “The Soviet Union,” wrote Schulenburg to Berlin on May 29, “is interested in obtaining rubber and tin from England in exchange for lumber. There is no reason for apprehension concerning Cripps’s mission, since there is no reason to doubt the loyal attitude of the Soviet Union towards us, and since the unchanged direction of Soviet policy towards England precludes damage to Germany or vital German interests. There are no indications of any kind here for belief that the latest German successes cause alarm or fear of Germany in the Soviet Government.”^[8]

The collapse of France and the destruction of the French armies and of all counter-poise in the West ought to have produced some reaction in Stalin’s mind, but nothing seemed to warn the Soviet leaders of the gravity of their own peril. On June 18, when the French defeat was total, Schulenburg reported, “Molotov summoned me this evening to his office and expressed the warmest congratulations of the Soviet Government on the splendid success of the German armed forces.”^[9] This was almost exactly a year from the date when these same armed forces, taking the Soviet Government by complete surprise, fell upon Russia in cataracts of fire and steel. We now know that only four months later in 1940 Hitler definitely decided upon a war of extermination against the Soviets, and began the long, vast, stealthy movement of these much-congratulated German armies to the East. No recollection of their miscalculation and former conduct ever prevented the Soviet Government and its Communist agents and associates all over the world from screaming for a Second Front, in which Britain, whom they had consigned to ruin and servitude, was to play a leading part.

However, we comprehended the future more truly than these cold-blooded calculators, and understood their dangers and their interest better than they did themselves. I now addressed myself for the first time to Stalin.

There was, of course, no answer. I did not expect one. Sir Stafford Cripps reached Moscow safely, and even had an interview of a formal and frigid character with M. Stalin.

Meanwhile the Soviet Government was busy collecting its spoils. On June 14, the day Paris fell, Moscow had sent an ultimatum to Lithuania accusing her and the other Baltic States of military conspiracy against the U.S.S.R. and demanding radical changes of government and military concessions. On June 15, Red Army troops invaded the country and the President, Smetona, fled into East Prussia. Latvia and Estonia were exposed to the same treatment. Pro-Soviet Governments must be set up forthwith and Soviet garrisons admitted into these small countries. Resistance was out of the question. The President of Latvia was deported to Russia, and Mr. Vyshinsky arrived to nominate a Provisional Government to manage new elections. In Estonia the pattern was identical. On June 19, Zhdanov arrived in Tallinn to install a similar régime. On August 3/6, the pretense of pro-Soviet friendly and democratic Governments was swept away, and the Kremlin annexed the Baltic States to the Soviet Union.

The Russian ultimatum to Rumania was delivered to the Rumanian Minister in Moscow at 10 P.M. on June 26. The cession of Bessarabia and the northern part of the province of Bukovina was demanded, and an immediate reply requested by the following day. Germany, though annoyed by this precipitate action of Russia, which threatened her economic interests in Rumania, was bound by the terms of the German-Soviet pact of August, 1939, which recognised the exclusive political interest of Russia in these areas of Southeast Europe. The German Government, therefore, counselled Rumania to yield.

June 4 to June 12

When it was known how many men had been rescued from Dunkirk, a sense of deliverance spread in the island and throughout the Empire. There was a feeling of intense relief, melting almost into triumph. The safe homecoming of a quarter of a million men, the flower of our Army, was a milestone in our pilgrimage through years of defeat. The achievement of the Southern Railway and the Movements Branch of the War Office, of the staffs at the ports in the Thames Estuary, and above all at Dover, where over two hundred thousand men were handled and rapidly distributed throughout the country, is worthy of the highest praise. The troops returned with nothing but rifles and bayonets and a few hundred machine guns, and were forthwith sent to their homes for seven days’ leave. Their joy at being once again united with their families did not overcome a stern desire to engage the enemy at the earliest moment. Those who had actually fought the Germans in the field had the belief that, given a fair chance, they could beat them. Their morale was high, and they rejoined their regiments and batteries with alacrity.

All the Ministers and departmental officers, permanent or newly chosen, acted with confidence and vigour night and day, and there are many tales to be told besides this one. Personally I felt uplifted, and my mind drew easily and freely from the knowledge I had gathered in my life. I was exhilarated by the salvation of the Army. I present, for what they are worth, the directives to the Departments and submissions to the War Cabinet which I issued day by day. Ismay carried them to the Chiefs of Staff, and Bridges to the War Cabinet and the Departments. Mistakes were corrected and gaps filled. Amendments and improvements were often made, but in the main, to the degree perhaps of ninety per cent, action was taken, and with a speed and effectiveness which no dictatorship could rival.

Here were my first thoughts at the moment when it became certain that the Army had escaped.

There was of course a darker side to Dunkirk. We had lost the whole equipment of the Army to which all the firstfruits of our factories had hitherto been given:

Many months must elapse, even if the existing programmes were fulfilled without interruption by the enemy, before this loss could be repaired.

However, across the Atlantic in the United States strong emotions were already stirring in the breasts of its leading men. A precise and excellent account of these events is given by Mr. Stettinius,^[2] the worthy son of my old Munitions colleague of the First World War, one of our truest friends. It was at once realised that the bulk of the British Army had got away only with the loss of all their equipment. As early as June 1 the President sent out orders to the War and Navy Departments to report what weapons they could spare for Britain and France. At the head of the American Army as Chief of Staff was General Marshall, not only a soldier of proved quality, but a man of commanding vision. He instantly directed his Chief of Ordnance and his Assistant Chief of Staff to survey the entire list of the American reserve ordnance and munitions stocks. In forty-eight hours the answers were given, and on June 3 Marshall approved the lists. The first list comprised half a million .30 calibre rifles out of two million manufactured in 1917 and 1918 and stored in grease for more than twenty years. For these there were about 250 cartridges apiece. There were 900 soixante-quinze field guns with a million rounds, 80,000 machine guns, and various other items. In his excellent book about American supplies Mr. Stettinius says: “Since every hour counted, it was decided that the Army should sell (for 37 million dollars) everything on the list to one concern which could in turn resell immediately to the British and French.” The Chief of Ordnance, Major-General Wesson, was told to handle the matter, and immediately on June 3 all the American Army depots and arsenals started packing the material for shipment. By the end of the week more than six hundred heavily loaded freight cars were rolling towards the Army docks at Raritan, New Jersey, up the river from Gravesend Bay. By June 11 a dozen British merchant ships moved into the bay and anchored, and loading from lighters began.

By these extraordinary measures the United States left themselves with the equipment for only 1,800,000 men, the minimum figure stipulated by the American Army Mobilisation Plan. All this reads easily now, but at that time it was a supreme act of faith and leadership for the United States to deprive themselves of this very considerable mass of arms for the sake of a country which many deemed already beaten. They never had need to repent of it. As will presently be recounted, we ferried these precious weapons safely across the Atlantic during July, and they formed not only a material gain, but an important factor in all calculations made by friend or foe about invasion.

Mr. Cordell Hull has a passage in his memoirs ^[3] which is relevant at this point:

The month of June was particularly trying to all of us, because of the dual and opposite stresses to which in our naked condition we were subjected by our duty to France on the one hand and the need to create an effective army at home and to fortify the island on the other. The double tension of antagonistic but vital needs was most severe. Nevertheless, we followed a firm and steady policy without undue excitement. First priority continued to be given to sending whatever trained and equipped troops we had, in order to reconstitute the British Expeditionary Force in France. After that our efforts were devoted to the defence of the island; first, by re-forming and re-equipping the Regular Army; secondly, by fortifying the likely landing places; thirdly, by arming and organising the population, so far as was possible; and of course by bringing home whatever forces could be gathered from the Empire. At this time the most imminent dangers seemed to be the landing of comparatively small but highly mobile German tank forces which would rip us up and disorganise our defence, and also parachute descents. In close contact with the new Secretary of State for War, Anthony Eden, I busied myself on all this.

The following scheme was devised by the Secretary of State and the War Office for reconstituting the Army in accordance with the directives which had been issued. Seven mobile brigade groups were already in existence. The divisions returned from Dunkirk were reconstituted, re-equipped as fast as possible, and took up their stations. In time the seven brigade groups were absorbed into the re-formed divisions. There were available fourteen Territorial divisions of high-quality men who had been nine months ardently training under war conditions and were partly equipped. One of these, the 52d, was already fit for service overseas. There was a second armoured division and four Army tank brigades in process of formation, but without tanks. There was the 1st Canadian Division fully equipped.

It was not men that were lacking, but arms. Over eighty thousand rifles were retrieved from the communications and bases south of the Seine, and by the middle of June every fighting man in the Regular forces had at least a personal weapon in his hand. We had very little field artillery, even for the Regular Army. Nearly all the new 25-pounders had been lost in France. There remained about five hundred 18-pounders, 4.5-inch and 6-inch howitzers. There were only 103 cruiser, 132 infantry, and 252 light tanks. Fifty of the infantry tanks were at home in a battalion of the Royal Tank Regiment, and the remainder were in training-schools. Never has a great nation been so naked before her foes.

From the beginning I kept in the closest contact with my old friends now at the head of the Governments of Canada and South Africa.

Smuts, far off in South Africa and without the latest information upon the specialised problems of Insular Air Defence, naturally viewed the tragedy of France according to orthodox principles: “Concentrate everything at the decisive point.” I had the advantage of knowing the facts, and of the detailed advice of Air Marshal Dowding, head of Fighter Command. If Smuts and I had been together for half an hour, and I could have put the data before him, we should have agreed, as we always did on large military issues.

Apart from our last twenty-five Fighter Squadrons, on which we were adamant, we regarded the duty of sending aid to the French Army as paramount. The movement of the 52d Division to France, under previous orders, was due to begin on June 7. These orders were confirmed. The 3d Division, under General Montgomery, was put first in equipment and assigned to France. The leading division of the Canadian Army, which had concentrated in England early in the year and was well-armed, was directed, with the full assent of the Dominion Government, to Brest to begin arriving there on June 11 for what might by this time already be deemed a forlorn hope. The two French light divisions evacuated from Norway were also sent home, together with all the French units and individuals we had carried away from Dunkirk.

That we should have sent our only two formed divisions, the 52d Lowland Division and the 1st Canadian Division, over to our failing French ally in this mortal crisis, when the whole fury of Germany must soon fall upon us, must be set to our credit against the very limited forces we had been able to put in France in the first eight months of war. Looking back on it, I wonder how, when we were resolved to continue the war to the death, and under the threat of invasion, and France was evidently falling, we had the nerve to strip ourselves of the remaining effective military formations we possessed. This was only possible because we understood the difficulties of the Channel crossing without the command of the sea or the air, or the necessary landing craft.

We had still in France, behind the Somme, the 51st Highland Division, which had been withdrawn from the Maginot Line and was in good condition, and the 52d Lowland Division, which was arriving in Normandy. There was also our 1st (and only) Armoured Division, less the tank battalion and the support group which had been sent to Calais. This, however, had lost heavily in attempts to cross the Somme as part of Weygand’s plan. By June 1 it was reduced to one-third of its strength, and was sent back across the Seine to refit. At the same time a composite force known as “Beauman Force” was scraped together from the bases and lines of communication in France. It consisted of nine improvised infantry battalions, armed mainly with rifles, and very few anti-tank weapons. It had neither transport nor signals.

The Tenth French Army, with this British contingent, tried to hold the line of the Somme. The 51st Division alone had a front of sixteen miles, and the rest of the army was equally strained. On June 4, with a French division and French tanks, they attacked the German bridgehead at Abbeville, but without success.

On June 5 the final phase of the Battle of France began. The French front consisted of the Second, Third, and Fourth Groups of Armies. The Second defended the Rhine front and the Maginot Line; the Fourth stood along the Aisne; and the Third from the Aisne to the mouth of the Somme. This Third Army Group comprised the Sixth, Seventh, and Tenth Armies; and all the British forces in France formed part of the Tenth Army. All this immense line, in which there stood at this moment nearly one and a half million men, or perhaps sixty-five divisions, was now to be assaulted by one hundred and twenty-four German divisions, also formed in three army groups, namely: Coastal Sector, Bock; Central Sector, Rundstedt; Eastern Sector, Leeb. These attacked on June 5, June 9, and June 15 respectively. On the night of June 5 we learned that a German offensive had been launched that morning on a seventy-mile front from Amiens to the Laon-Soissons road. This was war on the largest scale.

We have seen how the German armour had been hobbled and held back in the Dunkirk battle, in order to save it for the final phase in France. All this armour now rolled forward upon the weak and improvised or quivering French front between Paris and the sea. It is here only possible to record the battle on the coastal flank, in which we played a part. On June 7 the Germans renewed their attack, and two armoured divisions drove towards Rouen so as to split the Tenth French Army. The left French Ninth Corps, including the Highland Division, two French infantry divisions, and two cavalry divisions, or what was left of them, were separated from the rest of the Tenth Army front. “Beauman Force,” supported by thirty British tanks, now attempted to cover Rouen. On June 8 they were driven back to the Seine, and that night the Germans entered the city. The 51st Division, with the remnants of the French Ninth Corps, was cut off in the Rouen-Dieppe cul-de-sac.

We had been intensely concerned lest this division should be driven back to the Havre peninsula and thus be separated from the main armies, and its commander, Major-General Fortune, had been told to fall back if necessary in the direction of Rouen. This movement was forbidden by the already disintegrating French command. Repeated urgent representations were made by us, but they were of no avail. A dogged refusal to face facts led to the ruin of the French Ninth Corps and our 51st Division. On June 9, when Rouen was already in German hands, our men had but newly reached Dieppe, thirty-five miles to the north. Only then were orders received to withdraw to Havre. A force was sent back to cover the movement, but before the main bodies could move the Germans interposed. Striking from the east, they reached the sea, and the greater part of the 51st Division, with many of the French, was cut off. It was a case of gross mismanagement, for this very danger was visible a full three days before.

On the 10th, after sharp fighting, the division fell back, together with the French Ninth Corps, to the perimeter of St. Valéry, expecting to be evacuated by sea. Meanwhile all our other forces in the Havre peninsula were embarking speedily and safely. During the night of the 11th and 12th fog prevented the ships from evacuating the troops from St. Valéry. By morning on the 12th the Germans had reached the sea cliffs to the south and the beach was under direct fire. White flags appeared in the town. The French corps capitulated at eight o’clock, and the remains of the Highland Division were forced to do so at 10.30 A.M. Only 1350 British officers and men and 930 French escaped; eight thousand fell into German hands. I was vexed that the French had not allowed our division to retire on Rouen in good time, but had kept it waiting till it could neither reach Havre nor retreat southward, and thus forced it to surrender with their own troops. The fate of the Highland Division was hard, but in after years not unavenged by those Scots who filled their places, re-created the division by merging it with the 9th Scottish, and marched across all the battlefields from Alamein to final victory beyond the Rhine.

Some lines of Dr. Charles Murray’s, written in the First World War, came into my mind, and it is fitting to print them here:

About eleven o’clock the morning of June 11 there was a message from Reynaud, who had also cabled to the President. The French tragedy had moved and slid downward. For several days past I had pressed for a meeting of the Supreme Council. We could no longer meet in Paris. We were not told what were the conditions there. Certainly the German spearheads were very close. I had had some difficulty in obtaining a rendezvous, but this was no time to stand on ceremony. We must know what the French were going to do. Reynaud now told me that he could receive us at Briare, near Orléans. The seat of government was moving from Paris to Tours. Grand Quartier Général was near Briare. He specified the airfield to which I should come. Nothing loth, I ordered the Flamingo to be ready at Hendon after luncheon, and having obtained the approval of my colleagues at the morning Cabinet, we started about two o’clock. Before leaving I cabled to the President.

This was my fourth journey to France; and since military conditions evidently predominated, I asked the Secretary of State for War, Mr. Eden, to come with me, as well as General Dill, now C.I.G.S., and of course Ismay. The German aircraft were now reaching far down into the Channel, and we had to make a still wider sweep. As before, the Flamingo had an escort of twelve Hurricanes. After a couple of hours we alighted at a small landing-ground. There were a few Frenchmen about, and soon a colonel arrived in a motor-car. I displayed the smiling countenance and confident air which are thought suitable when things are very bad, but the Frenchman was dull and unresponsive. I realised immediately how very far things had fallen even since we were in Paris a week before. After an interval we were conducted to the château, where we found M. Reynaud, Marshal Pétain. General Weygand, the Air General Vuillemin, and some others, including the relatively junior General de Gaulle, who had just been appointed Under-Secretary for National Defence. Hard by on the railway was the Headquarters train, in which some of our party were accommodated. The château possessed but one telephone, in the lavatory. It was kept very busy, with long delays and endless shouted repetitions.

At seven o’clock we entered into conference. General Ismay kept a record. I merely reproduce my lasting impressions, which in no way disagree with it. There were no reproaches or recriminations. We were all up against brute facts. We British did not know where exactly the front line lay, and certainly there was anxiety about some dart by the German armour—even upon us. In effect, the discussion ran on the following lines: I urged the French Government to defend Paris. I emphasised the enormous absorbing power of the house-to-house defence of a great city upon an invading army. I recalled to Marshal Pétain the nights we had spent together in his train at Beauvais after the British Fifth Army disaster in 1918, and how he, as I put it, not mentioning Marshal Foch, had restored the situation. I also reminded him how Clemenceau had said, “I will fight in front of Paris, in Paris, and behind Paris.” The Marshal replied very quietly and with dignity that in those days he had a mass of manoeuvre of upwards of sixty divisions; now there was none. He mentioned that there were then sixty British divisions in the line. Making Paris into a ruin would not affect the final event.

Then General Weygand exposed the military position, so far as he knew it, in the fluid battle proceeding fifty or sixty miles away, and he paid a high tribute to the prowess of the French Army. He requested that every reinforcement should be sent—above all, that every British fighter air squadron should immediately be thrown into the battle. “Here,” he said, “is the decisive point. Now is the decisive moment. It is therefore wrong to keep any squadrons back in England.” But in accordance with the Cabinet decision, taken in the presence of Air Marshal Dowding, whom I had brought specially to a Cabinet meeting, I replied: “This is not the decisive point and this is not the decisive moment. That moment will come when Hitler hurls his Luftwaffe against Great Britain. If we can keep command of the air, and if we can keep the seas open, as we certainly shall keep them open, we will win it all back for you.”^[4] Twenty-five fighter squadrons must be maintained at all costs for the defence of Britain and the Channel, and nothing would make us give up these. We intended to continue the war whatever happened, and we believed we could do so for an indefinite time, but to give up these squadrons would destroy our chance of life. At this stage I asked that General Georges, the Commander-in-Chief of the Northwestern Front, who was in the neighbourhood, should be sent for, and this was accordingly done.

Presently General Georges arrived. After being apprised of what had passed, he confirmed the account of the French front which had been given by Weygand. I again urged my guerrilla plan. The German Army was not so strong as might appear at their points of impact. If all the French armies, every division and brigade, fought the troops on their front with the utmost vigour, a general standstill might be achieved. I was answered by statements of the frightful conditions on the roads, crowded with refugees harried by unresisted machine-gun fire from the German aeroplanes, and of the wholesale flight of vast numbers of inhabitants and the increasing breakdown of the machinery of government and of military control. At one point General Weygand mentioned that the French might have to ask for an armistice. Reynaud at once snapped at him: “That is a political affair.” According to Ismay I said: “If it is thought best for France in her agony that her Army should capitulate, let there be no hesitation on our account, because whatever you may do we shall fight on forever and ever and ever.” When I said that the French Army, fighting on, wherever it might be, could hold or wear out a hundred German divisions, General Weygand replied: “Even if that were so, they would still have another hundred to invade and conquer you. What would you do then?” On this I said that I was not a military expert, but that my technical advisers were of opinion that the best method of dealing with German invasion of the island of Britain was to drown as many as possible on the way over and knock the others on the head as they crawled ashore. Weygand answered with a sad smile, “At any rate I must admit you have a very good anti-tank obstacle.” These were the last striking words I remember to have heard from him. In all this miserable discussion it must be borne in mind that I was haunted and undermined by the grief I felt that Britain, with her forty-eight million population, had not been able to make a greater contribution to the land war against Germany, and that so far nine-tenths of the slaughter and ninety-nine-hundredths of the suffering had fallen upon France and upon France alone.

After another hour or so we got up and washed our hands while a meal was brought to the conference table. In this interval I talked to General Georges privately, and suggested first the continuance of fighting everywhere on the home front and a prolonged guerrilla in the mountainous regions, and secondly the move to Africa, which a week before I had regarded as “defeatist.” My respected friend, who, although charged with much direct responsibility, had never had a free hand to lead the French armies, did not seem to think there was much hope in either of these.

I have written lightly of the happenings of these days, but here to all of us was real agony of mind and soul.

At about ten o’clock everyone took his place at the dinner. I sat on M. Reynaud’s right and General de Gaulle was on my other side. There was soup, an omelette or something, coffee and light wine. Even at this point in our awful tribulation under the German scourge we were quite friendly. But presently there was a jarring interlude. The reader will recall the importance I had attached to striking hard at Italy the moment she entered the war, and the arrangement that had been made with full French concurrence to move a force of British heavy bombers to the French airfields near Marseilles in order to attack Turin and Milan. All was now in readiness to strike. Scarcely had we sat down when Air Vice-Marshal Barratt, commanding the British Air Force in France, rang up Ismay on the telephone to say that the local authorities objected to the British bombers taking off, on the grounds that an attack on Italy would only bring reprisals upon the South of France, which the British were in no position to resist or prevent. Reynaud, Weygand, Eden, Dill, and I left the table, and, after some parleying, Reynaud agreed that orders should be sent to the French authorities concerned that the bombers were not to be stopped. But later that night Air Marshal Barratt reported that the French people near the airfields had dragged all kinds of country carts and lorries onto them, and that it had been impossible for the bombers to start on their mission.

Presently, when we left the dinner table and sat with some coffee and brandy, M. Reynaud told me that Marshal Pétain had informed him that it would be necessary for France to seek an armistice, and that he had written a paper upon the subject which he wished him to read. “He has not,” said Reynaud, “handed it to me yet. He is still ashamed to do it.” He ought also to have been ashamed to support even tacitly Weygand’s demand for our last twenty-five squadrons of fighters, when he had made up his mind that all was lost and that France should give in. Thus we all went unhappily to bed in this disordered château or in the military train a few miles away. The Germans entered Paris on the 14th.

Early in the morning we resumed our conference. Air Marshal Barratt was present. Reynaud renewed his appeal for five more squadrons of fighters to be based in France, and General Weygand said that he was badly in need of day bombers to make up for his lack of troops. I gave them an assurance that the whole question of increased air support for France would be examined carefully and sympathetically by the War Cabinet immediately I got back to London; but I again emphasised that it would be a vital mistake to denude the United Kingdom of its essential Home defences.

General Weygand, while agreeing with the conception of the counter-stroke on the lower Seine, said that he had inadequate forces to implement it. He added that, in his judgment, the Germans had got plenty to spare to hold down all the countries at present conquered as well as a large part of France. Reynaud added that the Germans had raised fifty-five divisions and had built four thousand to five thousand heavy tanks since the outbreak of war. This was of course an immense exaggeration of what they had built.

In conclusion, I expressed in the most formal manner my hope that if there was any change in the situation the French Government would let the British Government know at once, in order that they might come over and see them at any convenient spot, before they took any final decisions which would govern their action in the second phase of the war.

We then took leave of Pétain, Weygand, and the staff of G.Q.G., and this was the last we saw of them. Finally I took Admiral Darlan apart and spoke to him alone. “Darlan, you must never let them get the French Fleet.” He promised solemnly that he would never do so.

The morning was cloudy, thus making it impossible for the twelve Hurricanes to escort us. We had to choose between waiting till it cleared up or taking a chance in the Flamingo. We were assured that it would be cloudy all the way. It was urgently necessary to get back home. Accordingly we started alone, calling for an escort to meet us, if possible, over the Channel. As we approached the coast, the skies cleared and presently became cloudless. Eight thousand feet below us on our right hand was Havre, burning. The smoke drifted away to the eastward. No new escort was to be seen. Presently I noticed some consultations going on with the captain, and immediately after we dived to a hundred feet or so above the calm sea, where aeroplanes are often invisible. What had happened? I learned later that they had seen two German aircraft below us firing at fishing-boats. We were lucky that their pilots did not look upward. The new escort met us as we approached the English shore, and the faithful Flamingo alighted safely at Hendon.

At five o’clock that evening I reported to the War Cabinet the results of my mission.

I described the condition of the French armies as it had been reported to the conference by General Weygand. For six days they had been fighting night and day, and they were now almost wholly exhausted. The enemy attack, launched by one hundred and twenty divisions with supporting armour, had fallen on forty French divisions, which had been outmanoeuvred and outmatched at every point. The enemy’s armoured forces had caused great disorganisation among the headquarters of the higher formations, which were unwieldy and, when on the move, unable to exercise control over the lower formations. The French armies were now on the last line on which they could attempt to offer an organised resistance. This line had already been penetrated in two or three places; and, if it collapsed, General Weygand would not be responsible for carrying on the struggle.

General Weygand evidently saw no prospect of the French going on fighting, and Marshal Pétain had quite made up his mind that peace must be made. He believed that France was being systematically destroyed by the Germans, and that it was his duty to save the rest of the country from this fate. I mentioned his memorandum to this effect, which he had shown to Reynaud but had not left with him. “There could be no doubt,” I said, “that Pétain was a dangerous man at this juncture: he had always been a defeatist, even in the last war.” On the other hand, M. Reynaud had seemed quite determined to fight on, and General de Gaulle, who had attended the conference with him, was in favour of carrying on a guerrilla warfare. He was young and energetic and had made a very favourable impression on me. I thought it probable that, if the present line collapsed, Reynaud would turn to him to take command. Admiral Darlan also had declared that he would never surrender the French Navy to the enemy: in the last resort, he had said, he would send it over to Canada, but in this he might be overruled by the French politicians.

It was clear that France was near the end of organised resistance, and a chapter in the war was now closing. The French might by some means continue the struggle. There might even be two French Governments, one which made peace, and one which organised resistance from the French colonies, carrying on the war at sea through the French Fleet and in France through guerrillas. It was too early yet to tell. Though for a period we might still have to send some support to France, we must now concentrate our main efforts on the defence of our island.

June

The reader of these pages in future years should realise how dense and baffling is the veil of the Unknown. Now in the full light of the after-time it is easy to see where we were ignorant or too much alarmed, where we were careless or clumsy. Twice in two months we had been taken completely by surprise. The overrunning of Norway and the break-through at Sedan, with all that followed from these, proved the deadly power of the German initiative. What else had they got ready—prepared and organised to the last inch? Would they suddenly pounce out of the blue with new weapons, perfect planning, and overwhelming force upon our almost totally unequipped and disarmed island at any one of a dozen or score of possible landing places? Or would they go to Ireland? He would have been a very foolish man who allowed his reasoning, however clean-cut and seeming sure, to blot out any possibility against which provision could be made.

“Depend upon it,” said Doctor Johnson, “when a man knows he is going to be hanged in a month, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.” I was always sure we should win, but nevertheless I was highly geared-up by the situation, and very thankful to be able to make my views effective. June 6 seems to have been for me an active and not barren day. My minutes, dictated as I lay in bed in the morning and pondered on the dark horizon, show the variety of topics upon which it was necessary to give directions.

First I called upon the Minister of Supply (Mr. Herbert Morrison) for an account of the progress of various devices connected with our rockets and sensitive fuzes for use against aircraft, on which some progress had been made, and upon the Minister of Aircraft Production (Lord Beaverbrook) for weekly reports on the design and production of automatic bomb-sights and low-altitude R.D.F. (Radio Direction Finding) and A.I. (Air Interception). I did this to direct the attention of these two new Ministers with their vast departments to those topics in which I had already long been especially interested. I asked the Admiralty to transfer at least fifty trained and half-trained pilots temporarily to Fighter Command. Fifty-five actually took part in the great air battle. I called for a plan to be prepared to strike at Italy by air raids on Turin and Milan, should she enter the war against us. I asked the War Office for plans for forming a Dutch Brigade in accordance with the desires of the exiled Netherlands Government, and pressed the Foreign Secretary for the recognition of the Belgian Government, apart from the prisoner King, as the sole constitutional Belgian authority, and for the encouragement of mobilisation in Yugoslavia as a counter to Italian threats. I asked that the aerodromes at Bardufosse and Skaarnlands, which we had constructed in the Narvik area and were about to abandon, should be made unusable for as long as possible by means of delayed-action bombs buried in them. I remembered how effectively the Germans had by this method delayed our use in 1918 of the railways when they finally retreated. Alas! we had no bombs of long-delay in any numbers. I was worried about the many ships lying in Malta Harbour under various conditions of repair in view of impending Italian hostility. I wrote a long minute to the Minister of Supply about timber felling and production at home. This was one of the most important methods of reducing the tonnage of our imports. Besides, we should get no more timber from Norway for a long time to come. Many of these minutes will be found in the Appendix.

I longed for more Regular troops with which to rebuild and expand the Army. Wars are not won by heroic militias.

This was a time when all Britain worked and strove to the utmost limit and was united as never before. Men and women toiled at the lathes and machines in the factories till they fell exhausted on the floor and had to be dragged away and ordered home, while their places were occupied by newcomers ahead of time. The one desire of all the males and many women was to have a weapon. The Cabinet and Government were locked together by bonds the memory of which is still cherished by all. The sense of fear seemed entirely lacking in the people, and their representatives in Parliament were not unworthy of their mood. We had not suffered like France under the German flail. Nothing moves an Englishman so much as the threat of invasion, the reality unknown for a thousand years. Vast numbers of people were resolved to conquer or die. There was no need to rouse their spirit by oratory. They were glad to hear me express their sentiments and give them good reasons for what they meant to do, or try to do. The only possible divergence was from people who wished to do even more than was possible, and had the idea that frenzy might sharpen action.

Our decision to send our only two well-armed divisions back to France made it all the more necessary to take every possible measure to defend the island against direct assault. Our most imminent dangers at home seemed to be parachute descents; or, even worse, the landing of comparatively small but highly mobile German tank forces which would rip up and disorganise our defence, as they had done when they got loose in France. In close contact with the new Secretary of State for War, my thoughts and directions were increasingly concerned with Home Defence. The fact that we were sending so much to France made it all the more necessary to make the best of what we had left for ourselves.

Mr. Eden’s plan of raising Local Defence Volunteers, which he had proposed to the Cabinet on May 13, met with an immediate response in all parts of the country.

I had always hankered for the name “Home Guard.” I had indeed suggested it in October, 1939.

The change was accordingly made, and the mighty organisation, which presently approached one and a half million men and gradually acquired good weapons, rolled forward.

In these days my principal fear was of German tanks coming ashore. Since my mind was attracted to landing tanks on their coasts, I naturally thought they might have the same idea. We had hardly any anti-tank guns or ammunition, or even ordinary field artillery. The plight to which we were reduced in dealing with this danger may be measured from the following incident. I visited our beaches in St. Margaret’s Bay, near Dover. The Brigadier informed me that he had only three anti-tank guns in his brigade, covering four or five miles of this highly menaced coastline. He declared that he had only six rounds of ammunition for each gun, and he asked me with a slight air of challenge whether he was justified in letting his men fire one single round for practice in order that they might at least know how the weapon worked. I replied that we could not afford practice rounds, and that fire should be held for the last moment at the closest range.

This was therefore no time to proceed by ordinary channels in devising expedients. In order to secure quick action free from departmental processes upon any bright idea or gadget. I decided to keep under my own hand as Minister of Defence the experimental establishment formed by Major Jefferis at Whitchurch. While engaged upon the fluvial mines in 1939 I had had useful contacts with this brilliant officer, whose ingenious, inventive mind proved, as will be seen, fruitful during the whole war. Lindemann was in close touch with him and me. I used their brains and my power. Major Jefferis and others connected with him were at work upon a bomb which could be thrown at a tank, perhaps from a window, and would stick upon it. The impact of a very high explosive in actual contact with a steel plate is particularly effective. We had the picture in mind that devoted soldiers or civilians would run close up to the tank and even thrust the bomb upon it, though its explosion cost them their lives. There were undoubtedly many who would have done it. I thought also that the bomb fixed on a rod might be fired with a reduced charge from rifles.

In the end the “sticky” bomb was accepted as one of our best emergency weapons. We never had to use it at home; but in Syria, where equally primitive conditions prevailed, it proved its value.

We had evidently to do our utmost to form French forces which might aid General de Gaulle in keeping the true personification of France alive.

My desire that our own Army should regain its poise and fighting quality was at first hampered because so many troops were being absorbed in fortifying their own localities or sectors of the coast.

As rumours grew of peace proposals and a message was sent to us from the Vatican through Berne, I thought it right to send the following minute to the Foreign Secretary:

As the month of June ground itself out, the sense of potential invasion at any moment grew upon us all.

A landing or descent in Ireland was always a deep anxiety to the Chiefs of Staff. But our resources seemed to me too limited for serious troop movements.

In bringing home the troops from Palestine I had difficulties with both my old friends, the Secretary of State for India, Mr. Amery, and the Secretary of State for the Colonies, Lord Lloyd, who was a convinced anti-Zionist and pro-Arab. I wished to arm the Jewish colonists. Mr. Amery at the India Office had a different view from mine about the part which India should play. I wanted Indian troops at once to come into Palestine and the Middle East, whereas the Viceroy and the India Office were naturally inclined to a long-term plan of creating a great Indian Army based upon Indian munition factories.

For the first time in a hundred and twenty-five years a powerful enemy was now established across the narrow waters of the English Channel. Our re-formed Regular Army, and the larger but less well-trained Territorials, had to be organised and deployed to create an elaborate system of defences, and to stand ready, if the invader came, to destroy him—for there could be no escape. It was for both sides “Kill or Cure.” Already the Home Guard could be included in the general framework of defence. On June 25, General Ironside, Commander-in-Chief Home Forces, exposed his plans to the Chiefs of Staff. They were, of course, scrutinised with anxious care by the experts, and I examined them myself with no little attention. On the whole they stood approved. There were three main elements in this early outline of a great future plan: first, an entrenched “crust” on the probable invasion beaches of the coast, whose defenders should fight where they stood, supported by mobile reserves for immediate counter-attack; secondly, a line of anti-tank obstacles, manned by the Home Guard, running down the east centre of England and protecting London and the great industrial centres from inroads by armoured vehicles; thirdly, behind that line, the main reserves for major counter-offensive action.

Ceaseless additions and refinements to this first plan were effected as the weeks and months passed; but the general conception remained. All troops, if attacked, should stand firm, not in linear only but in all-round defence, whilst others moved rapidly to destroy the attackers, whether they came from sea or air. Men who had been cut off from immediate help would not have merely remained in position. Active measures were prepared to harass the enemy from behind; to interfere with his communications and to destroy material, as the Russians did with great results when the German tide flowed over their country a year later. Many people must have been bewildered by the innumerable activities all around them. They could understand the necessity for wiring and mining the beaches, the anti-tank obstacles at the defiles, the concrete pillboxes at the crossroads, the intrusions into their houses to fill an attic with sandbags, onto their golf-courses or most fertile fields and gardens to burrow out some wide anti-tank ditch. All these inconveniences, and much more, they accepted in good part. But sometimes they must have wondered if there was a general scheme, or whether lesser individuals were not running amok in their energetic use of newly granted powers of interference with the property of the citizen.

There was, however, a central plan, elaborate, co-ordinated, and all-embracing. As it grew, it shaped itself thus: the overall command was maintained at General Headquarters in London. All Great Britain and Northern Ireland were divided into seven commands; these again into areas of corps and divisional commands. Commands, corps, and divisions were each required to hold a proportion of their resources in mobile reserve, only the minimum being detailed to hold their own particular defences. Gradually there were built up in rear of the beaches zones of defence in each divisional area, behind these similar corps zones and command zones, the whole system amounting in depth to a hundred miles or more. And behind these was established the main anti-tank obstacle running across Southern England and northward into Nottinghamshire. Above all was the final reserve directly under the Commander-in-Chief of the Home Forces. This it was our policy to keep as large and mobile as possible.

Within this general structure were many variations. Each of our ports on the east and south coasts was a special study. Direct frontal attack upon a defended port seemed an unlikely contingency, and all were made into strong-points equally capable of defence from the landward or the seaward side. It astonishes me that when this principle of fortifying the gorges was so universally accepted and rigorously enforced by all military authorities at home, no similar measures were adopted at Singapore by the succession of high officers employed there. But this is a later story. Obstacles were placed on many thousand square miles of Britain to impede the landing of air-borne troops. All our aerodromes, radar stations, and fuel depots, of which even in the summer of 1940 there were three hundred and seventy-five, needed defence by special garrisons and by their own airmen. Many thousands of “vulnerable points”—bridges, power-stations, depots, vital factories, and the like—had to be guarded day and night from sabotage or sudden onset. Schemes were ready for the immediate demolition of resources helpful to the enemy, if captured. The destruction of port facilities, the cratering of key roads, the paralysis of motor transport and of telephones and telegraph stations, of rolling stock or permanent way, before they passed out of our control, were planned to the last detail. Yet, despite all these wise and necessary precautions, in which the civilian departments gave unstinted help to the military, there was no question of a “scorched-earth policy”; England was to be defended by its people, not destroyed.

Future generations may deem it noteworthy that the supreme question of whether we should fight on alone never found a place upon the War Cabinet agenda. It was taken for granted and as a matter of course by these men of all parties in the State, and we were much too busy to waste time upon such unreal, academic issues. We were united also in viewing the new phase with good confidence. It was decided to tell the Dominions the whole facts. I was invited to send a message in the same sense to President Roosevelt, and also to sustain the determination of the French Government and assure them of our utmost support.

On June 13 I made my last visit to France for four years almost to a day. The French Government had now withdrawn to Tours, and tension had mounted steadily. I took Edward Halifax and General Ismay with me, and Max Beaverbrook volunteered to come too. In trouble he is always buoyant. This time the weather was cloudless, and we sailed over in the midst of our Hurricane squadron, making, however, a rather wider sweep to the southward than before. Arrived over Tours, we found the airport had been heavily bombed the night before, but we and all our escort landed smoothly in spite of the craters. Immediately one sensed the increasing degeneration of affairs. No one came to meet us or seemed to expect us. We borrowed a service car from the Station Commander and motored into the city, making for the préfecture, where it was said the French Government had their headquarters. No one of consequence was there, but Reynaud was reported to be motoring in from the country, and Mandel was also to arrive soon.

It being already nearly two o’clock, I insisted upon luncheon, and after some parleyings we drove through streets crowded with refugees’ cars, most of them with a mattress on top and crammed with luggage. We found a café, which was closed but after explanations we obtained a meal. During luncheon I was visited by M. Baudouin, an official of the French Foreign Office, whose influence had risen in these latter days. He began at once in his soft, silky manner about the hopelessness of the French resistance. If the United States would declare war on Germany, it might be possible for France to continue. What did I think about this? I did not discuss the question further than to say that I hoped America would come in, and that we should certainly fight on. He afterwards, I was told, spread it about that I had agreed that France should surrender unless the United States came in.

We then returned to the préfecture, where Mandel, Minister of the Interior, awaited us. This faithful former secretary of Clemenceau, and a bearer forward of his life’s message, seemed in the best of spirits. He was energy and defiance personified. His luncheon, an attractive chicken, was uneaten on the tray before him. He was a ray of sunshine. He had a telephone in each hand, through which he was constantly giving orders and decisions. His ideas were simple: fight on to the end in France, in order to cover the largest possible movement into Africa. This was the last time I saw this valiant Frenchman. The restored French Republic rightly shot to death the hirelings who murdered him. His memory is honoured by his countrymen and their Allies.

Presently M. Reynaud arrived. At first he seemed depressed. General Weygand had reported to him that the French armies were exhausted. The line was pierced in many places; refugees were pouring along all the roads through the country, and many of the troops were in disorder. The Generalissimo felt it was necessary to ask for an armistice while there were still enough French troops to keep order until peace could be made. Such was the military advice. He would send that day a further message to Mr. Roosevelt saying that the last hour had come and that the fate of the Allied cause lay in America’s hand. Hence arose the alternative of armistice and peace.

M. Reynaud proceeded to say that the Council of Ministers had on the previous day instructed him to inquire what would be Britain’s attitude should the worst come. He himself was well aware of the solemn pledge that no separate peace would be entered into by either ally. General Weygand and others pointed out that France had already sacrificed everything in the common cause. She had nothing left; but she had succeeded in greatly weakening the common foe. It would in those circumstances be a shock if Britain failed to concede that France was physically unable to carry on, if France was still expected to fight on and thus deliver up her people to the certainty of corruption and evil transformation at the hands of ruthless specialists in the art of bringing conquered peoples to heel. That then was the question which he had to put. Would Great Britain realise the hard facts with which France was faced?

All the same I thought the issue raised at this point was so serious that I asked to withdraw with my colleagues before answering it. So Lords Halifax and Beaverbrook and the rest of our party went out into a dripping but sunlit garden and talked things over for half an hour. On our return I restated our position. We could not agree to a separate peace however it might come. Our war aim remained the total defeat of Hitler, and we felt that we could still bring this about. We were therefore not in a position to release France from her obligation. Whatever happened, we would level no reproaches against France; but that was a different matter from consenting to release her from her pledge. I urged that the French should now send a new appeal to President Roosevelt, which we would support from London. M. Reynaud agreed to do this, and promised that the French would hold on until the result of his final appeal was known.

Before leaving, I made one particular request to M. Reynaud. Over four hundred German pilots, the bulk of whom had been shot down by the R.A.F., were prisoners in France. Having regard to the situation, they should be handed over to our custody. M. Reynaud willingly gave this promise, but soon he had no power to keep it. These German pilots all became available for the Battle of Britain, and we had to shoot them down a second time.

At the end of our talk, M. Reynaud took us into the adjoining room, where MM. Herriot and Jeanneney, the Presidents of the Chamber and Senate respectively, were seated. Both these French patriots spoke with passionate emotion about fighting on to the death. As we went down the crowded passage into the courtyard, I saw General de Gaulle standing stolid and expressionless at the doorway. Greeting him, I said in a low tone, in French: “L’homme du destin.” He remained impassive. In the courtyard there must have been more than a hundred leading Frenchmen in frightful misery. Clemenceau’s son was brought up to me. I wrung his hand. The Hurricanes were already in the air, and I slept sound on our swift and uneventful journey home. This was wise, for there was a long way to go before bedtime.

After our departure from Tours at about half-past five, M. Reynaud met his Cabinet again at Cangé. They were vexed that I and my colleagues had not come there to join them. We should have been very willing to do so, no matter how late we had to fly home. But we were never invited; nor did we know there was to be a French Cabinet meeting.

At Cangé the decision was taken to move the French Government to Bordeaux, and Reynaud sent off his telegram to Roosevelt with its desperate appeal for the entry on the scene at least of the American Fleet.

At 10.15 P.M. I made my new report to the Cabinet. My account was endorsed by my two companions. While we were still sitting, Ambassador Kennedy arrived with President Roosevelt’s reply to Reynaud’s appeal of June 10.

We all thought the President had gone a very long way. He had authorised Reynaud to publish his message of June 10, with all that that implied, and now he had sent this formidable answer. If, upon this, France decided to endure the further torture of the war, the United States would be deeply committed to enter it. At any rate, it contained two points which were tantamount to belligerence: first, a promise of all material aid, which implied active assistance; secondly, a call to go on fighting even if the Government were driven right out of France. I sent our thanks to the President immediately, and I also sought to commend the President’s message to Reynaud in the most favourable terms. Perhaps these points were stressed unduly; but it was necessary to make the most of everything we had or could get.

Finally, in accordance with the Cabinet’s wishes, I sent a formal message of good cheer to the French Government in which the note of an indissoluble union between our two countries was struck for the first time.

All these three messages were drafted by me before I went to bed after midnight on the 13th. They were written actually in the small hours of the 14th.

The next day arrived a telegram from the President explaining that he could not agree to the publication of his message to Reynaud. He himself, according to Mr. Kennedy, had wished to do so, but the State Department, while in full sympathy with him, saw the gravest dangers. The President thanked me for my account of the meeting at Tours and complimented the British and French Governments on the courage of their troops. He renewed the assurances about furnishing all possible material and supplies; but he then said he had told Ambassador Kennedy to inform me that his message of the 14th was in no sense intended to commit and did not commit the Government of the United States to military participation. There was no authority under the American Constitution except Congress which could make any commitment of that nature. He bore particularly in mind the question of the French Fleet. Congress, at his desire, had appropriated fifty million dollars for the purpose of supplying food and clothing to civilian refugees in France. Finally he assured me that he appreciated the significance and weight of what I had set forth in my message.

Around our table we all fully understood the risks the President ran of being charged with exceeding his constitutional authority, and consequently of being defeated on this issue at the approaching election, on which our fate, and much more, depended. I was convinced that he would give up life itself, to say nothing of public office, for the cause of world freedom now in such awful peril. But what would have been the good of that? Across the Atlantic I could feel his suffering. In the White House the torment was of a different character from that of Bordeaux or London. But the degree of personal stress was not unequal.

In my reply I tried to arm the President with some arguments which he could use to others about the danger to the United States if Europe fell and Britain failed. This was no matter of sentiment, but of life and death.

Meanwhile the situation on the French front went from bad to worse. The German operations northwest of Paris, in which our 51st Division had been lost, had brought the enemy, by June 9, to the lower reaches of the Seine and the Oise. On the southern banks the dispersed remnants of the Tenth and Seventh French Armies were hastily organising a defence; they had been riven asunder, and to close the gap the garrison of the capital, the so-called Armée de Paris, had been marched out and interposed.

Farther to the east, along the Aisne, the Sixth, Fourth, and Second Armies were in far better shape. They had had three weeks in which to establish themselves and to absorb such reinforcements as had been sent. During all the period of Dunkirk and of the drive to Rouen they had been left comparatively undisturbed, but their strength was small for the hundred miles they had to hold, and the enemy had used the time to concentrate against them a great mass of divisions to deliver the final blow. On June 9 it fell. Despite a dogged resistance, for the French were now fighting with great resolution, bridgeheads were established south of the river from Soissons to Rethel, and in the next two days these were expanded until the Marne was reached. German Panzer divisions which had played so decisive a part in the drive down the coast were brought across to join the new battle. Eight of these, in two great thrusts, turned the French defeat into a rout. The French armies, decimated and in confusion, were quite unable to withstand this powerful assembly of superior numbers, equipment, and technique. In four days, by June 16, the enemy had reached Orléans and the Loire; while to the east the other thrust had passed through Dijon and Besançon, almost to the Swiss frontier.

West of Paris the remains of the Tenth Army, the equivalent of no more than two divisions, had been pressed back southwestward from the Seine towards Alençon. The capital fell on the 14th; its defending armies, the Seventh and the Armée de Paris, were scattered; a great gap now separated the exiguous French and British forces in the west from the rest and the remains of the once proud Army of France.

And what of the Maginot Line, the shield of France, and its defenders? Until June 14 no direct attack was made, and already some of the active formations, leaving behind the garrison troops, had started to join, if they could, the fast-withdrawing armies of the centre. But it was too late. On that day the Maginot Line was penetrated before Saarbruecken and across the Rhine by Colmar; the retreating French were caught up in the battle and unable to extricate themselves. Two days later the German penetration to Besançon had cut off their retreat. More than four hundred thousand men were surrounded without hope of escape. Many encircled garrisons held out desperately; they refused to surrender until after the armistice, when French officers were despatched to give them the order. The last forts obeyed on June 30, the commander protesting that his defences were still intact at every point.

Thus the vast disorganised battle drew to its conclusion all along the French front. It remains only to recount the slender part which the British were able to play.

General Brooke had won distinction in the retreat to Dunkirk, and especially by his battle in the gap opened by the Belgian surrender. We had therefore chosen him to command the British troops which remained in France and all reinforcements until they should reach sufficient numbers to require the presence of Lord Gort as an Army Commander. Brooke had now arrived in France, and on the 14th he met Generals Weygand and Georges. Weygand stated that the French forces were no longer capable of organised resistance or concerted action. The French Army was broken into four groups, of which its Tenth Army was the westernmost. Weygand also told him that the Allied Governments had agreed that a bridgehead should be created in the Brittany peninsula, to be held jointly by the French and British troops on a line running roughly north and south through Rennes. He ordered him to deploy his forces on a defensive line running through this town. Brooke pointed out that this line of defence was a hundred and fifty kilometres long and required at least fifteen divisions. He was told that the instructions he was receiving must be regarded as an order.

It is true that on June 11 at Briare, Reynaud and I had agreed to try to draw a kind of “Torres Vedras line” across the foot of the Brittany peninsula. Everything, however, was dissolving at the same time, and the plan, for what it was worth, never reached the domain of action. In itself the idea was sound, but there were no facts to clothe it with reality. Once the main French armies were broken or destroyed, this bridgehead, precious though it was, could not have been held for long against concentrated German attack. But even a few weeks’ resistance here would have maintained contact with Britain and enabled large French withdrawals to Africa from other parts of the immense front, now torn to shreds. If the battle in France was to continue, it could be only in the Brest peninsula and in wooded or mountainous regions like the Vosges. The alternative for the French was surrender. Let none, therefore, mock at the conception of a bridgehead in Brittany. The Allied armies under Eisenhower, then an unknown American colonel, bought it back for us later at a high price.

General Brooke, after his talk with the French commanders, and having measured from his own headquarters a scene which was getting worse every hour, reported to the War Office and by telephone to Mr. Eden that the position was hopeless. All further reinforcements should be stopped, and the remainder of the British Expeditionary Force, now amounting to a hundred and fifty thousand men, should be re-embarked at once. On the night of June 14, as I was thought to be obdurate, he rang me up on a telephone line which by luck and effort was open, and pressed this view upon me. I could hear quite well, and after ten minutes I was convinced that he was right and we must go. Orders were given accordingly. He was released from French command. The back-loading of great quantities of stores, equipment, and men began. The leading elements of the Canadian Division which had landed got back into their ships, and the 52d Division, which, apart from its 157th Brigade, had not yet been committed to action, retreated on Brest. No British troops operating under the Tenth French Army were withdrawn; but all else of ours took to the ships at Brest, Cherbourg, St. Malo, and St. Nazaire. On June 15 our troops were released from the orders of the Tenth French Army, and next day, when it carried out a further withdrawal to the south, they moved towards Cherbourg. The 157th Brigade, after heavy fighting, was extricated that night, and, retiring in their lorries, embarked during the night of June 17/18. On June 17 it was announced that the Pétain Government had asked for an armistice, ordering all French forces to cease fighting, without even communicating this information to our troops. General Brooke was consequently told to come away with all men he could embark and any equipment he could save.

We repeated now on a considerable scale, though with larger vessels, the Dunkirk evacuation. Over twenty thousand Polish troops who refused to capitulate cut their way to the sea and were carried by our ships to Britain. The Germans pursued our forces at all points. In the Cherbourg peninsula they were in contact with our rearguard ten miles south of the harbour on the morning of the 18th. The last ship left at 4 P.M., when the enemy were within three miles of the port. Very few prisoners were caught.

In all there were evacuated from all French harbours 136,000 British troops and 310 guns; a total, with the Poles, of 156,000 men. This reflects great credit on General Brooke’s embarkation staff, of whom the chief, General de Fonblanque, a British officer, died shortly afterwards as the result of his exertions.

At Brest and the Western ports the evacuations were numerous. The German air attack on the transports was heavy. One frightful incident occurred on the 17th at St. Nazaire. The 20,000-ton liner Lancastria, with five thousand men on board, was bombed and set on fire just as she was about to leave. A mass of flaming oil spread over the water round the ship, and upwards of three thousand men perished. The rest were rescued under continued air attack by the devotion of the small craft. When this news came to me in the quiet Cabinet Room during the afternoon, I forbade its publication, saying, “The newspapers have got quite enough disaster for today at least.” I had intended to release the news a few days later, but events crowded upon us so black and so quickly that I forgot to lift the ban, and it was some years before the knowledge of this horror became public.

To lessen the shock of the impending French surrender, it was necessary at this time to send a message to the Dominion Prime Ministers showing them that our resolve to continue the struggle although alone was not based upon mere obstinacy or desperation, and to convince them by practical and technical reasons, of which they might well be unaware, of the real strength of our position. I therefore dictated the following statement on the afternoon of June 16, a day already filled with much business.

I composed this in the Cabinet Room, and it was typed as I spoke. The door to the garden was wide open, and outside the sun shone warm and bright. Air Chief Marshal Newall, the Chief of the Air Staff, sat on the terrace meanwhile, and when I had finished revising the draft, I took it out to him in case there were any improvements or corrections to be made. He was evidently moved, and presently said he agreed with every word. I was comforted and fortified myself by putting my convictions upon record, and when I read the message over the final time before sending it off, I felt a glow of sober confidence. This was certainly justified by what happened. All came true.

We must now quit the field of military disaster for the convulsions in the French Cabinet and the personages who surrounded it at Bordeaux.

It is not easy to establish the exact sequence of events. The British War Cabinet sat almost continuously, and messages were sent off from time to time as decisions were taken. As they took two or three hours to transmit in cipher, and probably another hour to deliver, the telephone was freely used by the officials of the Foreign Office to convey the substance to our Ambassador; and he also used the telephone frequently in reply. Therefore there are overlaps and short-circuits which are confusing. Events were moving at such a speed on both sides of the Channel that it would be misleading to present the tale as if it were an orderly flow of argument and decision.

M. Reynaud reached the new seat of government from Tours in the evening of the 14th. He received the British Ambassador about nine o’clock. Sir Ronald Campbell informed him that His Majesty’s Government intended to insist on the terms of the agreement of March 28, binding both parties not to make any terms with the enemy. He also offered to provide all the necessary shipping in the event of the French Government resolving to move to North Africa. Both these statements were in accordance with the Ambassador’s current instructions.

On the morning of the 15th, Reynaud again received the Ambassador and told him that he had definitely decided to divide the Government in half and to establish a centre of authority beyond the sea. Such a policy would obviously carry with it the removal of the French Fleet to ports beyond German power. Later that morning, President Roosevelt’s reply to Reynaud’s appeal of June 13 was received. Although I had made the best of it in my telegram to the French Premier, I knew it was bound to disappoint him. Material aid, if Congress approved, was offered; but there was no question of any American entry into the war. France had no reason to expect such a declaration at this moment, and the President had not either the power to give it himself or to obtain it from Congress. There had been no meetings of the Council of Ministers since that at Cangé, near Tours, on the evening of the 13th. The Ministers having now all reached Bordeaux, the Council was summoned for the afternoon.

General Weygand had been for some days convinced that all further resistance was vain. He therefore wished to force the French Government to ask for an armistice while the French Army still retained enough discipline and strength to maintain internal order on the morrow of defeat. He had a profound, lifelong dislike of the parliamentary régime of the Third Republic. As an ardently religious Catholic, he saw in the ruin which had overwhelmed his country the chastisement of God for its abandonment of the Christian faith. He therefore used the power of his supreme military position far beyond the limits which his professional responsibilities, great as they were, justified or required. He confronted the Prime Minister with declarations that the French armies could fight no more, and that it was time to stop a horrible and useless massacre before general anarchy supervened.

Paul Reynaud, on the other hand, realised that the battle in France was over, but still hoped to carry on the war from Africa and the French Empire and with the French Fleet. None of the other states overrun by Hitler had withdrawn from the war. Physically in their own lands they were gripped, but from overseas their Governments had kept the flag flying and the national cause alive. Reynaud wished to follow their example, and with much more solid resources. He sought a solution on the lines of the Dutch capitulation. This, while it left the Army, whose chiefs had refused to fight any longer, free to lay down its arms wherever it was in contact with the enemy, nevertheless preserved to the State its sovereign right to continue the struggle by all the means in its power.

This issue was fought out between the Premier and the Generalissimo at a stormy interview before the Council meeting. Reynaud offered Weygand written authority from the Government to order the “Cease Fire.” Weygand refused with indignation the suggestion of a military surrender. “He would never accept the casting of this shame upon the banners of the French Army.” The act of surrender, which he deemed imperative, must be that of the Government and of the State, to which the army he commanded would dutifully conform. In so acting General Weygand, though a sincere and unselfish man, behaved wrongly. He asserted the right of a soldier to dominate the duly constituted Government of the Republic, and thus to bring the whole resistance, not only of France but of her Empire, to an end contrary to the decision of his political and lawful chief.

Apart from these formalities and talk about the honour of the French Army there stood a practical point. An armistice formally entered into by the French Government would mean the end of the war for France. By negotiation part of the country might be left unoccupied and part of the Army free; whereas, if the war were continued from overseas, all who had not escaped from France would be controlled directly by the Germans, and millions of Frenchmen would be carried off to Germany as prisoners of war without the protection of any agreement. This was a substantial argument, but it belonged to the Government of the Republic and not to the Commander-in-Chief of the Army to decide upon it. Weygand’s position that because the Army under his orders would in his opinion fight no more, the French Republic must give in and order its armed forces to obey an order which he was certainly willing to carry out, finds no foundation in the law and practice of civilised states or in the professional honour of a soldier. In theory at least the Prime Minister had his remedy. He could have replied: “You are affronting the Constitution of the Republic. You are dismissed from this moment from your command. I will obtain the necessary sanction from the President.”

Unfortunately, M. Reynaud was not sufficiently sure of his position. Behind the presumptuous General loomed the illustrious Marshal Pétain, the centre of the band of defeatist Ministers whom Reynaud had so recently and so improvidently brought into the French Government and Council, and who were all resolved to stop the war. Behind these again crouched the sinister figure of Laval, who had installed himself at Bordeaux City Hall, surrounded by a clique of agitated Senators and Deputies. Laval’s policy had the force and merit of simplicity. France must not only make peace with Germany, she must change sides; she must become the ally of the conqueror, and by her loyalty and services against the common foe across the Channel save her interests and her provinces and finish up on the victorious side. Evidently M. Reynaud, exhausted by the ordeals through which he had passed, had not the life or strength for so searching a personal ordeal, which would indeed have taxed the resources of an Oliver Cromwell or of a Clemenceau, of Stalin or of Hitler.

In the discussions on the afternoon of the 15th, at which the President of the Republic was present, Reynaud, having explained the situation to his colleagues, appealed to Marshal Pétain to persuade General Weygand to the Cabinet view. He could not have chosen a worse envoy. The Marshal left the room. There was an interval. After a while he returned with Weygand, whose position he now supported. At this serious juncture M. Chautemps, an important Minister, slid in an insidious proposal which wore the aspect of a compromise and was attractive to the waverers. He stated in the name of the Leftist elements of the Cabinet that Reynaud was right in affirming that an agreement with the enemy was impossible, but that it would be prudent to make a gesture which would unite France. They should ask the Germans what the conditions of armistice would be, remaining entirely free to reject them. It was not of course possible to embark on this slippery slope and stop. The mere announcement that the French Government were asking the Germans on what terms an armistice would be granted was sufficient in itself to destroy what remained of the morale of the French Army. How could the soldier be ordered to cast away his life in obdurate resistance after so fatal a signal had been given? However, combined with the demonstration which they had witnessed from Pétain and Weygand, the Chautemps suggestion had a deadly effect on the majority. It was agreed to ask His Majesty’s Government how they would view such a step, informing them at the same time that in no circumstances would the surrender of the Fleet be allowed. Reynaud now rose from the table and declared his intention to resign. But the President of the Republic restrained him, and declared that if Reynaud went he would go too. When the confused discussion was resumed, no clear distinction was drawn between declining to surrender the French Fleet to the Germans and putting it out of German power by sailing it to ports outside France. It was agreed that the British Government should be asked to consent to the inquiry about the German terms. The message was immediately despatched.

The next morning Reynaud received the British Ambassador again, and was told that the British would accept the French request on the condition that the French Fleet was placed beyond German power—in fact, that it should be directed to British ports. These instructions had been telephoned to Campbell from London to save time. At eleven o’clock the distracted Council of Ministers met again, President Lebrun being present. The President of the Senate, M. Jeanneney, was brought in to endorse, both on his own behalf and on that of his colleague the President of the Chamber, M. Herriot, the proposal of the Premier to transfer the Government to North Africa. Up rose Marshal Pétain and read a letter, which it is believed had been written for him by another hand, resigning from the Cabinet. Having finished his speech, he prepared to leave the room. He was persuaded by the President of the Republic to remain on the condition that an answer would be given to him during the day. The Marshal had also complained of the delay in asking for an armistice. Reynaud replied that if one asked an ally to free one from an obligation it was customary to await the answer. The session then closed. After luncheon the Ambassador brought to Reynaud the textual answer of the British Government, of which he had already given the telephoned purport in his conversation of the morning.

In these days the War Cabinet were in a state of unusual emotion. The fall and the fate of France dominated their minds. Our own plight, and what we should have to face and face alone, seemed to take a second place. Grief for our ally in her agony, and desire to do anything in human power to aid her, was the prevailing mood. There was also the overpowering importance of making sure of the French Fleet. It was in this spirit that a proposal for “an indissoluble union” between France and Britain was conceived.

I was not the prime mover. I first heard of a definite plan at a luncheon at the Carlton Club on the 15th, at which were present Lord Halifax, M. Corbin, Sir Robert Vansittart, and one or two others. It was evident that there had been considerable discussion beforehand. On the 14th, Vansittart and Desmond Morton had met M. Monnet and M. Pleven (members of the French Economic Mission in London), and been joined by General de Gaulle, who had flown over to make arrangements for shipping to carry the French Government and as many French troops as possible to Africa. These gentlemen had evolved the outline of a declaration for a Franco-British Union with the object, apart from its general merits, of giving M. Reynaud some new fact of a vivid and stimulating nature with which to carry a majority of his Cabinet into the move to Africa and the continuance of the war. My first reaction was unfavourable. I asked a number of questions of a critical character, and was by no means convinced. However, at the end of our long Cabinet that afternoon the subject was raised. I was somewhat surprised to see the staid, stolid, experienced politicians of all parties engage themselves so passionately in an immense design whose implications and consequences were not in any way thought out. I did not resist, but yielded easily to these generous surges which carried our resolves to a very high level of unselfish and undaunted action.

When the War Cabinet met the next morning, we first addressed ourselves to the answer to be given to M. Reynaud’s request sent the night before for the formal release of France from her obligations under the Anglo-French Agreement. The Cabinet authorised the following reply, which at their request I went into the next room and drafted myself. It was despatched from London at 12.35 P.M. on the 16th. It endorsed and repeated in a formal manner the telephoned instructions sent to Campbell early in the morning.

Early in the afternoon a second message in similar terms was sent by the Foreign Office to Sir Ronald Campbell (June 16, 3.10 P.M.).

Both messages were stiff, and embodied the main purpose of the War Cabinet at their morning meeting.

We reassembled at three o’clock that same afternoon. I recalled to the Cabinet that at the conclusion of our meeting the day before there had been some discussion on a proposal for the issue of some further declaration of closer union between France and Great Britain. I had seen General de Gaulle in the morning, and he had impressed on me that some dramatic move was essential to give M. Reynaud the support which he needed to keep his Government in the war, and suggested that a proclamation of the indissoluble union of the French and British peoples would serve the purpose. Both General de Gaulle and M. Corbin had been concerned at the sharpness of the decision reached by the War Cabinet that morning, and embodied in the telegrams already despatched. I had heard that a new declaration had been drafted for consideration, and that General de Gaulle had telephoned to M. Reynaud. As a result it had seemed advisable to suspend action for the moment. A telegram had therefore been sent to Sir Ronald Campbell instructing him to suspend delivery accordingly.

The Foreign Secretary then said that after our morning meeting he had seen Sir Robert Vansittart, whom he had previously asked to draft some dramatic announcement which might strengthen M. Reynaud’s hand. Vansittart had been in consultation with General de Gaulle, M. Monnet, M. Pleven, and Major Morton. Between them they had drafted a proclamation. General de Gaulle had impressed upon them the need for publishing the document as quickly as possible, and wished to take the draft back with him to France that night. De Gaulle had also suggested that I should go to meet M. Reynaud next day.

The draft statement was passed round, and everyone read it with deep attention. All the difficulties were immediately apparent, but in the end a Declaration of Union seemed to command general assent. I stated that my first instinct had been against the idea, but that in this crisis we must not let ourselves be accused of lack of imagination. Some dramatic announcement was clearly necessary to keep the French going. The proposal could not be lightly turned aside, and I was encouraged at finding so great a body of opinion in the War Cabinet favourable to it.

At 3.55 P.M. we were told that the French Council of Ministers would meet at five to decide whether further resistance was possible. Secondly, General de Gaulle had been informed by M. Reynaud on the telephone that if a favourable answer on the proposed proclamation of unity was received by five o’clock, M. Reynaud felt he could hold the position. On this the War Cabinet approved the final draft proclamation of an Anglo-French Union, and authorised its despatch to M. Reynaud by the hand of General de Gaulle. This was telephoned to M. Reynaud forthwith. The War Cabinet further invited me, Mr. Attlee, and Sir Archibald Sinclair, representing the three British parties, to meet M. Reynaud at the earliest moment to discuss the draft proclamation and related questions.

Of all this Parliament was informed in due course. But the issue by then had ceased to count.

I did not, as has been seen, draft the statement myself. It was composed around the table, and I made my contribution to it. I then took it into the next room, where de Gaulle was waiting with Vansittart, Desmond Morton, and M. Corbin. The General read it with an air of unwonted enthusiasm, and, as soon as contact with Bordeaux could be obtained, began to telephone it to M. Reynaud. He hoped with us that this solemn pledge of union and brotherhood between the two nations and empires would give the struggling French Premier the means to carry his Government to Africa with all possible forces and order the French Navy to sail for harbours outside impending German control.

We must now pass to the other end of the wire. The British Ambassador delivered the two messages in answer to the French request to be released from their obligation of March 28. According to his account, M. Reynaud, who was in a dejected mood, did not take them well. He at once remarked that the withdrawal of the French Mediterranean Fleet to British ports would invite the immediate seizure of Tunis by Italy, and also create difficulties for the British Fleet. He had got no further than this when my message, telephoned by General de Gaulle, came through. “It acted,” said the Ambassador, “like a tonic.” Reynaud said that for a document like that he would fight to the last. In came at that moment M. Mandel and M. Marin. They obviously were equally relieved. M. Reynaud then left “with a light step” to read the document to the President of the Republic. He believed that, armed with this immense guarantee, he would be able to carry his Council with him on the policy of retiring to Africa and waging war. My telegram instructing the Ambassador to delay the presentation of the two stiff messages, or anyhow to suspend action upon them, arrived immediately after the Premier had gone. A messenger was therefore sent after him to say that the two earlier messages should be considered as “cancelled.” “Suspended” would have been a better word. The War Cabinet had not altered its position in any respect. We felt, however, that it would be better to give the Declaration of Union its full chance under the most favourable conditions. If the French Council of Ministers were rallied by it, the greater would carry the less, and the removal of the Fleet from German power would follow automatically. If our offer did not find favour, our rights and claims would revive in their full force. We could not tell what was going on inside the French Government, nor know that this was the last time we should ever be able to deal with M. Reynaud.

I had spoken to him on the telephone some time this day proposing that I should come out immediately to see him. In view of the uncertainty about what was happening or about to happen at Bordeaux, my colleagues in the War Cabinet wished me to go in a cruiser, and a rendezvous was duly arranged for the next day off the Brittany coast. I ought to have flown. But even so it would have been too late.

Our War Cabinet sat until six o’clock on the 16th, and thereafter I set out on my mission. I took with me the leaders of the Labour and Liberal Parties, the three Chiefs of Staff, and various important officers and officials. A special train was waiting at Waterloo. We could reach Southampton in two hours, and a night of steaming at thirty knots in the cruiser would bring us to the rendezvous by noon on the 17th. We had taken our seats in the train. My wife had come to see me off. There was an odd delay in starting. Evidently some hitch had occurred. Presently my private secretary arrived from Downing Street breathless with the following message from Campbell at Bordeaux:

The hopes which M. Reynaud had founded upon the Declaration of Union were soon dispelled. Rarely has so generous a proposal encountered such a hostile reception. The Premier read the document twice to the Council. He declared himself strongly for it, and added that he was arranging a meeting with me for the next day to discuss the details. But the agitated Ministers, some famous, some nobodies, torn by division and under the terrible hammer of defeat, were staggered. Some, we are told, had heard about it by a tapping of telephones. These were the defeatists. Most were wholly unprepared to receive such far-reaching themes. The overwhelming feeling of the Council was to reject the whole plan. Surprise and mistrust dominated the majority, and even the most friendly and resolute were baffled. The Council had met expecting to receive the answer to the French request, on which they had all agreed, that Britain should release France from her obligations of March 28, in order that the French might ask the Germans what their terms of armistice would be. It is possible, even probable, that if our formal answer had been laid before them, the majority would have accepted our primary condition about sending their Fleet to Britain, or at least would have made some other suitable proposal and thus have freed them to open negotiations with the enemy, while reserving to themselves a final option of retirement to Africa if the German conditions were too severe. But now there was a classic example of “Order, counter-order, disorder.”

Paul Reynaud was quite unable to overcome the unfavourable impression which the proposal of Anglo-French Union created. The defeatist section, led by Marshal Pétain, refused even to examine it. Violent charges were made. “It was a last-minute plan,” “a surprise,” “a scheme to put France in tutelage, or to carry off her colonial empire.” It relegated France, so they said, to the position of a Dominion. Others complained that not even equality of status was offered to the French, because Frenchmen were to receive only the citizenship of the British Empire instead of that of Great Britain, while the British were to be citizens of France. This suggestion is contradicted by the text.

Beyond these came other arguments. Weygand had convinced Pétain without much difficulty that England was lost. High French military authorities—perhaps Weygand himself—had advised: “In three weeks England will have her neck wrung like a chicken.” To make a union with Great Britain was, according to Pétain, “fusion with a corpse.” Ybarnegaray, who had been so stout in the previous war, exclaimed: “Better be a Nazi province. At least we know what that means.” Senator Reibel, a personal friend of General Weygand’s, declared that this scheme meant complete destruction for France, and anyhow definite subordination to England. In vain did Reynaud reply: “I prefer to collaborate with my allies rather than with my enemies.” And Mandel: “Would you rather be a German district than a British Dominion?” But all was in vain.

We are assured that Reynaud’s statement of our proposal was never put to a vote in the Council. It collapsed of itself. This was a personal and fatal reverse for the struggling Premier which marked the end of his influence and authority upon the Council. All further discussion turned upon the armistice, and asking the Germans what terms they would give, and in this M. Chautemps was cool and steadfast. Our two telegrams about the Fleet were never presented to the Council. The demand that it should be sailed to British ports as a prelude to the negotiations with the Germans was never considered by the Reynaud Cabinet, which was now in complete decomposition. Here again there was no vote. At about eight o’clock Reynaud, utterly exhausted by the physical and mental strain to which he had for so many days been subjected, sent his resignation to the President, and advised him to send for Marshal Pétain. This action must be judged precipitate. He still seems to have cherished the hope that he could keep his rendezvous with me the next day, and spoke of this to General Spears. “Tomorrow there will be another Government, and you will no longer speak for anyone,” said Spears.

On the afternoon of June 16, M. Monnet and General de Gaulle visited me in the Cabinet Room. The General in his capacity of Under-Secretary of State for National Defence had just ordered the French ship Pasteur, which was carrying weapons to Bordeaux from America, to proceed instead to a British port. Monnet was very active upon a plan to transfer all French contracts for munitions in America to Britain if France made a separate peace. He evidently expected this, and wished to save as much as possible from what seemed to him to be the wreck of the world. His whole attitude in this respect was most helpful. Then he turned to our sending all our remaining fighter air squadrons to share in the final battle in France, which was of course already over. I told him that there was no possibility of this being done. Even at this stage he used the usual arguments—“the decisive battle,” “now or never,” “if France falls, all falls,” and so forth. But I could not do anything to oblige him in this field. My two French visitors then got up and moved towards the door, Monnet leading. As they reached it, de Gaulle, who had hitherto scarcely uttered a single word, turned back, and, taking two or three paces towards me, said in English: “I think you are quite right.” Under an impassive, imperturbable demeanour he seemed to me to have a remarkable capacity for feeling pain. I preserved the impression, in contact with this very tall, phlegmatic man, “Here is the Constable of France.” He returned that afternoon in a British aeroplane, which I had placed at his disposal, to Bordeaux. But not for long.

Forthwith Marshal Pétain formed a French Government with the main purpose of seeking an immediate armistice from Germany. Late on the night of June 16, the defeatist group of which he was the head was already so shaped and knit together that the process did not take long. M. Chautemps (“to ask for terms is not necessarily to accept them”) was Vice-President of the Council. General Weygand, whose view was that all was over, held the Ministry of Defence. Admiral Darlan was Minister of Marine, and M. Baudouin Minister for Foreign Affairs.

The only hitch apparently arose over M. Laval. The Marshal’s first thought had been to offer him the post of Minister of Justice. Laval brushed this aside with disdain. He demanded the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, from which position alone he conceived it possible to carry out his plan of reversing the alliances of France, finishing up England, and joining as a minor partner the New Nazi Europe. Marshal Pétain surrendered at once to the vehemence of this formidable personality. M. Baudouin, who had already undertaken the Foreign Office, for which he knew himself to be utterly inadequate, was quite ready to give it up. But when he mentioned the fact to M. Charles-Roux, Permanent Under-Secretary to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the latter was indignant. He enlisted the support of Weygand. When Weygand entered the room and addressed the illustrious Marshal, Laval became so furious that both the military chiefs were overwhelmed. The General fled and the Marshal submitted. The permanent official, however, stood firm. He refused point-blank to serve under Laval. Confronted with this, the Marshal again subsided, and after a violent scene Laval departed in wrath and dudgeon.

This was a critical moment. When four months later, on October 28, Laval eventually became Foreign Minister, there was a new consciousness of military values. British resistance to Germany was by then a factor. Apparently the island could not be entirely discounted. Anyhow, its neck had not been “wrung like a chicken’s in three weeks.” This was a new fact; and a fact at which the whole French nation rejoiced.

Our telegram of the 16th had made our assent to inquiries about an armistice conditional upon the sailing of the French Fleet to British harbours. It had already been presented formally to Marshal Pétain. The War Cabinet approved, at my suggestion, a further message emphasising the point. But we were talking to the void.

On the 17th also I sent a personal message to Marshal Pétain and General Weygand, of which copies were to be furnished by our Ambassador to the French President and Admiral Darlan:

In order that these appeals might not lack personal reinforcement on the spot, we sent the First Sea Lord, who believed himself to be in intimate personal and professional touch with Admiral Darlan, the First Lord, Mr. A. V. Alexander, and Lord Lloyd, Secretary of State for the Colonies, so long known as a friend of France. All these three laboured to make what contacts they could with the new Ministers during the 19th. They received many solemn assurances that the Fleet would never be allowed to fall into German hands. But no more French warships moved beyond the reach of the swiftly approaching German power.

At the desire of the Cabinet I had broadcast the following statement on the evening of June 17:

On the morning of the 17th, I mentioned to my colleagues in the Cabinet a telephone conversation which I had had during the night with General Spears, who said he did not think he could perform any useful service in the new structure at Bordeaux. He spoke with some anxiety about the safety of General de Gaulle. Spears had apparently been warned that as things were shaping it might be well for de Gaulle to leave France. I readily assented to a good plan being made for this. So that very morning—the 17th—de Gaulle went to his office in Bordeaux, made a number of engagements for the afternoon as a blind, and then drove to the airfield with his friend Spears to see him off. They shook hands and said good-bye, and as the plane began to move, de Gaulle stepped in and slammed the door. The machine soared off into the air, while the French police and officials gaped. De Gaulle carried with him, in this small aeroplane, the honour of France.

That same evening he made his memorable broadcast to the French people. One passage should be quoted here:

Other Frenchmen who wished to fight on were not so fortunate. When the Pétain Government was formed, the plan of going to Africa to set up a centre of power outside German control was still open. It was discussed at a meeting of the Pétain Cabinet on June 18. The same evening President Lebrun, Pétain, and the Presidents of the Senate and the Chamber met together. There seems to have been general agreement at least to send a representative body to North Africa. Even the Marshal was not hostile. He himself intended to stay, but saw no reason why Chautemps, Vice-President of the Council, should not go and act in his name. When rumours of an impending exodus ran round agitated Bordeaux, Weygand was hostile. Such a move, he thought, would wreck the “honourable” armistice negotiations which had already been begun by way of Madrid, on French initiative, on June 17. Laval was deeply alarmed. He feared that the setting-up of an effective resistance administration outside France would frustrate the policy on which he was resolved. Weygand and Laval set to work on the clusters of Deputies and Senators crowded into Bordeaux.

Darlan, as Minister of Marine, took a different view. To pack off all the principal critics of his conduct in a ship seemed at the moment to him a most convenient solution of many difficulties. Once aboard, all those who went would be in his power, and there would be plenty of time for the Government to settle what to do. With the approval of the new Cabinet, he offered passages on the armed auxiliary cruiser Massilia to all political figures of influence who wished to go to Africa. The ship was to sail from the mouth of the Gironde on the 20th. Many, however, who had planned to go to Africa, including Jeanneney and Herriot, suspected a trap, and preferred to travel overland through Spain. The final party, apart from refugees, consisted of twenty-four Deputies and one Senator, and included Mandel, Campinchi, and Daladier, who had all been actively pressing for the move to Africa. On the afternoon of the 21st, the Massilia sailed. On the 23d, the ship’s radio announced that the Pétain Government had accepted and signed the armistice with Germany. Campinchi immediately tried to persuade the captain to set his course for England, but this officer no doubt had his instructions and met his former political chief of two days before with a bleak refusal. The unlucky band of patriots passed anxious hours till on the evening of June 24 the Massilia anchored at Casablanca.

Mandel now acted with his usual decision. He had with Daladier drafted a proclamation setting up a resistance administration in North Africa with himself as Premier. He went on shore, and, after calling on the British Consul, established himself at the Hôtel Excelsior. He then attempted to send his proclamation out through the Havas Agency. When General Noguès read its text, he was disturbed. He intercepted the message, and it was telegraphed not to the world but to Darlan and Pétain. They had now made up their minds to have no alternative and potentially rival Government outside German power. Mandel was arrested at his hotel and brought before the local court, but the magistrate, afterwards dismissed by Vichy, declared there was no case against him and set him free. He was, however, by the orders of Governor-General Noguès rearrested and put back on the Massilia, which henceforth was detained in the harbour under strict control without its passengers having any communication with the shore.

Without, of course, knowing any of the facts here set forth, I was already concerned about the fate of Frenchmen who wished to fight on.

At our meeting of the War Cabinet late at night on June 25, we heard among other things that a ship with a large number of prominent French politicians on board had passed Rabat. We decided to establish contact with them at once. Mr. Duff Cooper, the Minister of Information, accompanied by Lord Gort, started for Rabat at dawn in a Sunderland flying-boat. They found the town in mourning. Flags were flying at half-mast, church bells were tolling, and a solemn service was taking place in the cathedral to bewail the defeat of France. All their attempts to get in touch with Mandel were prevented. The Deputy Governor, named Morice, declared, not only on the telephone, but in a personal interview which Duff Cooper demanded, that he had no choice but to obey the orders of his superiors. “If General Noguès tells me to shoot myself, I will gladly obey. Unfortunately, the orders he has given me are more cruel.” The former French Ministers and Deputies were in fact to be treated as escaped prisoners. Our mission had no choice but to return the way they came. A few days later (July 1) I gave instructions to the Admiralty to try to cut out the Massilia and rescue those on board. No plan could, however, be made, and for nearly three weeks she lay under the batteries of Casablanca, after which the whole party were brought back to France and disposed of as the Vichy Government thought convenient to themselves and agreeable to their German masters. Mandel began his long and painful internment which ended in his murder by German orders at the end of 1944. Thus perished the hope of setting up a strong representative French Government, either in Africa or in London.

Although vain, the process of trying to imagine what would have happened if some important event or decision had been different is often tempting and sometimes instructive. The manner of the fall of France was decided on June 16 by a dozen chances, each measured by a hair’s-breadth. If Paul Reynaud had survived the 16th, I should have been with him at noon on the 17th, accompanied by the most powerful delegation that has ever left our shores, armed with plenary powers in the name of the British nation. Certainly we should have confronted Pétain, Weygand, Chautemps, and the rest with our blunt proposition: “No release from the obligation of March 28 unless the French Fleet is sailed to British ports. On the other hand, we offer an indissoluble Anglo-French Union. Go to Africa and let us fight it out together.” Surely we should have been aided by the President of the Republic, by the Presidents of the two French Chambers, and by all that resolute band who gathered behind Reynaud, Mandel, and de Gaulle. It seems to me probable that we should have uplifted and converted the defeatists round the table, or left them in a minority or even under arrest.

But let us pursue this ghostly speculation further. The French Government would have retired to North Africa. The Anglo-French Super-State or Working Committee, to which it would probably in practice have reduced itself, would have faced Hitler. The British and French Fleets from their harbours would have enjoyed complete mastery of the Mediterranean, and free passage through it for all troops and supplies. Whatever British air force could be spared from the defence of Britain, and what was left of the French air force, nourished by American production and based on the French North African airfields, would soon have become an offensive factor of the first importance. Malta, instead of being for so long a care and peril, would at once have taken its place as our most active naval base. Italy could have been attacked with heavy bombing from Africa far easier than from England. Her communications with the Italian armies in Libya and Tripolitania would have been effectively severed. Using no more fighter aircraft than we actually employed in the defence of Egypt and sending to the Mediterranean theatre no more troops than we actually sent, or held ready to send, we might well, with the remains of the French Army, have transferred the war from the East to the Central Mediterranean, and during 1941 the entire North African shore might have been cleared of Italian forces.

France would never have ceased to be one of the principal belligerent allies and would have been spared the fearful schism which rent and still rends her people. Her homeland no doubt would have lain prostrate under the German rule, but that was only what actually happened after the Anglo-American descent in November, 1942.

Now that the whole story is before us, no one can doubt that the armistice did not spare France a pang.

It is still more shadowy to guess what Hitler would have done. Would he have forced his way through Spain, with or without Spanish agreement, and, after assaulting and perhaps capturing Gibraltar, have invaded Tangier and Morocco? This was an area which deeply concerned the United States, and was ever prominent in President Roosevelt’s mind. How could Hitler have made this major attack through Spain on Africa and yet fight the Battle of Britain? He would have had to choose. If he chose Africa, we, with the command of the sea and the French bases, could have moved both troops and air forces into Morocco and Algeria quicker than he, and in greater strength. We should certainly have welcomed in the autumn and winter of 1940 a vehement campaign in or from a friendly French Northwest Africa.

Surveying the whole scene in the after-light, it seems unlikely that Hitler’s main decision and the major events of the war, namely, the Battle of Britain and the German surge to the East, would have been changed by the retirement of the French Government to North Africa. After the fall of Paris, when Hitler danced his jig of joy, he naturally dealt with very large propositions. Once France was prostrate, he must if possible conquer or destroy Great Britain. His only other choice was Russia. A major operation through Spain into Northwest Africa would have prejudiced both these tremendous adventures, or at least have prevented his attack on the Balkans. I have no doubt that it would have been better for all the Allies if the French Government had gone to North Africa. And that this would have remained true whether Hitler followed them and us thither or not.

One day when I was convalescing at Marrakech in January, 1944, General Georges came to luncheon. In the course of casual conversation I aired the fancy that perhaps the French Government’s failure to go to Africa in June, 1940, had all turned out for the best. At the Pétain trial in August, 1945, the General thought it right to state this in evidence. I make no complaint, but my hypothetical speculation on this occasion does not represent my considered opinion either during the war or now.

Oran

After the collapse of France the question which arose in the minds of all our friends and foes was, “Would Britain surrender too?” So far as public statements count in the teeth of events, I had in the name of His Majesty’s Government repeatedly declared our resolve to fight on alone. After Dunkirk, on June 4 I had used the expression, “if necessary for years, if necessary alone.” This was not inserted without design, and the French Ambassador in London had been instructed the next day to inquire what I actually meant. He was told “exactly what was said.” I could remind the House of my remark when I addressed it on June 18, the morrow of the Bordeaux collapse. I then gave “some indication of the solid practical grounds on which we based our inflexible resolve to continue the war.” I was able to assure Parliament that our professional advisers of the three Services were confident that there were good and reasonable hopes of ultimate victory. I told them that I had received from all the four Dominion Prime Ministers messages in which they endorsed our decision to fight on and declared themselves ready to share our fortunes. “In casting up this dread balance-sheet and contemplating our dangers with a disillusioned eye I see great reasons for vigilance and exertion, but none whatever for panic or fear.” I added:

All these often-quoted words were made good in the hour of victory. But now they were only words. Foreigners who do not understand the temper of the British race all over the globe when its blood is up might suppose that they were only a bold front, set up as a good prelude for peace negotiations. Hitler’s need to finish the war in the West was obvious. He was in a position to offer the most tempting terms. To those who like myself had studied his moves, it did not seem impossible that he would consent to leave Britain and her Empire and Fleet intact and make a peace which would have secured him that free hand in the East of which Ribbentrop had talked to me in 1937, and which was his heart’s main desire. So far we had not done him much harm. We had indeed only added our own defeat to his triumph over France. Can one wonder that astute calculators in many countries, ignorant as they mostly were of the problems of overseas invasion, and of the quality of our air force, and who dwelt under the overwhelming impression of German might and terror, were not convinced? Not every Government called into being by Democracy or by Despotism, and not every nation, while quite alone, and as it seemed abandoned, would have courted the horrors of invasion and disdained a fair chance of peace for which many plausible excuses could be presented. Rhetoric was no guarantee. Another administration might come into being. “The warmongers have had their chance and failed.” America had stood aloof. No one was under any obligation to Soviet Russia. Why should not Britain join the spectators who, in Japan and in the United States, in Sweden, and in Spain, might watch with detached interest, or even relish, a mutually destructive struggle between the Nazi and Communist Empires? Future generations will find it hard to believe that the issues I have summarised here were never thought worth a place upon the Cabinet agenda, or even mentioned in our most private conclaves. Doubts could be swept away only by deeds. The deeds were to come.

Meanwhile I telegraphed to Lord Lothian, who, at the desire of the United States naval authorities, had asked anxiously whether ammunition for the British Fleet and material for its repair ought not to be sent from England across the Atlantic:

In the closing days at Bordeaux, Admiral Darlan became very important. My contacts with him had been few and formal. I respected him for the work he had done in re-creating the French Navy, which after ten years of his professional control was more efficient than at any time since the French Revolution. When in December, 1939, he had visited England, we gave him an official dinner at the Admiralty. In response to the toast, he began by reminding us that his great-grandfather had been killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. I therefore thought of him as one of those good Frenchmen who hate England. Our Anglo-French naval discussions in January had also shown how very jealous the Admiral was of his professional position in relation to whoever was the political Minister of Marine. This had become a positive obsession, and I believe played a definite part in his action.

For the rest, Darlan had been present at most of the conferences which I have described, and as the end of the French resistance approached, he had repeatedly assured me that whatever happened the French Fleet should never fall into German hands. Now at Bordeaux came the fateful moment in the career of this ambitious, self-seeking, and capable Admiral. His authority over the Fleet was for all practical purposes absolute. He had only to order the ships to British, American, or French colonial harbours—some had already started—to be obeyed. In the morning of June 17, after the fall of M. Reynaud’s Cabinet, he declared to General Georges that he was resolved to give the order. The next day Georges met him in the afternoon and asked him what had happened. Darlan replied that he had changed his mind. When asked why, he answered simply, “I am now Minister of Marine.” This did not mean that he had changed his mind in order to become Minister of Marine, but that being Minister of Marine he had a different point of view.

How vain are human calculations of self-interest! Rarely has there been a more convincing example. Admiral Darlan had but to sail in any one of his ships to any port outside France to become the master of all French interests beyond German control. He would not have come like General de Gaulle with only an unconquerable heart and a few kindred spirits. He would have carried with him outside the German reach the fourth Navy in the world, whose officers and men were personally devoted to him. Acting thus, Darlan would have become the chief of the French Resistance with a mighty weapon in his hand. British and American dockyards and arsenals would have been at his disposal for the maintenance of his fleet. The French gold reserve in the United States would have assured him, once recognised, of ample resources. The whole French Empire would have rallied to him. Nothing could have prevented him from being the Liberator of France. The fame and power which he so ardently desired were in his grasp. Instead, he went forward through two years of worrying and ignominious office to a violent death, a dishonoured grave, and a name long to be execrated by the French Navy and the nation he had hitherto served so well.

There is a final note which should be struck at this point. In a letter which Darlan wrote to me on December 4, 1942,^[1] just three weeks before his assassination, he vehemently claimed that he had kept his word. As this letter states his case and should be on record, I print it at the end of this chapter. It cannot be disputed that no French ship was ever manned by the Germans or used against us by them in the war. This was not entirely due to Admiral Darlan’s measures: but he had certainly built up in the minds of the officers and men of the French Navy that at all costs their ships should be destroyed before being seized by the Germans, whom he disliked as much as the English.

Those of us who were responsible at the summit in London understood the physical structure of our island strength and were sure of the spirit of the nation. The confidence with which we faced the immediate future was not founded, as was commonly supposed abroad, upon audacious bluff or rhetorical appeal, but upon a sober consciousness and calculation of practical facts. When I spoke in the House of Commons, I founded myself upon realities which I and others had carefully studied—some for many years. I will presently analyse in detail the invasion problem as I and my expert advisers saw it in these memorable days. But first of all there was one step to take. It was obvious, and it was dire.

The addition of the French Navy to the German and Italian Fleets, with the menace of Japan measureless upon the horizon, confronted Great Britain with mortal dangers and gravely affected the safety of the United States. Article 8 of the Armistice prescribed that the French Fleet, except that part left free for safeguarding French Colonial interests, “shall be collected in ports to be specified and there demobilised and disarmed under German or Italian control.” It was therefore clear that the French war vessels would pass into that control while fully armed. It was true that in the same article the German Government solemnly declared that they had no intention of using them for their own purposes during the war. But who in his senses would trust the word of Hitler after his shameful record and the facts of the hour? Furthermore, the article excepted from this assurance “those units necessary for coast surveillance and minesweeping.” The interpretation of this lay with the Germans. Finally, the Armistice could at any time be voided on any pretext of non-observance. There was in fact no security for us at all. At all costs, at all risks, in one way or another, we must make sure that the Navy of France did not fall into wrong hands, and then perhaps bring us and others to ruin.

The War Cabinet never hesitated. Those Ministers who, the week before, had given their whole hearts to France and offered common nationhood, resolved that all necessary measures should be taken. This was a hateful decision, the most unnatural and painful in which I have ever been concerned. It recalled the episode of the destruction of the Danish Fleet in Copenhagen Harbour by Nelson in 1801; but now the French had been only yesterday our dear allies, and our sympathy for the misery of France was sincere. On the other hand, the life of the State and the salvation of our cause were at stake. It was Greek tragedy. But no act was ever more necessary for the life of Britain and for all that depended upon it. I thought of Danton in 1793: “The coalesced Kings threaten us, and we hurl at their feet as a gage of battle the head of a King.” The whole event was in this order of ideas.

The French Navy was disposed in the following manner: Two battleships, four light cruisers (or contre-torpilleurs), some submarines, including a very large one, the Surcouf, eight destroyers, and about two hundred smaller but valuable minesweeping and anti-submarine craft, lay for the most part at Portsmouth and Plymouth. These were in our power. At Alexandria there were a French battleship, four French cruisers, three of them modern eight-inch-gun cruisers, and a number of smaller ships. These were covered by a strong British battle squadron. At Oran, at the other end of the Mediterranean, and at its adjacent military port of Mers-el-Kebir, were two of the finest vessels of the French fleet, the Dunkerque and the Strasbourg, modern battle-cruisers much superior to the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and built for the express purpose of being superior to them. These vessels in German hands on our trade routes would have been most disagreeable. With them were two French battleships, several light cruisers, and a number of destroyers, submarines, and other vessels. At Algiers were seven cruisers, of which four were eight-inch armed, and at Martinique an aircraft-carrier and two light cruisers. At Casablanca lay the Jean Bart, newly arrived from Saint Nazaire, but without her guns. This was one of the key ships in the computation of world naval strength. It was unfinished, and could not be finished at Casablanca. It must not go elsewhere. The Richelieu, which was far nearer completion, had reached Dakar. She could steam, and her fifteen-inch guns could fire. There were many other French ships of minor importance in various ports. Finally, at Toulon a number of warships were beyond our reach. “Operation Catapult” comprised the simultaneous seizure, control, or effective disablement or destruction of all the accessible French Fleet.

In the early morning of July 3, all the French vessels at Portsmouth and Plymouth were taken under British control. The action was sudden and necessarily a surprise. Overwhelming force was employed, and the whole transaction showed how easily the Germans could have taken possession of any French warships lying in ports which they controlled. In Britain the transfer, except in the Surcouf, was amicable, and the crews came willingly ashore. In the Surcouf two British officers were wounded, one leading seaman killed and an able seaman wounded. One Frenchman was killed in the scuffle, but the utmost endeavours were made with success to reassure and comfort the French sailors. Many hundreds volunteered to join us. The Surcouf, after rendering distinguished service, perished on February 19, 1942, with all her gallant French crew.

The deadly stroke was in the Western Mediterranean. Here, at Gibraltar, Vice-Admiral Somerville with “Force H,” consisting of the battle-cruiser Hood, the battleships Valiant and Resolution, the aircraft-carrier Ark Royal, two cruisers and eleven destroyers, received orders sent from the Admiralty at 2.25 A.M. on July 1:

Among Somerville’s officers was Captain Holland, a gallant and distinguished officer, lately Naval Attaché in Paris and with keen French sympathies, who was influential. In the early afternoon of July 1 the Vice-Admiral telegraphed:

Shortly after midnight (1.08 A.M., July 2) Admiral Somerville was sent the following carefully conceived text of the communication to be made to the French Admiral:

In the evening of the 2d, I requested the Admiralty to send the Vice-Admiral the following message (despatched 10.55 P.M.):

The Admiral sailed at daylight and was off Oran at about 9.30. He sent Captain Holland himself in a destroyer to wait upon the French Admiral Gensoul. After being refused an interview, Holland sent by messengers the document already quoted. Admiral Gensoul replied in writing that in no case would the French warships be allowed to fall intact into German and Italian hands, and that force would be met with force.

All day negotiations continued, Captain Holland waiting in his destroyer off the boom. The distress of the British Admiral and his principal officers was evident to us from the signals which had passed. Nothing but the most direct orders compelled them to open fire on those who had been so lately their comrades. At the Admiralty also there was manifest emotion. But there was no weakening in the resolve of the War Cabinet. I sat all the afternoon in the Cabinet Room in frequent contact with my principal colleagues and the First Lord and First Sea Lord. A final signal was despatched at 6.26 P.M.

But the action had already begun. At 5.54 Admiral Somerville opened fire upon this powerful French fleet, which was also protected by its shore batteries. At 6.0 P.M. he reported that he was heavily engaged. The bombardment lasted for some ten minutes, and was followed by heavy attacks by our naval aircraft, launched from the Ark Royal. The battleship Bretagne was blown up. The Dunkerque ran aground. The battleship Provence was beached. The Strasbourg escaped, and, though attacked and damaged by torpedo aircraft, reached Toulon, as did also the cruisers from Algiers.

At Alexandria, after protracted negotiations with Admiral Cunningham, the French Admiral Godfroy agreed to discharge his oil fuel, to remove important parts of his gun-mechanisms, and to repatriate some of his crews. At Dakar on July 8 an attack was made on the battleship Richelieu by the aircraft-carrier Hermes, and most gallantly by a motor-boat. The Richelieu was hit by an air torpedo and seriously damaged. The French aircraft-carrier and two light cruisers in the French West Indies were immobilised after long-drawn-out discussions under an agreement with the United States.

On July 4 I reported at length to the House of Commons what we had done. Although the battle-cruiser Strasbourg had escaped from Oran and the effective disablement of the Richelieu had not then been reported, the measures we had taken had removed the French Navy from major German calculations. I spoke for an hour or more that afternoon, and gave a detailed account of all these sombre events as they were known to me. I have nothing to add to the account which I then gave to Parliament and to the world. I thought it better for the sake of proportion to end upon a note which placed this mournful episode in true relation with the plight in which we stood. I therefore read to the House the admonition which I had, with Cabinet approval, circulated through the inner circles of the governing machine the day before.

The House was very silent during the recital, but at the end there occurred a scene unique in my own experience. Everybody seemed to stand up all around, cheering, for what seemed a long time. Up till this moment the Conservative Party had treated me with some reserve, and it was from the Labour benches that I received the warmest welcome when I entered the House or rose on serious occasions. But now all joined in solemn stentorian accord.

The elimination of the French Navy as an important factor almost at a single stroke by violent action produced a profound impression in every country. Here was this Britain which so many had counted down and out, which strangers had supposed to be quivering on the brink of surrender to the mighty power arrayed against her, striking ruthlessly at her dearest friends of yesterday and securing for a while to herself the undisputed command of the sea. It was made plain that the British War Cabinet feared nothing and would stop at nothing. This was true.

The Pétain Government had moved to Vichy on July 1, and proceeded to set itself up as the Government of Unoccupied France. On receiving the news of Oran they ordered retaliation by air upon Gibraltar, and a few bombs were dropped upon the harbour from their African stations. On July 5 they formally broke off relations with Great Britain. On July 11 President Lebrun gave place to Marshal Pétain, who was installed as Chief of the State by an enormous majority of 569 against 80, with 17 abstentions and many absentees.

The genius of France enabled her people to comprehend the whole significance of Oran, and in her agony to draw new hope and strength from this additional bitter pang. General de Gaulle, whom I did not consult beforehand, was magnificent in his demeanour, and France liberated and restored has ratified his conduct. I am indebted to M. Teitgen for a tale which should be told. In a village near Toulon dwelt two peasant families, each of whom had lost their sailor son by British fire at Oran. A funeral service was arranged to which all their neighbours sought to go. Both families requested that the Union Jack should lie upon the coffins side by side with the Tricolour, and their wishes were respectfully observed. In this we may see how the comprehending spirit of simple folk touches the sublime.

Immense relief spread through the high Government circles in the United States. The Atlantic Ocean seemed to regain its sheltering power, and a long vista of time opened out for the necessary preparations for the safety of the great Republic. Henceforth there was no more talk about Britain giving in. The only question was, would she be invaded and conquered? That was the issue which was now to be put to the proof.

1940

My first reaction to the “Miracle of Dunkirk” had been to turn it to proper use by mounting a counter-offensive. When so much was uncertain, the need to recover the initiative glared forth. June 4 was much occupied for me by the need to prepare and deliver the long and serious speech to the House of Commons of which some account has been given, but as soon as this was over I made haste to strike the note which I thought should rule our minds and inspire our actions at this moment.

Ismay conveyed this to the Chiefs of Staff, and in principle it received their cordial approval and was reflected in many of the decisions which we took. Out of it gradually sprang a policy. My thought was at this time firmly fixed on tank warfare, not merely defensive but offensive. This required the construction of large numbers of tank-landing vessels, which henceforward became one of my constant cares. As all this was destined to become of major importance in the future, I must now make a retrogression into a subject which had long ago lain in my mind and was now revived.

I had always been fascinated by amphibious warfare, and the idea of using tanks to run ashore from specially constructed landing craft on beaches where they were not expected had long been in my mind. Ten days before I rejoined Mr. Lloyd George’s Government as Minister of Munitions on July 17, 1917, I had prepared, without expert assistance, a scheme for the capture of the two Frisian islands Borkum and Sylt. The object was to secure an overseas base for flotillas and cruisers and for such air forces as were available in those days, in order to force the naval fighting, in which we had a great numerical superiority, and by re-establishing close blockade relieve the pressure of the U-boat war, then at its height, against our Atlantic supply-line and the movement of the American armies to France. Mr. Lloyd George was impressed with the plan, and had it specially printed for the Admiralty and the War Cabinet.

It contained the following paragraph, 22c, which has never yet seen the light of day:

In this paper also I had an alternative plan for making an artificial island in the shallow waters of Horn Reef (to the northward):

For nearly a quarter of a century this paper had slumbered in the archives of the Committee of Imperial Defence. I did not print it in The World Crisis, of which it was to have been a chapter, for reasons of space, and because it was never put into effect. This was fortunate, because the ideas expressed were in this war more than ever vital; and the Germans certainly read my war books with attention. Indeed a staff study of the writings of anyone in my position would be a matter of normal routine. The underlying conceptions of this old paper were deeply imprinted in my mind, and in the new emergency formed the foundation of action which, alter a long interval, found memorable expression in the vast fleet of tank-landing craft of 1943 and in the “Mulberry” harbours of 1944.

On this same not unfertile 6th of June, 1940, flushed with the sense of deliverance and the power to plan ahead, I began a long series of Minutes in which the design and construction of tank-landing craft was ordered and steadily pressed.

Action in many directions followed accordingly. The “Striking Companies” emerged under the name of “Commandos,” ten of which were now raised from the Regular Army and the Royal Marines. The nucleus of this organisation had begun to take shape in the Norwegian campaign. An account will be given in its proper place of the cross-Channel heavy guns. I regret, however, that I allowed the scale I had proposed for British parachute troops to be reduced from five thousand to five hundred.

I recurred at intervals to the building of landing craft, on which my mind constantly dwelt both as a peril to us and in the future a project against the enemy. Development of small assault craft had been started before the outbreak of war, and a few had been employed at Narvik. Most of these had been lost either there or at Dunkirk. Now we required not only the small craft which could be lifted in the troop-carrying ships, but seagoing vessels capable themselves of transporting tanks and guns to the assault and landing them onto the beaches.

In July I created a separate Combined Operations Command under the Chiefs of Staff for the study and exercise of this form of warfare, and Admiral of the Fleet Sir Roger Keyes became its chief. His close personal contact with me and with the Defence Office served to overcome any departmental difficulties arising from this unusual appointment.

I have already explained how smoothly the office of Minister of Defence came into being and grew in authority. At the end of August, I took the only formal step which I ever found necessary. Hitherto the Joint Planning Committee had worked under the Chiefs of Staff and looked to them as their immediate and official superiors. I felt it necessary to have this important, though up till now not very effective, body under my personal control. Therefore, I asked the War Cabinet to give approval to this definite change in our war machine. This was readily accorded me by all my colleagues, and I gave the following instructions:

The Chiefs of Staff accepted this change without serious demur. Sir John Dill, however, wrote a Minute to the Secretary of State for War on which I was able to reassure him.

In practice the new procedure worked in an easy and agreeable manner, and I cannot recall any difficulties which arose.

Henceforth intense energy was imparted to the development of all types of landing craft and a special department was formed in the Admiralty to deal with these matters. By October, 1940, the trials of the first Landing-Craft Tank (L.C.T.) were in progress. Only about thirty of these were built, as they proved too small. An improved design followed, many of which were built in sections for more convenient transport by sea to the Middle East, where they began to arrive in the summer of 1941. These proved their worth, and as we gained experience the capabilities of later editions of these strange craft steadily improved. The Admiralty were greatly concerned at the inroads which this new form of specialised production might make into the resources of the shipbuilding industry. Fortunately it proved that the building of L.C.T. could be delegated to constructional engineering firms not engaged in shipbuilding, and thus the labour and plant of the larger shipyards need not be disturbed. This rendered possible the large-scale programme which we contemplated, but also placed a limit on the size of the craft.

The L.C.T. was suitable for cross-Channel raiding operations or for more extended work in the Mediterranean, but not for long voyages in the open sea. The need arose for a larger, more seaworthy vessel which, besides transporting tanks and other vehicles on ocean voyages, could also land them over beaches like the L.C.T. I gave directions for the design of such a vessel, which was first called an “Atlantic L.C.T.,” but was soon renamed “Landing Ship Tank” (L.S.T.). The building of these inevitably impinged on the resources of our hard pressed shipyards. Thus, of the first design, nicknamed in the Admiralty the “Winette,” only three were built; others were ordered in the United States and Canada, but were superseded by a later design. Meanwhile we converted three shallow-draft tankers to serve the same purpose, and these too rendered useful service later on.

By the end of 1940 we had a sound conception of the physical expression of amphibious warfare. The production of specialised craft and equipment of many kinds was gathering momentum, and the necessary formations to handle all this new material were being developed and trained under the Combined Operations Command. Special training centres for this purpose were established both at home and in the Middle East. All these ideas and their practical manifestation we presented to our American friends as they took shape. The results grew steadily across the years of struggle, and thus in good time they formed the apparatus which eventually played an indispensable part in our greatest plans and deeds. Our work in this field in these earlier years had such a profound effect on the future of the war that I must anticipate events by recording some of the material progress which we made later.

In the summer of 1941, the Chiefs of Staff pointed out that the programme of landing-craft construction was related only to small-scale operations and that our ultimate return to the Continent would demand a much greater effort than we could then afford. By this time the Admiralty had prepared a new design of the landing ship tank (L.S.T.), and this was taken to the United States, where the details were jointly worked out. In February, 1942, this vessel was put into production in America on a massive scale. It became the L.S.T.(2), which figured so prominently in all our later operations, making perhaps the greatest single contribution to the solution of the stubborn problem of landing heavy vehicles over beaches. Ultimately over a thousand of these were built.

Meanwhile the production of small craft of many types for use in a Continental assault was making steady progress on both sides of the Atlantic. All these required transport to the scene of action in the ships carrying the assaulting troops. Thus an immense conversion programme was initiated to fit British and American troopships to carry these craft as well as great quantities of other specialised equipment. These ships became known as “Landing Ships Infantry” (L.S.I.). Some were commissioned into the Royal Navy, others preserved their mercantile status, and their masters and crews served them with distinction in all our offensive operations. Such ships could ill be spared from the convoys carrying the endless stream of reinforcements to the Middle East and elsewhere, yet this sacrifice had to be made. In 1940 and 1941 our efforts in this field were limited by the demands of the U-boat struggle. Not more than seven thousand men could be spared for landing-craft production up to the end of 1940, nor was this number greatly exceeded in the following year. However, by 1944, no less than seventy thousand men in Britain alone were dedicated to this stupendous task, besides much larger numbers in the United States.

As all our work in this sphere had a powerful bearing on the future of the war, I print at this point a telegram which I sent to President Roosevelt in 1941:

In view of the many accounts which are extant and multiplying of my supposed aversion from any kind of large-scale opposed-landing, such as took place in Normandy in 1944, it may be convenient if I make it clear that from the very beginning I provided a great deal of the impulse and authority for creating the immense apparatus and armada for the landing of armour on beaches, without which it is now universally recognised that all such major operations would have been impossible. I shall unfold this theme step by step in these volumes by means of documents written by me at the time, which show a true and consistent purpose on my part in harmony with the physical facts, and a close correspondence with what was actually done.

July, 1940

In these summer days of 1940 after the fall of France we were all alone. None of the British Dominions or India or the Colonies could send decisive aid, or send what they had in time. The victorious, enormous German armies, thoroughly equipped and with large reserves of captured weapons and arsenals behind them, were gathering for the final stroke. Italy, with numerous and imposing forces, had declared war upon us, and eagerly sought our destruction in the Mediterranean and in Egypt. In the Far East, Japan glared inscrutably, and pointedly requested the closing of the Burma Road against supplies for China. Soviet Russia was bound to Nazi Germany by her pact, and lent important aid to Hitler in raw materials. Spain, which had already occupied the International Zone of Tangier, might turn against us at any moment and demand Gibraltar, or invite the Germans to help her attack it, or mount batteries to hamper passage through the Straits. The France of Pétain and Bordeaux, soon moved to Vichy, might any day be forced to declare war upon us. What was left at Toulon of the French Fleet seemed to be in German power. Certainly we had no lack of foes.

After Oran it became clear to all countries that the British Government and nation were resolved to fight on to the last. But even if there were no moral weakness in Britain, how could the appalling physical facts be overcome? Our armies at home were known to be almost unarmed except for rifles. There were in fact hardly five hundred field guns of any sort and hardly two hundred medium or heavy tanks in the whole country. Months must pass before our factories could make good even the munitions lost at Dunkirk. Can one wonder that the world at large was convinced that our hour of doom had struck?

Deep alarm spread through the United States, and indeed through all the surviving free countries. Americans gravely asked themselves whether it was right to cast away any of their own severely limited resources to indulge a generous though hopeless sentiment. Ought they not to strain every nerve and nurse every weapon to remedy their own unpreparedness? It needed a very sure judgment to rise above these cogent, matter-of-fact arguments. The gratitude of the British nation is due to the noble President and his great officers and high advisers for never, even in the advent of the third-term presidential election, losing their confidence in our fortunes or our will.

The buoyant and imperturbable temper of Britain, which I had the honour to express, may well have turned the scale. Here was this people, who in the years before the war had gone to the extreme bounds of pacifism and improvidence, who had indulged in the sport of party politics, and who, though so weakly armed, had advanced lightheartedly into the centre of European affairs, now confronted with the reckoning alike of their virtuous impulses and neglectful arrangements. They were not even dismayed. They defied the conquerors of Europe. They seemed willing to have their island reduced to a shambles rather than give in. This would make a fine page in history. But there were other tales of this kind. Athens had been conquered by Sparta. The Carthaginians made a forlorn resistance to Rome. Not seldom in the annals of the past—and how much more often in tragedies never recorded or long-forgotten—had brave, proud, easygoing states, and even entire races, been wiped out, so that only their name or even no mention of them remains.

Few British and very few foreigners understood the peculiar technical advantages of our insular position; nor was it generally known how even in the irresolute years before the war the essentials of sea and latterly air defence had been maintained. It was nearly a thousand years since Britain had seen the fires of a foreign camp on English soil. At the summit of British resistance everyone remained calm, content to set their lives upon the cast. That this was our mood was gradually recognised by friends and foes throughout the whole world. What was there behind the mood? That could only be settled by brute force.

There was also another aspect. One of our greatest dangers during June lay in having our last reserves drawn away from us into a wasting, futile French resistance in France, and the strength of our air forces gradually worn down by their flights or transference to the Continent. If Hitler had been gifted with supernatural wisdom, he would have slowed down the attack on the French front, making perhaps a pause of three or four weeks after Dunkirk on the line of the Seine, and meanwhile developing his preparations to invade England. Thus he would have had a deadly option, and could have tortured us with the hooks of either deserting France in her agony or squandering the last resources for our future existence. The more we urged the French to fight on, the greater was our obligation to aid them, and the more difficult it would have become to make any preparations for defence in England, and above all to keep in reserve the twenty-five squadrons of fighter aircraft on which all depended. On this point we should never have given way, but the refusal would have been bitterly resented by our struggling ally, and would have poisoned all our relations. It was even with an actual sense of relief that some of our high commanders addressed themselves to our new and grimly simplified problem. As the commissionaire at one of the Service clubs in London said to a rather downcast member, “Anyhow, sir, we’re in the Final, and it’s to be played on the Home Ground.”

The strength of our position was not, even at this date, underrated by the German High Command. Ciano tells how when he visited Hitler in Berlin on July 7, 1940, he had a long conversation with General von Keitel. Keitel, like Hitler, spoke to him about the attack on England. He repeated that up to the present nothing definite had been decided. He regarded the landing as possible, but considered it an “extremely difficult operation, which must be approached with the utmost caution, in view of the fact that the intelligence available on the military preparedness of the island and on the coastal defences is meagre and not very reliable.”^[1] What would appear to be easy and also essential was a major air attack upon the airfields, factories, and the principal communication centres in Great Britain. It was necessary, however, to bear in mind that the British Air Force was extremely efficient. Keitel calculated that the British had about fifteen hundred machines ready for defence and counter-attack. He admitted that recently the offensive action of the British Air Force had been greatly intensified. Bombing missions were carried out with noteworthy accuracy, and the groups of aircraft which appeared numbered up to eighty machines at a time. There was, however, in England a great shortage of pilots, and those who were now attacking the German cities could not be replaced by the new pilots, who were completely untrained. Keitel also insisted upon the necessity of striking at Gibraltar in order to disrupt the British imperial system. Neither Keitel nor Hitler made any reference to the duration of the war. Only Himmler said incidentally that the war ought to be finished by the beginning of October.

Such was Ciano’s report. He also offered Hitler, at “the earnest wish of the Duce,” an army of ten divisions and an air component of thirty squadrons to take part in the invasion. The army was politely declined. Some of the air squadrons came, but, as will be presently related, fared ill.

On July 19, Hitler delivered his triumphant speech in the Reichstag, in which, after predicting that I would shortly take refuge in Canada, he made what has been called his Peace Offer. The operative sentences were:

This gesture was accompanied during the following days by diplomatic representations through Sweden, the United States, and at the Vatican. Naturally Hitler would be very glad, after having subjugated Europe to his will, to bring the war to an end by procuring British acceptance of what he had done. It was in fact an offer not of peace but of readiness to accept the surrender by Britain of all she had entered the war to maintain. As the German Chargé d’Affaires in Washington had attempted some communication with our Ambassador there, I sent the following telegram:

My first thought, however, was a solemn, formal debate in both Houses of Parliament. I therefore wrote at the same time to Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Attlee:

My colleagues thought that this would be making too much of the matter, upon which we were all of one mind. It was decided instead that the Foreign Secretary should dismiss Hitler’s gesture in a broadcast. On the night of the 22d he “brushed aside” Hitler’s “summons to capitulate to his will.” He contrasted Hitler’s picture of Europe with the picture of the Europe for which we were fighting, and declared that “we shall not stop fighting until Freedom is secure.” In fact, however, the rejection of any idea of a parley had already been given by the British press and by the B.B.C., without any prompting from His Majesty’s Government, as soon as Hitler’s speech was heard over the radio.

Ciano also records in his diaries that “Late in the evening of the 19th, when the first cold British reaction to the speech arrived, a sense of ill-concealed disappointment spread among the Germans.” Hitler “would like an understanding with Great Britain. He knows that war with the British will be hard and bloody, and knows also that people everywhere are averse from bloodshed.” Mussolini, on the other hand, “fears that the English may find in Hitler’s much too cunning speech a pretext to begin negotiations.” “That,” remarks Ciano, “would be sad for Mussolini, because now more than ever he wants war.”^[3] He need not have fretted himself. He was not to be denied all the war he wanted.

There was no doubt continuous German diplomatic activity behind the scenes, and, when on August 3, the King of Sweden thought fit to address us on the subject, I suggested to the Foreign Secretary the following reply, which formed the basis of the official answer:

At the end of June, the Chiefs of Staff through General Ismay had suggested to me at the Cabinet that I should visit the threatened sectors of the east and south coasts. Accordingly I devoted a day or two every week to this agreeable task, sleeping when necessary in my train, where I had every facility for carrying on my regular work and was in constant contact with Whitehall. I inspected the Tyne and the Humber and many possible landing places. The Canadian Division, soon to be reinforced to a corps by the division sent to Iceland, did an exercise for me in Kent. I examined the landward defences of Harwich and Dover. One of my earliest visits was to the 3d Division, commanded by General Montgomery, an officer whom I had not met before. My wife came with me. The 3d Division was stationed near Brighton. It had been given the highest priority in re-equipment, and had been about to sail for France when the French resistance ended. General Montgomery’s headquarters were at Lancing College, near which he showed me a small exercise of which the central feature was a flanking movement of Bren-gun carriers, of which he could at that moment muster only seven or eight. After this we drove together along the coast through Shoreham and Hove till we came to the familiar Brighton front, of which I had so many schoolboy memories. We dined in the Royal Albion Hotel, which stands opposite the end of the pier. The hotel was entirely empty, a great deal of evacuation having taken place; but there were still a number of people airing themselves on the beaches or the parade. I was amused to see a platoon of the Grenadier Guards making a sandbag machine-gun post in one of the kiosks of the pier, like those where in my childhood I had often admired the antics of the performing fleas. It was lovely weather. I had very good talks with the General, and enjoyed my outing thoroughly. However:

In mid-July the Secretary of State for War recommended that General Brooke should replace General Ironside in command of our Home Forces. On July 19, in the course of my continuous inspection of the invasion sectors, I visited the Southern Command. Some sort of tactical exercise was presented to me in which no fewer than twelve tanks (!) were able to participate. All the afternoon I drove with General Brooke, who commanded this front. His record stood high. Not only had he fought the decisive flank-battle near Ypres during the retirement to Dunkirk, but he had acquitted himself with singular firmness and dexterity, in circumstances of unimaginable difficulty and confusion, when in command of the new forces we had sent to France during the first three weeks of June. I also had a personal link with Alan Brooke through his two gallant brothers—the friends of my early military life.^[5]

These connections and memories did not decide my opinion on the grave matters of selection; but they formed a personal foundation upon which my unbroken wartime association with Alan Brooke was maintained and ripened. We were four hours together in the motor-car on this July afternoon, 1940, and we seemed to be in agreement on the methods of Home Defence. After the necessary consultations with others, I approved the Secretary of State for War’s proposal to place Brooke in command of the Home Forces in succession to General Ironside. Ironside accepted his retirement with the soldierly dignity which on all occasions characterised his actions. During the invasion menace for a year and a half, Brooke organised and commanded the Home Armies, and thereafter when he had become C.I.G.S. we continued together for three and a half years until victory was won. I shall presently narrate the benefits which I derived from his advice in the decisive changes of command in Egypt and the Middle East in August, 1942, and also the heavy disappointment which I had to inflict upon him about the command of the cross-Channel invasion “Operation Overlord” in 1944. His long tenure as chairman of the Chiefs of Staff Committee during the greater part of the war and his work as C.I.G.S. enabled him to render services of the highest order, not only to the British Empire, but also to the Allied Cause. These volumes will record occasional differences between us, but also an overwhelming measure of agreement, and will witness to a friendship which I cherish.

Meanwhile we all faced in ever-increasing detail and tenacity the possibility of invasion. Some of my Minutes illustrate this process.

It is curious that the German Army Commander charged with the invasion plan used this same word “devour” about London, and determined to avoid it.

During this month of July, American weapons in considerable quantities were safely brought across the Atlantic. This seemed to me so vital that I issued reiterated injunctions for care in their transportation and reception.

When the ships from America approached our shores with their priceless arms, special trains were waiting in all the ports to receive their cargoes. The Home Guard in every county, in every town, in every village, sat up all through the nights to receive them. Men and women worked night and day making them fit for use. By the end of July we were an armed nation, so far as parachute or air-borne landings were concerned. We had become a “hornet’s nest.” Anyhow, if we had to go down fighting (which I did not anticipate), a lot of our men and some women had weapons in their hands. The arrival of the first instalment of the half-million .303 rifles for the Home Guard (albeit with only about fifty cartridges apiece, of which we dared only issue ten, and no factories yet set in motion) enabled us to transfer three hundred thousand .303 British-type rifles to the rapidly expanding formations of the Regular Army.

At the seventy-fives, with their thousand rounds apiece, some fastidious experts presently turned their noses up. There were no limbers and no immediate means of procuring more ammunition. Mixed calibres complicate operations. But I would have none of this, and during all 1940 and 1941 these nine hundred seventy-fives were a great addition to our military strength for Home Defence. Arrangements were devised and men were drilled to run them up on planks into lorries for movement. When you are fighting for existence, any cannon is better than no cannon at all, and the French seventy-five, although outdated by the British twenty-five-pounder and the German field gun-howitzer, was still a splendid weapon.

We had watched with attention the growth of the German heavy batteries along the Channel coast during August and September. By far the strongest concentration of this artillery was around Calais and Cape Gris-Nez, with the apparent purpose not only of forbidding the Straits to our warships, but also of commanding the shortest route across them. We now know that by the middle of September the following batteries were already mounted and ready for use in this region alone:

Besides this, no fewer than thirty-five heavy and medium batteries of the German Army, as well as seven batteries of captured guns, were sited along the French coast for defensive purposes by the end of August.

The orders which I had given in June for arming the Dover promontory with guns that could fire across the Channel had borne fruit, though not on the same scale. I took a personal interest in the whole of this business. I visited Dover several times in these anxious summer months. In the citadel of the castle large underground galleries and chambers had been cut in the chalk, and there was a wide balcony from which on clear days the shores of France, now in the hands of the enemy, could be seen. Admiral Ramsay, who commanded, was a friend of mine. He was the son of a colonel of the 4th Hussars under whom I had served in my youth, and I had often seen him as a child on the Barrack Square at Aldershot. When three years before the war he had resigned his position as Chief of the Staff to the Home Fleet through a difference with its Commander-in-Chief, it was to me that he had come to seek advice. I had long talks with him, and together with the Dover Fortress Commander visited our rapidly improving defences.

I carefully studied there and at home the Intelligence reports, which almost daily showed the progress of the German batteries. The series of Minutes which I dictated about the Dover guns during August show my very great desire to break up some of the heaviest battery-sites before their guns could reply. I certainly thought this ought to have been done in August, as we had at least three of the very heaviest guns capable of firing across the Channel. Later on the Germans became too strong for us to court a duel.

The enemy batteries first opened fire on August 22, engaging a convoy without effect and later firing on Dover. They were replied to by one of our fourteen-inch guns which was now in action. Thenceforward there were artillery duels at irregular intervals. Dover was engaged six times in September, the heaviest day being September 9, when over a hundred and fifty shells were fired. Very little damage was done to convoys.

These were soon to be further reinforced by two 13.5-inch guns from the old battleship Iron Duke, which were being erected on railway mountings, and a battery of four 5.5-inch guns from H.M.S. Hood. Many of these additional guns were manned by the Royal Navy and Royal Marines.

Although still inferior in numbers to the enemy we thus had a powerful fire concentration.

In addition one of the eighteen-inch howitzers I had saved after the First World War and twelve twelve-inch howitzers were installed for engaging enemy landings. All these were mobile and would have brought a terrible fire on any landing-area.

As the months of July and August passed without any disaster, we settled ourselves down with increasing assurance that we could make a long and hard fight. Our gains of strength were borne in upon us from day to day. The entire population laboured to the last limit of its strength, and felt rewarded when they fell asleep after their toil or vigil by a growing sense that we should have time and that we should win. All the beaches now bristled with defences of various kinds. The whole country was organised in defensive localities. The factories poured out their weapons. By the end of August we had over two hundred and fifty new tanks! The fruits of the American “Act of Faith” had been gathered. The whole trained professional British Army and its Territorial comrades drilled and exercised from morn till night, and longed to meet the foe. The Home Guard overtopped the million mark, and when rifles were lacking grasped lustily the shotgun, the sporting rifle, the private pistol, or, when there was no firearm, the pike and the club. No Fifth Column existed in Britain, though a few spies were carefully rounded up and examined. What few Communists there were lay low. Everyone else gave all they had to give.

When Ribbentrop visited Rome in September, he said to Ciano: “The English Territorial defence is non-existent. A single German division will suffice to bring about a complete collapse.” This merely shows his ignorance. I have often wondered, however, what would have happened if two hundred thousand German storm troops had actually established themselves ashore. The massacre would have been on both sides grim and great. There would have been neither mercy nor quarter. They would have used terror, and we were prepared to go all lengths. I intended to use the slogan, “You can always take one with you.” I even calculated that the horrors of such a scene would in the last resort turn the scale in the United States. But none of these emotions was put to the proof. Far out on the grey waters of the North Sea and the Channel coursed and patrolled the faithful, eager flotillas peering through the night. High in the air soared the fighter pilots, or waited serene at a moment’s notice around their excellent machines. This was a time when it was equally good to live or die.

After Dunkirk, and still more when three weeks later the French Government capitulated, the questions whether Hitler would, or secondly could, invade and conquer our island rose, as we have seen, in all British minds. I was no novice at this problem. As First Lord I had for three years before the First Great War taken part in all the discussions of the Committee of Imperial Defence upon the point. On behalf of the Admiralty I had always argued that at least two divisions out of our Expeditionary Force of six should be kept at home until the Territorial Army and other wartime forces became militarily effective. As Admiral “Tug” Wilson put it, “The Navy cannot play international football without a goal-keeper.” However, when at the outbreak of that war we found ourselves with the Navy fully mobilised, the Grand Fleet safe beyond hostile ken at sea, all surprises, treacheries, and accidents left behind us, we felt ourselves able at the Admiralty to be better than our word. At the extraordinary meeting of Ministers and high military authorities which Mr. Asquith summoned to the Cabinet Room on August 5, 1914, I declared formally, with the full agreement of the First Sea Lord (Prince Louis of Battenberg), that the Navy would guarantee the protection of the island against invasion or serious raid even if all the Regular troops were immediately sent to the great battle impending in France. So far as we were concerned, the whole Army could go. In the course of the first six weeks all the six divisions went.

Sea-power, when properly understood, is a wonderful thing. The passage of an army across salt water in the face of superior fleets and flotillas is an almost impossible feat. Steam had added enormously to the power of the Navy to defend Great Britain. In Napoleon’s day the same wind which would carry his flat-bottomed boats across the Channel from Boulogne would drive away our blockading squadrons. But everything that had happened since then had magnified the power of the superior navy to destroy the invaders in transit. Every complication which modern apparatus had added to armies made their voyage more cumbrous and perilous, and the difficulties of their maintenance when landed probably insuperable. At that former crisis in our island fortunes we possessed superior and, as it proved, ample sea-power. The enemy was unable to gain a major sea battle against us. He could not face our cruiser forces. In flotillas and light craft we outnumbered him tenfold. Against this must be set the incalculable chances of weather, particularly fog. But even if this were adverse and a descent were effected at one or more points, the problem of maintaining a hostile line of communication and of nourishing any lodgments remained unsolved. Such was the position in the First Great War.

But now there was the air. What effect had this sovereign development produced upon the invasion problem? Evidently if the enemy could dominate the narrow seas, on both sides of the Straits of Dover, by superior air power, the losses of our flotillas would be very heavy and might eventually be fatal. No one would wish, except on a supreme occasion, to bring heavy battleships or large cruisers into waters commanded by the German bombers. We did not in fact station any capital ships south of the Forth or east of Plymouth. But from Harwich, the Nore, Dover, Portsmouth, and Portland we maintained a tireless, vigilant patrol of light fighting vessels which steadily increased in number. By September they exceeded eight hundred, which only a hostile air power could destroy, and then only by degrees.

But who had the power in the air? In the Battle of France we had fought the Germans at two and three to one and inflicted losses in similar proportion. Over Dunkirk, where we had to maintain continuous patrol to cover the escape of the Army, we had fought at four or five to one with success and profit. Over our own waters and exposed coasts and counties Air Chief Marshal Dowding contemplated profitable fighting at seven or eight to one. The strength of the German Air Force at this time, taken as a whole, so far as we knew—and we were well informed—apart from particular concentrations, was about three to one. Although these were heavy odds at which to fight the brave and efficient German foe, I rested upon the conclusion that in our own air, over our own country and its waters, we could beat the German Air Force. And if this were true, our naval power would continue to rule the seas and oceans, and would destroy all enemies who set their course towards us.

There was, of course, a third potential factor. Had the Germans with their renowned thoroughness and foresight secretly prepared a vast armada of special landing craft, which needed no harbours or quays, but could land tanks, cannon, and motor-vehicles anywhere on the beaches, and which thereafter could supply the landed troops? As had been shown, such ideas had risen in my mind long ago in 1917, and were now being actually developed as the result of my directions. We had, however, no reason to believe that anything of this kind existed in Germany, though it is always best when counting the cost not to exclude the worst. It took us four years of intense effort and experiment and immense material aid from the United States to provide such equipment on a scale equal to the Normandy landing. Much less would have sufficed the Germans at this moment. But they had only a few Siebel ferries.

Thus the invasion of England in the summer and autumn of 1940 required from Germany local naval superiority and air superiority and immense special fleets and landing craft. But it was we who had the naval superiority; it was we who conquered the mastery in the air; and finally we believed, as we now know rightly, that they had not built or conceived any special craft. These were the foundations of my thought about invasion in 1940, from which I gave from day to day the instructions and directives which these chapters contain.

As early as the end of June, some reports indicated that the enemy’s plans might include the Channel, and I immediately called for inquiry.

Anyhow, the possibility of a cross-Channel invasion, improbable though it was at that time, had to be most closely examined. I was not entirely satisfied with the military dispositions. It was imperative that the Army should know the exact task assigned to it, and above all should not fritter away strength in a sedentary dispersion along the threatened coasts or exhaust the national resources by manning unduly all the coasts. Therefore I wrote:

In July there was growing talk and anxiety on the subject both inside the British Government and at large. In spite of ceaseless reconnaissance and all the advantages of air photography, no evidence had yet reached us of large assemblies of transport in the Baltic or in the Rhine or Scheldt harbours, and we were sure that no movement either of shipping or self-propelled barges through the Straits into the Channel had taken place. Nevertheless, preparation to resist invasion was the supreme task before us all, and intense thought was devoted to it throughout our war circle and Home Command.

It will be noted that my advisers and I deemed the east coast more likely to be attacked during July and August than the south coast. There was in fact no chance of either assault during these two months. As will presently be described, the German plan was to invade across the Channel with medium ships (four thousand to five thousand tons) and small craft, and we now know that they never had any hope or intention of moving an army from the Baltic and North Sea ports in large transports; still less did they make any plans for an invasion from the Biscay ports. This does not mean that in choosing the south coast as their target they were thinking rightly and we wrongly. The east-coast invasion was by far the more formidable if the enemy had had the means to attempt it. There could, of course, be no south-coast invasion unless or until the necessary shipping had passed southward through the Straits of Dover and had been assembled in the French Channel ports. Of this, during July, there was no sign.

We had nonetheless to prepare against all variants, and yet at the same time avoid the dispersion of our mobile forces, and to gather reserves. This nice and difficult problem could only be solved in relation to the news and events from week to week. The British coastline, indented with innumerable inlets, is over two thousand miles in circumference, without including Ireland. The only way of defending so vast a perimeter, any part or parts of which may be simultaneously or successively attacked, is by lines of observation and resistance around the coast or frontiers with the object of delaying an enemy and meanwhile creating the largest possible reserves of highly trained mobile troops so disposed as to be able to reach any point assailed in the shortest time for strong counter-attack. When in the last phases of the war Hitler found himself encircled and confronted with a similar problem, he made, as we shall see, the gravest possible mistakes in handling it. He had created a spider’s web of communications, but he forgot the spider. With the example of the unsound French dispositions for which such a fatal penalty had just been exacted fresh in our memories, we did not forget the “mass of manoeuvre”; and I ceaselessly inculcated this policy to the utmost extent that our glowing resources would allow.

The views in my paper of July 10 were in general harmony with Admiralty thought, and two days later Admiral Pound sent me a full and careful statement which he and the Naval Staff had drawn up in pursuance of it. Naturally and properly, the dangers we had to meet were forcefully stated.

The First Sea Lord divided the hundred-thousand maximum figure both as to enemy ports of departure and the possible impact on our coasts as in the following table:

I was content with this estimate. As the enemy could not bring heavy weapons with them, and would speedily have the supply lines of any lodgments cut, the invading strength seemed even in July to be well within the capacity of our rapidly improving army. I remitted the two documents to the Staffs and Home Command.

There was general acceptance of this basis, and for the next few weeks we proceeded upon it. Upon the action to be taken by our main Fleet in the narrow waters precise orders were issued with which I was in full agreement. On July 20, after considerable discussion with Admiral Forbes, the Commander-in-Chief, the following decisions were promulgated by the Admiralty:

In order to reach more definite conclusions about the varying probabilities and scales of attack on our extended coastline, so as to avoid undue spreading of our forces, I sent the Chiefs of the Staff a further Minute early in August.

The Chiefs of Staff Committee, after another review of all our information, replied to this paper by a report from Colonel Hollis, who acted as their Secretary.

Even while these documents were being considered and printed, the situation had begun to change in a decisive manner. Our excellent Intelligence confirmed that the “Operation Sea Lion” had been definitely ordered by Hitler and was in active preparation. It seemed certain that the man was going to try. Moreover, the front to be attacked was altogether different from, or additional to, the east coast, on which the Chiefs of the Staff, the Admiralty and I, in full agreement, still laid the major emphasis.

But thereafter came a rapid transformation. A large number of self-propelled barges and motor-boats began to pass by night though the Straits of Dover, creeping along the French coast and gradually assembling in all the French Channel ports from Calais to Brest. Our daily photographs showed this movement with precision. It had not been found possible to relay our minefields close to the French shore. We immediately began to attack the vessels in transit with our small craft, and Bomber Command was concentrated upon the new set of invasion ports now opening upon us. At the same time a great deal of information came to hand about the assembly of a German Army or Armies of Invasion along this stretch of the hostile coast, of movement on the railways, and of large concentrations in the Pas de Calais and Normandy. Later on, two mountain divisions with mules evidently meant to scale the Folkestone cliffs were reported near Boulogne. Meanwhile large numbers of powerful long-range batteries all along the French Channel coast came into existence.

In response to the new menace, we began to shift our weight from one leg to the other and to improve all our facilities for moving our increasingly large mobile reserves towards the southern front. About the end of the first week of August, General Brooke, now Commander-in-Chief Home Forces, pointed out that the threat of invasion was developing equally on the south coast. All the time our forces were increasing in numbers, efficiency, mobility, and equipment.

Thus, in the last half of September we were able to bring into action on the south coast front, including Dover, sixteen divisions of high quality, of which three were armoured divisions or their equivalent in brigades, all of which were additional to the local coastal defence and could come into action with great speed against any invasion landing. This provided us with a punch or series of punches which General Brooke was well poised to deliver as might be required; and no one more capable.

All this while we could not feel any assurance that the inlets and river mouths from Calais to Terschelling and Heligoland, with all that swarm of islands off the Dutch and Belgian coasts (the “Riddle of the Sands” of the previous war), might not conceal other large hostile forces with small or moderate-sized ships. An attack from Harwich right round to Portsmouth, Portland, or even Plymouth, centring upon the Kent promontory, seemed to impend. We had nothing but negative evidence that a third wave of invasion, harmonised with the others, might not be launched from the Baltic through the Skagerrak in large ships. This was indeed essential to a German success, because in no other way could heavy weapons reach the landed armies or large depots of supply be established in and around storeships stranded near the east-coast beaches.

We now entered upon a period of extreme tension and vigilance. We had, of course, all this time to maintain heavy forces north of the Wash, right up to Cromarty; and arrangements were perfected to draw from these should the assault declare itself decidedly in the south. The abundant intricate railway system of the island and our continued mastery of our home air would have enabled us to move with certainty another four or five divisions to reinforce the southern defence if it were necessary on the fourth, fifth, and sixth days after the enemy’s full effort had been exposed.

A very careful study was made of the moon and the tides. We thought that the enemy would like to cross by night and land at dawn; and we now know the German Army Command felt like this too. They would also be glad of a half-moonlight on the way over, so as to keep their order and make their true landfall. Measuring it all with precision, the Admiralty thought the most favourable conditions for the enemy would arise between the 15th and 30th of September. Here also we now find that we were in agreement with our foes. We had little doubt of our ability to destroy anything that got ashore on the Dover promontory or on the sector of coast from Dover to Portsmouth, or even Portland. As all our thoughts at the summit moved together in harmonious and detailed agreement, one could not help liking the picture which presented itself with growing definition. Here perhaps was the chance of striking a blow at the mighty enemy which would resound throughout the world. One could not help being inwardly excited alike by the atmosphere and the evidence of Hitler’s intentions which streamed in upon us. There were, indeed, some who, on purely technical grounds, and for the sake of the effect the total defeat and destruction of his expedition would have on the general war, were quite content to see him try.

In July and August we had asserted air mastery over Great Britain, and were especially powerful and dominant over the home counties of the southeast. The Canadian Army Corps stood most conveniently posted between London and Dover. Their bayonets were sharp, and their hearts were high. Proud would they have been to strike the decisive blow for Britain and Freedom. Similar passions burned in all breasts. Vast intricate systems of fortifications, defended localities, anti-tank obstacles, block-houses, pillboxes and the like, laced the whole area. The coastline bristled with defences and batteries, and at the cost of heavier losses through reduced escorts in the Atlantic, and also by new construction coming into commission, the flotillas grew substantially in numbers and quality. We had brought the battleship Revenge and the old target-ship and dummy-battleship Centurion and a cruiser to Plymouth. The Home Fleet was at its maximum strength and could operate without much risk to the Humber and even to the Wash. In all respects, therefore, we were fully prepared.

Finally, we were already not far from the equinoctial gales customary in October. Evidently September was the month for Hitler to strike if he dared, and the tides and the moon-phase were favourable in the middle of that month.

There was some talk in Parliament after the danger had passed away of the “invasion scare.” Certainly those who knew most were the least scared. Apart from mastery of the air and command of the sea, we had as large (if not so well-equipped) an army, fresh and ardent, as that which Germany assembled in Normandy four years later to oppose our return to the Continent. In that case, although we landed a million men in the first month, with vast apparatus, and with every other condition favourable, the battle was long and severe, and nearly three months were required to enlarge the area originally seized and break out into the open field. But these were values only to be tested and known in the future.

It is time to go over to the other camp and set forth the enemy’s preparations and plans as we now know them.

Soon after war broke out on September 3, 1939, the German Admiralty, as we have learnt from their captured archives, began their staff study of the invasion of Britain. Unlike us, they had no doubt that the only way was across the narrow waters of the English Channel. They never considered any other alternative. If we had known this, it would have been an important relief. An invasion across the Channel came upon our best-defended coast, the old sea-front against France, where all the ports were fortified and our main flotilla bases, and in later times most of our airfields and air-control stations for the defence of London, were established. There was no part of the island where we could come into action quicker or in such great strength with all three Services. Admiral Raeder was anxious not to be found wanting should the demand to invade Britain be made upon the German Navy. At the same time he asked for a lot of conditions. The first of these was the entire control of the French, Belgian, and Dutch coasts, harbours, and river mouths. Therefore, the project slumbered during the Twilight War.

Suddenly all these conditions were surprisingly fulfilled, and it must have been with some misgivings but also satisfaction that on the morrow of Dunkirk and the French surrender he could present himself to the Fuehrer with a plan. On May 21 and again on June 20, he spoke to Hitler on the subject, not with a view to proposing an invasion, but in order to make sure that if it were ordered the planning in detail should not be rushed. Hitler was sceptical, saying that “he fully appreciated the exceptional difficulties of such an undertaking.” He also nursed the hope that England would sue for peace. It was not until the last week in June that the Supreme Headquarters turned to this idea, nor till July 2 that the first directive was issued for planning the invasion of Britain as a possible event. “The Fuehrer has decided that under certain conditions—the most important of which is achieving air superiority—a landing in England may take place.” On July 16, Hitler issued his directive: “Since England, in spite of her militarily hopeless position, shows no sign of coming to terms, I have decided to prepare a landing operation against England, and if necessary to carry it out. . . . The preparations for the entire operation must be completed by mid-August.” Active measures in every direction were already in progress.

The German Navy Plan, of which it is clear I had received an inkling in June, was essentially mechanical. Under the cover of heavy-gun batteries firing from Gris-Nez towards Dover, and a very strong artillery protection along the French coast in the Straits, they proposed to make a narrow corridor across the Channel on the shortest convenient line and to wall this in by minefields on either side, with outlying U-boat protection. Through this the Army was to be ferried over and supplied in a large number of successive waves. There the Navy stopped, and on this the German Army Chiefs were left to address themselves to the problem.

Considering that we could, with our overwhelming naval superiority, tear these minefields to pieces with small craft under superior air power and also destroy the dozen or score of U-boats concentrated to protect them, this was at the outset a bleak proposition. Nevertheless, after the fall of France anyone could see that the only hope of avoiding a long war, with all that it might entail, was to bring Britain to her knees. The German Navy itself had been, as we have recorded, knocked about in a most serious manner in the fighting off Norway; and in their crippled condition they could not offer more than minor support to the Army. Still, they had their plan, and no one could say that they had been caught unawares by good fortune.

The German Army Command had from the first regarded the invasion of England with considerable qualms. They had made no plans or preparations for it; and there had been no training. As the weeks of prodigious, delirious victory succeeded one another, they were emboldened. The responsibility for the safe crossing was not departmentally theirs, and, once landed in strength, they felt that the task was within their power. Indeed, already in August Admiral Raeder felt it necessary to draw their attention to the dangers of the passage, during which perhaps the whole of the army forces employed might be lost. Once the responsibility for putting the Army across was definitely thrust upon the Navy, the German Admiralty became consistently pessimistic.

On July 21 the heads of the three Services met the Fuehrer. He informed them that the decisive stage of the war had already been reached, but that England had not yet recognised it and still hoped for a turn of fate. He spoke of the support of England by the United States and of a possible change in German political relations with Soviet Russia. The execution of “Sea Lion,” he said, must be regarded as the most effective means of bringing about a rapid conclusion of the war. After his long talks with Admiral Raeder, Hitler had begun to realise what the crossing of the Channel, with its tides and currents, and all the mysteries of the sea, involved. He described “Sea Lion” as “an exceptionally bold and daring undertaking.” “Even if the way is short, this is not just a river crossing, but the crossing of a sea which is dominated by the enemy. This is not a case of a single-crossing operation, as in Norway; operational surprise cannot be expected; a defensively prepared and utterly determined enemy faces us and dominates the sea area which we must use. For the Army operation forty divisions will be required. The most difficult part will be the material reinforcements and stores. We cannot count on supplies of any kind being available to us in England.” The prerequisites were complete mastery of the air, the operational use of powerful artillery in the Dover Straits, and protection by minefields. “The time of year,” he said, “is an important factor, since the weather in the North Sea and in the Channel during the second half of September is very bad, and the fogs begin in the middle of October. The main operation must therefore be completed by September 15, for after that date co-operation between the Luftwaffe and the heavy weapons becomes too unreliable. But as air co-operation is decisive, it must be regarded as the principal factor in fixing the date.”

A vehement controversy, conducted with no little asperity, arose in the German staffs about the width of the front and the number of points to be attacked. The Army demanded a series of landings along the whole English southern coast from Dover to Lyme Regis, west of Portland. They also desired an ancillary landing north of Dover at Ramsgate. The German Naval Staff now stated that the most suitable area for the safe crossing of the English Channel was between the North Foreland and the western end of the Isle of Wight. On this the Army Staff developed a plan for a landing of 100,000 men, followed almost immediately by 160,000 more at various points from Dover westward to Lyme Bay. Colonel-General Halder, Chief of the Army Staff, declared that it was necessary to land at least four divisions in the Brighton area. He also required landings in the area Deal-Ramsgate; at least thirteen divisions must be deployed, as far as possible simultaneously, at points along the whole front. In addition, the Luftwaffe demanded shipping to transport fifty-two A.A. batteries with the first wave.

The Chief of the Naval Staff, however, made it clear that nothing like so large or rapid a movement was possible. He could not physically undertake to escort a landing fleet across the whole width of the area mentioned. All he had meant was that within these limits the Army should pick the best place. The Navy had not enough strength, even with air supremacy, to protect more than one passage at a time, and they thought the narrowest parts of the Straits of Dover the least difficult. To carry the whole of the 160,000 men of the second wave and their equipment in a single operation would require two million tons of shipping. Even if this fantastic requirement could have been met, such quantities of shipping could not have been accommodated in the area of embarkation. Only the first échelons could be thrown across for the formation of narrow bridgeheads, and at least two days would be needed to land the second échelons of these divisions, to say nothing of the second six divisions which were thought indispensable. He further pointed out that a broad-front landing would mean three to five and a half hours’ difference in the times of high water at the various points selected. Either, therefore, unfavourable tide conditions must be accepted at some places, or simultaneous landings renounced. This objection must have been very difficult to answer.

Much valuable time had been consumed in these exchanges of memoranda. It was not until August 7 that the first verbal discussion took place between General Halder and the Chief of the Naval Staff. At this meeting Halder said: “I utterly reject the Navy’s proposals. From the Army viewpoint I regard it as complete suicide. I might just as well put the troops that have been landed straight through the sausage-machine.” The Naval Chief of Staff rejoined that he must equally reject the landing on a broad front, as that would lead only to a sacrifice of the troops on the passage over. In the end a compromise decision was given by Hitler which satisfied neither the Army nor the Navy. A Supreme Command Directive, issued on August 27, decided that “the Army operations must allow for the facts regarding available shipping space and security of the crossing and disembarkation.” All landings in the Deal-Ramsgate area were abandoned, but the front was extended from Folkestone to Bognor. Thus it was nearly the end of August before even this measure of agreement was reached; and of course everything was subject to victory being gained in the air battle, which had now been raging for six weeks.

On the basis of the frontage at last fixed, the final plan was made. The military command was entrusted to Rundstedt, but shortage of shipping reduced his force to thirteen divisions, with twelve in reserve. The Sixteenth Army, from ports between Rotterdam and Boulogne, were to land in the neighbourhood of Hythe, Rye, Hastings, and Eastbourne; the Ninth Army, from ports between Boulogne and Havre, attacking between Brighton and Worthing. Dover was to be captured from the landward side; then both armies would advance to the covering line of Canterbury-Ashford-Mayfield-Arundel. In all, eleven divisions were to be landed in the first waves. A week after the landing it was hoped, optimistically, to advance yet farther, to Gravesend, Reigate, Petersfield, Portsmouth. In reserve lay the Sixth Army, with divisions ready to reinforce, or, if circumstances allowed, to extend the frontage of attack to Weymouth. It would have been easy to increase these three armies, once the bridgeheads were gained, “because,” says General Halder, “no military forces were facing the Germans on the Continent.” There was indeed no lack of fierce and well-armed troops, but they required shipping and safe conveyance.

On the Naval Staff fell the heaviest initial task. Germany had about 1,200,000 tons of seagoing shipping available to meet all her needs. To embark the invasion force would require more than half this amount, and would involve great economic disturbance. By the beginning of September the Naval Staff were able to report that the following had been requisitioned:

All this armada had to be manned, and brought to the assembly ports by sea and canal. Meanwhile, since early July we had made a succession of attacks on the shipping in Wilhelmshaven, Kiel, Cuxhaven, Bremen, and Emden; and raids were made on small craft and barges in French ports and Belgian canals. When on September 1 the great southward flow of invasion shipping began, it was watched, reported, and violently assailed by the Royal Air Force along the whole front from Antwerp to Havre. The German Naval Staff recorded:

Yet, despite delays and damage, the German Navy completed the first part of their task. The ten per cent margin for accidents and losses they had provided was fully expended. What survived, however, did not fall short of the minimum they had planned to have for the first stage.

Both Navy and Army now cast their burden on the German Air Force. All this plan of the corridor, with its balustrades of minefields to be laid and maintained under the German Air Force canopy against the overwhelming superiority of the British flotillas and small craft, depended upon the defeat of the British Air Force and the complete mastery of the air by Germany over the Channel and Southeast England, and not only over the crossing but over the landing points. Both the older Services passed the buck to Reichsmarshal Goering.

Goering was by no means unwilling to accept this responsibility, because he believed that the German Air Force, with its large numerical superiority, would, after some weeks of hard fighting, beat down the British air defence, destroy their airfields in Kent and Sussex, and establish a complete domination of the Channel. But apart from this, he felt assured that the bombing of England, and particularly of London, would reduce the decadent peace-loving British to a condition in which they would sue for peace, more especially if the threat of invasion grew steadily upon their horizon.

The German Admiralty were by no means convinced, indeed their misgivings were profound. They considered “Sea Lion” should be launched only in the last resort, and in July they had recommended the postponement of the operation till the spring of 1941, unless the unrestricted air attack and the unlimited U-boat warfare should “cause the enemy to negotiate with the Fuehrer on his own terms.” But Feldmarshal Keitel and General Jodl were glad to find the Air Supreme Commander so confident.

These were great days for Nazi Germany. Hitler had danced his jig of joy before enforcing the humiliation of the French Armistice at Compiègne. The German Army marched triumphantly through the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Elysées. What was there they could not do? Why hesitate to play out a winning hand? Thus each of the three Services involved in the operation “Sea Lion” worked upon the hopeful factors in their own theme and left the ugly side to their companions.

As the days passed, doubts and delays appeared and multiplied. Hitler’s order of July 16 had laid down that all preparations were to be completed by the middle of August. All three Services saw that this was impossible. And at the end of July, Hitler accepted September 15 as the earliest D-Day, reserving his decision for action until the results of the projected intensified air battle could be known.

On August 30, the Naval Staff reported that owing to British counteraction against the invasion fleet preparations could not be completed by September 15. At their request D-Day was postponed to September 21, with a proviso of ten days’ previous warning. This meant that the preliminary order had to be issued on September 11. On September 10, the Naval Staff again reported their various difficulties from the weather, which is always tiresome, and from British counter-bombing. They pointed out that, although the necessary naval preparations could in fact be completed by the 21st, the stipulated operational condition of undisputed air superiority over the Channel had not been achieved. On the 11th, therefore, Hitler postponed the preliminary order by three days, thus setting back the earliest D-Day to the 24th; on the 14th he further put it off.

On the 17th, the postponement became indefinite, and for good reason, in their view as in ours. Raeder continues:

During August the corpses of about forty German soldiers were washed up at scattered points along the coast between the Isle of Wight and Cornwall. The Germans had been practising embarkations in the barges along the French coast. Some of these barges put out to sea in order to escape British bombing and were sunk, either by bombing or bad weather. This was the source of a widespread rumour that the Germans had attempted an invasion and had suffered very heavy losses either by drowning or by being burnt in patches of sea covered with flaming oil. We took no steps to contradict such tales, which spread freely through the occupied countries in a wildly exaggerated form, and gave much encouragement to the oppressed populations. In Brussels, for instance, a shop exhibited men’s bathing-suits marked “For Channel swimming.”

On September 7, the information before us showed that the westerly and southerly movement of barges and small ships to posts between Ostend and Havre was in progress, and as these assembly harbours were under heavy British air attack, it was not likely the ships would be brought to them until shortly before the actual attempt. The striking strength of the German Air Force between Amsterdam and Brest had been increased by the transfer of a hundred and sixty bomber aircraft from Norway; and short-range dive-bomber units were observed on the forward airfields in the Pas de Calais area. Four Germans captured a few days earlier after landing from a rowing-boat on the southeast coast had confessed to being spies, and said that they were to be ready at any time during the next fortnight to report the movement of British reserve formations in the area Ipswich-London-Reading-Oxford. Moon and tide conditions between the 8th and 10th of September were favourable for invasion on the southeast coast. On this the Chiefs of Staff concluded that the possibility of invasion had become imminent and that the defence forces should stand by at immediate notice.

There was, however, at that time no machinery at General Headquarters, Home Forces, by which the existing eight hours’ notice for readiness could be brought to “readiness for immediate action” by intermediate stages. The code-word “Cromwell,” which meant “invasion imminent,” was therefore issued by Home Forces at 8 P.M., September 7, to the eastern and southern commands, implying action stations for the forward coastal divisions. It was also sent to all formations in the London area and to the 4th and 7th Corps in G.H.Q. Reserve. It was repeated for information to all other commands in the United Kingdom. On this, in some parts of the country, the Home Guard commanders, acting on their own initiative, called out the Home Guard by ringing the church bells. This led to rumours of enemy parachutist landings, and also that German E-boats were approaching the coast. Neither I nor the Chiefs of Staff were aware that the decisive code-word “Cromwell” had been used, and the next morning instructions were given to devise intermediate stages by which vigilance could be increased on future occasions without declaring an invasion imminent. Even on receipt of the code-word “Cromwell,” the Home Guard were not to be called out except for special tasks; and also church bells were to be rung only by order of a Home Guard who had himself seen as many as twenty-five parachutists landing, and not because other bells had been heard or for any other reason. As may be imagined, this incident caused a great deal of talk and stir, but no mention of it was made in the newspapers or Parliament. It served as a useful tonic and rehearsal for all concerned.

Having traced the German invasion preparations steadily mounting to a climax, we have seen how the early mood of triumph changed gradually to one of doubt and finally to complete loss of confidence in the outcome. Confidence was in fact already destroyed in 1940, and, despite the revival of the project in 1941, it never again held the imagination of the German leaders as it had done in the halcyon days following the fall of France. During the fateful months of July and August, we see the Naval Commander, Raeder, endeavouring to teach his military and air colleagues about the grave difficulties attending large-scale amphibious war. He realised his own weakness and the lack of time for adequate preparation, and sought to impose limits on the grandiose plans advanced by Halder for landing immense forces simultaneously over a wide front. Meanwhile, Goering with soaring ambition was determined to achieve spectacular victory with his air force alone and was disinclined to play the humbler rôle of working to a combined plan for the systematic reduction of opposing sea and air forces in the invasion area.

It is apparent from the records that the German High Command were very far from being a co-ordinated team working together with a common purpose and with a proper understanding of each other’s capabilities and limitations. Each wished to be the brightest star in the firmament. Friction was apparent from the outset, and so long as Halder could thrust responsibility onto Raeder, he did little to bring his own plans into line with practical possibilities. Intervention by the Fuehrer was necessary, but seems to have done little to improve the relations between the Services. In Germany the prestige of the Army was paramount and the military leaders regarded their naval colleagues with some condescension. It is impossible to resist the conclusion that the German Army was reluctant to place itself in the hands of its sister Service in a major operation. When questioned after the war about these plans, General Jodl impatiently remarked, “Our arrangements were much the same as those of Julius Caesar.” Here speaks the authentic German soldier in relation to the sea affair, having little conception of the problems involved in landing and deploying large military forces on a defended coast exposed to all the hazards of the sea.

In Britain, whatever our shortcomings, we understood the sea affair very thoroughly. For centuries it has been in our blood, and its traditions stir not only our sailors but the whole race. It was this above all things which enabled us to regard the menace of invasion with a steady gaze. The system of control of operations by the three Chiefs of Staff concerted under a Minister of Defence produced a standard of team-work, mutual understanding, and ready co-operation unrivalled in the past. When in course of time our opportunity came to undertake great invasions from the sea, it was upon a foundation of solid achievement in preparation for the task and with a full understanding of the technical needs of such vast and hazardous undertakings. Had the Germans possessed in 1940 well-trained amphibious forces equipped with all the apparatus of modern amphibious war their task would still have been a forlorn hope in the face of our sea and air power. In fact, they had neither the tools nor the training.

We have seen how our many anxieties and self-questionings led to a steady increase in the confidence with which from the beginning we had viewed the invasion project. On the other hand, the more the German High Command and the Fuehrer looked at the venture, the less they liked it. We could not, of course, know each other’s moods and valuations; but with every week from the middle of July to the middle of September, the unknown identity of views upon the problem between the German and British Admiralties, between the German Supreme Command and the British Chiefs of Staff, and also between the Fuehrer and the author of this book, became more definitely pronounced. If we could have agreed equally well about other matters, there need have been no war. It was, of course, common ground between us that all depended upon the battle in the air. The question was how this would end between the combatants; and in addition the Germans wondered whether the British people would stand up to the air bombardment, the effect of which in these days was greatly exaggerated, or whether they would crumple and force His Majesty’s Government to capitulate. About this Reichsmarshal Goering had high hopes, and we had no fears.

Our fate now depended upon victory in the air. The German leaders had recognised that all their plans for the invasion of Britain depended on winning air supremacy above the Channel and the chosen landing places on our south coast. The preparation of the embarkation ports, the assembly of the transports, the minesweeping of the passages, and the laying of the new minefields were impossible without protection from British air attack. For the actual crossing and landings, complete mastery of the air over the transports and the beaches was the decisive condition. The result, therefore, turned upon the destruction of the Royal Air Force and the system of airfields between London and the sea. We now know that Hitler said to Admiral Raeder on July 31: “If after eight days of intensive air war the Luftwaffe has not achieved considerable destruction of the enemy’s air force, harbours, and naval forces, the operation will have to be put off till May, 1941.” This was the battle that had now to be fought.

I did not myself at all shrink mentally from the impending trial of strength. I had told Parliament on June 4: “The great French Army was very largely, for the time being, cast back and disturbed by the onrush of a few thousand armoured vehicles. May it not also be that the cause of civilisation itself will be defended by the skill and devotion of a few thousand airmen?” And to Smuts, on June 9: “I see only one sure way through now—to wit, that Hitler should attack this country, and in so doing break his air weapon.” The occasion had now arrived.

Admirable accounts have been written of the struggle between the British and German Air Forces which constitutes the Battle of Britain. In Air Chief Marshal Dowding’s despatch and the Air Ministry pamphlet number 156, the essential facts are fully recorded as they were known to us in 1941 and 1943. We have now also access to the views of the German High Command and of their inner reactions in the various phases. It appears that the German losses in some of the principal combats were a good deal less than we thought at the time, and that reports on both sides were materially exaggerated. But the main features and the outline of this famous conflict, upon which the life of Britain and the freedom of the world depended, are not in dispute.

The German Air Force had been engaged to the utmost limit in the Battle of France, and, like the German Navy after the Norway Campaign, they required a period of weeks or months for recovery. This pause was convenient to us too, for all but three of our fighter squadrons had at one time or another been engaged in the Continental operations. Hitler could not conceive that Britain would not accept a peace offer after the collapse of France. Like Marshal Pétain, Weygand, and many of the French generals and politicians, he did not understand the separate, aloof resources of an island state, and like these Frenchmen he misjudged our will-power. We had travelled a long way and learned a lot since Munich. During the month of June he had addressed himself to the new situation as it gradually dawned upon him, and meanwhile the German Air Force recuperated and redeployed for their next task. There could be no doubt what this would be. Either Hitler must invade and conquer England, or he must face an indefinite prolongation of the war, with all its incalculable hazards and complications. There was always the possibility that victory over Britain in the air would bring about the end of the British resistance, and that actual invasion, even if it became practicable, would also become unnecessary, except for the occupying of a defeated country.

During June and early July, the German Air Force revived and regrouped its formations and established itself on all the French and Belgian airfields from which the assault had to be launched, and by reconnaissance and tentative forays sought to measure the character and scale of the opposition which would be encountered. It was not until July 10 that the first heavy onslaught began, and this date is usually taken as the opening of the battle. Two other dates of supreme consequence stand out, August 15 and September 15. There were also three successive but overlapping phases in the German attack. First, from July 10 to August 18, the harrying of British convoys in the Channel and of our southern ports from Dover to Plymouth; whereby our Air Force should be tested, drawn into battle, and depleted; whereby also damage should be done to those seaside towns marked as objectives for the forthcoming invasion. In the second phase, August 24 to September 27, a way to London was to be forced by the elimination of the Royal Air Force and its installations, leading to the violent and continuous bombing of the capital. This would also cut communications with the threatened shores. But in Goering’s view there was good reason to believe that a greater prize was here in sight, no less than throwing the world’s largest city into confusion and paralysis, the cowing of the Government and the people, and their consequent submission to the German will. Their Navy and Army Staffs devoutly hoped that Goering was right. As the situation developed, they saw that the R.A.F. was not being eliminated, and meanwhile their own urgent needs for the “Sea Lion” adventure were neglected for the sake of destruction in London.

And then, when all were disappointed, when invasion was indefinitely postponed for lack of the vital need, air supremacy, there followed the third and last phase. The hope of daylight victory had faded, the Royal Air Force remained vexatiously alive, and Goering in October resigned himself to the indiscriminate bombing of London and the centres of industrial production.

In the quality of the fighter aircraft there was little to choose. The Germans’ were faster, with a better rate of climb; ours more manoeuvrable, better armed. Their airmen, well aware of their greater numbers, were also the proud victors of Poland, Norway, the Low Countries, France; ours had supreme confidence in themselves as individuals and that determination which the British race displays in fullest measure when in supreme adversity. One important strategical advantage the Germans enjoyed and skilfully used: their forces were deployed on many and widely spread bases whence they could concentrate upon us in great strengths and with feints and deceptions as to the true points of attack. But the enemy may have underrated the adverse conditions of fighting above and across the Channel compared with those which had prevailed in France and Belgium. That they regarded them as serious is shown by the efforts they made to organise an efficient Sea Rescue Service. German transport planes, marked with the Red Cross, began to appear in some numbers over the Channel in July and August whenever there was an air fight. We did not recognise this means of rescuing enemy pilots who had been shot down in action, in order that they might come and bomb our civil population again. We rescued them ourselves whenever it was possible, and made them prisoners of war. But all German air ambulances were forced or shot down by our fighters on definite orders approved by the War Cabinet. The German crews and doctors on these machines professed astonishment at being treated in this way, and protested that it was contrary to the Geneva Convention. There was no mention of such a contingency in the Geneva Convention, which had not contemplated this form of warfare. The Germans were not in a strong position to complain, in view of all the treaties, laws of war, and solemn agreements which they had violated without compunction whenever it suited them. They soon abandoned the experiment, and the work of sea rescue for both sides was carried out by our small craft, on which of course the Germans fired on every occasion.

By August, the Luftwaffe had gathered 2669 operational aircraft, comprising 1015 bombers, 346 dive-bombers, 933 fighters, and 375 heavy fighters. The Fuehrer’s Directive Number 17 authorised the intensified air war against England on August 5. Goering never set much store by “Sea Lion”; his heart was in the “absolute” air war. His consequent distortion of the arrangements disturbed the German Naval Staff. The destruction of the Royal Air Force and our aircraft industry was to them but a means to an end: when this was accomplished, the air war should be turned against the enemy’s warships and shipping. They regretted the lower priority assigned by Goering to the naval targets, and they were irked by the delays. On August 6, they reported to the Supreme Command that the preparations for German minelaying in the Channel area could not proceed because of the constant British threat from the air. On August 10, the Naval Staff’s War Diary records:

The continuous heavy air fighting of July and early August had been directed upon the Kent promontory and the Channel coast. Goering and his skilled advisers formed the opinion that they must have drawn nearly all our fighter squadrons into this southern struggle. They therefore decided to make a daylight raid on the manufacturing cities north of the Wash. The distance was too great for their first-class fighters, the M.E. 109’s. They would have to risk their bombers with only escorts from the Me 110’s, which, though they had the range, had nothing like the quality, which was what mattered now. This was nevertheless a reasonable step for them to take, and the risk was well run.

Accordingly, on August 15, about a hundred bombers, with an escort of forty M.E. 110’s, were launched against Tyneside. At the same time a raid of more than eight hundred planes was sent to pin down our forces in the South, where it was thought they were already all gathered. But now the dispositions which Dowding had made of the Fighter Command were signally vindicated. The danger had been foreseen. Seven Hurricane or Spitfire squadrons had been withdrawn from the intense struggle in the South to rest in and at the same time to guard the North. They had suffered severely, but were nonetheless deeply grieved to leave the battle. The pilots respectfully represented that they were not at all tired. Now came an unexpected consolation. These squadrons were able to welcome the assailants as they crossed the coast. Thirty German planes were shot down, most of them heavy bombers (Heinkel 111’s, with four trained men in each crew), for a British loss of only two pilots injured. The foresight of Air Marshal Dowding in his direction of Fighter Command deserves high praise, but even more remarkable had been the restraint and the exact measurement of formidable stresses which had reserved a fighter force in the North through all these long weeks of mortal conflict in the South. We must regard the generalship here shown as an example of genius in the art of war. Never again was a daylight raid attempted outside the range of the highest-class fighter protection. Henceforth everything north of the Wash was safe by day.

August 15 was the largest air battle of this period of the war; five major actions were fought, on a front of five hundred miles. It was indeed a crucial day. In the South all our twenty-two squadrons were engaged, many twice, some three times, and the German losses, added to those in the North, were seventy-six to our thirty-four. This was a recognisable disaster to the German Air Force.

It must have been with anxious minds that the German Air Chiefs measured the consequences of this defeat, which boded ill for the future. The German Air Force, however, had still as their target the port of London, all that immense line of docks with their masses of shipping, and the largest city in the world which did not require much accuracy to hit.

During these weeks of intense struggle and ceaseless anxiety. Lord Beaverbrook rendered signal service. At all costs the fighter squadrons must be replenished with trustworthy machines. This was no time for red tape and circumlocution, although these have their place in a well-ordered, placid system. All his remarkable qualities fitted the need. His personal buoyancy and vigour were a tonic. I was glad to be able sometimes to lean on him. He did not fail. This was his hour. His personal force and genius, combined with so much persuasion and contrivance, swept aside many obstacles. Everything in the supply pipeline was drawn forward to the battle. New or repaired airplanes streamed to the delighted squadrons in numbers they had never known before. All the services of maintenance and repair were driven to an intense degree. I felt so much his value that on August 2, with the King’s approval, I invited him to join the War Cabinet. At this time also his eldest son, Max Aitken, gained high distinction and eleven victories as a fighter-pilot.

Another Minister I consorted with at this time was Ernest Bevin, Minister of Labour and National Service, with the whole man-power, of the nation to manage and animate. All the workers in the munitions factories were ready to take his direction. In October he, too, joined the War Cabinet. The trade-unionists cast their slowly framed, jealously guarded rules and privileges upon the altar where wealth, rank, privilege, and property had already been laid. I was much in harmony with both Beaverbrook and Bevin in the white-hot weeks. Afterwards they quarrelled, which was a pity, and caused much friction. But at this climax we were all together. I cannot speak too highly of the loyalty of Mr. Chamberlain, or of the resolution and efficiency of all my Cabinet colleagues. Let me give them my salute.

I was most anxious to form a true estimate of the German losses. With all strictness and sincerity, it is impossible for pilots fighting often far above the clouds to be sure how many enemy machines they have shot down, or how many times the same machine has been claimed by others.

Up till the end of August, Goering did not take an unfavourable view of the air conflict. He and his circle believed that the English ground organisation and aircraft industry and the fighting strength of the R.A.F. had already been severely damaged. They estimated that since August 8 we had lost 1115 aircraft against the German losses of 467. But of course each side takes a hopeful view, and it is in the interest of their leaders that they should. There was a spell of fine weather in September, and the Luftwaffe hoped for decisive results. Heavy attacks fell upon our aerodrome installations round London, and on the night of the 6th, sixty-eight aircraft attacked London, followed on the 7th by the first large-scale attack of about three hundred. On this and succeeding days, during which our anti-aircraft guns were doubled in numbers, very hard and continuous air fighting took place over the capital, and the Luftwaffe were still confident through their overestimation of our losses. But we now know that the German Naval Staff, in anxious regard for their own interests and responsibilities, wrote in their diary on September 10:

As by this time Hitler had been persuaded by Goering that the major attack on London would be decisive, the Naval Staff did not venture to appeal to the Supreme Command; but their uneasiness continued, and on the 12th they reached this sombre conclusion:

In the fighting between August 24 and September 6, the scales had tilted against Fighter Command. During these crucial days the Germans had continuously applied powerful forces against the airfields of South and Southeast England. Their object was to break down the day fighter defence of the capital, which they were impatient to attack. Far more important to us than the protection of London from terror-bombing was the functioning and articulation of these airfields and the squadrons working from them. In the life-and-death struggle of the two air forces, this was a decisive phase. We never thought of the struggle in terms of the defence of London or any other place, but only who won in the air. There was much anxiety at Fighter Headquarters at Stanmore, and particularly at the headquarters of Number Eleven Fighter Group at Uxbridge. Extensive damage had been done to five of the group’s forward airfields, and also to the six sector stations. Manston and Lympne on the Kentish coast were on several occasions and for days unfit for operating fighter aircraft. Biggin Hill Sector Station, to the south of London, was so severely damaged that for a week only one fighter squadron could operate from it. If the enemy had persisted in heavy attacks against the adjacent sectors and damaged their operations rooms or telephone communications, the whole intricate organisation of Fighter Command might have been broken down. This would have meant not merely the maltreatment of London, but the loss to us of the perfected control of our own air in the decisive area. As will be seen in the Minutes printed in the Appendix, I was led to visit several of these stations, particularly Manston (August 28), and Biggin Hill, which is quite near my home. They were getting terribly knocked about, and their runways were ruined by craters. It was therefore with a sense of relief that Fighter Command felt the German attack turn on to London on September 7, and concluded that the enemy had changed his plan. Goering should certainly have persevered against the airfields, on whose organisation and combination the whole fighting power of our air force at this moment depended. By departing from the classical principles of war, as well as from the hitherto accepted dictates of humanity, he made a foolish mistake.

This same period (August 24 to September 6) had seriously drained the strength of Fighter Command as a whole. The Command had lost in this fortnight 103 pilots killed and 128 seriously wounded, while 466 Spitfires and Hurricanes had been destroyed or seriously damaged. Out of a total pilot strength of about a thousand, nearly a quarter had been lost. Their places could only be filled by 260 new, ardent, but inexperienced pilots drawn from training units, in many cases before their full courses were complete. The night attacks on London for ten days after September 7 struck at the London docks and railway centres, and killed and wounded many civilians, but they were in effect for us a breathing space of which we had the utmost need.

During this period I usually managed to take two afternoons a week in the areas under attack in Kent or Sussex in order to see for myself what was happening. For this purpose I used my train, which was now most conveniently fitted and carried a bed, a bath, an office, a connectible telephone, and an effective staff. I was thus able to work continuously, apart from sleeping, and with almost all the facilities available at Downing Street.

We must take September 15 as the culminating date. On this day the Luftwaffe, after two heavy attacks on the 14th, made its greatest concentrated effort in a resumed daylight attack on London.

It was one of the decisive battles of the war, and, like the Battle of Waterloo, it was on a Sunday. I was at Chequers. I had already on several occasions visited the headquarters of Number 11 Fighter Group in order to witness the conduct of an air battle, when not much had happened. However, the weather on this day seemed suitable to the enemy, and accordingly I drove over to Uxbridge and arrived at the Group Headquarters. Number 11 Group comprised no fewer than twenty-five squadrons covering the whole of Essex, Kent, Sussex, and Hampshire, and all the approaches across them to London. Air Vice-Marshal Park had for six months commanded this group, on which our fate largely depended. From the beginning of Dunkirk, all the daylight actions in the South of England had already been conducted by him, and all his arrangements and apparatus had been brought to the highest perfection. My wife and I were taken down to the bomb-proof Operations Room, fifty feet below ground. All the ascendancy of the Hurricanes and Spitfires would have been fruitless but for this system of underground control centres and telephone cables, which had been devised and built before the war by the Air Ministry under Dowding’s advice and impulse. Lasting credit is due to all concerned. In the South of England there were at this time Number 11 Group H.Q. and six subordinate fighter station centres. All these were, as has been described, under heavy stress. The Supreme Command was exercised from the Fighter Headquarters at Stanmore, but the actual handling of the direction of the squadrons was wisely left to Number 11 Group, which controlled the units through its fighter stations located in each county.

The Group Operations Room was like a small theatre, about sixty feet across, and with two storeys. We took our seats in the dress circle. Below us was the large-scale map-table, around which perhaps twenty highly trained young men and women, with their telephone assistants, were assembled. Opposite to us, covering the entire wall, where the theatre curtain would be, was a gigantic blackboard divided into six columns with electric bulbs, for the six fighter stations, each of their squadrons having a sub-column of its own, and also divided by lateral lines. Thus, the lowest row of bulbs showed as they were lighted the squadrons which were “Standing By” at two minutes’ notice, the next row those “At Readiness,” five minutes, then “At Available,” twenty minutes, then those which had taken off, the next row those which had reported having seen the enemy, the next—with red lights—those which were in action, and the top row those which were returning home. On the left-hand side, in a kind of glass stage-box, were the four or five officers whose duty it was to weigh and measure the information received from our Observer Corps, which at this time numbered upwards of fifty thousand men, women, and youths. Radar was still in its infancy, but it gave warning of raids approaching our coast, and the observers, with field-glasses and portable telephones, were our main source of information about raiders flying overland. Thousands of messages were therefore received during an action. Several roomfuls of experienced people in other parts of the underground headquarters sifted them with great rapidity, and transmitted the results from minute to minute directly to the plotters seated around the table on the floor and to the officer supervising from the glass stage-box.

On the right hand was another glass stage-box containing Army officers who reported the action of our anti-aircraft batteries, of which at this time in the Command there were two hundred. At night it was of vital importance to stop these batteries firing over certain areas in which our fighters would be closing with the enemy. I was not unacquainted with the general outlines of this system, having had it explained to me a year before the war by Dowding when I visited him at Stanmore. It had been shaped and refined in constant action, and all was now fused together into a most elaborate instrument of war, the like of which existed nowhere in the world.

“I don’t know,” said Park, as we went down, “whether anything will happen today. At present all is quiet.” However, after a quarter of an hour the raid-plotters began to move about. An attack of “40 plus” was reported to be coming from the German stations in the Dieppe area. The bulbs along the bottom of the wall display panel began to glow as various squadrons came to “Stand By.” Then in quick succession “20 plus,” “40 plus” signals were received, and in another ten minutes it was evident that a serious battle impended. On both sides the air began to fill.

One after another signals came in, “40 plus,” “60 plus”; there was even an “80 plus.” On the floor table below us the movement of all the waves of attack was marked by pushing discs forward from minute to minute along different lines of approach, while on the blackboard facing us the rising lights showed our fighter squadrons getting into the air, till there were only four or five left “At Readiness.” These air battles, on which so much depended, lasted little more than an hour from the first encounter. The enemy had ample strength to send out new waves of attack, and our squadrons, having gone all out to gain the upper air, would have to refuel after seventy or eighty minutes, or land to rearm after a five-minute engagement. If at this moment of refuelling or rearming, the enemy were able to arrive with fresh unchallenged squadrons, some of our fighters could be destroyed on the ground. It was, therefore, one of our principal objects to direct our squadrons so as not to have too many on the ground refuelling or rearming simultaneously during daylight.

Presently the red bulbs showed that the majority of our squadrons were engaged. A subdued hum arose from the floor, where the busy plotters pushed their discs to and fro in accordance with the swiftly changing situation. Air Vice-Marshal Park gave general directions for the disposition of his fighter force, which were translated into detailed orders to each fighter station by a youngish officer in the centre of the dress circle, at whose side I sat. Some years after I asked his name. He was Lord Willoughby de Broke. (I met him next in 1947, when the Jockey Club, of which he was a steward, invited me to see the Derby. He was surprised that I remembered the occasion.) He now gave the orders for the individual squadrons to ascend and patrol as the result of the final information which appeared on the map-table. The Air Marshal himself walked up and down behind, watching with vigilant eye every move in the game, supervising his junior executive hand, and only occasionally intervening with some decisive order, usually to reinforce a threatened area. In a little while all our squadrons were fighting, and some had already begun to return for fuel. All were in the air. The lower line of bulbs was out. There was not one squadron left in reserve. At this moment Park spoke to Dowding at Stanmore, asking for three squadrons from Number 12 Group to be put at his disposal in case of another major attack while his squadrons were rearming and refuelling. This was done. They were specially needed to cover London and our fighter aerodromes, because Number 11 Group had already shot their bolt.

The young officer, to whom this seemed a matter of routine, continued to give his orders, in accordance with the general directions of his Group Commander, in a calm, low monotone, and the three reinforcing squadrons were soon absorbed. I became conscious of the anxiety of the Commander, who now stood still behind his subordinate’s chair. Hitherto I had watched in silence. I now asked, “What other reserves have we?” “There are none,” said Air Vice-Marshal Park. In an account which he wrote about it afterwards, he said that at this I “looked grave.” Well I might. What losses should we not suffer if our refuelling planes were caught on the ground by further raids of “40 plus” or “50 plus”! The odds were great; our margins small; the stakes infinite.

Another five minutes passed, and most of our squadrons had now descended to refuel. In many cases our resources could not give them overhead protection. Then it appeared that the enemy were going home. The shifting of the discs on the table below showed a continuous eastward movement of German bombers and fighters. No new attack appeared. In another ten minutes the action was ended. We climbed again the stairways which led to the surface, and almost as we emerged the “All Clear” sounded.

“We are very glad, sir, you have seen this,” said Park. “Of course, during the last twenty minutes we were so choked with information that we couldn’t handle it. This shows you the limitation of our present resources. They have been strained far beyond their limits today.” I asked whether any results had come to hand, and remarked that the attack appeared to have been repelled satisfactorily. Park replied that he was not satisfied that we had intercepted as many raiders as he had hoped we should. It was evident that the enemy had everywhere pierced our defences. Many scores of German bombers, with their fighter escort, had been reported over London. About a dozen had been brought down while I was below, but no picture of the results of the battle or of the damage or losses could be obtained.

It was 4.30 P.M. before I got back to Chequers, and I immediately went to bed for my afternoon sleep. I must have been tired by the drama of Number 11 Group, for I did not wake till eight. When I rang, John Martin, my principal private secretary, came in with the evening budget of news from all over the world. It was repellent. This had gone wrong here; that had been delayed there; an unsatisfactory answer had been received from so-and-so; there had been bad sinkings in the Atlantic. “However,” said Martin, as he finished this account, “all is redeemed by the air. We have shot down a hundred and eighty-three for a loss of under forty.”

Although post-war information has shown that the enemy’s losses on this day were only fifty-six, September 15 was the crux of the Battle of Britain. That same night our Bomber Command attacked in strength the shipping in the ports from Boulogne to Antwerp. At Antwerp particularly heavy losses were inflicted. On September 17, as we now know, the Fuehrer decided to postpone “Sea Lion” indefinitely. It was not till October 12 that the invasion was formally called off till the following spring. In July, 1941, it was postponed again by Hitler till the spring of 1942, “by which time the Russian campaign will be completed.” This was a vain but an important imagining. On February 13, 1942, Admiral Raeder had his final interview on “Sea Lion” and got Hitler to agree to a complete “stand-down.” Thus perished “Operation Sea Lion.” And September 15 may stand as the date of its demise.

The German Naval Staff were in hearty accord with all the postponements; indeed, they instigated them. The Army leaders made no complaint. On the 17th I said in Parliament:

An impartial observer, Brigadier-General Strong, Assistant Chief of the United States War Plans Division and Head of the American Military Mission which had been sent to London to observe the results of the Luftwaffe attacks, arrived back in New York on the 19th, and reported that the Luftwaffe “had made no serious inroad on the strength of the R.A.F., that the military damage done by air bombardment had been comparatively small, and that British claims of German aircraft losses were ‘on the conservative side.’ ”

Yet the Battle of London was still to be fought out. Although invasion had been called off, it was not till September 27 that Goering gave up hope that his method of winning the war might succeed. In October, though London received its full share, the German effort was spread by day and night in frequent small-scale attacks on many places. Concentration of effort gave way to dispersion; the battle of attrition began. Attrition! But whose?

In cold blood, with the knowledge of the after-time, we may study the actual losses of the British and German Air Forces in what may well be deemed one of the decisive battles of the world. From the table on page 337 our hopes and fears may be contrasted with what happened.

No doubt we were always over-sanguine in our estimates of enemy scalps. In the upshot we got two to one of the German assailants, instead of three to one, as we believed and declared. But this was enough. The Royal Air Force, far from being destroyed, was triumphant. A strong flow of fresh pilots was provided. The aircraft factories, upon which not only our immediate need but our power to wage a long war depended, were mauled but not paralysed. The workers, skilled and unskilled, men and women alike, stood to their lathes and manned the workshops under fire, as if they were batteries in action—which, indeed, they were. At the Ministry of Supply, Herbert Morrison spurred all in his wide sphere. “Go to it,” he adjured, and to it they went. Skilful and ever-ready support was given to the air fighting by the Anti-Aircraft Command under General Pile. Their main contribution came later. The Observer Corps, devoted and tireless, were hourly at their posts. The carefully wrought organisation of Fighter Command, without which all might have been vain, proved equal to months of continuous strain. All played their part.

At the summit the stamina and valour of our fighter pilots remained unconquerable and supreme. Thus Britain was saved. Well might I say in the House of Commons, “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

The German air assault on Britain is a tale of divided counsels, conflicting purposes, and never fully accomplished plans. Three or four times in these months the enemy abandoned a method of attack which was causing us severe stress, and turned to something new. But all these stages overlapped one another, and cannot be readily distinguished by precise dates. Each one merged into the next. The early operations sought to engage our air forces in battle over the Channel and the south coast; next, the struggle was continued over our southern counties, principally Kent and Sussex, the enemy aiming to destroy our air-power organisation; then nearer to and over London; then London became the supreme target; and finally, when London triumphed, there was a renewed dispersion to the provincial cities and to the sole life-line by the Mersey and the Clyde.

We have seen how very hard they had run us in the attack on the south-coast airfields in the last week of August and the first week of September. But on September 7, Goering publicly assumed command of the air battle, and turned from daylight to night attack and from the fighter airfields of Kent and Sussex to the vast built-up areas of London. Minor raids by daylight were frequent, indeed constant, and one great daylight attack was still to come; but in the main the whole character of the German offensive was altered. For fifty-seven nights the bombing of London was unceasing. This constituted an ordeal for the world’s largest city, the results of which no one could measure beforehand. Never before was so wide an expanse of houses subjected to such bombardment or so many families required to face its problems and its terrors.

The sporadic raiding of London towards the end of August was promptly answered by us in a retaliatory attack on Berlin. Because of the distance we had to travel, this could only be on a very small scale compared with attacks on London from nearby French and Belgian airfields. The War Cabinet were much in the mood to hit back, to raise the stakes, and to defy the enemy. I was sure they were right, and believed that nothing impressed or disturbed Hitler so much as his realisation of British wrath and will-power. In his heart he was one of our admirers. He took, of course, full advantage of our reprisal on Berlin, and publicly announced the previously settled German policy of reducing London and other British cities to chaos and ruin. “If they attack our cities,” he declared on September 4, “we will simply rub out theirs.” He tried his best.

The first German aim had been the destruction of our air-power; the second was to break the spirit of the Londoner, or at least render uninhabitable the world’s largest city. In these new purposes the enemy did not succeed. The victory of the Royal Air Force had been gained by the skill and daring of our pilots, by the excellence of our machines, and by their wonderful organisation. Other virtues not less splendid, not less indispensable to the life of Britain, were now to be displayed by millions of ordinary humble people, who proved to the world the strength of a community nursed in freedom.

From September 7 to November 3 an average of two hundred German bombers attacked London every night. The various preliminary raids which had been made upon our provincial cities in the previous three weeks had led to a considerable dispersion of our anti-aircraft artillery, and when London first became the main target there were but ninety-two guns in position. It was thought better to leave the air free for our night-fighters, working under Number 11 Group. Of these there were six squadrons of Blenheims and Defiants. Night-fighting was in its infancy, and very few casualties were inflicted on the enemy. Our batteries therefore remained silent for three nights in succession. Their own technique was at this time woefully imperfect. Nevertheless, in view of the weakness of our night-fighters and of their unsolved problems, it was decided that the anti-aircraft gunners should be given a free hand to fire at unseen targets, using any methods of control they liked. In forty-eight hours General Pile, commanding the Air Defence Artillery, had more than doubled the number of guns in the capital by withdrawals from the provincial cities. Our own aircraft were kept out of the way, and the batteries were given their chance.

For three nights Londoners had sat in their houses or inadequate shelters enduring what seemed to be an utterly unresisted attack. Suddenly, on September 10, the whole barrage opened, accompanied by a blaze of searchlights. This roaring cannonade did not do much harm to the enemy, but gave enormous satisfaction to the population. Everyone was cheered by the feeling that we were hitting back. From that time onward the batteries fired regularly, and of course practice, ingenuity, and grinding need steadily improved the shooting. A slowly increasing toll was taken of the German raiders. Upon occasions the batteries were silent and the night-fighters, whose methods were also progressing, came on the scene. The night raids were accompanied by more or less continuous daylight attacks by small groups or even single enemy planes, and the sirens often sounded at brief intervals throughout the whole twenty-four hours. To this curious existence the seven million inhabitants of London accustomed themselves.

In the hope that it may lighten the hard course of this narrative, I record a few personal notes about the “Blitz,” well knowing how many thousands have far more exciting tales to tell.

When the bombardment first began, the idea was to treat it with disdain. In the West End everybody went about his business and pleasure and dined and slept as he usually did. The theatres were full, and the darkened streets were crowded with casual traffic. All this was perhaps a healthy reaction from the frightful squawk which the defeatist elements in Paris had put up on the occasion when they were first seriously raided in May. I remember dining in a small company when very lively and continuous raids were going on. The large windows of Stornoway House opened upon the Green Park, which flickered with the flashes of the guns and was occasionally lit by the glare of an exploding bomb. I felt that we were taking unnecessary risks. After dinner we went to the Imperial Chemicals Building overlooking the Embankment. From these high stone balconies there was a splendid view of the river. At least a dozen fires were burning on the south side, and while we were there, several heavy bombs fell, one near enough for my friends to pull me back behind a substantial stone pillar. This certainly confirmed my opinion that we should have to accept many restrictions upon the ordinary amenities of life.

The group of Government buildings around Whitehall were repeatedly hit. Downing Street consists of houses two hundred and fifty years old, shaky and lightly built by the profiteering contractor whose name they bear. At the time of the Munich alarm, shelters had been constructed for the occupants of Number 10 and Number 11, and the rooms on the garden level had had their ceilings propped up with a wooden under-ceiling and strong timbers. It was believed that this would support the ruins if the building was blown or shaken down; but of course neither these rooms nor the shelters were effective against a direct hit. During the last fortnight of September, preparations were made to transfer my Ministerial Headquarters to the more modern and solid Government offices looking over St. James’s Park by Storey’s Gate. These quarters we called “the Annexe.” Below them were the War Room and a certain amount of bomb-proof sleeping accommodation. The bombs at this time were of course smaller than those of the later phases. Still, in the interval before the new apartments were ready, life at Downing Street was exciting. One might as well have been at a battalion headquarters in the line.

In these months we held our evening Cabinets in the War Room in the Annexe basement. To get there from Downing Street it was necessary to walk through the Foreign Office quadrangle and then clamber through the working parties who were pouring in the concrete to make the War Room and basement offices safer. I did not realise what a trial this was to Mr. Chamberlain, with all the consequences of his major operation upon him. Nothing deterred him, and he was never more spick and span or cool and determined than at the last Cabinets which he attended.

One evening in late September, 1940, I looked out of the Downing Street front door and saw workmen piling sandbags in front of the low basement windows of the Foreign Office opposite. I asked what they were doing. I was told that after his operation, Mr. Neville Chamberlain had to have special periodical treatment, and that it was embarrassing to carry this out in the shelter of Number 11, where at least twenty people were gathered during the constant raids, so a small private place was being prepared over there for him. Every day he kept all his appointments, reserved, efficient, faultlessly attired. But here was the background. It was too much. I used my authority. I walked through the passage between Number 10 and Number 11 and found Mrs. Chamberlain. I said: “He ought not to be here in this condition. You must take him away till he is well again. I will send all the telegrams to him each day.” She went off to see her husband. In an hour she sent me word. “He will do what you wish. We are leaving tonight.” I never saw him again. In less than two months he was no more. I am sure he wanted to die in harness. This was not to be.

Another evening (October 14) stands out in my mind. We were dining in the garden room of Number 10 when the usual night raid began. My companions were Archie Sinclair, Oliver Lyttelton, and Moore-Brabazon. The steel shutters had been closed. Several loud explosions occurred around us at no great distance, and presently a bomb fell, perhaps a hundred yards away, on the Horse Guards Parade, making a great deal of noise. Suddenly I had a providential impulse. The kitchen at Number 10 Downing Street is lofty and spacious, and looks out onto one of the courts of the Treasury through a large plate-glass window about twenty-five feet high. The butler and parlour maid continued to serve the dinner with complete detachment, but I became acutely aware of this big window, behind which Mrs. Landemare, the cook, and Nellie, the kitchen maid, never turning a hair, were at work. I got up abruptly, went into the kitchen, told the butler to put the dinner on the hot plate in the dining-room, and ordered the cook and other servants into the shelter, such as it was. I had been seated again at table only about three minutes when a really very loud crash, close at hand, and a violent shock showed that the house had been struck. My detective came into the room and said much damage had been done. The kitchen, the pantry, and the offices on the Treasury side were shattered.

We went into the kitchen to view the scene. The devastation was complete. The bomb had fallen fifty yards away on the Treasury, and the blast had smitten the large, tidy kitchen, with all its bright saucepans and crockery, into a heap of black dust and rubble. The big plate-glass window had been hurled in fragments and splinters across the room, and would, of course, have cut its occupants, if there had been any, to pieces. But my fortunate inspiration, which I might so easily have neglected, had come in the nick of time. The underground Treasury shelter across the court had been blown to pieces by a direct hit, and the three civil servants who were doing Home Guard night-duty there were killed. All, however, were buried under tons of brick rubble, and we did not know who was missing.

As the raid continued and seemed to grow in intensity, we put on our tin hats and went out to view the scene from the top of the Annexe buildings. Before doing so, however, I could not resist taking Mrs. Landemare and the others from the shelter to see their kitchen. They were upset at the sight of the wreck, but principally on account of the general untidiness!

Archie and I went up to the cupola of the Annexe building. The night was clear and there was a wide view of London. It seemed that the greater part of Pall Mall was in flames. At least five fierce fires were burning there, and others in St. James’s Street and Piccadilly. Farther back over the river in the opposite direction there were many conflagrations. But Pall Mall was the vivid flame-picture. Gradually the attack died down, and presently the “All Clear” sounded, leaving only the blazing fires. We went downstairs to my new apartments on the first floor of the Annexe and there found Captain David Margesson, the Chief Whip, who was accustomed to live at the Carlton Club. He told us the club had been blown to bits, and indeed we had thought, by the situation of the fires, that it must have been hit. He was in the club with about two hundred and fifty members and staff. It had been struck by a heavy bomb. The whole of the façade and the massive coping on the Pall Mall side had fallen into the street, obliterating his motor-car, which was parked near the front door. The smoking-room had been full of members, and the whole ceiling had come down upon them. When I looked at the ruins next day, it seemed incredible that most of them should not have been killed. However, by what seemed a miracle, they had all crawled out of the dust, smoke, and rubble, and though many were injured not a single life was lost. When in due course these facts came to the notice of the Cabinet, our Labour colleagues facetiously remarked, “The Devil looks after his own.” Mr. Quintin Hogg had carried his father, a former Lord Chancellor, on his shoulders from the wreck, as Aeneas had borne Pater Anchises from the ruins of Troy. Margesson had nowhere to sleep, and we found him blankets and a bed in the basement of the Annexe. Altogether it was a lurid evening, and considering the damage to buildings it was remarkable that there were not more than five hundred people killed and about a couple of thousand injured.

One day after luncheon the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Kingsley Wood, came to see me on business at Number 10, and we heard a very heavy explosion take place across the river in South London. I took him to see what had happened. The bomb had fallen in Peckham. It was a very big one—probably a land-mine. It had completely destroyed or gutted twenty or thirty small three-story houses and cleared a considerable open space in this very poor district. Already little pathetic Union Jacks had been stuck up amid the ruins. When my car was recognised, the people came running from all quarters, and a crowd of more than a thousand was soon gathered. All these folk were in a high state of enthusiasm. They crowded round us, cheering and manifesting every sign of lively affection, wanting to touch and stroke my clothes. One would have thought I had brought them some fine substantial benefit which would improve their lot in life. I was completely undermined, and wept. Ismay, who was with me, records that he heard an old woman say, “You see, he really cares. He’s crying.” They were tears not of sorrow but of wonder and admiration. “But see, look here,” they said, and drew me to the centre of the ruins. There was an enormous crater, perhaps forty yards across and twenty feet deep. Cocked up at an angle on the very edge was an Anderson shelter, and we were greeted at its twisted doorway by a youngish man, his wife and three children, quite unharmed but obviously shell-jarred. They had been there at the moment of the explosion. They could give no account of their experiences. But there they were, and proud of it. Their neighbours regarded them as enviable curiosities. When we got back into the car, a harsher mood swept over this haggard crowd. “Give it ’em back,” they cried, and “Let them have it too.” I undertook forthwith to see that their wishes were carried out; and this promise was certainly kept. The debt was repaid tenfold, twentyfold, in the frightful routine bombardment of German cities, which grew in intensity as our air power developed, as the bombs became far heavier and the explosives more powerful. Certainly the enemy got it all back in good measure, pressed down and running over. Alas for poor humanity!

Another time I visited Margate. An air raid came upon us, and I was conducted into their big tunnel, where quite large numbers of people lived permanently. When we came out, after a quarter of an hour, we looked at the still-smoking damage. A small restaurant had been hit. Nobody had been hurt, but the place had been reduced into a litter of crockery, utensils, and splintered furniture. The proprietor, his wife, and the cooks and waitresses were in tears. Where was their home? Where was their livelihood? Here is a privilege of power. I formed an immediate resolve. On the way back in my train I dictated a letter to the Chancellor of the Exchequer laying down the principle that all damage from the fire of the enemy must be a charge upon the State and compensation be paid in full and at once. Thus the burden would not fall alone on those whose homes or business premises were hit, but would be borne evenly on the shoulders of the nation. Kingsley Wood was naturally a little worried by the indefinite character of this obligation. But I pressed hard, and an insurance scheme was devised in a fortnight which afterwards played a substantial part in our affairs. In explaining this to Parliament on September 5 I said:

The Treasury went through various emotions about this insurance scheme. First, they thought it was going to be their ruin; but when after May, 1941, the air raids ceased for over three years, they began to make a great deal of money, and considered the plan provident and statesmanlike. However, later on in the war, when the “doodle-bugs” and rockets began, the account swung the other way, and eight hundred and thirty millions have in fact already been paid out. I am very glad it is so.

Our outlook at this time was that London, except for its strong modern buildings, would be gradually and soon reduced to a rubble-heap. I was deeply anxious about the life of the people of London, the greater part of whom stayed, slept, and took a chance where they were. The brick and concrete shelters were multiplying rapidly. The Tubes offered accommodation for a good many. There were several large shelters, some of which held as many as seven thousand people, who camped there in confidence night after night, little knowing what the effect of a direct hit would have been upon them. I asked that brick traverses should be built in these as fast as possible. About the Tubes there was an argument which was ultimately resolved by a compromise.

In this new phase of warfare it became important to extract the optimum of work, not only from the factories, but even more from the departments in London which were under frequent bombardment during both the day and night. At first, whenever the sirens gave the alarm, all the occupants of a score of Ministries were promptly collected and led down to the basements, for what these were worth. Pride even was being taken in the efficiency and thoroughness with which this evolution was performed. In many cases it was only half a dozen aeroplanes which approached—sometimes only one. Often they did not arrive. A petty raid might bring to a standstill for over an hour the whole executive and administrative machine in London.

I therefore proposed the stage “Alert,” operative on the siren warning, as distinct from the “Alarm,” which should be enforced only when the spotters on the roof, or “Jim Crows,” as they came to be called, reported “Imminent danger,” which meant that the enemy were actually overhead or very near. Schemes were worked out accordingly. In order to enforce rigorous compliance, while we lived under these repeated daylight attacks, I called for a weekly return of the number of hours spent by the staff of each department in the shelters.

This put everybody on their mettle. Eight of these returns were actually furnished. It was amusing to see that the fighting Departments were for some time in the worst position. Offended and spurred by this implied reproach, they very quickly took their proper place. The loss of hours in all Departments was reduced to a fraction. Presently our fighters made daylight attack too costly to the enemy, and this phase passed away. In spite of the almost continuous alerts and alarms which were sounded, hardly a single Government Department was hit during daylight when it was full of people, nor any loss of life sustained. But how much time might have been wasted in the functioning of the war machine if the civil and military staffs had shown any weakness, or been guided up the wrong alley!

As early as September 1, before the heavy night attacks began, I had addressed the Home Secretary and others.

I had to give way about the sirens, or “Banshee howlings,” as I described them to Parliament.

One felt keenly for all the poor people, most of them in their little homes, with nothing over their heads.

Parliament also required guidance about the conduct of its work in these dangerous days. Members felt that it was their duty to set an example. This was right, but it might have been pushed too far; I had to reason with the Commons to make them observe ordinary prudence and conform to the peculiar conditions of the time. I convinced them in secret session of the need to take necessary and well-considered precautions. They agreed that their days and hours of sitting should not be advertised, and to suspend their debates when the Jim Crow reported to the Speaker “Imminent danger.” Then they all trooped down dutifully to the crowded, ineffectual shelters that had been provided. It will always add to the renown of the British Parliament that its Members continued to sit and discharge their duties through all this period. The Commons are very touchy in such matters, and it would have been easy to misjudge their mood. When one Chamber was damaged, they moved to another, and I did my utmost to persuade them to follow wise advice with good grace. Their migrations will be recorded in due course. In short, everyone behaved with sense and dignity. It was also lucky that when the Chamber was blown to pieces a few months later, it was by night and not by day, when empty and not full. With our mastery of the daylight raids there came considerable relief in personal convenience. But during the first few months I was never free from anxiety about the safety of the Members. After all, a free sovereign Parliament, fairly chosen by universal suffrage, able to turn out the Government any day, but proud to uphold it in the darkest days, was one of the points which were in dispute with the enemy. Parliament won.

I doubt whether any of the dictators had as much effective power throughout his whole nation as the British War Cabinet. When we expressed our desires we were sustained by the people’s representatives, and cheerfully obeyed by all. Yet at no time was the right of criticism impaired. Nearly always the critics respected the national interest. When on occasions they challenged us, the Houses voted them down by overwhelming majorities, and this, in contrast with totalitarian methods, without the slightest coercion, intervention, or use of the police or Secret Service. It was a proud thought that Parliamentary Democracy, or whatever our British public life can be called, can endure, surmount, and survive all trials. Even the threat of annihilation did not daunt our Members, but this fortunately did not come to pass.

These were the times when the English, and particularly the Londoners, who had the place of honour, were seen at their best. Grim and gay, dogged and serviceable, with the confidence of an unconquered people in their bones, they adapted themselves to this strange new life, with all its terrors, with all its jolts and jars. One evening when I was leaving for an inspection on the east coast, on my way to King’s Cross the sirens sounded, the streets began to empty, except for long queues of very tired, pale people, waiting for the last bus that would run. An autumn mist and drizzle shrouded the scene. The air was cold and raw. Night and the enemy were approaching. I felt, with a spasm of mental pain, a deep sense of the strain and suffering that was being borne throughout the world’s largest capital city. How long would it go on? How much more would they have to bear? What were the limits of their vitality? What effects would their exhaustion have upon our productive warmaking power?^[1]

Away across the Atlantic the prolonged bombardment of London, and later of other cities and seaports, aroused a wave of sympathy in the United States, stronger than any ever felt before or since in the English-speaking world. Passion flamed in American hearts, and in none more than in the heart of President Roosevelt. The temperature rose steadily in the United States. I could feel the glow of millions of men and women eager to share the suffering, burning to strike a blow. As many Americans as could get passages came, bringing whatever gifts they could, and their respect, reverence, deep love and comradeship were very inspiring. However, this was only September, and we had many months before us of this curious existence.

Under the pressure of the bombardment, the shelters and defences grew continually. I was worried principally on three counts. The first was the drains. When you had six or seven million people living in a great built-up area, the smashing of their sewers and water supply seemed to me a very great danger. Could we keep the sewage system working or would there be a pestilence? What would happen if the drains got into the water supply? Actually, early in October the main sewage outfall was destroyed and we had to let all our sewage flow into the Thames, which stank, first of sewage and afterwards of the floods of chemicals we poured into it. But all was mastered. Secondly, I feared that the long nights for millions in the crowded street-shelters—only blast-proof at that—would produce epidemics of influenza, diphtheria, the common cold, and what-not. But it appeared that Nature had already provided against this danger. Man is a gregarious animal, and apparently the mischievous microbes he exhales fight and neutralise each other. They go out and devour each other, and Man walks off unharmed. If this is not scientifically correct, it ought to be. The fact remains that during this rough winter the health of the Londoners was actually above the average. Moreover, the power of enduring suffering in the ordinary people of every country, when their spirit is roused, seems to have no bounds.

My third fear was a glass famine. Sometimes whole streets had every window-frame smashed by the blast of a single bomb. In a series of Minutes I inquired anxiously about this, and proposed to stop all export of glass forthwith. I was, however, reassured by facts and figures, and this danger also never came to pass.

In the middle of September, a new and damaging form of attack was used against us. Large numbers of delayed-action bombs were now widely and plentifully cast upon us and became an awkward problem. Long stretches of railway line, important junctions, the approaches to vital factories, airfields, main thoroughfares, had scores of times to be blocked off and denied to us in our need. These bombs had to be dug out, and exploded or rendered harmless. This was a task of the utmost peril, especially at the beginning, when the means and methods had all to be learned by a series of decisive experiences. I have already recounted in Volume I the drama of dismantling the magnetic mine, but this form of self-devotion now became commonplace while remaining sublime. I had always taken an interest in the delayed-action fuze, which had first impressed itself on me in 1918, when the Germans had used it on a large scale to deny us the use of the railways by which we planned to advance into Germany. I had urged its use by us both in Norway and in the Kiel Canal. There is no doubt that it is a most effective agent in warfare, on account of the prolonged uncertainty which it creates. We were now to taste it ourselves. A special organisation to deal with it was set up under General King, a highly capable, energetic officer, whom I interviewed myself at Chequers. In a series of Minutes I tried to stimulate the work.

Special companies were formed in every city, town and district. Volunteers pressed forward for the deadly game. Teams were formed which had good or bad luck. Some survived this phase of our ordeal. Others ran twenty, thirty, or even forty courses before they met their fate. The unexploded-bomb (U.X.B.) detachments presented themselves wherever I went on my tours. Somehow or other their faces seemed different from those of ordinary men, however brave and faithful. They were gaunt, they were haggard, their faces had a bluish look, with bright gleaming eyes and exceptional compression of the lips; withal a perfect demeanour. In writing about our hard times, we are apt to overuse the word “grim.” It should have been reserved for the U.X.B. disposal squads.^[3]

One squad I remember which may be taken as symbolic of many others. It consisted of three people—the Earl of Suffolk, his lady private secretary, and his rather aged chauffeur. They called themselves “the Holy Trinity.” Their prowess and continued existence got around among all who knew. Thirty-four unexploded bombs did they tackle with urbane and smiling efficiency. But the thirty-fifth claimed its forfeit. Up went the Earl of Suffolk in his Holy Trinity. But we may be sure that, as for Mr. Valiant-for Truth, “all the trumpets sounded for them on the other side.”

Very quickly, but at heavy sacrifice of our noblest, the devotion of the U.X.B. detachments mastered the peril. In a month I could write:

About the same time the enemy began to drop by parachute numbers of naval mines of a weight and explosive power never carried by aircraft before. Many formidable explosions took place. To this there was no defence except reprisal. The abandonment by the Germans of all pretence of confiding the air war to military objectives had also raised this question of retaliation. I was for it, but I encountered many conscientious scruples.

Among those who demurred was my friend Admiral Tom Phillips, Vice-Chief of the Naval Staff.

A month later, I was still pressing for retaliation; but one objection after another, moral and technical, obstructed it.

It is difficult to compare the ordeal of the Londoners in the winter of 1940-41 with that of the Germans in the last three years of the war. In this later phase the bombs were much more powerful and the raids far more intense. On the other hand, long preparation and German thoroughness had enabled a complete system of bomb-poof shelters to be built, into which all were forced to go by iron routine. When eventually we got into Germany, we found cities completely wrecked, but strong buildings standing up above the ground, and spacious subterranean galleries where the inhabitants slept night after night, although their houses and property were being destroyed all round. In many cases only the rubble-heaps were stirred. But in London, although the attack was less overpowering, the security arrangements were far less developed. Apart from the Tubes there were no really safe places. There were very few basements or cellars which could withstand a direct hit. Virtually the whole mass of the London population lived and slept in their homes or in their Anderson shelters under the fire of the enemy, taking their chance with British phlegm after a hard day’s work. Not one in a thousand had any protection except against blast and splinters. But there was as little psychological weakening as there was physical pestilence. Of course, if the bombs of 1943 had been applied to the London of 1940, we should have passed into conditions which might have pulverised all human organisation. However, everything happens in its turn and in its relation, and no one has a right to say that London, which was certainly unconquered, was not also unconquerable.

Little or nothing had been done before the war or during the passive period to provide bomb-proof strongholds from which the central government could be carried on. Elaborate plans had been made to move the seat of Government from London. Complete branches of many departments had already been moved to Harrogate, Bath, Cheltenham, and elsewhere. Accommodation had been requisitioned over a wide area, providing for all Ministers and important functionaries in the event of an evacuation of London. But now under the bombardment the desire and resolve of the Government and of Parliament to remain in London was unmistakable, and I shared this feeling to the full. I, like others, had often pictured the destruction becoming so overpowering that a general move and dispersal would have to be made. But under the impact of the event, all our reactions were in the contrary sense.

On the line of sticking it out in London it was necessary to construct all kinds of strongholds under or above ground from which the Executive, with its thousands of officials, could carry out their duties. A citadel for the War Cabinet had already been prepared near Hampstead, with offices, bedrooms, and wire and fortified telephone communication. This was called “Paddock.” On September 29, I prescribed a dress rehearsal, so that everybody should know what to do if it got too hot. “I think it important that ‘Paddock’ should be broken in. Thursday next, therefore, the Cabinet will meet there. At the same time, other Departments should be encouraged to try a preliminary move of a skeleton staff. If possible, lunch should be provided for the Cabinet and those attending it.” We held a Cabinet meeting at “Paddock” far from the light of day, and each Minister was requested to inspect and satisfy himself about his sleeping and working apartments. We celebrated this occasion by a vivacious luncheon and then returned to Whitehall. This was the only time “Paddock” was ever used by Ministers. Over the War Room and offices in the basement of the Annexe we floated-in six feet of steel and concrete, and made elaborate arrangements for ventilation, water supply, and above all telephones. As these offices were far below the level of the Thames, only two hundred yards away, care had to be taken that those in them were not trapped by an inrush of water.

October came in raw and rough. But it seemed that London was adapting itself to the new peculiar conditions of existence or death. Even in some directions there was an easement.

Transport into and out of the Whitehall area became an outstanding problem, with the frequently repeated daily raids, the rush hour, and the breakdowns on the railways. I cast about for some solution.

The retirement of Mr. Chamberlain, enforced by grave illness, led to important Ministerial changes. Mr. Herbert Morrison had been an efficient and vigorous Minister of Supply, and Sir John Anderson had faced the Blitz of London with firm and competent management. By the early days of October, the continuous attack on the largest city in the world was so severe and raised so many problems of a social and political character in its vast harassed population that I thought it would be a help to have a long-trained Parliamentarian at the Home Office, which was now also the Ministry of Home Security. London was bearing the brunt. Herbert Morrison was a Londoner, versed in every aspect of metropolitan administration. He had unrivalled experience of London government, having been leader of the County Council, and in many ways the principal figure in its affairs. At the same time I needed John Anderson, whose work at the Home Office had been excellent, as Lord President of the Council in the wider sphere of the Home Affairs Committee, to which an immense mass of business was referred, with great relief to the Cabinet. This also lightened my own burden and enabled me to concentrate upon the military conduct of the war, in which my colleagues seemed increasingly disposed to give me latitude.

I therefore invited these two high Ministers to change their offices. It was no bed of roses which I offered Herbert Morrison. These pages certainly cannot attempt to describe the problems of London government, when often night after night ten or twenty thousand people were made homeless, and when nothing but the ceaseless vigil of the citizens as fire guards on the roofs prevented uncontrollable conflagrations; when hospitals filled with mutilated men and women were themselves struck by the enemy’s bombs; when hundreds of thousands of weary people crowded together in unsafe and insanitary shelters; when communications by road and rail were ceaselessly broken down; when drains were smashed and light, power, and gas paralysed; and when, nevertheless, the whole fighting, toiling life of London had to go forward, and nearly a million people be moved in and out for their work every night and morning. We did not know how long it would last. We had no reason to suppose that it would not go on getting worse. When I made the proposal to Mr. Morrison, he knew too much about it to treat it lightly. He asked for a few hours’ consideration; but in a short time he returned and said he would be proud to shoulder the job. I highly approved his manly decision.

In Mr. Chamberlain’s day a Civil Defence Committee of the Cabinet had already been set up. This met regularly every morning to review the whole situation. In order to make sure that the new Home Secretary was armed with all the powers of State, I also held a weekly meeting, usually on Fridays, of all authorities concerned. The topics discussed were often far from pleasant.

Quite soon after the Ministerial movements, a change in the enemy’s method affected our general policy. Till now the hostile attack had been confined almost exclusively to high-explosive bombs; but with the full moon of October 15, when the heaviest attack of the month fell upon us, about 480 German aircraft dropped 386 tons of high-explosive and in addition 70,000 incendiary bombs. Hitherto we had encouraged the Londoners to take cover, and every effort was being made to improve their protection. But now “To the basements” must be replaced by “To the roofs.” It fell to the new Minister of Home Security to institute this policy. An organisation of fire-watchers and fire-services on a gigantic scale and covering the whole of London (apart from measures taken in provincial cities) was rapidly brought into being. At first the fire-watchers were volunteers; but the numbers required were so great, and the feeling that every man should take his turn upon the roster so strong, that fire-watching soon became compulsory. This form of service had a bracing and buoyant effect upon all classes. Women pressed forward to take their share. Large-scale systems of training were developed to teach the fire-watchers how to deal with the various kinds of incendiaries which were used against us. Many became adept, and thousands of fires were extinguished before they took hold. The experience of remaining on the roof night after night under fire, with no protection but a tin hat, soon became habitual.

Mr. Morrison presently decided to consolidate the fourteen hundred local fire brigades into a single National Fire Service, and to supplement this with a great fire guard of civilians trained and working in their spare time. The fire guard, like the roof-watchers, was at first recruited on a voluntary basis, but like them it became by general consent compulsory. The National Fire Service gave us the advantages of greater mobility, a universal standard of training and equipment, and formally recognised ranks. The other Civil Defence forces produced regional columns ready at a minute’s notice to go anywhere. The name Civil Defence Service was substituted for the pre-war title of Air-Raid Precautions (A.R.P.). Good uniforms were provided for large numbers, and they became conscious of being a fourth arm of the Crown. In all this work Herbert Morrison was ably assisted by a brave woman whose death we have lately mourned, Ellen Wilkinson. She was out and about in the shelters at all hours of the day and night and took a prominent part in the organisation of the fire guard. The Women’s Voluntary Services, under the inspiring leadership of Lady Reading, also played an invaluable part.

I was glad that, if any of our cities were to be attacked, the brunt should fall on London. London was like some huge prehistoric animal, capable of enduring terrible injuries, mangled and bleeding from many wounds, and yet preserving its life and movement. The Anderson shelters were widespread in the working-class districts of two-storey houses, and everything was done to make them habitable and to drain them in wet weather. Later the Morrison shelter was developed, which was no more than a heavy kitchen table made of steel with strong wire sides, capable of holding up the ruins of a small house and thus giving a measure of protection. Many owed their lives to it. For the rest, “London could take it.” They took all they got, and could have taken more. Indeed, at this time we saw no end but the demolition of the whole metropolis. Still, as I pointed out to the House of Commons at the time, the law of diminishing returns operates in the case of the demolition of large cities. Soon many of the bombs would only fall upon houses already ruined and only make the rubble jump. Over large areas there would be nothing more to burn or destroy, and yet human beings might make their homes here and there, and carry on their work with infinite resource and fortitude. At this time anyone would have been proud to be a Londoner. The admiration of the whole country was given to London, and all the other great cities in the land braced themselves to take their bit as and when it came and not to be outdone. Indeed, many persons seemed envious of London’s distinction, and quite a number came up from the country in order to spend a night or two in town, share the task, and see the fun. We had to check this tendency for administrative reasons.

As we could see no reason why the hostile bombing of London should not go on throughout the war, it was necessary to make long-term plans for safely housing the central Government machine.

Lord Beaverbrook was thus entrusted with the task of making a large number of bomb-proof strongholds capable of housing the whole essential staffs of many Departments of State, and a dozen of them, several connected by tunnels, survive in London today. None of these were finished till long after the aeroplane raids were over, and few were used during the pilotless-aircraft and rocket attacks which came in 1944 and 1945. However, although these buildings were never used for the purposes for which they were prepared, it was good to feel we had them under our lee. The Admiralty on their own constructed the vast monstrosity which weighs upon the Horse Guards Parade, and the demolition of whose twenty-foot-thick steel and concrete walls will be a problem for future generations when we reach a safer world.

Towards the middle of October, Josiah Wedgwood began to make a fuss in Parliament about my not having an absolutely bomb-proof shelter for the night raids. He was an old friend of mine, and had been grievously wounded in the Dardanelles. He had always been a single-taxer. Later he broadened his views on taxation and joined the Labour Party. His brother was the Chairman of the Railway Executive Committee. Before the war they had had the foresight to construct a considerable underground office in Piccadilly. It was seventy feet below the surface and covered with strong, high buildings. Although one bomb had penetrated eighty feet in marshy subsoil, there was no doubt this depth with buildings overhead gave safety to anyone in it. I began to be pressed from all sides to resort to this shelter for sleeping purposes. Eventually I agreed, and from the middle of October till the end of the year, I used to go there once the firing had started, to transact my evening business and sleep undisturbed. One felt a natural compunction at having much more safety than most other people; but so many pressed me that I let them have their way. After about forty nights in the railway shelter, the Annexe became stronger, and I moved back to it. Here during the rest of the war my wife and I lived comfortably. We felt confidence in this solid stone building, and only on very rare occasions went down below the armour. My wife even hung up our few pictures in the sitting-room, which I had thought it better to keep bare. Her view prevailed and was justified by the event. From the roof near the cupola of the Annexe there was a splendid view of London on clear nights. They made a place for me with overhead cover from splinters, and one could walk in the moonlight and watch the fireworks. In 1941 I used to take some of my American visitors up there from time to time after dinner. They were always most interested.

On the night of November 3, for the first time in nearly two months no alarm sounded in London. The silence seemed quite odd to many. They wondered what was wrong. On the following night the enemy’s attacks were widely dispersed throughout the island; and this continued for a while. There had been another change in the policy of the German offensive. Although London was still regarded as the principal target, a major effort was now to be made to cripple the industrial centres of Britain. Special squadrons had been trained, with new navigational devices, to attack specific key-centres. For instance, one formation was trained solely for the destruction of the Rolls-Royce aero-engine works at Hillington, Glasgow. All this was a makeshift and interim plan. The invasion of Britain had been temporarily abandoned, and the attack upon Russia had not yet been mounted, or expected outside Hitler’s intimate circle. The remaining winter months were, therefore, to be for the German Air Force a period of experiment, both in technical devices night-bombing and in attacks upon British sea-borne trade, together with an attempt to break down our production, military and civil. They would have done much better to have stuck to one thing at a time and pressed it to a conclusion. But they were already baffled and for the time being unsure of themselves.

These new bombing tactics began with the blitz on Coventry on the night of November 14. London seemed too large and vague a target for decisive results, but Goering hoped that provincial cities or munition centres might be effectively obliterated. The raid started early in the dark hours of the 14th, and by dawn nearly five hundred German aircraft had dropped six hundred tons of high-explosives and thousands of incendiaries. On the whole this was the most devastating raid which we sustained. The centre of Coventry was shattered, and its life for a spell completely disrupted. Four hundred people were killed and many more seriously injured. The German radio proclaimed that our other cities would be similarly “Coventrated.” Nevertheless, the all-important aero-engine and machine-tool factories were not brought to a standstill; nor was the population, hitherto untried in the ordeal of bombing, put out of action. In less than a week an emergency reconstruction committee did wonderful work in restoring the life of the city.

On November 15, the enemy switched back to London with a very heavy raid in full moonlight. Much damage was done, especially to churches and other monuments. The next target was Birmingham, and three successive raids from the 19th to the 22d of November inflicted much destruction and loss of life. Nearly eight hundred people were killed and over two thousand injured; but the life and spirit of Birmingham survived this ordeal. When I visited the city a day or two later to inspect its factories, and see for myself what had happened, an incident, to me charming, occurred. It was the dinner-hour, and a very pretty young girl ran up to the car and threw a box of cigars into it. I stopped at once and she said: “I won the prize this week for the highest output. I only heard you were coming an hour ago.” The gift must have cost her two or three pounds. I was very glad (in my official capacity) to give her a kiss. I then went on to see the long mass grave in which so many citizens and their children had been newly buried. The spirit of Birmingham shone brightly, and its million inhabitants, highly organised, conscious and comprehending, rode high above their physical suffering.

During the last week of November and the beginning of December, the weight of the attack shifted to the ports. Bristol, Southampton, and above all Liverpool, were heavily bombed. Later on Plymouth, Sheffield, Manchester, Leeds, Glasgow, and other munitions centres passed through the fire undaunted. It did not matter where the blow struck, the nation was as sound as the sea is salt.

The climax raid of these weeks came once more to London, on Sunday, December 29. All painfully gathered German experience was expressed on this occasion. It was an incendiary classic. The weight of the attack was concentrated upon the City of London itself. It was timed to meet the dead-low-water hour. The water-mains were broken at the outset by very heavy high-explosive parachute mines. Nearly fifteen hundred fires had to be fought. The damage to railway stations and docks was serious. Eight Wren churches were destroyed or damaged. The Guildhall was smitten by fire and blast, and St. Paul’s Cathedral was only saved by heroic exertions. A void of ruin at the very centre of the British world gapes upon us to this day. But when the King and Queen visited the scene, they were received with enthusiasm far exceeding any Royal festival.

During this prolonged ordeal, of which several months were still to come, the King was constantly at Buckingham Palace. Proper shelters were being constructed in the basement, but all this took time. Also it happened several times that His Majesty arrived from Windsor in the middle of an air raid. Once he and the Queen had a very narrow escape. I have His Majesty’s permission to record incident in his own words:

This brings us to the end of the year, and for the sake of continuity I have gone ahead of the general war. The reader will realise that all this clatter and storm was but an accompaniment to the cool processes by which our war effort was maintained and our policy and diplomacy conducted. Indeed, I must record that at the summit these injuries, failing to be mortal, were positive stimulant to clarity of view, faithful comradeship and judicious action. It would be unwise, however, to suppose that if the attack had been ten or twenty times as severe—or even perhaps two or three times as severe—the healthy reactions I have described would have followed.

During the human struggle between the British and German Air forces, between pilot and pilot, between anti-aircraft batteries and aircraft, between ruthless bombing and the fortitude of the British people, another conflict was going on step by step, month by month. This was a secret war, whose battles were lost or won unknown to the public, and only with difficulty comprehended, even now, to those outside the small high scientific circles concerned. No such warfare had ever been waged by mortal men. The terms in which it could be recorded or talked about were unintelligible to ordinary folk. Yet if we had not mastered its profound meaning and used its mysteries even while we saw them only in the glimpse, all the efforts, all the prowess of the fighting airmen, all the bravery and sacrifices of the people, would have been in vain. Unless British science had proved superior to German, and unless its strange sinister resources had been effectively brought to bear on the struggle for survival, we might well have been defeated, and, being defeated, destroyed.

A wit wrote ten years ago: “The leaders of thought have reached the horizons of human reason; but all the wires are down, and they can only communicate with us by unintelligible signals.” Yet upon the discerning of these signals and upon the taking of right and timely action on the impressions received depended our national fate and much else. I knew nothing about science, but I knew something of scientists, and had had much practice as a Minister in handling things I did not understand. I had, at any rate, an acute military perception of what would help and what would hurt, of what would cure and of what would kill. My four years’ work upon the Air Defence Research Committee had made me familiar with the outlines of radar problems. I therefore immersed myself so far as my faculties allowed in this Wizard War, and strove to make sure that all that counted came without obstruction or neglect at least to the threshold of action. There were no doubt greater scientists than Frederick Lindemann, though his credentials and genius command respect. But he had two qualifications of vital consequence to me. First, as these pages have shown, he was my trusted friend and confidant of twenty years. Together we had watched the advance and onset of world disaster. Together we had done our best to sound the alarm. And now we were in it, and I had the power to guide and arm our effort. How could I have the knowledge?

Here came the second of his qualities. Lindemann could decipher the signals from the experts on the far horizons and explain to me in lucid, homely terms what the issues were. There are only twenty-four hours in the day, of which at least seven must be spent in sleep and three in eating and relaxation. Anyone in my position would have been ruined if he had attempted to dive into depths which not even a lifetime of study could plumb. What I had to grasp were the practical results, and just as Lindemann gave me his view for all it was worth in this field, so I made sure by turning on my power-relay that some at least of these terrible and incomprehensible truths emerged in executive decisions.

Progress in every branch of radar was constant and unceasing during 1939, but even so the Battle of Britain, from July to September, 1940, was, as I have described, fought mainly by eye and ear. I comforted myself at first in these months with the hope that the fogs and mist and cloud which accompany the British winter and shroud the island with a mantle would at least give a great measure of protection against accurate bombing by day and still more in darkness.

For some time the German bombers had navigated largely by radio beacons. Scores of these were planted like lighthouses in various parts of the Continent, each with its own call-sign, and the Germans, using ordinary directional wireless, could fix their position by the angles from which any two of these transmissions came. To counter this we soon installed a number of stations which we called “Meacons.” These picked up the German signals, amplified them, and sent them out again from somewhere in England. The result was that the Germans, trying to home on their beams, were often led astray, and a number of hostile aircraft were lost in this manner. Certainly one German bomber landed voluntarily in Devonshire thinking it was France.

However, in June I received a painful shock. Professor Lindemann reported to me that he believed the Germans were preparing a device by means of which they would be able to bomb by day or night whatever the weather. It now appeared that the Germans had developed a radio beam which, like an invisible searchlight, would guide the bombers with considerable precision to their target. The beacon beckoned to the pilot, the beam pointed to the target. They might not hit a particular factory, but they could certainly hit a city or town. No longer, therefore, had we only to fear the moonlight nights, in which at any rate our fighters could see as well as the enemy, but we must even expect the heaviest attacks to be delivered in cloud and fog.

Lindemann told me also that there was a way of bending the beam if we acted at once, but that I must see some of the scientists, particularly the Deputy Director of Intelligence Research at the Air Ministry, Dr. R. V. Jones, a former pupil of his at Oxford. Accordingly with anxious mind I convened on June 21 a special meeting in the Cabinet Room, at which about fifteen persons were present, including Sir Henry Tizard and various Air Force Commanders. A few minutes late, a youngish man—who, as I afterwards learnt, had thought his sudden summons to the Cabinet Room must be a practical joke—hurried in and took his seat at the bottom of the table. According to plan, I invited him to open the discussion.

For some months, he told us, hints had been coming from all sorts of sources on the Continent that the Germans had some novel mode of night-bombing on which they placed great hopes. In some way it seemed to be linked with the code-word “Knickebein” (curtsey) which our Intelligence had several times mentioned, without being able to explain. At first it had been thought that the enemy had got agents to plant beacons in our cities on which their bombers could home; but this idea had proved untenable. Some weeks before, two or three curious squat towers had been photographed in odd positions near the coast. They did not seem the right shape for any known form of radio or radar. Nor were they in places which could be explained on any such hypothesis. Recently a German bomber had been shot down with apparatus which seemed more elaborate than was required for night-landing by the Lorenz beam, which appeared to be the only known use for which it might be intended. For this and various other reasons, which he wove together into a cumulative argument, it looked as if the Germans might be planning to navigate and bomb on some sort of system of beams. A few days before under cross-examination on these lines, a German pilot had broken down and admitted that he had heard that something of the sort was in the wind. Such was the gist of Mr. Jones’s tale.

For twenty minutes or more he spoke in quiet tones, unrolling his chain of circumstantial evidence, the like of which for its convincing fascination was never surpassed by tales of Sherlock Holmes or Monsieur Lecoq. As I listened, the Ingoldsby Legends jingled in my mind:

When Mr. Jones had finished, there was a general air of incredulity. One high authority asked why the Germans should use a beam, assuming that such a thing was possible, when they had at their disposal all the ordinary facilities of navigation. Above twenty thousand feet the stars were nearly always visible. All our own pilots were laboriously trained in navigation, and it was thought they found their way about and to their targets very well. Others round the table appeared concerned.

I will now explain in the kind of terms which I personally can understand how the German beam worked and how we twisted it. Like the searchlight beam, the radio beam cannot be made very sharp; it tends to spread; but if what is called the “split-beam” method is used, considerable accuracy can be obtained. Let us imagine two searchlight beams parallel one to another, both flickering in such a way that the left-hand beam comes on exactly when the right-hand beam goes out, and vice versa. If an attacking aircraft was exactly in the centre between the two beams, the pilot’s course would be continuously illuminated; but if it got, say, a little bit to the right, nearer the centre of the right-hand beam, this would become the stronger and the pilot would observe the flickering light, which was no guide. By keeping in the position where he avoided the flickerings, he would be flying exactly down the middle, where the light from both beams is equal. And this middle path would guide him to the target. Two split beams from two stations could be arranged to cross over any town in the Midlands or Southern England. The German airman had only to fly along one beam until he detected the second, and then to drop his bombs. Q.E.D.!

This was the principle of the split beam and the celebrated “Knickebein” apparatus, upon which Goering founded his hopes, and the Luftwaffe were taught to believe that the bombing of English cities could be maintained in spite of cloud, fog, and darkness, and with all the immunity, alike from guns and intercepting fighters, which these gave to the attacker. With their logical minds and deliberate large-scale planning, the German High Air Command staked their fortunes in this sphere on a device which, like the magnetic mine, they thought would do us in. Therefore, they did not trouble to train the ordinary bomber pilots, as ours had been trained, in the difficult art of navigation. A far simpler and surer method, lending itself to drill and large numbers, producing results wholesale by irresistible science, attracted alike their minds and their nature. The German pilots followed the beam as the German people followed the Fuehrer. They had nothing else to follow.

But, duly forewarned, and acting on the instant, the simple British had the answer. By erecting the proper stations in good time in our own country we could jam the beam. This would, of course, have been almost immediately realised by the enemy. There was another and superior alternative. We could put a repeating device in such a position that it strengthened the signal from one half of the split beam and not from the other. Thus the hostile pilot, trying to fly so that the signals from both halves of the split beam were equal, would be deflected from the true course. The cataract of bombs which would have shattered, or at least tormented, a city would fall fifteen or twenty miles away in an open field. Being master, and not having to argue too much, once I was convinced about the principles of this queer and deadly game, I gave all the necessary orders that very day in June for the existence of the beam to be assumed, and for all counter-measures to receive absolute priority. The slightest reluctance or deviation in carrying out this policy was to be reported to me. With so much going on, I did not trouble the Cabinet, or even the Chiefs of the Staff. If I had encountered any serious obstruction, I should of course have appealed and told a long story to these friendly tribunals. This, however, was not necessary, as in this limited and at that time almost occult circle obedience was forthcoming with alacrity, and on the fringes all obstructions could be swept away.

About August 23, the first new Knickebein stations, near Dieppe and Cherbourg, were trained on Birmingham, and a large-scale night offensive began. We had, of course, our “teething troubles” to get through; but within a few days the Knickebein beams were deflected or jammed, and for the next two months, the critical months of September and October, the German bombers wandered around England bombing by guesswork, or else being actually led astray.

One instance happened to come to my notice. An officer in my Defence Office sent his wife and two young children to the country during the London raids. Ten miles away from any town, they were much astonished to see a series of enormous explosions occurring three fields away. They counted over a hundred heavy bombs. They wondered what the Germans could be aiming at, and thanked God they were spared. The officer mentioned the incident the next day, but so closely was the secret kept, so narrow was the circle, so highly specialised the information, that no satisfactory explanation could be given to him, even in his intimate position. The very few who knew exchanged celestial grins.

The German air crews soon suspected that their beams were being mauled. There is a story that during these two months nobody had the courage to tell Goering that his beams were twisted or jammed. In his ignorance he pledged himself that this was impossible. Special lectures and warnings were delivered to the German Air Force, assuring them that the beam was infallible, and that anyone who cast doubt on it would be at once thrown out. We suffered, as has been described, heavily under the Blitz, and almost anyone could hit London anyhow. Of course, there would in any case have been much inaccuracy, but the whole German system of bombing was so much disturbed by our counter-measures, added to the normal percentage of error, that not more than one-fifth of their bombs fell within the target areas. We must regard this as the equivalent of a considerable victory, because even the fifth part of the German bombing, which we got, was quite enough for our comfort and occupation.

The Germans, after internal conflicts, at last revised their methods. It happened, fortunately for them, that one of their formations, Kampf Gruppe 100, was using a special beam of its own. It called its equipment the “X apparatus,” a name of mystery which, when we came across it, threw up an intriguing challenge to our Intelligence. By the middle of September we had found out enough about it to design counter-measures, but this particular jamming equipment could not be produced for a further two months. In consequence Kampf Gruppe 100 could still bomb with accuracy. The enemy hastily formed a pathfinder group from it, which they used to raise fires in the target area by incendiary bombs, and these became the guide for the rest of the de-Knickebeined Luftwaffe.

Coventry, on November 14/15, was the first target attacked by the new method. Although our new jamming had now started, a technical error prevented it from becoming effective for another few months. Even so, our knowledge of the beams was helpful. From the settings of the hostile beams and the times at which they played we could forecast the target and the time, route and height of attack. Our night-fighters had, alas! at this date neither the numbers nor the equipment to make much use of the information. It was nevertheless invaluable to our fire-fighting and other Civil Defence services. These could often be concentrated in the threatened area and special warnings given to the population before the attack started. Presently our counter-measures improved and caught up with the attack. Meanwhile decoy fires, code-named “Starfish,”, on a very large scale were lighted by us with the right timing in suitable open places to lead the main attack astray, and these sometimes achieved remarkable results.

By the beginning of 1941 we had mastered the “X apparatus”; but the Germans were also thinking hard, and about this time they brought in a new aid called the “Y apparatus.” Whereas the two earlier systems had both used cross-beams over the target, the new system used only one beam, together with a special method of range-finding by radio, by which the aircraft could be told how far it was along the beam. When it reached the correct distance, it dropped its bombs. By good fortune and the genius and devotion of all concerned, we had divined the exact method of working the “Y apparatus” some months before the Germans were able to use it in operations, and by the time they were ready to make it their pathfinder, we had the power to render it useless. On the very first night when the Germans committed themselves to the “Y apparatus,” our new counter-measures came into action against them. The success of our efforts was manifest from the acrimonious remarks heard passing between the pathfinding aircraft and their controlling ground stations by our listening instruments. The faith of the enemy air crews in their new device was thus shattered at the outset, and after many failures the method was abandoned. The bombing of Dublin on the night of May 30/31, 1941, may well have been an unforeseen and unintended result of our interference with “Y.”

General Martini, the German chief in this sphere, has since the war admitted that he had not realised soon enough that the “high-frequency war” had begun, and that he underrated the British Intelligence and counter-measures organisation. Our exploitation of the strategic errors which he made in the Battle of the Beams diverted enormous numbers of bombs from our cities during a period when all other means of defence either had failed or were still in their childhood. These were, however, rapidly improving under the pressure of potentially mortal attack. Since the beginning of the war we had brought into active production a form of air-borne radar called “A.I.,” on which the Air Defence Research Committee had fruitfully laboured from 1938 onward, and with which it was hoped to detect and close on enemy bombers. This apparatus was too large and too complicated for a pilot to operate himself. It was, therefore, installed in two-seater Blenheims, and later in Beaufighters, in which the observer operated the radar, and directed his pilot until the enemy aircraft became visible and could be fired on—usually at night about a hundred yards away. I had called this device in its early days “the Smeller,” and longed for its arrival in action. This was inevitably a slow process. However, it began. A widespread method of ground-control interception grew up and came into use. The British pilots, with their terrible eight-gun batteries, in which cannon-guns were soon to play their part, began to close—no longer by chance but by system—upon the almost defenceless German bombers.

The enemy’s use of the beams now became a positive advantage to us. They gave clear warning of the time and direction of the attacks, and enabled the night-fighter squadrons in the areas affected and all their apparatus to come into action at full force and in good time, and all the anti-aircraft batteries concerned to be fully manned and directed by their own intricate science, of which more later. During March and April the steadily rising rate of loss of German bombers had become a cause of serious concern to the German war chiefs. The “erasing” of British cities had not been found so easy as Hitler had imagined. It was with relief that the German Air Force received their orders in May to break off the night attacks on Great Britain and to prepare for action in another theatre.

Thus, the three main attempts to conquer Britain after the fall of France were successively defeated or prevented. The first was the decisive defeat of the German Air Force in the Battle of Britain during July, August, and September. Instead of destroying the British Air Force and the stations and air factories on which it relied for its life and future, the enemy themselves, in spite of their preponderance in numbers, sustained losses which they could not bear. Our second victory followed from our first. The German failure to gain command of the air prevented the cross-Channel invasion. The prowess of our fighter pilots, and the excellence of the organisation which sustained them, had in fact rendered the same service—under conditions indescribably different—as Drake and his brave little ships and hardy mariners had done three hundred and fifty years before, when, after the Spanish Armada was broken and dispersed, the Duke of Parma’s powerful army waited helplessly in the Low Countries for the means of crossing the Narrow Seas.

The third ordeal was the indiscriminate night-bombing of our cities in mass attacks. This was overcome and broken by the continued devotion and skill of our fighter pilots, and by the fortitude and endurance of the mass of the people, and notably the Londoners, who, together with the civil organisations which upheld them, bore the brunt. But these noble efforts in the high air and in the flaming streets would have been in vain if British science and British brains had not played the ever-memorable and decisive part which this chapter records.

There is a useful German saying, “The trees do not grow up to the sky.” Nevertheless, we had every reason to expect that the air attack on Britain would continue in an indefinite crescendo. Until Hitler actually invaded Russia we had no right to suppose it would die away and stop. We therefore strove with might and main to improve the measures and devices by which we had hitherto survived and to find new ones. The highest priority was assigned to all forms of radar study and application. Scientists and technicians were engaged and organised on a very large scale. Labour and material were made available to the fullest extent. Other methods of striking down the hostile bomber were sought tirelessly, and for many months to come these efforts were spurred by repeated, costly, and bloody raids upon our ports and cities. I will mention three developments, constantly referred to in the Appendices to this volume, in which, at Lindemann’s prompting and in the light of what we had studied together on the Air Defence Research Committee of pre-war years, I took special interest and used my authority. These were, first, the massed discharge of rockets, as a reinforcement of our anti-aircraft batteries; secondly, the laying of aerial mine curtains in the path of a raiding force by means of bombs with long wires descending by parachutes; thirdly, the search for fuzes so sensitive that they did not need to hit their target, but would be set off by merely passing near an aircraft. Of these three methods on which we toiled with large expenditure of our resources, some brief account must now be given.

None of these methods could come to fruition in 1940. At least a year stood between us and practical relief. By the time we were ready to go into action with our new apparatus and methods, the enemy attack they were designed to meet came suddenly to an end, and for nearly three years we enjoyed almost complete immunity from it. Critics have therefore been disposed to underrate the value of these efforts, which could only be proved by major trial, and in any case in no way obstructed other developments in the same sphere.

By itself beam-distortion was not enough. Once having hit the correct target, it was easy for the German bombers, unless they were confused by our “Starfish” decoy fires, to return again to the glow of the fires they had lit the night before. Somehow they must be clawed down. For this we developed two new devices, rockets and aerial mines. By fitting our anti-aircraft batteries with radar, it was possible to predict the position of an enemy aircraft accurately enough, provided it continued to fly in a straight line at the same speed; but this is hardly what experienced pilots do. Of course they zigzagged or “weaved,” and this meant that in the twenty or thirty seconds between firing the gun and the explosion of the shell they might well be half a mile or so from the predicted point.

A wide yet intense burst of fire round the predicted point was an answer. Combinations of a hundred guns would have been excellent, if the guns could have been produced and the batteries manned and all put in the right place at the right time. This was beyond human power to achieve. But a very simple, cheap alternative was available in the rocket, or, as it had been called for secrecy, the Unrotated Projectile (U.P.). Even before the war Dr. Crow, in the days of the Air Defence Research Committee, had developed two-inch and three-inch rockets which could reach almost as high as our anti-aircraft guns. The three-inch rocket carried a much more powerful warhead than a three-inch shell. It was not so accurate. On the other hand, rocket projectors had the inestimable advantage that they could be made very quickly and easily in enormous numbers without burdening our hard-driven gun factories. Thousands of these U.P. projectors were made, and some millions of rounds of ammunition. General Sir Frederick Pile, an officer of great distinction, who was in command of our anti-aircraft ground defences throughout the war, and who was singularly free from the distaste for novel devices so often found in professional soldiers, welcomed this accession to his strength. He formed these weapons into huge batteries of ninety-six projectors each, manned largely by the Home Guard, which could produce a concentrated volume of fire far beyond the power of anti-aircraft artillery.

I worked in increasing intimacy throughout the war with General Pile, and always found him ingenious and serviceable in the highest degree. He was at his best not only in these days of expansion, when his command rose to a peak of over three hundred thousand men and women and twenty-four hundred guns, apart from the rockets, but also in the period which followed after the air attack on Britain had been beaten off. Here was a time when his task was to liberate the largest possible numbers of men from static defence by batteries, and, without diminishing the potential fire-power, to substitute the largest proportion of women and Home Guard for regulars and technicians. But this is a story which must be told in its proper place.

The task of General Pile’s command was not merely helped by the work of our scientists; as the battle developed, their aid was the foundation on which all stood. In the daylight attacks of the Battle of Britain, the guns had accounted for two hundred and ninety-six enemy aircraft, and probably destroyed or damaged seventy-four more. But the night raids gave them new problems which, with their existing equipment of only searchlights and sound locators, could not be surmounted. In four months from October 1 only about seventy aircraft were destroyed. Radar came to the rescue. The first of these sets for directing gunfire was used in October, and Mr. Bevin and I spent most of the night watching them. The searchlight beams were not fitted till December. However, much training and experience were needed in their use, and many modifications and refinements in the sets themselves were found necessary. Great efforts were made in all this wide field, and the spring of 1941 brought a full reward.

During the attacks on London in the first two weeks of May—the last of the German offensive—over seventy aircraft were destroyed, or more than the four winter months had yielded. Of course, in the meanwhile the number of guns had grown. In December there had been 1450 heavy guns and 650 light; in May there were 1687 heavy guns, 790 light, with about 40 rocket batteries.^[1] But the great increase in the effectiveness of our gun defences was due in its origin to the new inventions and technical improvements which the scientists put into the soldiers’ hands, and of which the soldiers made such good use.

By the middle of 1941, when at last the rocket batteries began to come into service in substantial numbers, air attack had much diminished, so that they had few chances of proving themselves. But when they did come into action, the number of rounds needed to bring down an aircraft was little more than that required by the enormously more costly and scanty anti-aircraft guns, of which we were so short. The rockets were good in themselves, and also an addition to our other means of defence.

Shells or rockets alike are, of course, only effective if they reach the right spot and explode at the right moment. Efforts were therefore made to produce aerial mines suspended on long wires floating down on parachutes which could be laid in the path of the enemy air squadrons. It was impossible to pack these into shells. But a rocket, with much thinner walls, has more room. A certain amount of three-inch rocket ammunition, which could lay an aerial minefield on wires seven hundred feet long at heights up to twenty thousand feet, was made and held ready for use against mass attacks on London. The advantage of such minefields over shell-fire is, of course, that they remain lethal for anything up to a minute. For wherever the wing hits the wire, it pulls up the mine until it reaches the aircraft and explodes. There is thus no need for exact fuze-setting, as with ordinary shells.

Aerial mines could, of course, be placed in position by rockets laid by aircraft, or simply raised on small balloons. The last method was ardently supported by the Admiralty. In fact, however, the rockets were never brought into action on any considerable scale. By the time they were manufactured in large numbers, mass attacks by bombers had ceased. Nevertheless, it was surprising and fortunate that the Germans did not develop this counter to our mass-bombing raids in the last three years of the war. Even a few minelaying aircraft would have been able to lay and maintain a minefield over any German city, which would have taken a toll of our bombers the more deadly as numbers grew.

There was another important aspect. In 1940, the dive-bomber seemed to be a deadly threat to our ships and key-factories. One might think that aircraft diving on a ship would be easy to shoot down, as the gunner can aim straight at them without making allowance for their motion. But an aeroplane end on is a very small target and a contact fuze will work only in the rare event of a direct hit. To set a time fuze so that the shell explodes at the exact moment when it is passing the aircraft is almost impossible. An error in timing of one-tenth of a second causes a miss of many hundreds of feet. It therefore seemed worth while to try to make a fuze which would detonate automatically when the projectile passed near to the target, whether it actually hit it or not.

As there is little space in the head of a shell, the roomier head of the three-inch rocket was attractive. While I was still at the Admiralty in 1940 we pressed this idea. Photo-electric (P.E.) cells were used which produced an electrical impulse whenever there was a change of light, such as the shade of the enemy plane. By February, 1940, we had a model which I took to the Cabinet, and showed my colleagues after one of our meetings. When a matchbox was thrown past the fuze, it winked perceptibly with its demonstration lamp. The cluster of Ministers who gathered round, including the Prime Minister, were powerfully impressed. But there is a long road between a grimacing model and an armed mass-production robot. We worked hard at the production of the so-called P.E. fuzes, but here again by the time they were ready in any quantity, our danger and their hour had for the moment passed.

Attempts were made in 1941 to design a similar proximity fuze, using a tiny radar set arranged to explode the warhead when the projectile passed near the aircraft. Successful preliminary experiments were made, but before this fuze was developed in England, the Americans, to whom we imparted our knowledge, actually succeeded not only in perfecting the instrument but in reducing its size so much that the whole thing could be put into the head not merely of a rocket but of a shell. These so-called “Proximity Fuzes,” made in the United States, were used in great numbers in the last year of the war, and proved potent against the small unmanned aircraft (V-1) with which we were assailed in 1944, and also in the Pacific against Japanese aircraft.

The final phase of “The Wizard War” was, of course, the radar developments and inventions required for our counter-attack, upon Germany. These suggested themselves to some extent from our own experiences and defensive efforts. The part they played will be described in future volumes. In September, 1940, we had nearly nine long months ahead of us of heavy battering and suffering before the tide was to turn. It may be claimed that while struggling, not without success, against the perils of the hour, we bent our thoughts steadily upon the future when better times might come.

On May 15, as already narrated, I had in my first telegram to President Roosevelt after becoming Prime Minister asked for “the loan of forty or fifty of your older destroyers to bridge the gap between what we have now and the large new construction we put in hand at the beginning of the war. This time next year we shall have plenty, but if in the interval Italy comes in against us with another hundred submarines we may be strained to breaking-point.” I recurred to this in my cable of June 11, after Italy had already declared war upon us. “Nothing is so important as for us to have the thirty or forty old destroyers you have already had reconditioned. We can fit them very rapidly with our Asdics. . . . The next six months are vital.” At the end of July, when we were alone and already engaged in the fateful air battle, with the prospect of imminent invasion behind it, I renewed my request. I was well aware of the President’s good will and of his difficulties. For that reason I had endeavoured to put before him, in the blunt terms of various messages, the perilous position which the United States would occupy if British resistance collapsed and Hitler became master of Europe, with all its dockyards and navies, less what we had been able to destroy or disable.

It was evident as this discussion proceeded that the telegrams I had sent in June, dwelling on the grave consequences to the United States which might follow from the successful invasion and subjugation of the British Islands, played a considerable part in high American circles. Assurances were requested from Washington that the British Fleet would in no circumstances be handed over to the Germans. We were very ready to give these assurances in the most solemn form. As we were ready to die, they cost nothing. I did not, however, wish, at this time, on what might be the eve of invasion and at the height of the air battle, to encourage the Germans with the idea that such contingencies had ever entered our minds. Moreover, by the end of August our position was vastly improved. The whole Regular Army was re-formed, and to a considerable extent rearmed. The Home Guard had come into active life. We were inflicting heavy losses on the German Air Force, and were far more than holding our own. Every argument about invasion that had given me confidence in June and July was doubled before September.

We had at this time in Washington a singularly gifted and influential Ambassador. I had known Philip Kerr, who had now succeeded as Marquess of Lothian, from the old days of Lloyd George in 1919 and before, and we had differed much and often from Versailles to Munich and later. As the tension of events mounted, not only did Lothian develop a broad comprehension of the scene, but his eye penetrated deeply. He had pondered on the grave implications of the messages I had sent to the President during the collapse of France about the possible fate of the British Fleet if England were invaded and conquered. In this he moved with the ruling minds in Washington, who were deeply perturbed, not only by sympathy for Britain and her cause, but naturally even more by anxiety for the life and safety of the United States.

Lothian was worried by the last words of my speech in the House of Commons on June 4, when I had said, “We shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, will carry on the struggle until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the Old.” He thought these words had given encouragement “to those who believed that, even though Great Britain went under, the Fleet would somehow cross the Atlantic to them.” The reader is aware of the different language I had been using behind the scenes. I had explained my position at the time to the Foreign Secretary and to the Ambassador.

Nearly a month passed before any result emerged. Then came an encouraging telegram from the Ambassador. He said (July 5/6) that informed American opinion was at last beginning to realise that they were in danger of losing the British Fleet altogether if the war went against us and if they remained neutral. It would, however, be extremely difficult to get American public opinion to consider letting us have American destroyers unless it could be assured that in the event of the United States entering the war the British Fleet or such of it as was afloat would cross the Atlantic if Great Britain were overrun.

At the end of July, under the increasing pressure from so many angles at once, I took the matter up again.

Profound and anxious consultations had taken place at Washington, and in the first week of August the suggestion was made to us through Lord Lothian that the fifty old but reconditioned American destroyers which lay in the east coast Navy yards might be traded off to us in exchange for a series of bases in the West Indian islands, and also Bermuda. There was, of course, no comparison between the intrinsic value of these antiquated and inefficient craft and the immense permanent strategic security afforded to the United States by the enjoyment of the island bases. But the threatened invasion, the importance of numbers in the Narrow Seas, made our need clamant. Moreover, the strategic value of these islands counted only against the United States. They were, in the old days, the stepping-stone by which America could be attacked from Europe or from England. Now, with air power, it was all the more important for American safety that they should be in friendly hands, or in their own. But the friendly hands might fail in the convulsive battle now beginning for the life of Britain. Believing, as I have always done, that the survival of Britain is bound up with the survival of the United States, it seemed to me and to my colleagues that it was an actual advantage to have these bases in American hands. I therefore did not look upon the question from any narrow British point of view.

There was another reason, wider and more powerful than either our need for the destroyers or the American need for the bases. The transfer to Great Britain of fifty American warships was a decidedly unneutral act by the United States. It would, according to all the standards of history, have justified the German Government in declaring war upon them. The President judged that there was no danger, and I felt there was no hope, of this simple solution of many difficulties. It was Hitler’s interest and method to strike his opponents down one by one. The last thing he wished was to be drawn into war with the United States before he had finished with Britain. Nevertheless the transfer of destroyers to Britain in August, 1940, was an event which brought the United States definitely nearer to us and to the war, and it was the first of a long succession of increasingly unneutral acts in the Atlantic which were of the utmost service to us. It marked the passage of the United States from being neutral to being non-belligerent. Although Hitler could not afford to resent it, all the world, as will be seen, understood the significance of the gesture.

For all these reasons the War Cabinet and Parliament approved the policy of leasing the bases to obtain the destroyers, provided we could persuade the West Indian island Governments concerned to make what was to them a serious sacrifice and disturbance of their life for the sake of the Empire. On August 6, Lothian cabled that the President was anxious for an immediate reply about the future of the Fleet. He wished to be assured that if Britain were overrun, the Fleet would continue to fight for the Empire overseas and would not either be surrendered or sunk. This was, it was said, the argument which would have the most effect on Congress in the question of destroyers. The prospects of legislative action, he thought, were steadily improving.

Lothian thought this reply admirable, and said there was a real chance now that the President would be able to get the fifty destroyers without legislation. This was still uncertain, but he thought we should send some British destroyer crews to Halifax and Bermuda without any delay. It would create the worst impression in America if destroyers were made available and no British crews were ready to transport them across the Atlantic. Moreover, the fact that our crews were already waiting on the spot would help to impress the urgency of the case on Congress.

At his press conference on August 16, the President made the following statement:

According to the newspapers, the President stated that the United States would give Great Britain something in return, but that he did not know what this would be. He emphasised more than once that the negotiations for the air bases were in no way connected with the question of destroyers. Destroyers were, he said, not involved in the prospective arrangements.

The President, having always to consider Congress and also the Navy authorities in the United States, was of course increasingly drawn to present the transaction to his fellow-countrymen as a highly advantageous bargain whereby immense securities were gained in these dangerous times by the United States in return for a few flotillas of obsolete destroyers. This was indeed true; but not exactly a convenient statement for me. Deep feelings were aroused in Parliament and the Government at the idea of leasing any part of these historic territories, and if the issue were presented to the British as a naked trading-away of British possessions for the sake of the fifty destroyers it would certainly encounter vehement opposition. I sought, therefore, to place the transaction on the highest level, where indeed it had a right to stand, because it expressed and conserved the enduring common interests of the English-speaking world.

With the consent of the President I presented the question to Parliament on August 20, in words which have not perhaps lost their meaning with time:

Lothian now cabled that Mr. Sumner Welles had told him that the constitutional position made it “utterly impossible” for the President to send the destroyers as a spontaneous gift; they could come only as a quid pro quo. Under the existing legislation neither the Chief of the Staff nor the General Board of the Navy were able to give the certificate that the ships were not essential to national defence, without which the transfer could not be legally made, except in return for a definite consideration which they would certify added to the security of the United States. The President had tried to find another way out, but there was none.

At the same time I suggested the following text of the telegram for publication which the President might send me to elicit the assurance he desired.

Thus all was happily settled, and on September 5, using the language of understatement, I duly informed the House of Commons and obtained their acquiescence and indeed general consent:

Thus we obtained the fifty American destroyers. We granted ninety-nine-year leases of the air and naval bases specified in the West Indies and Newfoundland to the United States. And thirdly, I repeated my declaration about not scuttling or surrendering the British Fleet, in the form of an assurance to the President. I regarded all these as parallel transactions, and as acts of good will performed on their merits and not as bargains. The President found it more acceptable to present them to Congress as a connected whole. We neither of us contradicted each other, and both countries were satisfied. The effects in Europe were profound.

1940

June—July—August

With the disappearance of France as a combatant and with Britain set on her struggle for life at home, Mussolini might well feel that his dream of dominating the Mediterranean and rebuilding the former Roman Empire would come true. Relieved from any need to guard against the French in Tunis, he could still further reinforce the numerous army he had gathered for the invasion of Egypt. The eyes of the world were fixed upon the fate of the British Island, upon the gathering of the invading German armies, and upon the drama of the struggle for air mastery. These were, of course, our main preoccupations. In many countries we were presumed to be at the last gasp. Our confident and resolute bearing was admired by our friends, but its foundations were deemed unsure. Nevertheless, the War Cabinet were determined to defend Egypt against all comers with whatever resources could be spared from the decisive struggle at home. All the more was this difficult when the Admiralty declared themselves unable to pass even military convoys through the Mediterranean on account of the air dangers. All must go round the Cape. Thus we might easily rob the Battle of Britain without helping the Battle of Egypt. It is odd that, while at the time everyone concerned was quite calm and cheerful, writing about it afterwards makes one shiver.

When Italy declared war on June 10, 1940, the British Intelligence estimated—we now know correctly—that, apart from her garrisons in Abyssinia, Eritrea, and Somaliland, there were about 215,000 Italian troops in the North African coastal provinces. These were disposed as follows: in Tripolitania, six metropolitan and two militia divisions; in Cyrenaica, two metropolitan and two militia divisions, besides frontier forces equal to three divisions; a total of fifteen divisions. The British forces in Egypt consisted of the 7th Armoured Division, two-thirds of the 4th Indian Division, one-third of the New Zealand Division, and fourteen British battalions and two regiments of the Royal Artillery, ungrouped in higher formations; the whole amounting to perhaps fifty thousand men. From these both the defence of the western frontier and the internal security of Egypt had to be provided. We, therefore, had heavy odds against us in the field, and the Italians had also many more aircraft.

During July and August the Italians became active at many points. There was a threat from Kassala, on the White Nile, westward towards Khartoum. Alarm was spread in Kenya by the fear of an Italian expedition marching four hundred miles south from Abyssinia towards the Tana River and Nairobi. Considerable Italian forces advanced into British Somaliland. But all these anxieties were petty compared with the Italian invasion of Egypt, which was obviously being prepared on the greatest scale. For some time past Mussolini had been steadily moving his forces eastward towards Egypt. Even before the war a magnificent road had been made along the coast from the main base at Tripoli, through Tripolitania, Cyrenaica, and Libya, to the Egyptian frontier. Along this road there had been for many months a swelling stream of military traffic. Large magazines were slowly established and filled at Benghazi, Derna, Tobruk, Bardia, and Sollum. The length of this road was over a thousand miles, and all these swarming Italian garrisons and supply depots were strung along it like beads on a string.

At the head of the road and near the Egyptian frontier an Italian army of seventy or eighty thousand men, with a good deal of modern equipment, had been patiently gathered and organised. Before this army glittered the prize of Egypt. Behind it stretched the long road back to Tripoli; and after that the sea! If this force, built up in driblets week by week for years, could advance continually eastward, conquering all who sought to bar the path, its fortunes would be bright. If it could gain the fertile regions of the Delta, all worry about the long road back would vanish. On the other hand, if ill-fortune befell it only a few would ever get home. In the field army and in the series of great supply depots all along the coast there were by the autumn at least three hundred thousand Italians, who could, even if unmolested, retreat westward along the road only gradually or piecemeal. For this they required many months. And if the battle were lost on the Egyptian border, if the army’s front were broken, and if time were not given to them, all were doomed to capture or death. However, in July, 1940, it was not known who was going to win the battle.

Our foremost defended position at that time was the railhead at Mersa Matruh. There was a good road westward to Sidi Barrani, but thence to the frontier at Sollum there was no road capable of maintaining any considerable strength for long near the frontier. A small covering mechanised force had been formed of some of our finest Regular troops, consisting of the 7th Hussars (light tanks), the 11th Hussars (armoured cars), and two motor battalions of the 60th Rifles and Rifle Brigade, with two regiments of motorised Royal Horse Artillery. Orders had been given to attack the Italian frontier posts immediately on the outbreak of war. Accordingly, within twenty-four hours, the 11th Hussars crossed the frontier, took the Italians, who had not heard that war had been declared, by surprise, and captured prisoners. The next night, June 12, they had a similar success, and on June 14, with the 7th Hussars and one company of the 60th Rifles, captured the frontier forts at Capuzzo and Maddalena, taking two hundred and twenty prisoners. On the 16th they raided deeper, destroyed twelve tanks, intercepted a convoy on the Tobruk-Bardia road, and captured a general.

In this small but lively warfare our troops felt they had the advantage, and soon conceived themselves to be masters of the desert. Until they came up against large formed bodies or fortified posts, they could go where they liked, collecting trophies from sharp encounters. When armies approach each other, it makes all the difference which owns only the ground on which it stands or sleeps and which one owns all the rest. I saw this in the Boer War, where we owned nothing beyond the fires of our camps and bivouacs, whereas the Boers rode where they pleased all over the country.

Ever-growing enemy forces were now arriving from the west, and by the middle of July the enemy had re-established his frontier line with two divisions and elements of two more. Early in August our covering force was relieved by the support group of the 7th Armoured Division, comprising the 3d Coldstream Guards, the first 60th Rifles, the 2d Rifle Brigade, the 11th Hussars, one squadron of the 6th Royal Tank Battalion, and two mechanised batteries, R.H.A., one of which was anti-tank. This small force, distributed over a front of sixty miles, continued to harass the enemy with increasing effect. The published Italian casualties for the first three months of war were nearly thirty-five hundred men, of whom seven hundred were prisoners. Our own losses barely exceeded a hundred and fifty. Thus the first phase in the war which Italy had declared upon the British Empire opened favourably for us.

It was proposed by the Middle East Command, under General Wavell, to await the shock of the Italian onslaught near the fortified position of Mersa Matruh. Until we could gather an army, this seemed the only course open. I therefore proposed the following tasks: First, to assemble the largest fighting force possible to face the Italian invaders. For this it was necessary to run risks in many other quarters. I was pained to see the dispersions which were tolerated by the military authorities. Khartoum and the Blue Nile certainly required strengthening against the Italian-Abyssinian border, but what was the sense of keeping twenty-five thousand men, including the Union Brigade of South Africa and two brigades of excellent West African troops, idle in Kenya? I had ridden over some of this country, north of the Tana River, in 1906. It is a very fine-looking country, but without much to eat. The idea of an Italian expedition of fifteen or twenty thousand men, with artillery and modern gear, traversing the four or five hundred miles before they could reach Nairobi seemed ridiculous. Behind the Kenya front would lie the broad-gauge Uganda Railway. We had the command of the sea, and could move troops to and fro by sea and rail with a facility incomparable to anything that could be achieved by enemy land movements. On account of our superior communications, it was our interest to fight an Italian expedition as near to Nairobi and the broad-gauge railway as possible. For this large numbers of troops were not required. They were more needed in the Egyptian Delta. I got something, but only after a prolonged hard fight against the woolly theme of being safe everywhere.

I did my utmost to draw upon Singapore and bring the Australian division which had arrived there, first to India for training and thence to the Western Desert. Palestine presented a different aspect. We had a mass of fine troops sprawled over Palestine: an Australian division, a New Zealand brigade, our own choice Yeomanry division, all in armoured cars or about to be; the Household Cavalry, still with horses, but longing for modern weapons; with lavish administrative services. I wished to arm the Jews at Tel Aviv, who with proper weapons would have made a good fight against all comers. Here I encountered every kind of resistance. My second preoccupation was to ensure that freedom of movement through the Mediterranean was fought for against the weak Italians and the grave air danger, in order that Malta might be made impregnable. It seemed to me most important to pass military convoys, especially of tanks and guns, through the Mediterranean instead of all round the Cape. This seemed a prize worth many hazards. To send a division from Britain round the Cape to Egypt was to make sure it could not fight anywhere for three months; but these were precious months, and we had very few divisions. Finally, there was our island, now under pretty direct menace of invasion. How far could we denude our home and citadel for the sake of the Middle East?

In July, 1940, I began, as the telegrams and Minutes show, to concern myself increasingly about the Middle East. Always this long coastal road bulked in my mind. Again and again I recurred to the idea of cutting it by the landing of strong but light forces from the sea. We had not, of course, at that time proper tank-landing craft. Yet it should have been possible to improvise the necessary tackle for such an operation. If used in conjunction with a heavy battle it might have effected a valuable diversion of enemy troops from the front.

I still do not see why it should not have been possible to make a good plan. It is, however, a fact that none of our commanders, either in the Middle East or in Tunis, were ever persuaded to make the attempt. But General Patton in 1943 made several most successful turning movements of this character during the conquest of Sicily, and gained definite advantages thereby. It was not until Anzio in 1944 that I succeeded in having this experiment tried. This, of course, was on a far larger scale, nor did it, in spite of the success of the landing, achieve the decisive results for which we all hoped. But that is another story.

I was anxious that the case of the Middle East should be strongly presented by a group of Ministers, all experienced in war and deeply concerned in that theatre.

Mr. Eden reported to his Committee the shortage of troops, equipment, and resources in the Middle East, and that the C.I.G.S. was equally perturbed. The Committee urged the full equipment of the armoured division already in Egypt but far below strength, and also recommended the provision of a second armoured division at the earliest moment when it could be spared from home. The Chiefs of Staff endorsed these conclusions, the C.I.G.S. observing that the moment must be chosen in relation to declining risks at home and increasing risks abroad. On July 31, Mr. Eden considered that we might be able to spare some tanks in a few weeks’ time, and that if they were to reach the Middle East by the end of September we might have to send them and the other equipment through the Mediterranean. In spite of the rising tension about invasion at home, I was in full agreement with all this trend of thought, and brought the extremely harassing choice before the Cabinet several times.

I felt an acute need of talking over the serious events impending in the Libyan Desert with General Wavell himself. I had not met this distinguished officer, on whom so much was resting, and I asked the Secretary of State for War to invite him over for a week for consultation when an opportunity could be found. He arrived on August 8. He toiled with the Staffs and had several long conversations with me and Mr. Eden. The command in the Middle East at that time comprised an extraordinary amalgam of military, political, diplomatic, and administrative problems of extreme complexity. It took more than a year of ups and downs for me and my colleagues to learn the need of dividing the responsibilities of the Middle East between a Commander-in-Chief, a Minister of State, and an Intendant-General to cope with the supply problem. While not in full agreement with General Wavell’s use of the resources at his disposal, I thought it best to leave him in command. I admired his fine qualities, and was impressed with the confidence so many people had in him.

The discussions, both oral and written, were severe. As usual I put my case in black and white.

As a result of the Staff discussions on August 10, Dill, with Eden’s ardent approval, wrote me that the War Office were arranging to send immediately to Egypt one cruiser tank battalion of fifty-two tanks, one light tank regiment (fifty-two tanks), and one infantry tank battalion of fifty tanks, together with forty-eight anti-tank guns, twenty Bofors light anti-aircraft, forty-eight twenty-five-pounder field guns, five hundred Bren guns, and two hundred and fifty anti-tank rifles, with the necessary ammunition. These would start as soon as they could be loaded. The only question open was whether they should go round the Cape or take a chance through the Mediterranean. I pressed the Admiralty hard, as will be seen in a later chapter, for direct convoy through the Mediterranean. Much discussion proceeded on this latter point. Meanwhile, the Cabinet approved the embarkation and despatch of the armoured force, leaving the final decision about which way they should go till the convoy approached Gibraltar. This option remained open to us till August 26, by which time we should know a good deal more about the imminence of any Italian attack. No time was lost. The decision to give this blood-transfusion while we braced ourselves to meet a mortal danger, was at once awful and right. No one faltered.

The following directive, which we had thrashed out together, was finally drafted by me, and the Cabinet approved it without amendment in accord with the Chiefs of Staff:

I now have to record a small but at the time vexatious military episode. The Italians, using vastly superior forces, drove us out of Somaliland. This story requires to be told.

Until December, 1939, our policy in a war with Italy was to evacuate Somaliland; but in that month General Ironside, C.I.G.S., declared for defence of the territory, and in the last resort to hold Berbera. Defences were to be prepared to defend the Tug Argen Gap through the hills. One British battalion (the Black Watch), two Indian, and two East African battalions, with the Somaliland Camel Corps and one African light battery, with small detachments of anti-tank and anti-aircraft units, were gathered by the beginning of August. General Wavell on July 21 telegraphed to the War Office that withdrawal without fighting would be disastrous for our influence, and that Somaliland might be a valuable base for further offensive action. Fighting began during his visit to London, and he told the Middle East Ministerial Committee that, although the strategic disadvantages of the loss of Somaliland would be slight, it would be a blow to our prestige.

The Italians entered British Somaliland on August 3 with three battalions of Italian infantry, fourteen of colonial infantry, two groups of pack artillery, and detachments of medium tanks, light tanks, and armoured cars. These large forces advanced upon us on August 10, and a new British commander, General Godwin Austen, arrived on the night of the 11th. In his instructions he had been told, “Your task is to prevent any Italian advance beyond the main position. . . . You will take the necessary steps for withdrawal if necessary.” Fighting took place on the 12th and 13th, and one of our four key-positions was captured from us after heavy artillery bombardment. On the night of the 15th, General Godwin Austen determined to withdraw. This, he said, “was the only course to save us from disastrous defeat and annihilation.” The Middle East Headquarters authorised evacuation, and this was successfully achieved under a strong rearguard of the Black Watch.

I was far from satisfied with the tactical conduct of this affair, which remains on record as our only defeat at Italian hands. At this particular moment, when formidable events impended in Egypt and when so much depended on our prestige, the rebuff caused injury far beyond its strategic scale. There was much jubilation in Italy, and Mussolini exulted in the prospects of his attack on the Nile Valley. General Wavell, however, defended the local commander, affirming that the fighting had been severe.

In view of the great business we had together, I did not press my view further either with the War Office or with General Wavell.

Our information at this time showed a rapid increase in the Italian forces in Albania and a consequent menace to Greece. As the German preparations for the invasion of Britain grew in scale and became more evident, it would have been particularly inconvenient to lessen our bombing attack on the German and Dutch river mouths and French ports, where barges were being collected. I had formed no decision in my own mind about moving bomber squadrons away from home. It is often wise, however, to have plans worked out in detail. Strange as it may seem, the Air Force, except in the air, is the least mobile of all the Services. A squadron can reach its destination in a few hours, but its establishment, depots, fuel, spare parts, and workshops take many weeks, and even months, to develop.

I cannot better end this chapter than by the report I gave of the situation in August to the Prime Ministers of Australia and New Zealand.

Until the French collapse the control of the Mediterranean had been shared between the British and French Fleets. At Gibraltar we had maintained a small force of cruisers and destroyers watching the Straits. In the Eastern Basin lay our Mediterranean Fleet, based on Alexandria. This had been reinforced earlier in the year, when the Italian attitude became menacing, to a force of four battleships, seven cruisers, twenty-two destroyers, one aircraft-carrier, and twelve submarines. The French Mediterranean Fleet comprised five capital ships, one aircraft-carrier, fourteen cruisers, and many smaller ships. Now France was out and Italy was in. The numerically powerful Italian Fleet included six battleships, including two of the latest type (Littorios), mounting fifteen-inch guns, but two of the older ships were being reconstructed and were not immediately ready for service. Besides this, their Fleet comprised nineteen modern cruisers, seven of which were of the eight-inch-gun type, one hundred and twenty destroyers and torpedo-boats, and over a hundred submarines.

In addition a strong Italian Air Force was ranged against us. So formidable did the situation appear at the end of June that Admiralty first thoughts contemplated the abandonment of the Eastern Mediterranean and concentration at Gibraltar. I resisted this policy, which, though justified on paper by the strength of the Italian Fleet, did not correspond to my impressions of the fighting values, and also seemed to spell the doom of Malta. It was resolved to fight it out at both ends. On July 3 the Chiefs of Staffs prepared a paper about the Mediterranean in which they stressed the importance of the Middle East as a war theatre, but recognised that for the time being our policy must be generally defensive. The possibility of a German attack on Egypt must be taken seriously but so long as the Fleet could be retained in the Eastern Mediterranean our existing forces were enough to deal with purely local attack.

We have seen how, at the end of June, Force H was constituted at Gibraltar under Admiral Somerville. It comprised the Hood, Resolution, and Valiant, the carrier Ark Royal, two cruisers, and eleven destroyers. With this we had done the deed at Oran. In the Eastern Mediterranean we found in Admiral Andrew Cunningham an officer of the highest qualities and dauntless character. Immediately upon the Italian declaration of war, he put to sea in search of the enemy. The Royal Air Force attacked Tobruk and sank the old Italian cruiser San Giorgio. The Fleet bombarded Bardia from the sea. Submarines on both sides were active, and we destroyed ten of the enemy for the loss of three of our own from deep mining before the end of June.

On July 8, whilst covering the passage of a convoy from Malta to Alexandria, Admiral Cunningham became aware of the presence of powerful Italian forces. It was evident from the intensity of Italian air attacks that the enemy also was engaged in an important operation, and we now know that they planned to lead the British Admiral into an area where he could be subjected to concentrated attack by the full weight of the Italian Air Force and submarines. Admiral Cunningham at once seized the initiative, and, despite his inferiority in numbers, boldly turned to interpose his fleet between the enemy and their base.

On the following day contact was made and an action at long range ensued, in which one enemy battleship and two cruisers were hit without any damage being suffered by the British Fleet. The enemy refused to stand and fight, and, thanks to his superior speed, was able to escape, pursued by Admiral Cunningham to a point within twenty-five miles of the Italian mainland. Throughout this and the next two days the intense air attacks continued without success, and the convoy, though frequently bombed, reached Alexandria safely. This spirited action established the ascendancy of the British Fleet in the Mediterranean and Italian prestige suffered a blow from which it never recovered. Ten days later the Sydney, an Australian cruiser, with a British destroyer flotilla, sank an Italian cruiser. Our first contacts with the new enemy were therefore by no means discouraging.

The burdens which lay upon the Admiralty at this time were, however, heavy in the extreme. The invasion danger required a high concentration of flotillas and small craft in the Channel and North Sea. The U-boats, which had by August begun to work from Biscayan ports, took severe toll of our Atlantic convoys without suffering many losses themselves. Until now the Italian fleet had never been tested. The possibility of a Japanese declaration of war, with all that it would bring upon our Eastern Empire, could never be excluded from our thoughts. It is therefore not strange that the Admiralty viewed with the deepest anxiety all risking of warships in the Mediterranean, and were sorely tempted to adopt the strictest defensive at Gibraltar and Alexandria. I, on the other hand, did not see why the large numbers of ships assigned to the Mediterranean should not play an active part from the outset. Malta had to be reinforced both with air squadrons and troops. Although all commercial traffic was rightly suspended, and all large troop convoys to Egypt must go round the Cape, I could not bring myself to accept the absolute closure of the inland sea. Indeed I hoped that by running a few special convoys we might arrange and provoke a trial of strength with the Italian Fleet. I hoped that this might happen, and Malta be properly garrisoned and equipped with airplanes and A.A. guns before the appearance, which I already dreaded, of the Germans in this theatre. All through the summer and autumn months I engaged in friendly though tense discussion with the Admiralty upon this part of our war effort.

Meanwhile Admiralty policy had again been most carefully scrutinised, and on July 15 the intention to maintain a strong force in the Eastern Mediterranean was reiterated in a signal to the Commander-in-Chief. This message stated that in the East the chief British task would be to destroy the enemy naval forces, although they had a numerical preponderance. In the West, Force H would control the western exit from the Mediterranean and undertake offensive operations against the coast of Italy. I was in general agreement with this strong policy. The Commander-in-Chief was invited to say what heavy ships he considered necessary for the two forces and if redistribution were thought desirable, to advise whether the exchange should take place through the Mediterranean or round the Cape.

In reply he asked that both the Valiant and the Barham should join him. This would give him four battleships with the best available gun-range and speed. He could then dispense with the Royal Sovereign as with her poor deck protection and inferior speed she was a constant source of anxiety. Furthermore, he required two carriers, including the Illustrious, and two eight-inch cruisers. He agreed with the First Sea Lord that in the Western Mediterranean a force comprising the Hood and the Ark Royal with either one or two “R” class battleships would meet requirements. With these forces he considered that the Mediterranean could be dominated and the Eastern basin held indefinitely, provided that Malta was adequately protected by fighters and that his resources at Alexandria were built-up. In conclusion he said: “By carrying out a concerted movement it should be possible to pass reinforcements through the Mediterranean, but it would probably be desirable to do it all in one operation.”

We thus reached a considerable measure of agreement in our talks at the Admiralty. It was common ground between us that Admiral Cunningham’s fleet should be reinforced by a battleship, an aircraft-carrier and two cruisers, and at the same time the opportunity should be taken to run a convoy of store ships to Malta from Alexandria. Thereafter on July 23 the First Sea Lord in the course of a Minute to the First Lord and me said:

Thus it came about that the plan for the important operation which followed under the code name “Hats” did not include provision for the passage of merchant ships. None the less with the full support of Admiral Cunningham it challenged the Italian Fleet and Air Force in the Central Mediterranean. I was now well content with the main decisions which the Admiralty were taking, and hoped that they might lead to a trial of strength. All preparations therefore went forward.

A few weeks later the bold and far-reaching step of the War Cabinet, with the full agreement of the Chiefs of Staff, to send nearly half our best available tanks to Egypt in spite of the invasion menace raised the question of the Mediterranean passage again and in a sharper way. I was of course in full accord with sending the tanks, but I feared that if they went round the Cape they might arrive too late for the battle on which the fate of Egypt depended. The First Sea Lord was at first inclined to run the risk, but on further study he thought it would complicate operation “Hats,” which now held the centre of the Admiralty stage. It involved sending at least two fast mechanical transport ships (16 knots) from Gibraltar to Malta, and this was regarded as more dangerous than sending them by the route from Alexandria. This led to further discussion.

I was not able to induce the Admiralty to send the armoured brigade, or at least their vehicles, through the Mediterranean. I was both grieved and vexed at this. Though my friendship for Admiral Pound and confidence in his judgment were never affected, sharp argument was maintained. The professional responsibility was his, and no naval officer with whom I ever worked would run more risks than he. We had gone through a lot together. If he would not do it, no one else would. If I could not make him, no one else could. I knew the Admiralty too well to press them or my great friend and comrade, Pound, or the First Lord, for whom I had high esteem, beyond a certain point. My relations with the Admiralty were too good to be imperilled by a formal appeal to the Cabinet against them.

When on August 15, I brought the question before the Cabinet finally I said that I had hoped to persuade the Admiralty to fit the two armoured regiments into “Operation Hats.” If the tank units proceeded through the Mediterranean they would arrive in Alexandria about September 5; if by the Cape about three weeks later. However the Chief of the Imperial General Staff did not consider that an attack in force by the Italians was imminent, and this was also General Wavell’s view. Having done my utmost in favour of the short cut, I thought that the War Cabinet ought not to take the responsibility of overruling the judgment of the commanders, and I acquiesced in the longer voyage round the Cape with regret. The Chiefs of Staff however prepared an alternative plan for the short cut should the position in the Middle East suddenly worsen before “Operation Hats” was actually launched. Two fast M.T. ships carrying Cruiser and “I” tanks would accompany the naval forces through the Mediterranean. The decision was to be taken before the reinforcements passed Gibraltar. In the event reports received from the Middle East were not considered to justify putting the alternative plan into force, and the whole convoy continued on its way round the Cape.

“Operation Hats” was carried out successfully and without loss between August 30 and September 5. Admiral Cunningham left Alexandria on August 30, and on the evening of the 31st his aircraft reported the approach of an enemy force of two battleships and seven cruisers. Hopes of an engagement were raised, but evidently the Italians were not seeking trouble and nothing happened. The following evening our aircraft again made contact with the enemy, who were now retiring to Taranto. Thereafter Admiral Cunningham’s ships moved about with complete freedom to the east and south of Malta and were not seriously molested from the air. The convoy reached Malta safely, only one ship being damaged by air attack. Meanwhile the reinforcements, consisting of the Valiant but not her unreconstructed sister-ship the Barham, the aircraft-carrier Illustrious and two anti-aircraft cruisers, accompanied by Admiral Somerville with Force “H,” were approaching from Gibraltar. The Valiant and the cruisers had no difficulty in landing much-needed guns and ammunition in Malta, and then joined Admiral Cunningham to the eastward on September 3. During the return passage to Alexandria the fleet attacked Rhodes and Scarpanto and easily repulsed an E-boat attack. Admiral Somerville’s force returned to Gibraltar without being molested in any way.

All this convinced me that it would have been a fair risk, especially compared with those we were resolutely running in seriously depleting our armour at home in the teeth of the enemy’s invasion preparations, to transport the armoured brigade through the Malta channel, and that it would now be in Egypt, instead of more than three weeks away. No serious disaster did in fact occur in Egypt during those three weeks. Nevertheless, an exaggerated fear of Italian aircraft had been allowed to hamper naval operations. I thought, and think, the event proved my case. Towards the end of November Admiral Somerville with Force “H” did in fact successfully escort a convoy to Malta from the westward, and on the way fought a partial action near Sardinia with that part of the Italian Fleet which had escaped damage at Taranto. One ship of this convoy passed on to Alexandria, together with three more store ships from Malta, escorted by further Fleet reinforcements for the Eastern Mediterranean. This was the first time that a merchant ship made the complete passage of the Mediterranean after the Italian entry into the war. The reader will see in the next volume how a still more hazardous exploit was performed by the Navy in sending tanks to Egypt in 1941, when the German Air Force was fully established in Sicily.

This issue could never at any moment be decided without balancing other bitter needs in new construction. It was on this rock, and not on differences of principle that my wishes finally foundered.

It is surprising that the violent impact of the air upon our control of the Mediterranean had not been more plainly foreseen by the British Government before the war and by their expert advisers. In any case, however, we had fallen so far behind in the air race with Germany that the defence of Britain made an overwhelming demand on the already outnumbered forces we possessed. Until the Battle of Britain had been decisively won, every reinforcement of aircraft to the Mediterranean and Egypt had been an act of acute responsibility. Even in the winter months, when we felt we were masters of our own daylight air at home, it was very hard under the full fury of the Blitz to send away fighter aircraft either to Malta or to Egypt. It was also most painful to take from bombarded British cities and vital seaports and munitions factories the anti-aircraft guns and shells sorely needed for their protection, and to send these either all round the Cape to Egypt or at much peril direct to Malta.

The reinforcement of Malta’s hitherto neglected air defences was pressed forward in spite of losses and disappointments. Among the tasks of Admiral Somerville’s force at Gibraltar was the convoying of fighter aircraft in a carrier to within flying distance of Malta. The first of these efforts was made in the beginning of August, when twelve Hurricanes were flown into the island from the aircraft-carrier Argus. Until their arrival the air defence of Malta consisted of three Gladiators, known locally by the affectionate names of “Faith,” “Hope,” and “Charity.” We made a second attempt in November; but there was a tragedy. Nine aircraft out of fourteen, which had been launched from the Argus, four hundred miles to the westward of the island, ran out of fuel on the way through a change of wind, and perished at sea with their devoted pilots. Never again were the margins cut so fine, and though many similar operations took place in the future never did such a catastrophe recur.

It had also become necessary to find a way of sending aircraft to the Middle East which would avoid both the dangers of the Mediterranean and the fearful delay around the Cape. An overland route from West Africa would save many vital days and some shipping. The machines had either to be flown ashore from an aircraft-carrier, or dismantled and crated for the voyage and then reassembled at some port for their flight. The choice lay between Lagos and Takoradi.

After careful examination Takoradi was chosen, and as early as August 21, 1940, an operating party arrived. The course lay by Kano to Khartoum and eventually to Cairo, a total distance of 3700 miles. Considerable workshops and accommodation had to be built at Takoradi, and various refuelling and rest stations provided along the route. A dozen crated Hurricanes and Blenheims arrived by sea on September 5, followed next day by thirty Hurricanes landed from the carrier Argus. The first delivery flight left Takoradi on September 20 and arrived at Khartoum four days later. By the end of the year a trickle of a hundred and seven planes had reached Egypt in this way.

Although a quick start had been made, many months’ work were needed before the route was organised. The climate at Takoradi and the local malaria harassed the men erecting the crated aircraft. The use of the carriers was limited by other clamant needs. Weather hampered the air convoys. The number of aircraft unserviceable awaiting spares along the route piled up. The heavy wear on engines in their flight over vast barren sandy spaces reduced their fighting life. Terrible teething trouble had to be overcome. None of this aircraft supply was effective in 1940. But if we had not begun in good time the Army of the Nile and all its ventures could not have lived through the tragic events of 1941.

By the close of 1940, the British Navy had once more firmly established itself in the Mediterranean. The defences of Malta had been considerably strengthened by Admiral Somerville’s excursions to carry in A.A. and other equipment. Admiral Cunningham’s offensive policy in the Eastern Basin had also yielded excellent results. Everywhere, despite the Italian air strength, we held the initiative, and Malta remained in the foreground of events as an advanced base for offensive operations against the Italian communications with their forces in Africa.

September, like June, was a month of extreme opposing stresses for those who bore the responsibility for British war direction. The air battle, already described, on which all depended, raged with its greatest fury and rose steadily to its climax. The victory of the Royal Air Force on September 15 is seen now in retrospect to have marked its decisive turning-point. But this was not apparent at the time, nor could we tell whether even heavier attacks were not to be expected or how long they would go on. The fine weather facilitated daylight fighting on the largest scale. Hitherto we had welcomed this, but when I visited Air Vice-Marshal Park at Number 11 Group in the third week of September I noticed a slight but definite change in outlook. I asked about the weather, and was told it was set fair for some days to come. This, however, did not seem to be as popular a prospect as it had been at the beginning of the month. I had the distinct feeling that a break in the weather would no longer be regarded as a misfortune.

It happened while I was there in Park’s room with several officers that an officer brought in a notification from the Air Ministry that all supplies of De Wilde ammunition were exhausted. This was the favourite of the fighter pilots. The factory on which it depended had been bombed. I saw that this hit Park hard; but after a gulp and a pause he replied magnificently: “We fought them without it before, and we can fight them without it again.”

In my talks with Air Marshal Dowding, who usually motored over from Uxbridge to Chequers during the week-ends, the sense of Fighter Command being at its utmost strain was evident. The weekly figures over which I pored showed we had adequate numbers, provided the weight of the hostile attack did not increase. But the physical and mental stresses upon the pilots were not reflected on the paper charts. For all their sublime devotion, often facing odds of five and six to one, for all the sense of superiority which their continued success and the enemy’s heavy losses created, there are limits to human endurance. There is such a thing as sheer exhaustion, both of the spirit and the animal. I thought of Wellington’s mood in the afternoon of the Battle of Waterloo: “Would God that night or Bluecher would come.” This time we did not want Bluecher.

Meanwhile, all the evidences of impending German invasion multiplied. Upwards of three thousand self-propelled barges were counted on our air photographs in the Dutch, Belgian, and French ports and river mouths. We could not tell exactly what reserves of larger vessels might not be gathered in the Rhine estuary, or in the Baltic, from which the Kiel Canal was still open. In my examination of the invasion problem I have set forth the reasoning on which I based my confidence that we should beat them if they came, and consequently that they would not come, and continued to contemplate the issue with a steady gaze. All the same it was impossible to watch these growing preparations, week after week, in the photographs and reports of agents, without a sense of awe. A thing like this gets hold of you bit by bit. The terrible enemy would not come unless he had solid assurance of victory and plans made with German thoroughness. Might there not also be surprises? Might there be tank-landing craft or some clever improvisation of them? What else might there not be? All our night-bombing was concentrated on the invasion ports, where every night German rehearsal exercises of marching on and off the barges and other vessels seemed to be taking place. The results of our bombing of the masses of barges which crowded the basins or lay along the quays, judged by the photographs, had several times disappointed me.

As already mentioned, the Chiefs of Staff were on the whole of the opinion that invasion was imminent, while I was sceptical and expressed a contrary view. Nevertheless, it was impossible to quell that inward excitement which comes from the prolonged balancing of terrible things. Certainly we strained every nerve to be ready. Nothing was neglected that could be achieved by the care and ingenuity of our commanders, the vigilance of our now large and formidable armies, and the unquenchable and fearless spirit of our whole people.

The whole of our war production and its priorities now required to be reviewed in the light of our exclusion from the Continent. In this I worked in consultation with the Minister of Supply and others concerned. At the beginning of this month, after much labour in my small circle, and careful checking, I prepared for the Cabinet a general directive upon munitions, which was intended to govern our affairs in 1941.

This policy was generally accepted by my colleagues, and the action of all Departments conformed to it.

I found it necessary in October to add a further note about Priorities, which were a source of fierce contention between the different Departments, each striving to do its utmost.

By the middle of September the invasion menace seemed sufficiently glaring to arrest further movement of vital units to the East, especially as they had to go round the Cape. After a visit to the Dover sector, where the electric atmosphere was compulsive, I suspended for a few weeks the despatch of the New Zealanders and the remaining two tank battalions to the Middle East. At the same time I kept our three fast transports, “the Glen [Line] ships” as they were called, in hand for an emergency dash through the Mediterranean.

I was relieved by the results produced by the new Ministry of Aircraft Production.

Throughout the summer and autumn I wished to help the Secretary of State for War in his conflict with War Office and Army prejudices about the commandos, or storm troops.

The resistances of the War Office were obstinate, and increased as the professional ladder was descended. The idea that large bands of favoured “irregulars,” with their unconventional attire and free-and-easy bearing, should throw an implied slur on the efficiency and courage of the Regular battalions was odious to men who had given all their lives to the organised discipline of permanent units. The colonels of many of our finest regiments were aggrieved. “What is there they can do that my battalion cannot? This plan robs the whole Army of its prestige and of its finest men. We never had it in 1918. Why now?” It was easy to understand these feelings without sharing them. The War Office responded to their complaints. But I pressed hard.

Our anxieties about the Italian invasion of Egypt were, it now appears, far surpassed by those of Marshal Graziani, who commanded it. Ciano notes in his diary:

A month later, the Commander-in-Chief asked for a further month’s postponement. Mussolini, however, replied that if he did not attack on Monday he would be replaced. The Marshal answered that he would obey. “Never,” says Ciano, “has a military operation been undertaken so much against the will of the commanders.”

On September 13, the main Italian army began its long-expected advance across the Egyptian frontier. Their forces amounted to six infantry divisions and eight battalions of tanks. Our covering troops consisted of three battalions of infantry, one battalion of tanks, three batteries and two squadrons of armoured cars. They were ordered to make a fighting withdrawal, an operation for which their quality and desert-worthiness fitted them. The Italian attack opened with a heavy barrage of our positions near the frontier town of Sollum. When the dust and smoke cleared, the Italian forces were seen ranged in a remarkable order. In front were motor-cyclists in precise formation from flank to flank and front to rear; behind them were light tanks and many rows of mechanical vehicles. In the words of a British colonel, the spectacle resembled “a birthday party in the Long Valley at Aldershot.” The 3d Coldstream Guards, who confronted this imposing array, withdrew slowly, and our artillery took its toll of the generous targets presented to them.

Farther south two large enemy columns moved across the open desert south of the long ridge that runs parallel to the sea and could be crossed only at Halfaya—the “Hellfire Pass” which played its part in all our later battles. Each Italian column consisted of many hundreds of vehicles, with tanks, anti-tank guns, and artillery in front, and with lorried infantry in the centre. This formation, which was several times adopted, we called the “Hedgehog.” Our forces fell back before these great numbers, taking every opportunity to harass the enemy, whose movements seemed erratic and indecisive. Graziani afterwards explained that at the last moment he decided to change his plan of an enveloping desert movement and “concentrate all my forces on the left to make a lightning movement along the coast to Sidi Barrani.” Accordingly the great Italian mass moved slowly forward along the coast road by two parallel tracks. They attacked in waves of infantry carried in lorries, sent forward in fifties. The Coldstream Guards fell back skilfully at their convenience from Sollum to successive positions for four days, inflicting severe punishment as they went.

On the 17th, the Italian Army reached Sidi Barrani. Our casualties were forty killed and wounded, and the enemy’s about five times as many, including a hundred and fifty vehicles destroyed. Here, with their communications lengthened by sixty miles, the Italians settled down to spend the next three months. They were continually harassed by our small mobile columns, and suffered serious maintenance difficulties. Mussolini at first was “radiant with joy. He has taken the entire responsibility of the offensive on his shoulders,” says Ciano, “and is proud that he was right.” As the weeks lengthened into months, his satisfaction diminished. It seemed, however, certain to us in London that in two or three months an Italian army far larger than any we could gather would renew the advance to capture the Delta. And then there were always the Germans who might appear! We could not, of course, expect the long halt which followed Graziani’s advance. It was reasonable to suppose that a major battle would be fought at Mersa Matruh. The weeks that had already passed had enabled our precious armour to come round the Cape without the time-lag so far causing disadvantage. It was now approaching.

When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened. Certainly this is true of my life in September, 1940. The Germans were beaten in the Air Battle of Britain. The overseas invasion of Britain was not attempted. In fact, by this date Hitler had already turned his glare to the East. The Italians did not press their attack upon Egypt. The tank brigade sent all round the Cape arrived in good time, not indeed for a defensive battle of Mersa Matruh in September, but for a later operation incomparably more advantageous. We found means to reinforce Malta before any serious attack from the air was made upon it, and no one dared to try a landing upon the island fortress at any time. Thus September passed.

At this time His Majesty’s Government attached great importance to aiding General de Gaulle and the Free French to rally the African possessions and colonies of France, especially those upon the Atlantic coast. Our information was that a large portion of the French officers, officials, and traders in all these territories had not despaired. They were stunned by the sudden collapse of their motherland, but being still free from Hitler’s force and Pétain’s fraud were in no mood to surrender. To them General de Gaulle shone as a star in the pitch-black night. Distance gave them time, and time gave them opportunity.

Once it was clear that Casablanca was beyond our strength, my mind naturally turned to Dakar. In all this the small handling committee I formed to advise me personally on French affairs was convinced and active. On the evening of August 3, 1940, I sent my general approval from Chequers to a proposal for landing Free French forces in West Africa. General de Gaulle, Major-General Spears, and Major Morton had evolved a plan in outline, of which the object was to raise the Free French flag in West Africa, to occupy Dakar, and thus consolidate the French colonies in West and Equatorial Africa for General de Gaulle, and later to rally the French colonies in North Africa. General Catroux was to come from Indo-China to England and eventually take command of the French North African colonies, should these be liberated later on.

On August 4, the Chiefs of Staff Committee considered the details of this plan, as worked out further by the Joint Planning Sub-Committee, and drew up their report for the War Cabinet. The proposals of the Chiefs of Staff were based on the three following assumptions: first, that the force must be equipped and loaded so that it could land in any French West African port; secondly, that the expedition should consist entirely of Free French troops and have no British elements, except the ships in which it moved and their naval escort; thirdly, that the matter should be settled as between Frenchmen, so that the expedition would land without effective opposition.

The strength of the Free French force would be about twenty-five hundred men, comprising two battalions, a company of tanks, sections of artillery and engineers, and a bomber and a fighter flight, for which we should supply the Hurricanes. This force could be ready at Aldershot on August 10, and it was estimated that transports and storeships could sail from Liverpool on August 13 and troopships between the 19th and 23d, arriving at Dakar on the 28th, or at the other ports, Konakri and Duala, a few days later. The War Cabinet approved these proposals at their meeting on August 5.

It soon became clear that General de Gaulle required more British support than the Chiefs of Staff had contemplated. They represented to me that this would involve commitments larger and more enduring than those which had been foreseen, and also that the expedition was beginning to lose its Free French character. Our resources were at this time so severely strained that this extension could not be lightly accepted. However, on August 6, I conferred with General de Gaulle, and at 11 P.M. on August 7, I presided over a meeting of the Chiefs of Staff Committee on the project. It was agreed that the best place to land the Free French force was Dakar. I stated that the expedition must be sufficiently backed by British troops to ensure its success, and asked for a larger plan on these lines. The Chiefs of Staff dwelt upon the conflict between a policy of improving our relations with Vichy and our interests in marshalling the French colonies against Germany. They set forth the danger that General de Gaulle’s movement might lead to war with Metropolitan France and also with the French Colonies. If, nevertheless, reports from the Free French agents on the spot and from our own representatives in the area were favourable, they recommended that the expedition should go forward. Accordingly, in the early hours of August 8, I issued the following directive:

On August 13, I brought the matter before the War Cabinet, explaining that it went farther than the original plan of a purely French expedition. The details of a landing of six different parties at dawn on the beaches near Dakar and thus dispersing the efforts of the defenders, assuming there was opposition, were examined by my colleagues. The War Cabinet approved the plan, subject to consideration by the Foreign Secretary upon the chances of Vichy France declaring war. Measuring the situation as far as I could, I did not believe this would happen. I had now become set upon this venture. I approved the appointment of Vice-Admiral John Cunningham and Major-General Irwin as the commanders of the expedition. They visited me at Chequers on the night of August 12, and we went through all the aspects of this doubtful and complex affair. I drafted their instructions myself.

I thus undertook in an exceptional degree the initiation and advocacy of the Dakar expedition, to which the code name “Menace” was assigned. Of this, although I cannot feel we were well served on all occasions and certainly had bad luck, I never at any time repented. Dakar was a prize; rallying the French colonial empire a greater. There was a fair chance of gaining these results without bloodshed, and I felt in my finger-tips that Vichy France would not declare war. The stubborn resistance of Britain, the stern mood of the United States, had lit new hope in French hearts. If we won, Vichy could shrug its shoulders. If we lost, they could trade off their resistance with their German masters as a virtue. The most serious danger was prolonged fighting. But these were days in which far more serious risks were the commonplaces of our daily life. I conceived that our resources, albeit strained to the last inch and ounce, could just manage it. With invasion looming up ever nearer and more imminent, we had not shrunk from sending half our tanks to Wavell for the defence of Egypt. Compared to that, this was a pup. Our national War Cabinet, Tory, Labour, and Liberal, were hard, resolute men imbued with an increasing sense of playing a winning hand. So all the orders were given, and everything went forward under unchallengeable authority.

Our two dangers were now delay and leakage, and the first aggravated the second. At this time the Free French forces in England were a band of exiled heroes in arms against the reigning Government of their country. They were ready to fire on their own fellow-countrymen, and accept the sinking of French warships by British guns. Their leaders lay under sentence of death. Who can wonder at, still less blame them for a tenseness of emotion or even for indiscretion? The War Cabinet could give orders to our own troops without anyone but the commanders and the Chiefs of Staff circle having to be informed of our intentions. But General de Gaulle had to carry his gallant band of Frenchmen with him. Many got to know, Dakar became common talk among the French troops. At a dinner in a Liverpool restaurant French officers toasted “Dakar!” Our assault landing craft had to travel on trolleys across England from near Portsmouth to Liverpool, and their escort wore tropical kit. We were all in our wartime infancy. The sealing of the island was not to be compared with what we achieved later in the supreme operations of “Torch” and “Overlord.”

Then there were delays. We had hoped to strike on September 8, but now it appeared that the main force must first go to Freetown to refuel and make their final poise. The plan was based upon the French troopships reaching Dakar in sixteen days at twelve knots. It was found, however, that the ships carrying the mechanical transport could only make eight to nine knots, and this discovery was reported only at a stage of loading when the time lost in reloading into faster ships offered no gain. In all ten days’ delay from the original date became inevitable: five days for the miscalculation of the speed of the ships, three days for unforeseen loading troubles, two days for the refuelling at Freetown. We must now be content with September 18.

I presided over a meeting of the Chiefs of the Staff and General de Gaulle on August 20 at 10.30 P.M., and am on record as summing up the plan as follows:

On the 22d we met again, and a letter was read from the Foreign Secretary to me disclosing a leakage of information. Exactly what this leakage amounted to, no one could tell. The advantage of sea-power used offensively is that when a fleet sails no one can be sure where it is going to strike. The seas are broad and the oceans broader. Tropical kit was a clue no more definite than the Continent of Africa. The wife of a Frenchman in Liverpool, who was suspected of Vichy contacts, was known to be convinced that the Mediterranean was the destination of the troopships which were gathering in the Mersey. Even the word “Dakar,” if bruited carelessly, might be a blind. Such forms of “cover” were carried to remarkable refinements as we became more experienced and wily. I was worried by the delays and beat against them. As to the leakage, none could tell. At any rate, on August 27 the Cabinet gave their final general approval for going ahead. Our target date was then September 19.

At 6.24 P.M. on September 9, the British Consul-General at Tangier cabled to Admiral North, commanding the Atlantic station, “a shore appointment at Gibraltar,” and repeated to the Foreign Office:

The Admiral was not in the Dakar circle, and took no special action. The telegram was repeated from Tangier simultaneously to the Foreign Office and received at 7.50 A.M. on the 10th. At this time we were under almost continuous bombardment in London. Owing to the recurrent stoppages of work through the air raids, arrears had accumulated in the cipher branch. The message was not marked “Important,” and was deciphered only in its turn. It was not ready for distribution until September 14, when at last it reached the Admiralty.

But we had a second string. At 6 P.M. on September 10, the British Naval Attaché in Madrid was officially informed by the French Admiralty that three French cruisers, type Georges Leygues, and three destroyers, had left Toulon and intended to pass the Straits of Gibraltar on the morning of the 11th. This was the normal procedure accepted at this time by the Vichy Government, and was a measure of prudence taken by them only at the latest moment. The British Naval Attaché reported at once to the Admiralty and also to Admiral North at Gibraltar. The signal was received in the Admiralty at 11.50 P.M. on September 10. It was deciphered and sent to the Duty Captain, who passed it on to the Director of Operations Division (Foreign). It should have been obvious to this officer, who was himself fully informed of the Dakar expedition, that the message was of decisive importance. He took no instant action on it, but let it go forward in the ordinary way with the First Sea Lord’s telegrams. For this mistake he received in due course the expression of their lordships’ displeasure.

However, the destroyer Hotspur, on patrol in the Mediterranean, sighted the French ships at 5.15 A.M. on September 11, fifty miles to the east of Gibraltar, and reported to Admiral North. Admiral Somerville, who commanded Force “H,” which was based on Gibraltar, had also received a copy of the Naval Attaché’s signal at eight minutes past midnight that same morning. He brought the Renown to one hour’s notice for steam at 7 A.M. and awaited instructions from the Admiralty. In consequence of the error in the Director of Operations Division, and of the delay at the Foreign Office upon the other message from the Consul-General, the First Sea Lord knew nothing about the passage of the French warships till Hotspur’s signal was brought to him during the Chiefs of Staff meeting before the Cabinet. He at once telephoned the Admiralty to order Renown and her destroyers to raise steam. This had already been done. He then came to the War Cabinet. But through the coincidence of this failure of two separate communications—one from the Consul-General in Tangier and the other from the Naval Attaché in Madrid—and through lack of appreciation in various quarters, all was too late. If the Consul-General had marked the first passage Important, or if either of the admirals at Gibraltar, even though not in the secret, had so considered it themselves, or if the Foreign Office had been working normally, or if the Director of Operations had given the second message the priority which would have ensured the First Sea Lord’s being woken up to read it immediately, the Renown could have stopped and parleyed with the French squadron pending decisive orders, which would certainly have been given by the War Cabinet or, till they could be summoned, by me.

In the event all our network of arrangements broke down, and three French cruisers and three destroyers passed the Straits at full speed (twenty-five knots) at 8.35 A.M. on the 11th and turned southward down the African coast. The War Cabinet, on being apprised, instantly instructed the First Lord to order the Renown to get in touch with the French ships, ask for their destination, and make it clear that they would not be allowed to proceed to any German-occupied ports. If they replied that they were going south, they were to be told they could proceed to Casablanca, and in this case they were to be shadowed. If they tried to go beyond Casablanca to Dakar, they were to be stopped. But the cruisers were never caught. A haze lay over Casablanca on the 12th and 13th. One of the reconnoitring British aircraft was shot down; reports about the presence of additional warships in Casablanca Harbour were conflicting; and the Renown and her destroyers waited all day and night south of Casablanca to intercept the French squadron. At 4.20 on the afternoon of the 13th, the Renown received an air report that there were no cruisers in Casablanca. In fact, they were already far to the southward, steaming for Dakar at full speed.

There seemed, however, to be still another chance. Our expedition and its powerful escort was by now itself south of Dakar, approaching Freetown. At 12.16 A.M. on September 14, the Admiralty signalled to Admiral John Cunningham telling him that the French cruisers had left Casablanca at a time unknown and ordering him to prevent them entering Dakar. He was to use every ship available, including the Cumberland; and the Ark Royal should operate her aircraft without a destroyer screen if this were unavoidable. The cruisers Devonshire, Australia, and Cumberland and the Ark Royal thereupon turned back at maximum speed to establish a patrol line to the north of Dakar. They did not reach their stations until evening on September 14. The French squadron was already anchored in the port with awnings spread.

This chapter of accidents sealed the fate of the Franco-British expedition to Dakar. I had no doubt whatever that the enterprise should be abandoned. The whole scheme of a bloodless landing and occupation by General de Gaulle seemed to me ruined by the arrival of the French squadron, probably carrying reinforcements, good gunners, and bitter-minded Vichy officers, to decide the Governor, to pervert the garrison and man the batteries. It was possible, however, to cancel the plan without any loss of prestige, so important to us at this time, and indeed without anyone knowing anything about it. The expedition could be diverted to Duala and cover General de Gaulle’s operations against the French Cameroons, and thereafter the ships and transports could be dispersed or return home.

Accordingly, at the meeting of the War Cabinet at noon on September 16, after outlining the history of the Dakar operation from its inception, the serious results of the postponement of the date, originally fixed for September 13, the leakage of information from various sources, and the misfortune of the French warships having slipped through the Straits, I declared that the whole situation was altered and that the operation was now out of the question. The Cabinet adopted my advice, and the following orders were despatched to the Dakar force at 2 P.M. that day:

The expedition arrived at Freetown on September 17. All the leaders reacted vehemently against the idea of abandoning the enterprise. The Admiral and the General argued that until it was known to what extent the arrival of the Vichy cruisers had raised local morale their presence did not materially alter the previous naval situation. At present, they said, the cruisers had awnings spread, and two were so berthed as to be virtually impotent, while presenting excellent bombing targets.

Here was another twist in the situation. It was very rare at this stage in the war for commanders on the spot to press for audacious courses. Usually the pressure to run risks came from home. In this case the General, General Irwin, had carefully put all his misgivings on paper before he started. I was, therefore, agreeably surprised at the evident zeal to put this complicated and semi-political operation to the test. If the men on the spot thought it was a time to do and dare, we should certainly give them a free hand. I therefore sent at 11.52 P.M. on September 16 the following:

There soon arrived a vehement protest from General de Gaulle, who wished to carry out the plan.

The War Cabinet met for the second time on the 17th at 9 P.M. Everyone was agreed to let the commanders go ahead as they wished. Final decision was postponed till noon the next day, it being plain that no time was being lost, as there was still nearly a week before the blow could be struck. At the request of the Cabinet, I drafted the following message to the commanders of the Dakar force:

There was nothing to do now but await results. On the 19th, the First Sea Lord reported that the French squadron, or parts of it, were leaving Dakar for the south. This made it pretty clear that it had carried Vichy-minded troops, technicians, and authorities to Dakar. The probabilities of a vigorous resistance were increased out of all proportion to the new forces involved. There would certainly be sharp fighting. My colleagues, who were tough, and also nimble to change with circumstances, as is right in war, shared my instinct to let things rip, and the various reports were heard in silence.

On the 20th, Admiral Pound told us that the French cruiser Primauguet, intercepted by the Cornwall and Delhi, had agreed to go to Casablanca and was now being escorted thither. The three French warships sighted by the Australia turned out to be the cruisers Georges Leygues, Montcalm, and Gloire. At noon on the 19th, the Australia had been joined by the Cumberland, and they continued to shadow the Vichy ships till evening. These now turned to the northward and increased their speed from fifteen to thirty-one knots. A chase ensued. We were not able to overtake them. At 9.0 P.M., however, the Gloire had an engine breakdown and could steam no more than fifteen knots. Her captain agreed to return to Casablanca, escorted by the Australia. This pair were due to pass Dakar about midnight, and the captain of the Australia told the Gloire that if he were attacked by submarines he would at once sink her. She no doubt spoke to Dakar, and all passed off pleasantly. The Cumberland, shadowing the other two Vichy warships, lost touch in a heavy rainstorm, and both, though sighted, got back into Dakar without fire being made upon them. The Poitiers, when challenged at sea on the 17th, had already scuttled herself.

It is not necessary here to narrate in detail all that happened during the three days in which Dakar was attacked. These deserve their place in military chronicles, and are a further good example of bad luck. The meteorologists at the Air Ministry had, of course, carefully studied climatic conditions on the West African coast. A long survey of records reveals uniform, regular bright sunlight and clear weather at this season of the year. On September 23, when the Anglo-French armada approached the fortress, with de Gaulle and his French ships well in the van, fog reigned supreme. We had hoped, since the great majority of the population, French and native, was on our side, that the appearance of all these ships with the British lying far back on the horizon would have decided the action of the Governor. It soon proved, however, that the Vichy partisans were masters, and there can be no doubt that the arrival of the cruisers with their troops had blotted out any hope of Dakar joining the Free French movement. De Gaulle’s two aeroplanes landed on the local airfield, and their pilots were immediately arrested. One of them had on his person a list of the leading Free French adherents. De Gaulle’s emissaries, sent under the Tricolour and the white flag, were rebuffed, and others who entered later in a launch were fired upon and one of them wounded. All hearts were hardened, and the British Fleet approached through the mist to within five thousand yards. At 10 A.M. a harbour battery opened fire on one of our wing destroyers. The fire was returned, and the engagement soon became general. The destroyers Inglefield and Foresight were slightly damaged, and the Cumberland was struck in the engine-room and had to quit. One French submarine was bombed by an aircraft at periscope depth, and one French destroyer set on fire.

There is an age-long argument about ships versus forts. Nelson said that a six-gun battery could fight a hundred-gun ship-of-the-line. Mr. Balfour, in the Dardanelles inquiry, said in 1916, “If the ship has guns which can hit the fort at ranges where the fort cannot reply, the duel is not necessarily so unequal.” On this occasion the British Fleet, with proper spotting, could in theory engage, and after a certain number of rounds destroy, the Dakar batteries of 9.4-inch guns at 27,000 yards. But the Vichy forces had at this time also the battleship Richelieu, which proved capable of firing two-gun salvos from fifteen-inch artillery. This had to be taken into account by the British Admiral. Above all there was the fog. The firing, therefore, died away at about 11.30, and all British and Free French ships retired.

In the afternoon General de Gaulle tried to land his troops at Rufisque, but the fog and the confusion had now become so dense that the attempt was abandoned. By 4.30 P.M. the commanders decided to withdraw the troopships and resume the operation next day. The signal with this information reached London at 7.19 P.M., and I thereupon sent the following personal message to the commander timed at fourteen minutes past ten o’clock on September 23:

An ultimatum was sent that night to the Governor of Dakar, to which reply was made that he would defend the fortress to the last. The commanders answered that they intended continuing the operation. Visibility was better than on the previous day, but still poor. The shore batteries opened on our ships as they closed, and Barham and Resolution engaged Richelieu at 13,600 yards. Shortly afterwards Devonshire and Australia engaged a cruiser and a destroyer, damaging the latter. The bombardment ended at about ten o’clock, by which time Richelieu had been hit by a fifteen-inch shell, as also had Fort Manuel, and a light cruiser was on fire. Moreover, one enemy submarine, which had tried to interfere with our approach, had been forced to the surface by a depth charge, the crew surrendering. None of our ships was hit. In the afternoon the bombardment was renewed for a short time. On this occasion Barham was hit four times without serious damage. The bombardment was inconclusive except to indicate that the defences were strong and the garrison determined to resist.

On September 25, the action was resumed. The weather was clear, and our fleet bombarded at 21,000 yards’ range, when they were replied to, not only by the very accurate coastal batteries, but by double salvos from the fifteen-inch guns of the Richelieu. A smoke-screen used by the Dakar commander baffled our aim. Soon after 9 A.M. the battleship Resolution was hit by a torpedo from a Vichy submarine. After this the Admiral decided to withdraw to seaward, “in view of the condition of the Resolution, the continued danger from submarines, and the great accuracy and determination of the shore defences.”

Meanwhile, the Defence Committee, which met at 10 A.M. without me, had formed the opinion that no pressure should be brought to bear on the commanders to take any action against their better judgment. The Cabinet met at 11.30 A.M. and news of the results of the morning’s operations reached us during the meeting. On these tidings it seemed clear that the matter had been pressed as far as prudence and our resources would allow. Several good ships had been severely damaged. It was obvious that Dakar would be defended to the death. No one could be sure that the fierce passions of protracted fighting would not provoke a French declaration of war from Vichy. We, therefore, after a painful discussion, were all agreed to push no more.

Accordingly I sent the following telegram (1.27 P.M., September 25) to the commanders:

In the three days’ bombardment no British ships were sunk, but the battleship Resolution was disabled for several months, and two destroyers sustained damage which required considerable repairs in home dockyards. Two Vichy submarines were sunk, the crew of one being saved, two destroyers were burnt out and beached, and the battleship Richelieu was hit by a fifteen-inch shell and damaged by two near misses of two-hundred-fifty-pound bombs. There was, of course, no means at Dakar of repairing this formidable vessel, which had already been rendered temporarily immobile in July, and it could now be definitely dismissed as a hostile factor from our calculations.

It is interesting to note the changes of rôle of the War Cabinet and of its commanders in the enterprise. The commanders were at first by no means enthusiastic, and General Irwin protected himself by a lengthy reasoned memorandum to the V.C.I.G.S. in which all the difficulties were stressed. After the expedition had got south of the Canary Islands, the French cruiser squadron, with its reinforcements of Vichy partisans, carrying with it in physical as well as moral form the authority of the French Republic, slipped through the Straits of Gibraltar. I had no doubt from that moment that the situation had been transformed; and the War Cabinet on my advice, supported by the Chiefs of the Staff, agreed that we should stop the enterprise while time remained and no loss had been incurred, and no failure would be exposed.

Then the commanders on the spot came forward with their strong desire to take action, and the War Cabinet, quite rightly in my view, felt that the commanders should be the judges and be given a free hand. Accordingly the attempt was made, and it was immediately apparent, by the efficient and vehement resistance of Dakar, that the War Cabinet were right and rightly advised.

Although the fighting at Dakar had been far more serious than had been expected, we were not wrong in our judgment that the Vichy Government would not declare war upon Great Britain. They contented themselves with air retaliation upon Gibraltar from North Africa. On September 24 and 25, successive raids were made upon the harbour and dockyard; in the first, fifty bombs were dropped, and in the second, in which about a hundred aircraft took part, four times as many. The French aviators did not seem to have their hearts in the business, and most of the bombs fell in the sea. Damage was negligible and no one was hurt. Our anti-aircraft batteries shot down three aircraft. Fighting at Dakar having ended in a Vichy success, the incident was tacitly treated as “quits.”

No blame attached to the British naval and military commanders, and both were constantly employed until the end of the war, the Admiral attaining the highest distinction. It was one of my rules that errors towards the enemy must be lightly judged. They were quite right to try, if with their knowledge on the spot they thought they could carry the matter through; and the fact that they underestimated the effect produced on the Vichy garrison by the arrival of the cruisers and their reinforcements was in no way counted against them. Of General de Gaulle I said in the House of Commons that his conduct and bearing on this occasion had made my confidence in him greater than ever.

The story of the Dakar episode deserves close study, because it illustrates in a high degree not only the unforeseeable accidents of war, but the interplay of military and political forces, and the difficulties of combined operations, especially where allies are involved. To the world at large it seemed a glaring example of miscalculation, confusion, timidity, and muddle. In the United States, where special interest was taken on account of the proximity of Dakar to the American continent, there was a storm of unfavourable criticism. The Australian Government was distressed. At home there were many complaints of faulty war direction. I decided, however, that no explanations should be offered, and Parliament respected my wish.^[3]

In retrospect a brighter view may perhaps be taken of these events. Students of naval history may be struck by the resemblance of this affair to one which occurred nearly three centuries ago. In 1655, Cromwell despatched a joint naval and military expedition to seize San Domingo, in the West Indies. The attack did not succeed, but the commanders, instead of returning empty-handed, turned failure into success by going on to capture Jamaica.

Although we failed at Dakar, we succeeded in arresting the onward progress of the French cruisers and frustrating their determined efforts to suborn the garrisons in French Equatorial Africa. Within a fortnight General de Gaulle was enabled to establish himself at Duala, in the Cameroons, which became a rallying-point for the Free French cause. Free French activities in these regions played their part, not only in halting the penetration of the Vichy virus, but in making possible, through their control of Central Africa, the later development of our transcontinental air transport route from Takoradi to the Middle East.

October, 1940

At the beginning of October, Mr. Chamberlain’s health got far worse. The exploratory operation to which he had subjected himself in September and from which he had returned so courageously to duty had revealed to the doctors that he was suffering from cancer and that there was no surgical remedy. He now became aware of the truth and that he would never be able to return to his work. He therefore placed his resignation in my hands. In view of the pressure of events, I felt it necessary to make the changes in the Government which have been mentioned in an earlier chapter. Sir John Anderson became Lord President of the Council and presided over the Home Affairs Committee of the Cabinet. Mr. Herbert Morrison succeeded him as Home Secretary and Minister of Home Security, and Sir Andrew Duncan became Minister of Supply. These changes were effective on October 3.

Mr. Chamberlain also thought it right to resign the leadership of the Conservative Party, and I was invited to take his place. I had to ask myself the question—about which there may still be various opinions—whether the leadership of one great party was compatible with the position I held from King and Parliament as Prime Minister of an Administration composed of and officially supported by all parties. I had no doubt about the answer. The Conservative Party possessed a very large majority in the House of Commons over all other parties combined. Owing to the war conditions no election appeal to the nation was available in case of disagreement or deadlock. I should have found it impossible to conduct the war if I had had to procure the agreement in the compulsive days of crisis and during long years of adverse and baffling struggle, not only of the leaders of the two minority parties, but of the leader of the Conservative majority. Whoever had been chosen and whatever his self-denying virtues, he would have had the real political power. For me there would have been only the executive responsibility.

These arguments do not apply in the same degree in time of peace; but I do not feel I could have borne such a trial successfully in war. Moreover, in dealing with the Labour and Liberal Parties in the coalition, it was always an important basic fact that as Prime Minister and at this time leader of the largest party, I did not depend upon their votes and I could in the ultimate issue carry on in Parliament without them. I therefore accepted the position of leader of the Conservative Party which was pressed upon me, and I am sure that without it, and all the steady loyalties which attached to it, I should not have been able to discharge my task until victory was won. Lord Halifax, who was the most probable alternative choice of the party if I had declined, himself proposed the motion, which was unanimously adopted.

The summer had crashed its way along with massive, rending shocks, but with growing assurance of survival. Autumn and winter plunged us into a maze of complications, less mortal but more puzzling. The invasion challenge had definitely weakened. The Battle of Britain in the air was won. We had bent the German beam. Our Home Army and Home Guard had grown vastly more powerful. The equinoctial gales of October stretched rough, capricious hands across the Channel and the Narrow Seas. All the arguments from which I had formerly drawn comfort were justified and strengthened. In the Far East the danger of a Japanese declaration of war seemed to have receded. They had waited to see what would happen about the invasion; and nothing had happened. The Japanese war lords had looked for a certainty. But certainties are rare in war. If they had not thought it worth while to strike in July, why should they do so now when the life of the British Empire burned brighter and fiercer and world conditions were less favourable to them? We felt ourselves strong enough to reopen the Burma Road when its three months’ closure had elapsed. The Japanese were experienced in sea war, and probably thought about it along the same lines as the British Admiralty. Nonetheless, it was not without anxiety that the decision to open the Burma Road and allow supplies to flow along it into China was taken. In this broad measurement of the unknowable our judgment was not proved wrong.

I was glad to telegraph to the President news which I was sure would be agreeable to him and to the United States.

These welcome events at opposite ends of the world cleared the way for stronger action in the Middle East. Every nerve had to be strained to make headway against Italy, whose movements were slower than I had expected. Strong reinforcements had reached General Wavell. The two tank regiments had arrived in the desert. General Maitland-Wilson, who commanded the “Army of the Nile,” as it was now called, formed a high opinion of the possibilities of the “Matildas,” as the infantry or “I” tanks were nicknamed by the troops. Our defence position at Mersa Matruh was now far more solid, and—though this I did not yet know—new thoughts began to stir in Staff and planning circles at the Middle East Headquarters. Obviously our next main task was to strengthen our forces in the Middle East, and especially in the Western Desert, both from Britain and from India.

I was still in argument with the Admiralty about military convoys attempting the passage of the Mediterranean, I saying, “You can now see that we ought to have tried it,” and they, “There was not so much hurry after all.” I still remained extremely dissatisfied with the distribution of our forces already in the Middle East, and with the disparity, as I judged it, between ration and fighting strength. I feared greatly for Malta. I pressed General Wavell and the Secretary of State, both directly and through the Chiefs of Staff, on all these points. To Mr. Eden I wrote:

I was in such close agreement with the Secretary of State for War, and felt so much the need of having our views put forward on the spot, instead of through endless telegrams, that I now asked him whether he would not make a personal inspection of the Middle East. He was delighted, and started immediately. He made a thorough tour of the whole theatre. In his absence I took over the War Office.

I also at this time laid the whole military situation as I saw it before the Chiefs of Staff.

Meanwhile, Mr. Eden was on his journey. He “was deeply impressed with the rapid progress in recent work on the defences of Gibraltar,” which he said had “been driven forward with energy, determination, and ingenuity.” The morale of the troops was high and the garrison confident. He was more anxious about the position at Malta, and pressed for at least another battalion and a battery of twenty-five-pounders, together, of course, with continued air reinforcements. The Governor, General Dobbie, thought it important that an offensive policy which would provoke retaliation should be avoided at Malta until April, 1941, by which time the various programmes of reinforcement in aircraft and anti-aircraft guns would be fulfilled.

On the 15th, Mr. Eden reached Cairo. He held searching discussions with Generals Wavell and Maitland-Wilson, who commanded the Desert Army. There was good confidence about repelling an Italian offensive. General Wilson estimated that the maximum strength the Italians could deploy against Matruh was three divisions, the limiting factors being maintenance, particularly water, and communications. Against this he had the 7th Armoured Division, with its newly arrived tank regiments, the 4th Indian Division, the Matruh garrison of five rifle battalions, a machine-gun battalion, and eight or nine batteries. The 16th British Brigade Group and the New Zealand Brigade Group had arrived from Palestine. An Australian Brigade Group lay west of Alexandria; a second Australian brigade was moving thither. There was also a Polish brigade. The concentration of these forces, wrote Eden, was considered by General Wilson to be sufficient to meet the threat of the enemy and to enable him to defeat it, provided he was assured of adequate air support. Eden added that inundations for which I had asked had been carried out and anti-tank obstacles created. He sent a lengthy list of requirements, particularly aircraft. This last was easier asked for than given at the time when the bombing of London was rising to its peak. He urged that a company of “I” tanks should be included in the November convoy, destination Port Soudan, in order to take the offensive against the Italian threat from Kassala on the Blue Nile.

Eden also raised at Cairo a pertinent question: What action would be taken by our forces, supposing the Italian attack did not take place? Upon this the generals first spoke of their own offensive hopes. Eden cabled:

Although no reference had been made in the Secretary of State for War’s telegram to our taking the offensive, I was very glad to learn all the good news, and urged him to continue his inspection.

Eden further arranged for a Turkish Mission to join our Army, and proposed to General Smuts a meeting at Khartoum to discuss the whole situation, and particularly our Soudan offensive project, and my complaints about the overcrowding in Kenya. This meeting was fixed for October 28, a date which later acquired significance. I need scarcely add that requests for all kinds of equipment, including ten thousand rifles to aid the rebellion in Abyssinia, and above all for anti-tank guns, anti-tank rifles, anti-aircraft batteries and air reinforcements, flowed to us in a broadening stream. We did our utmost to meet these needs at the expense of home defence at this time. There was not half enough for everybody, and whatever was given to one man had to be denied or taken from another also in danger. Mr. Eden proposed to fly back by Lagos immediately after his conference at Khartoum, preferring to make a full verbal report of all he had seen and done. I was so much encouraged by the picture as to become hungry for a turn to the offensive in the Western Desert. I therefore telegraphed to him:

Thus on the main issue our minds at home and on the spot were moving forward in harmony.

In spite of the Armistice and Oran and the ending of our diplomatic relations with Vichy, I never ceased to feel a unity with France. People who have not been subjected to the personal stresses which fell upon prominent Frenchmen in the awful ruin of their country should be careful in their judgments of individuals. It is beyond the scope of this story to enter the maze of French politics. But I felt sure that the French nation would do its best for the common cause according to the facts presented to it. When they were told that their only salvation lay in following the advice of the illustrious Marshal Pétain, and that England, which had given them so little help, would soon be conquered or give in, very little choice was offered to the masses. But I was sure they wanted us to win, and that nothing would give them more joy than to see us continue the struggle with vigour. It was our first duty to give loyal support to General de Gaulle in his valiant constancy. On August 7, I signed a military agreement with him which dealt with practical needs. His stirring addresses were made known to France and the world by the British broadcasts. The sentence of death which the Pétain Government passed upon him glorified his name. We did everything in our power to aid him and magnify his movement.

At the same time it was necessary to keep in touch not only with France, but even with Vichy. I therefore always tried to make the best of them. I was very glad when at the end of the year the United States sent an Ambassador to Vichy of so much influence and character as Admiral Leahy, who was himself so close to the President. I repeatedly encouraged Mr. Mackenzie King to keep his representative, the skilful and accomplished M. Dupuy, at Vichy. Here at least was a window upon a courtyard to which we had no other access. On July 25, I sent a Minute to the Foreign Secretary in which I said:

It was in this spirit that I was to receive in October a certain M. Rougier, who represented himself as acting on the personal instructions of Marshal Pétain. This was not because I or my colleagues had any respect for Marshal Pétain, but only because no road that led to France should be incontinently barred. Our consistent policy was to make the Vichy Government and its members feel that, so far as we were concerned, it was never too late to mend. Whatever had happened in the past, France was our comrade in tribulation, and nothing but actual war between us should prevent her being our partner in victory.

This mood was hard upon de Gaulle, who had risked all and kept the flag flying, but whose handful of followers outside France could never claim to be an effective alternative French Government. Nevertheless, we did our utmost to increase his influence, authority, and power. He for his part naturally resented any kind of truck on our part with Vichy, and thought we ought to be exclusively loyal to him. He also felt it to be essential to his position before the French people that he should maintain a proud and haughty demeanour towards “perfidious Albion,” although an exile dependent upon our protection and dwelling in our midst. He had to be rude to the British to prove to French eyes that he was not a British puppet. He certainly carried out this policy with perseverance. He even one day explained this technique to me, and I fully comprehended the extraordinary difficulties of his problem. I always admired his massive strength.

On October 21, I made an appeal by radio to the French people. I took great pains to prepare this short address, as it had to be given in French. I was not satisfied with the literal translation at first provided, which did not give the spirit of what I could say in English and could feel in French, but M. Dejean, one of the Free French Staff in London, made a far better rendering, which I rehearsed several times and delivered from the basement of the Annexe, amid the crashes of an air raid.

There is no doubt that this appeal went home to the hearts of millions of Frenchmen, and to this day I am reminded of it by men and women of all classes in France, who always treat me with the utmost kindness in spite of the hard things I had to do—sometimes to them—for our common salvation.

Indeed it was necessary to insist upon essentials. We could not relax the blockade of Europe, and particularly of France, while they remained under Hitler’s domination. Although from time to time to meet American wishes we allowed a few specified ships with medical stores to pass into Unoccupied France, we did not hesitate to stop and search all other ships seeking or coming out of French ports. Whatever Vichy might do for good or ill, we would not abandon de Gaulle or discourage accessions to his growing colonial domain. Above all we would not allow any portion of the French Fleet, now immobilised in French colonial harbours, to return to France. There were times when the Admiralty were deeply concerned lest France should declare war and thus add to their many cares. I always believed that once we had proved our resolve and ability to fight on indefinitely the spirit of the French people would never allow the Vichy Government to take so unnatural a step. Indeed, there was by now a strong enthusiasm and comradeship for Britain, and French hopes grew as the months passed. This was recognised even by M. Laval when he presently became Foreign Minister to Marshal Pétain.

As the autumn drew into winter I was concerned with the danger of the two great French battleships attempting to make their way back to Toulon, where they could be completed. President Roosevelt’s envoy, Admiral Leahy, had established intimate relations with Marshal Pétain. It was to Roosevelt, therefore, that I turned, and not in vain.

The President in consequence sent a very severe personal message to the Pétain Government about the Toulon Fleet. “The fact,” he said, “that a Government is a prisoner of war of another Power does not justify such a prisoner in serving its conqueror in operations against its former ally.” He reminded the Marshal of the solemn assurances he had received that the French Fleet would not be surrendered. If the French Government attempted to permit the Germans to use the French Fleet in hostile operations against the British Fleet, such action would constitute a flagrant and deliberate breach of faith with the United States Government. Any agreement of that character would most definitely wreck the traditional friendship between the French and American peoples. It would create a wave of bitter indignation against France in American public opinion and would permanently end all American aid to the French people. If France pursued such a policy the United States could make no effort when the proper time came to secure for France the retention of her oversea possessions.

At this time the Admiralty were so deeply concerned about the dangers of a rupture with Vichy that they were inclined to underrate the disadvantages of letting the two French battleships return to Toulon. On this I gave directions.

On November 13, the President replied to my message of the 10th about the possible transfer of the Jean Bart and Richelieu to the Mediterranean for completion. He had immediately instructed the American Chargé d’Affaires at Vichy to obtain a confirmation or denial of this report and to point out that it was of vital interest to the Government of the United States that these vessels should remain in stations where they would not be exposed to control or seizure by a Power which might employ them to ends in conflict with the interests of the United States in the future of the French Fleet. Any such step on the part of France would inevitably seriously prejudice Franco-American relations. He also offered to buy the ships from the French Government if they would sell them.

The President also informed me that Pétain had stated to the American Chargé d’Affaires that the most solemn assurances had been given by him that the French Fleet, including the two battleships, would never fall into the hands of Germany. The Marshal said he had given those assurances to the United States Government, to the British Government, and even to me personally.

Marshal Pétain had made this statement with great seriousness, but with no sign of either surprise or resentment at the suggestion. President Roosevelt had further instructed the Chargé d’Affaires to inform Marshal Pétain that the American offer remained open both about these vessels as well as about any others in the French Navy.

On November 23, the President sent me further reassurances. Marshal Pétain had stated categorically that he would keep the vessels now at Dakar and Casablanca where they were, and that if there was any change in this plan he would give the President previous notice.

The attitude of Spain was of even more consequence to us than that of Vichy, with which it was so closely linked. Spain had much to give and even more to take away. We had been neutral in the sanguinary Spanish Civil War. General Franco owed little or nothing to us, but much—perhaps life itself—to the Axis Powers. Hitler and Mussolini had come to his aid. He disliked and feared Hitler. He liked and did not fear Mussolini. At the beginning of the World War, Spain had declared, and since then strictly observed, neutrality. A fertile and needful trade flowed between our two countries, and the iron ore from Biscayan ports was important for our munitions. But now in May the “Twilight War” was over. The might of Nazi Germany was proved. The French front was broken. The Allied armies of the North were in peril. It was at this moment that I had gladly offered to a former colleague, displaced by the Ministerial changes, a new sphere of responsibility, for which his gifts and temperament were suited. On May 17 Sir Samuel Hoare had been appointed Ambassador to Spain, and certainly I believe that no one could have carried out better this wearing, delicate, and cardinal five years’ mission. Thus we were very well represented at Madrid, not only by the Ambassador and by the Counsellor of the Embassy, Mr. Arthur Yencken,^[2] but also by the Naval Attaché, Captain Hillgarth, who had retired from the Navy and lived in Majorca, but now returned to duty equipped with profound knowledge of Spanish affairs.

General Franco’s policy throughout the war was entirely selfish and cold-blooded. He thought only of Spain and Spanish interests. Gratitude to Hitler and Mussolini for their help never entered his head. Nor, on the other hand, did he bear any grudge to England for the hostility of our Left-Wing parties. This narrow-minded tyrant only thought about keeping his blood-drained people out of another war. They had had enough of war. A million men had been slaughtered by their brothers’ hands. Poverty, high prices, and hard times froze the stony peninsula. No more war for Spain and no more war for Franco! Such were the commonplace sentiments with which he viewed and met the awful convulsion which now shook the world.

His Majesty’s Government was quite content with this unheroic outlook. All we wanted was the neutrality of Spain. We wanted to trade with Spain. We wanted her ports to be denied to German and Italian submarines. We wanted not only an unmolested Gibraltar, but the use of the anchorage of Algeciras for our ships and the use of the ground which joins the Rock to the mainland for our ever-expanding air base. On these facilities depended in large measure our access to the Mediterranean. Nothing was easier than for the Spaniards to mount or allow to be mounted a dozen heavy guns in the hills behind Algeciras. They had a right to do so at any time, and, once mounted, they could at any moment be fired, and our naval and air bases would become unusable. The Rock might once again stand a long siege, but it would be only a rock. Spain held the key to all British enterprises in the Mediterranean, and never in the darkest hours did she turn the lock against us. So great was the danger that for nearly two years we kept constantly at a few days’ notice an expedition of over five thousand men and their ships, ready to seize the Canary Islands, by which we could maintain air and sea control over the U-boats, and contact with Australasia round the Cape, if ever the harbour of Gibraltar were denied to us by the Spaniards.

There was another very simple manner in which the Franco Government could have struck us this destructive blow. They could have allowed Hitler’s troops to traverse the Peninsula, besiege and take Gibraltar for them, and meanwhile themselves occupy Morocco and French North Africa. This became a deep anxiety after the French Armistice, when on June 27, 1940, the Germans reached the Spanish frontier in force, and proposed fraternal ceremonial parades in San Sebastian and in towns beyond the Pyrenees. Some German troops actually entered Spain. However, as the Duke of Wellington wrote in April, 1820 ^[3]:

Now, a hundred and twenty years later, the Spaniards, reeling and quivering under the self-inflicted mutilations of the civil war, were even less sociable. They did not wish to have foreign armies marching about their country. Even if they were Nazi and Fascist in their ideology, these morose people would rather have the foreigners’ room than their company. Franco shared these feelings to the full, and in a most crafty manner he managed to give effect to them. We could admire his astuteness, especially as it was helpful to us.

Like everyone else, the Spanish Government was staggered by the sudden downfall of France and the expected collapse or destruction of Britain. Lots of people all over the world had reconciled themselves to the idea of the “New Order in Europe,” the “Herrenvolk,” and all that. Franco therefore indicated in June that he was prepared to join the victors and share in the distribution of the spoils. Partly from appetite, and partly also from prudence, he made it clear that Spain had large claims. But at this moment Hitler did not feel the need of allies. He, like Franco, expected that in a few weeks or even days general hostilities would cease and England would be suing for terms. He therefore showed little interest in the gestures of active solidarity from Madrid.

By August the scene had changed. It was certain that Britain would fight on and probable that the war would be lengthy. With the contemptuous British rejection of his “Peace Offer” of July 19, Hitler sought allies, and to whom should he turn but to the dictator he had helped and who had so lately offered to join him? But Franco also had a different outlook arising from the same causes. On August 8, the German Ambassador in Madrid informed Berlin that the Caudillo still held the same view, but that he had certain requests to make. First, the assurance that Gibraltar, French Morocco, and part of Algeria, including Oran, should be given to Spain, together with various expansions of territory in the Spanish African colonies. Adequate military and economic assistance would also be necessary, because Spain had only enough grain for eight months. Finally, Franco felt that the intervention of Spain should not take place until after the German landing in England, “in order to avoid too premature an entry into the war, and thus a duration which would be unbearable to Spain and in certain conditions a fountain of danger for the régime.” At the same time Franco wrote to Mussolini recapitulating Spanish claims and asking for his support. Mussolini replied on August 25 by urging the Caudillo “not to cut himself off from the history of Europe.” Hitler was embarrassed by the size of the Spanish claims, some of which would embroil him anew with Vichy. The taking of Oran from France would almost certainly lead to the setting-up of a hostile French Government in North Africa. He balanced the issue.

Meanwhile the days were passing. During September Great Britain seemed to be holding her own against the German air offensive. The transfer of the fifty American destroyers made a profound impression throughout Europe, and to Spain it seemed that the United States was moving nearer to the war. Franco and his Spaniards, therefore, pursued the policy of raising and defining their claims and making it clear that these must be agreed in advance. Supplies also must be provided, particularly a number of fifteen-inch howitzers for the Spanish batteries facing Gibraltar. All the while they paid the Germans in small coin. All the Spanish newspapers were Anglophobe. German agents were allowed to flaunt themselves all over Madrid. As the Spanish Foreign Minister, Beigbeder, was suspected of lack of enthusiasm for Germany, a special envoy, Serrano Suñer, head of the Falange, was sent on a formal visit to Berlin to smooth things over and preserve a sense of comradeship. Hitler harangued him at length, dwelling on the Spanish prejudices against the United States. The war, he suggested, might well turn into a war of continents—America against Europe. The islands off West Africa must be made secure. Later in the day Ribbentrop asked for a military base for Germany in the Canaries. Suñer, the pro-German and Falangist, refused even to discuss this, but dwelt incessantly upon Spanish needs for modern weapons and food and petrol, and for the satisfaction of her territorial demands at the expense of France. All this was necessary before Spain could realise her hopes of entering the war.

Ribbentrop went to Rome on September 19 to report and confer. He said that the Fuehrer thought the British attitude was “dictated by desperation, and also a complete failure to understand realities, as well as the hope of interventions by the Russians and the Americans.” Mussolini observed that “the United States are for all practical purposes at the side of England.” The sale of the fifty destroyers proved this. He advised an alliance with Japan to paralyse American action. “Although the American Navy can be considered large in the quantitative sense, it must be regarded as a dilettante organisation like the British Army. . . .” The Duce continued:

At this point they both agreed that the principal object was to defeat England. The only question was, how? “Either the war,” said Mussolini, “will finish before the spring or be protracted into next year.” The second alternative now seemed to him the more probable, and the Spanish card must be played in the most effective way. Ribbentrop affirmed that a declaration of war by Spain following upon the alliance with Japan would be a new and formidable blow for England. But Suñer had not fixed any date.

While the Spaniards became less ardent and more acquisitive, Hitler felt an increased desire for their help. As early as August 15, General Jodl had pointed out that there were other means besides direct invasion by which England could be defeated, namely, prolonged air warfare, the stepping-up of U-boat warfare, the capture of Egypt and the capture of Gibraltar. Hitler was strongly in favour of the assault on Gibraltar. But the Spanish terms were too high, and also by the end of September, other ideas stirred his mind. On September 27, the Tripartite Pact between Germany, Italy, and Japan was signed in Berlin. This opened wider fields.

The Fuehrer now decided to throw his personal influence into the scale. On October 4, he met Mussolini at the Brenner Pass. He spoke of the high demands and dilatory procedure of the Spanish Government. He feared that to give Spain what she asked would have two immediate consequences: an English occupation of the Spanish bases in the Canaries and the adhesion of the French Empire in North Africa to de Gaulle’s movement. This, he said, would force the Axis seriously to extend their own sphere of operations. On the other hand, he did not exclude the possibility of having the French armed forces on his side in a European campaign against Great Britain. Mussolini dilated on his plans for the conquest of Egypt. Hitler offered him special units for this attack. Mussolini did not think he needed them, at least before the final phase. On the Russian question Hitler remarked, “it is necessary to realise that my distrust of Stalin is equalled by his distrust of me.” In any case, Molotov was coming in a short time to Berlin, and it would be the Fuehrer’s task to direct Russian dynamism towards India.

On October 23, Hitler went all the way to the Franco-Spanish frontier at Hendaye to meet the Spanish dictator. Here the Spaniards, instead of being flattered by his condescension, demanded, according to Hitler’s account to Mussolini, “objectives absolutely out of proportion to their strength.” Spain demanded rectifications of the Pyrenees frontier, the cession of French Catalonia (French territory, once historically linked with Spain, but actually north of the Pyrenees), of Algeria from Oran to Cape Blanco, and virtually the whole of Morocco. The conversations, conducted through interpreters, lasted nine hours. They produced only a vague protocol and an arrangement for military conversations. “Rather than go through it again,” Hitler told Mussolini later at Florence, “I would prefer to have three or four of my teeth out.”^[4]

On the way back from Hendaye, the Fuehrer summoned Marshal Pétain to meet him at Montoire, near Tours. This interview had been prepared by Laval, who two days earlier had met Ribbentrop, and to his surprise Hitler, at this very place. Hitler and Laval both hoped to rally France to the defeat of Britain. The Marshal and most of his circle were at first shocked at this. But Laval portrayed the proposed meeting in glowing terms. When asked whether Hitler had initiated the idea, or whether it had been suggested to him, Laval replied:

Pétain was converted to the plan. He thought that his personal prestige might weigh with Hitler, and that it was worth while giving him the impression that France would not be unwilling to “collaborate.” At ease in the West, Hitler might turn his thoughts and armies eastward.

The meeting took place in Hitler’s armoured train, near a tunnel, on the afternoon of October 24. “I am happy,” said the Fuehrer, “to shake hands with a Frenchman who is not responsible for this war.”

Little more than shameful civilities resulted. The Marshal regretted that close relations had not been developed between France and Germany before the war. Perhaps it was not yet too late. Hitler pointed out that France had provoked the war and was defeated. But his aim now was to crush England. Before the United States could help her effectively, Britain would be occupied or else reduced to a heap of ruins. His object was to end the war as quickly as possible, for there was no business less profitable than war. All Europe would have to pay the cost, and so all Europe had the same interest. To what extent would France help? Pétain conceded the principle of collaboration, but pleaded that he could not define its limits. A procès-verbal was drawn up by which, “in accord with the Duce, the Fuehrer manifested his determination to see France occupy in the New Europe the place to which she is entitled.” The Axis Powers and France had an identical interest, in seeing the defeat of England accomplished as soon as possible. Consequently, the French Government would support, within the limits of its ability, the measures which the Axis Powers might take for defence. Questions of detail would be settled by the Armistice Commission in concert with the French delegation. The Axis Powers would undertake that at the conclusion of peace with England France would retain in Africa a colonial domain “essentially equivalent to what she possessed at the moment.”

According to the German record, Hitler was disappointed. Even Laval had begged him not to press France to make war against Britain before French opinion was duly prepared. Hitler afterwards spoke of Laval as “a dirty little democratic politico”; but he carried away a more favourable impression of Marshal Pétain. The Marshal, however, is reported to have said, when he got back to Vichy, “It will take six months to discuss this programme, and another six months to forget it.” But the infamous transaction is not forgotten yet in France.

The various reports which we received of Montoire did not alter my general view of what our attitude towards Vichy should be. Now in November I expressed my views to my colleagues in a memorandum.

Marshal Pétain became increasingly resentful of Laval’s prodding him along the road which would lead to war with Britain and German occupation of the North African Colonies. On December 13, Laval arrived at Vichy with the proposal that Pétain should come to Paris to be present at the ceremonial transfer of the ashes of Napoleon’s son, the Duke of Reichstadt (“L’Aiglon”), to the Invalides. This was Hitler’s flowery idea of a solemn consecration of the entente reached at Montoire.

Pétain was not, however, attracted by a parade where the victor of Verdun would be exhibited on French soil with German guards of honour before the tomb of the Emperor Napoleon. He was, moreover, both wearied and fearful of Laval’s methods and aims. Members of Pétain’s staff, therefore, arranged the arrest of Laval. Energetic German intervention procured his release, but Pétain refused to accept him back as Minister. Laval retired in wrath to German-occupied Paris. I was glad that M. Flandin took his place as Foreign Minister. These events marked a change at Vichy. It seemed that the limits of collaboration had at last been reached. There were at this moment hopes of better French relations with Britain and of more sympathetic understanding for Vichy from the United States.

It is convenient to carry the Spanish story forward at this point. Franco, now convinced of a long war and of the Spanish abhorrence of any more war, and by no means sure of a German victory, used every device of exasperating delay and exorbitant demands. He was by this time so sure of Suñer that on October 18 he made him Foreign Minister, representing the removal of Beigbeder as a proof of his devotion to the Axis. In November, Suñer was summoned to Berchtesgaden, and Hitler expressed his impatience with Spain’s delay in coming into the war. By now the Battle of Britain had been lost by the German Air Force. Italy was already involved in Greece and in North Africa. Serrano Suñer did not respond as was wished. He dwelt lengthily instead upon the economic difficulties of the Peninsula. Three weeks later, Admiral Canaris, Chief of the German Secret Service, was sent to Madrid to arrange the details of Spain’s entry into the war. He suggested that the German troops should pass the Spanish frontier on January 10, in preparation for an attack on Gibraltar on January 30. The Admiral was surprised when Franco told him that it was impossible for Spain to enter the war on the date mentioned. It seemed that the Caudillo feared the loss of Atlantic islands and Spanish colonies to the British Navy. He also emphasised the lack of food and the inability of Spain to stand a protracted war. As the German landing in England seemed indefinitely postponed, Franco introduced a new condition. He would not move, at any rate, until Suez was in Axis hands, since not till then would he feel sure that Spain would not be involved in long-drawn-out hostilities.

On February 6, 1941, Hitler wrote a letter to Franco, appealing in strong and urgent terms that he should play the man without further delay. Franco replied, expressing his undying loyalty. He urged that preparations for the attack on Gibraltar should be continued with renewed vigour. As another new point he declared that only Spanish troops with German equipment must be used for this enterprise. Even if all this was arranged, Spain could not enter the war for economic reasons. Ribbentrop thereupon reported to the Fuehrer that Franco had no intention of making war. Hitler was scandalised, but, being now set upon the invasion of Russia, he did not perhaps like the idea of trying Napoleon’s other unsuccessful enterprise, the invasion of Spain, at the same time. Considerable Spanish forces were now gathered along the Pyrenees, and he felt it was wiser to stick to his method with nations, “One by One.” Thus by subtlety and trickery and blandishments of all kinds Franco succeeded in tiding things over and keeping Spain out of the war, to the inestimable advantage of Britain when she was all alone.

We could not count upon this at the time, and I urged the President to do all in his power to help forward the policy of conciliation.

This great danger had in fact passed away, and, though we did not know it, it passed forever. It is fashionable at the present time to dwell on the vices of General Franco, and I am, therefore, glad to place on record this testimony to the duplicity and ingratitude of his dealings with Hitler and Mussolini. I shall presently record even greater services which these evil qualities in General Franco rendered to the Allied cause.

October-November, 1940

A fresh, though not entirely unexpected outrage by Mussolini, with baffling problems and far-reaching consequences to all our harassed affairs, now broke upon the Mediterranean scene.

The Duce took the final decision to attack Greece on October 15, 1940. That morning a meeting of the Italian war leaders was held in the Palazzo Venezia. He opened the proceedings in the following words:

On October 19, Mussolini wrote to Hitler telling him of the decision to which he had come. Hitler was then on his journey to Hendaye and Montoire. The letter (the text of which has not come to light) seems to have followed him round. When it finally reached him, he at once proposed to Mussolini a meeting to discuss the general political situation in Europe. This meeting took place in Florence on October 28. That morning the Italian attack on Greece had begun.

It seems, however, that Hitler did not choose to make an issue of the Greek adventure. He said politely that Germany was in accord with the Italian action in Greece, and then proceeded to tell the tale of his meetings with Franco and Pétain. There can be no doubt that he did not like what had been done by his associate. A few weeks later, after the Italian attack was checked, he wrote to Mussolini in his letter of November 20: “When I asked you to receive me at Florence I began the journey with the hope of being able to expound my views before the threatened action against Greece had been taken, about which I had heard only in general terms.” In the main, however, he accepted the decision of his ally.

Before dawn on October 28, the Italian Minister in Athens presented an ultimatum to General Metaxas, the Premier of Greece. Mussolini demanded that the whole of Greece should be opened to Italian troops. At the same time the Italian army in Albania invaded Greece at various points. The Greek Government, whose forces were by no means unready on the frontier, rejected the ultimatum. They also invoked the guarantee given by Mr. Chamberlain on April 13, 1939. This we were bound to honour. By the advice of the War Cabinet, and from his own heart, His Majesty replied to the King of the Hellenes: “Your cause is our cause; we shall be fighting against a common foe.” I responded to the appeal of General Metaxas: “We will give you all the help in our power. We will fight a common foe and we will share a united victory.” This undertaking was during a long story made good.

Although we were still heavily outnumbered on paper by the Italian Fleet, marked improvements had been made in our Mediterranean strength. During September the Valiant, the armoured-deck aircraft-carrier Illustrious, and two A.A. cruisers had come safely through the Mediterranean to join Admiral Cunningham at Alexandria. Hitherto his ships had always been observed and usually bombed by the greatly superior Italian Air Force. The Illustrious, with her modern fighters and latest radar equipment, by striking down patrols and assailants gave a new secrecy to the movements of our Fleet. This advantage was timely. Apart from a few air squadrons, a British mission and perhaps some token troops, we had nothing to give; and even these trifles were a painful subtraction from ardent projects already lighting in the Libyan theatre. One salient strategic fact leaped out upon us—Crete! The Italians must not have it. We must get it first—and at once. It was fortunate that at this moment Mr. Eden was in the Middle East, and that I thus had a Ministerial colleague on the spot with whom to deal. He was about to return home after his conference with General Smuts at Khartoum. I telegraphed to him:

At the invitation of the Greek Government, Suda Bay, the best harbour in Crete, was occupied by our forces two days later.

During Mr. Eden’s earlier conferences and talks with General Wavell and also with General Wilson, he posed the question, What action was intended if the Italian offensive did not develop? He was told in extreme secrecy that a plan was being made to attack the Italians in the Western Desert instead of waiting for them to open their offensive against Mersa Matruh. Neither he nor Wavell imparted these ideas to me or to the Chiefs of Staff. General Wavell begged the Secretary of State for War not to send any telegram on this subject, but to tell us verbally about it when he got home. Thus for some weeks we remained without knowledge of the way their minds were moving. It is clear from my message of October 26 that any forestalling operation on a large scale in the Western Desert would command my keen support. We were all, however, until Mr. Eden’s return left under the impression that Wavell and Wilson were still wedded to the defensive battle at Mersa Matruh, and would wait there until they were attacked. The only action they seemed to contemplate in this extremely serious crisis was to send a battalion or so to Crete, a few air squadrons to Greece, and make some minor diversions against the Dodecanese and a small though desirable offensive in the Soudan. This seemed by no means good enough employment for the very large forces with which, at great risk, exertion, and cost, we had furnished them.

Our correspondence during this period was thus on both sides based upon misunderstanding. Wavell and the Secretary of State thought that for the sake of giving ineffectual aid to Greece we were pressing them to dissipate the forces they were gathering for an offensive in the Western Desert. We, on the other hand, not crediting them with offensive intentions, objected to their standing idle or trifling at such a crucial moment. In fact, as will presently be seen, we were all agreed. On November 1, indeed, Mr. Eden telegraphed cryptically:

This telegram crossed one from me to him at Khartoum which afterwards had to be repeated back to Cairo, whither he had repaired.

It was proposed at this time to ask the Greeks to keep their Cretan division in the island. I therefore minuted:

It was time Mr. Eden should come home to report to us as he earnestly desired. The following telegrams are self-explanatory:

Assent was given, and the Secretary of State began his journey. The following points were made in his simultaneous telegrams to me:

The Secretary of State for War got back home on November 8, and came that evening after the usual raid had begun to see me in my temporary underground abode in Piccadilly. He brought with him the carefully guarded secret which I wished I had known earlier. Nevertheless, no harm had been done. Mr. Eden unfolded in considerable detail to a select circle, including the C.I.G.S. and General Ismay, the offensive plan which General Wavell and General Wilson had conceived and prepared. No longer were we to await in our fortified lines at Mersa Matruh an Italian assault, for which defensive battle such long and artful preparations had been made. On the contrary, within a month or so we were ourselves to attack. The operation was to be called “Compass.”

As will be seen from the map, Marshal Graziani’s Italian army, then above eighty thousand strong, which had crossed the Egyptian frontier, was spread over a fifty-mile front in a series of fortified camps, which were separated by wide distances and not mutually supporting, and with no depth in the system. Between the enemy’s right flank at Sofafi and his next camp at Nibeiwa there was a gap of over twenty miles. The plan was to make an offensive spring through this gap, and, turning towards the sea, attack Nibeiwa camp and the Tummar group of camps in succession from the west—that is to say, from the rear. Meanwhile, both the Sofafi camps and the camp at Meiktila, on the coast, were to be contained by light forces. For this purpose there were to be employed the 7th Armoured Division, the 4th Indian Division, now complete, and the 16th British Infantry Brigade, together with a composite force from the garrison of Mersa Matruh. This plan involved a serious risk, but also offered a glittering prize. The risk lay in the launching of all our best troops into the heart of the enemy’s position by a move of seventy miles on two successive nights over the open desert, and with the peril of being observed and attacked from the air during the intervening day. Besides this, the food and petrol had to be nicely calculated, and if the time-scale went wrong the consequences must be grave.

The prize was worthy of the hazard. The arrival of our vanguard on the sea at Buq Buq or thereabouts would cut the communications of three-quarters of Marshal Graziani’s army. Attacked by surprise from the rear, they might well be forced as a result of vigorous fighting into mass surrenders. In this case the Italian front would be irretrievably broken. With all their best troops captured or destroyed, no force would be left capable of withstanding a further onslaught, nor could any organised retreat be made to Tripoli along the hundreds of miles of coastal road.

Here, then, was the deadly secret which the Generals had talked over with their Secretary of State for War. This was what they had not wished to telegraph. We were all delighted. I purred like six cats. Here was something worth doing. It was decided there and then, subject to the agreement of the Chiefs of Staff and the War Cabinet, to give immediate sanction and all possible support to this splendid enterprise, and that it should take first place in all our thoughts and have, amid so many other competing needs, first claim upon our strained resources.

In due course these proposals were brought before the War Cabinet. I was ready to state the case or have it stated. But when my colleagues learned that the Generals on the spot and the Chiefs of Staff were in full agreement with me and Mr. Eden, they declared that they did not wish to know the details of the plan, that the fewer who knew them the better, and that they whole-heartedly approved the general policy of the offensive. This was the attitude which the War Cabinet adopted on several important occasions, and I record it here that it may be a model, should similar dangers and difficulties arise in future times.

The Italian Fleet had not reacted in any way against our occupation of Crete, but Admiral Cunningham had for some time been anxious to strike a blow at them with his now augmented naval air forces as they lay in their main base at Taranto. The attack was delivered on November 11 as the climax of a well-concerted series of operations, during which Malta received troops, and further naval reinforcements, including the battleship Barham, two cruisers, and three destroyers, reached Alexandria. Taranto lies in the heel of Italy three hundred and twenty miles from Malta. Its magnificent harbour was heavily defended against all modern forms of attack. The arrival at Malta of some fast reconnaissance machines enabled us to discern our prey. The British plan was to fly two waves of aircraft from the Illustrious, the first of twelve and the second of nine, of which eleven were to carry torpedoes, and the rest either bombs or flares. The Illustrious released her aircraft shortly after dark from a point about a hundred and seventy miles from Taranto. For an hour the battle raged amid fire and destruction among the Italian ships. Despite the heavy flak, only two of our aircraft were shot down. The rest flew safely back to the Illustrious.

By this single stroke the balance of naval power in the Mediterranean was decisively altered. The air photographs showed that three battleships, one of them the new Littorio, had been torpedoed, and in addition one cruiser was reported hit and much damage inflicted on the dockyard. Half the Italian battle fleet was disabled for at least six months, and the Fleet Air Arm could rejoice at having seized by their gallant exploit one of the rare opportunities presented to them.

An ironic touch is imparted to this event by the fact that on this very day the Italian Air Force at the express wish of Mussolini had taken part in the air attack on Great Britain. An Italian bomber force, escorted by about sixty fighters attempted to bomb Allied convoys in the Medway. They were intercepted by our fighters, eight bombers and five fighters being shot down. This was their first and last intervention in our domestic affairs. They might have found better employment defending their fleet at Taranto.

The story of Suda Bay is sad. The tragedy was not reached until 1941. I believe I had as much direct control over the conduct of the war as any public man had in any country at this time. The knowledge I possessed, the fidelity and active aid of the War Cabinet, the loyalty of all my colleagues, the ever-growing efficiency of our war machine, all enabled an intense focusing of constitutional authority to be achieved. Yet how far short was the action taken by the Middle East Command of what was ordered and what we all desired! In order to appreciate the limitations of human action, it must be remembered how much was going on in every direction at the same time. Nevertheless, it remains astonishing to me that we should have failed to make Suda Bay the amphibious citadel of which all Crete was the fortress. Everything was understood and agreed, and much was done: but all was half-scale effort. We were presently to pay heavily for our shortcomings.

The Italian invasion of Greece from Albania was another heavy rebuff to Mussolini. The first assault was repulsed with heavy loss, and the Greeks immediately counter-attacked. In the northern (Macedonian) sector the Greeks advanced into Albania, capturing Koritza on November 22. In the central sector of the northern Pindus an Italian Alpini division was annihilated. In the coastal zone, where the Italians had at first succeeded in making deep penetrations, they hastily retreated from the Kalamas River. The Greek army, under General Papagos, showed superior skill in mountain warfare, out-manoeuvring and outflanking their enemy. By the end of the year their prowess had forced the Italians thirty miles behind the Albanian frontier along the whole front. For several months twenty-seven Italian divisions were pinned in Albania by sixteen Greek divisions. The remarkable Greek resistance did much to hearten the other Balkan countries and Mussolini’s prestige sank low.

On November 9, Mr. Neville Chamberlain died at his country home in Hampshire. I had obtained the King’s permission to have him supplied with the Cabinet papers, and until a few days before the end he followed our affairs with keenness, interest, and tenacity. He met the approach of death with a steady eye. I think he died with the comfort of knowing that his country had at least turned the corner.

As soon as the House met on November 12, I paid a tribute to his character and career:

Above the roar and clash of arms there now loomed upon us a world-fateful event of a different order. The presidential election took place on November 6. In spite of the tenacity and vigour with which these four-yearly contests are conducted, and the bitter differences on domestic issues which at this time divided the two main parties, the Supreme Cause was respected by the responsible leaders, Republicans and Democrats alike. At Cleveland on November 2, Mr. Roosevelt said: “Our policy is to give all possible material aid to the nations which still resist aggression across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.” His opponent, Mr. Wendell Willkie, declared next day at Madison Square Garden: “All of us—Republicans, Democrats, and Independents—believe in giving aid to the heroic British people. We must make available to them the products of our industry.”

This larger patriotism guarded both the safety of the American Union and our life. Still, it was with profound anxiety that I awaited the result. No newcomer into power could possess or soon acquire the knowledge and experience of Franklin Roosevelt. None could equal his commanding gifts. My own relations with him had been most carefully fostered by me, and seemed already to have reached a degree of confidence and friendship which was a vital factor in all my thought. To close the slowly built-up comradeship, to break the continuity of all our discussions, to begin again with a new mind and personality, seemed to me a repellent prospect. Since Dunkirk, I had not been conscious of the same sense of strain. It was with indescribable relief that I received the news that President Roosevelt had been re-elected.

Curiously enough, I never received any answer to this telegram. It may well have been engulfed in the vast mass of congratulatory messages which were swept aside by urgent work.

Up till this time we had placed our orders for munitions in the United States separately from, though in consultation with, the American Army, Navy, and Air Services. The ever-increasing volume of our several needs had led to overlapping at numerous points, with possibilities of friction arising at lower levels in spite of general good will. “Only a single, unified Government procurement policy for all defence purposes,” writes Mr. Stettinius,^[1] “could do the tremendous job that was now ahead.” This meant that the United States Government should place all the orders for weapons in America. Three days after his re-election the President publicly announced a “rule of thumb” for the division of American arms output. As weapons came off the production line, they were to be divided roughly fifty-fifty between the United States forces and the British and Canadian forces. That same day the Priorities Board approved a British request to order twelve thousand more aeroplanes in the United States in addition to the eleven thousand we had already booked. But how was all this to be paid for?

In mid-November Lord Lothian flew home from Washington and spent two days with me at Ditchley. I had been advised not to make a habit of staying at Chequers every week-end, especially when the moon was full, in case the enemy should pay me special attention. Mr. Ronald Tree and his wife made me and my staff very welcome many times at their large and charming house near Oxford. Ditchley is only four or five miles away from Blenheim. In these agreeable surroundings I received the Ambassador. Lothian seemed to me a changed man. In all the years I had known him, he had given me the impression of high intellectual and aristocratic detachment from vulgar affairs. Airy, viewy, aloof, dignified, censorious, yet in a light and gay manner, he had always been good company. Now, under the same hammer that beat upon us all, I found an earnest, deeply stirred man. He was primed with every aspect and detail of the American attitude. He had won nothing but good will and confidence in Washington by his handling of the destroyer-cum-bases negotiations. He was fresh from intimate contact with the President, with whom he had established a warm personal friendship. His mind was now set upon the dollar problem; this was grim indeed.

Before the war the United States was governed by the pre-war Neutrality Act, which obliged the President on September 3, 1939, to place an embargo on all shipments of arms to any of the belligerent nations. Ten days later, he had called Congress to a special session to consider the removal of this ban, which, under the appearance of impartiality, virtually deprived Great Britain and France of all the advantages of the command of the seas in the transport of munitions and supplies. It was not until the end of November, 1939, after many weeks of discussion and agitation, that the Neutrality Act was repealed and the new principle of “Cash and Carry” substituted. This still preserved the appearance of strict neutrality on the part of the United States, for Americans were as free to sell weapons to Germany as to the Allies. In fact, however, our sea-power prevented any German traffic, while Britain and France could “carry” freely as long as they had “cash.” Three days after the passage of the new law, our Purchasing Commission, headed by Mr. Arthur Purvis, a man of outstanding ability, began its work.

Britain entered the war with about 4,500,000,000 in dollars, or in gold and in United States investments that could be turned into dollars. The only way in which these resources could be increased was by new gold-production in the British Empire, mainly of course in South Africa, and by vigorous efforts to export goods, principally luxury goods, such as whisky, fine woollens, and pottery, to the United States. By these means an additional two thousand million dollars were procured during the first sixteen months of the war. During the period of the “Twilight War,” we were torn between a vehement desire to order munitions in America and gnawing fear as our dollar resources dwindled. Always in Mr. Chamberlain’s day the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir John Simon, would tell us of the lamentable state of our dollar resources and emphasise the need for conserving them. It was more or less accepted that we should have to reckon with a rigorous limitation of purchases from the United States. We acted, as Mr. Purvis once said to Stettinius, “as if we were on a desert island on short rations which we must stretch as far as we could.”^[2]

This had meant elaborate arrangements for eking out our money. In peace, we imported freely and made payments as we liked. When war came, we had to create a machine which mobilised gold and dollars and other private assets, which stopped the ill-disposed from remitting their funds to countries where they felt things were safer, and which cut out wasteful imports and other expenditures. On top of making sure that we did not waste our money, we had to see that others went on taking it. The countries of the sterling area were with us: they adopted the same kind of exchange-control policy as we did and were willing takers and holders of sterling. With others we made special arrangements by which we paid them in sterling, which could be used anywhere in the sterling area, and they undertook to hold any sterling for which they had no immediate use and to keep dealings at the official rates of exchange. Such arrangements were originally made with the Argentine and Sweden, but were extended to a number of other countries on the Continent and in South America. These arrangements were completed after the spring of 1940, and it was a matter of satisfaction—and a tribute to sterling—that we were able to achieve and maintain them in circumstances of such difficulty. In this way we were able to go on dealing with most parts of the world in sterling, and to conserve most of our precious gold and dollars for our vital purchases in the United States.

When the war exploded into hideous reality in May, 1940, we were conscious that a new era had dawned in Anglo-American relations. From the time I formed the new Government and Sir Kingsley Wood became Chancellor of the Exchequer we followed a simpler plan, namely, to order everything we possibly could and leave future financial problems on the lap of the Eternal Gods. Fighting for life and presently alone under ceaseless bombardment, with invasion glaring upon us, it would have been false economy and misdirected prudence to worry too much about what would happen when our dollars ran out. We were conscious of the tremendous changes taking place in American opinion, and of the growing belief, not only in Washington but throughout the Union, that their fate was bound up with ours. Moreover, at this time an intense wave of sympathy and admiration for Britain surged across the American nation. Very friendly signals were made to us from Washington direct, and also through Canada, encouraging our boldness and indicating that, somehow or other a way would be found. In Mr. Morgenthau, Secretary of the Treasury, the cause of the Allies had a tireless champion. The taking-over of the French contracts in June had almost doubled our rate of spending across the Exchange. Besides this, we placed new orders for aeroplanes, tanks, and merchant ships in every direction, and promoted the building of great new factories both in the United States and Canada.

Up till November, 1940, we had paid for everything we had received. We had already sold $335,000,000 worth of American shares requisitioned for sterling from private owners in Britain. We had paid out over $4,500,000,000 in cash. We had only two thousand millions left, the greater part in investments, many of which were not readily marketable. It was plain that we could not go on any longer in this way. Even if we divested ourselves of all our gold and foreign assets, we could not pay for half we had ordered, and the extension of the war made it necessary for us to have ten times as much. We must keep something in hand to carry on our daily affairs.

Lothian was confident that the President and his advisers were earnestly seeking the best way to help us. Now that the election was over, the moment to act had come. Ceaseless discussions on behalf of the Treasury were proceeding in Washington between their representative, Sir Frederick Phillips, and Mr. Morgenthau. The Ambassador urged me to write a full statement of our position to the President. Accordingly that Sunday at Ditchley I drew up, in consultation with him, a personal letter. On November 16, I telegraphed to Roosevelt, “I am writing you a very long letter on the outlook for 1941 which Lord Lothian will give you in a few days.” As the document had to be checked and rechecked by the Chiefs of Staff and the Treasury, and approved by the War Cabinet, it was not completed before Lothian’s return to Washington. On November 26, I sent him a message, “I am still struggling with my letter to the President, but hope to cable it to you in a few days.” In its final form the letter was dated December 8, and was immediately sent to the President. This letter was one of the most important I ever wrote. As it gives a view of the whole situation agreed to by all concerned in London, and as it played a recognisable part in our fortunes, it deserves study.

A table was added showing the losses by enemy action of British, Allied, and neutral merchant tonnage for the periods given.^[4]

The letter reached our great friend when he was cruising, on board an American warship, the Tuscaloosa, in the sunlight of the Caribbean Sea. He had only his own intimates around him. Harry Hopkins, then unknown to me, told me later that Mr. Roosevelt read and re-read this letter as he sat alone in his deck-chair, and that for two days he did not seem to have reached any clear conclusion. He was plunged in intense thought, and brooded silently.

From all this there sprang a wonderful decision. It was never a question of the President not knowing what he wanted to do. His problem was how to carry his country with him and to persuade Congress to follow his guidance. According to Stettinius, the President, as early as the late summer, had suggested at a meeting of the Defence Advisory Commission on Shipping Resources that “It should not be necessary for the British to take their own funds and have ships built in the United States, or for us to lend them money for this purpose. There is no reason why we should not take a finished vessel and lease it to them for the duration of the emergency.” It seems that this idea had originated in the Treasury Department, whose lawyers, especially Oscar S. Cox, of Maine, had been stirred by Secretary Morgenthau. It appeared that by a statute of 1892 the Secretary for War, “when in his discretion it will be for the public good,” could lease Army property if not required for public use for a period of not longer than five years. Precedents for the use of this statute, by the lease of various Army items from time to time, were on record.

Thus the word “lease” and the idea of applying the lease principle to meeting British needs had been in President Roosevelt’s mind for some time as an alternative to a policy of indefinite loans which would soon far outstrip all possibilities of repayment. Now suddenly all this sprang into decisive action, and the glorious conception of Lend-Lease was proclaimed.

The President returned from the Caribbean on December 16 and broached his plan at his press conference next day. He used a simple illustration:

On this foundation the ever-famous Lend-Lease Bill was at once prepared for submission to Congress. I described this to Parliament later as “the most unsordid act in the history of any nation.” Once it was accepted by Congress, it transformed immediately the whole position. It made us free to shape by agreement long-term plans of vast extent for all our needs. There was no provision for repayment. There was not even to be a formal account kept in dollars or sterling. What we had was lent or leased to us because our continued resistance to the Hitler tyranny was deemed to be of vital interest to the great Republic. According to President Roosevelt, the defence of the United States and not dollars was henceforth to determine where American weapons were to go.

It was at this moment, the most important in his public career, that Philip Lothian was taken from us. Shortly after his return to Washington, he fell suddenly and gravely ill. He worked unremittingly to the end. On December 12, in the full tide of success, he died. This was a loss to the nation and to the Cause. He was mourned by wide circles of friends on both sides of the ocean. To me, who had been in such intimate contact with him a fortnight before, it was a personal shock. I paid my tribute to him in a House of Commons united in deep respect for his work and memory.

I had now to turn immediately to the choice of his successor. It seemed that our relations with the United States at this time required as Ambassador an outstanding national figure and a statesman versed in every aspect of world politics. Having ascertained from the President that my suggestion would be acceptable, I invited Mr. Lloyd George to take the post. He had not felt able to join the War Cabinet in July, and was not happily circumstanced in British politics. His outlook on the war and the events leading up to it was from a different angle from mine. There could be no doubt, however, that he was our foremost citizen, and that his incomparable gifts and experience would be devoted to the success of his mission. I had a long talk with him in the Cabinet Room, and also at luncheon on a second day. He showed genuine pleasure at having been invited. “I tell my friends,” he said, “I have had honourable offers made to me by the Prime Minister.” He was sure that at the age of eighty-two he ought not to undertake so exacting a task. As a result of my long conversations with him I was conscious that he had aged even in the months which had passed since I had asked him to join the War Cabinet, and with regret but also with conviction I abandoned my plan.

I next turned to Lord Halifax, whose prestige in the Conservative Party stood high, and was enhanced by his being at the Foreign Office. For a Foreign Secretary to become an Ambassador marks in a unique manner the importance of the mission. His high character was everywhere respected, yet at the same time his record in the years before the war and the way in which events had moved left him exposed to much disapprobation and even hostility from the Labour side of our National Coalition. I knew that he was conscious of this himself.

When I made him this proposal, which was certainly not a personal advancement, he contented himself with saying in a simple and dignified manner that he would serve wherever he was thought to be most useful. In order to emphasise still further the importance of his duties, I arranged that he should resume his function as a member of the War Cabinet whenever he came home on leave. This arrangement worked without the slightest inconvenience owing to the qualities and experience of the personalities involved, and for six years thereafter, both under the National Coalition and the Labour-Socialist Government, Halifax discharged the work of Ambassador to the United States with conspicuous and ever-growing influence and success.

President Roosevelt, Mr. Hull and other high personalities in Washington were extremely pleased with the selection of Lord Halifax. Indeed it was at once apparent to me that the President greatly preferred it to my first proposal. The appointment of the new Ambassador was received with marked approval both in America and at home, and was judged in every way adequate and appropriate to the scale of events.

I had no doubt who should fill the vacancy at the Foreign Office. On all the great issues of the past four years I had, as these pages have shown, dwelt in close agreement with Anthony Eden. I have described my anxieties and emotions when he parted company with Mr. Chamberlain in the spring of 1938. Together we had abstained from the vote on Munich. Together we had resisted the party pressures brought to bear upon us in our constituencies during the winter of that melancholy year. We had been united in thought and sentiment at the outbreak of the war and as colleagues during its progress. The greater part of Eden’s public life had been devoted to the study of foreign affairs. He had held the splendid office of Foreign Secretary with distinction, and had resigned it when only forty years of age for reasons which are in retrospect, and at this time, viewed with the approval of all parties in the State. He had played a fine part as Secretary of State for War during this terrific year, and his conduct of Army affairs had brought us very close together. We thought alike, even without consultation, on a very great number of practical issues as they arose from day to day. I looked forward to an agreeable and harmonious comradeship between the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary, and this hope was certainly fulfilled during the four and a half years of war and policy which lay before us. Eden was sorry to leave the War Office, in all the stresses and excitements of which he was absorbed: but he returned to the Foreign Office like a man going home.

I filled Mr. Eden’s place as Secretary of State for War by submitting to the King the name of Captain Margesson, at that time the Chief Whip to the National Government. This choice excited some adverse comment. David Margesson had been for nearly ten years at the head of the Government Whip’s Office in the House of Commons, and it had fallen to him to marshal and to stimulate the patient and solid Conservative majorities which had so long sustained the Baldwin and Chamberlain Administrations. I had, as a leading figure among the Conservative dissentients from the India Bill, had many sharp passages with him. In the course of those eleven years of my exclusion from office my contacts with him had been not infrequent and generally hostile. I had formed the opinion that he was a man of high ability, serving his chief, whoever he was, with unfaltering loyalty, and treating his opponents with strict good faith. This opinion was also held by the Whips of the Labour and Liberal Parties, and such a reputation is of course essential to the discharge of this particular office. When I became Prime Minister it was generally expected that I should find someone else for the task, but I was quite sure that I should receive from Margesson the same skilful and faithful service that he had given to my predecessors; and in this I had been in no way disappointed. He had served in the First World War, and through much of the worst of it as a regimental officer, gaining the Military Cross. He thus had a strong soldierly background as well as a complete knowledge of the House of Commons.

In Margesson’s place I appointed Captain James Stuart, with whom also I had had many differences, but for whose character I had high respect.

The interval between November, 1940, and the passage of Lend-Lease in March, 1941, was marked by an acute stringency in dollars. Every kind of expedient was devised by our friends. The American Government bought from us some of the war plants which they had built to our order in the United States. They assigned them to the American defence programme, but bade us go on using them to the full. The War Department placed orders for munitions that it did not need immediately, so that when finished they could be released to us. On the other hand, certain things were done which seemed harsh and painful to us. The President sent a warship to Capetown to carry away all the gold we had gathered there. The great British business of Courtaulds in America was sold by us at the request of the United States Government at a comparatively low figure, and then resold through the markets at a much higher price from which we did not benefit. I had a feeling that these steps were taken to emphasise the hardship of our position and raise feeling against the opponents of Lend-Lease. Anyhow, in one way or another we came through.

On December 30, the President gave a “fireside chat” on the radio, urging his policy upon his countrymen.

Hitler had failed to quell or conquer Britain. It was plain that the Island would persevere to the end. Without the command of the sea or the air, it had been deemed impossible to move German armies across the Channel. Winter with its storms had closed upon the scene. The German attempt to cow the British nation, or shatter their warmaking capacity and will-power by bombing, had been foiled, and the Blitz was costly. There must be many months’ delay before “Sea Lion” could be revived, and with every week that passed, the growth, ripening, and equipment, of the British home armies required a larger “Sea Lion,” with aggravated difficulties of transportation. Even three-quarters of a million men with all their furnishings would not be enough in April or May, 1941. What chance was there of finding by then the shipping, the barges, the special landing-craft necessary for so vast an oversea stroke? How could they be assembled under ever-increasing British air-power? Meanwhile this air-power, fed by busy factories in Britain and the United States, and by immense training schemes for pilots in the Dominions centred in Canada, would perhaps in a year or so make the British Air Force superior in numbers, as it was already in quality, to that of Germany. Can we wonder, then, that Hitler, once convinced that Goering’s hopes and boasts had been broken, should turn his eyes to the East? Like Napoleon in 1804, he recoiled from the assault of the island until at least the Eastern danger was no more. He must, he now felt, at all costs settle with Russia before staking everything on the invasion of Britain. Obeying the same forces and following the same thoughts as Napoleon when he marched the Grand Army from Boulogne to Ulm, Austerlitz, and Friedland, Hitler abandoned for the moment his desire and need to destroy Great Britain. That must now become the final act of the drama.

There is no doubt that he had made up his own mind by the end of September, 1940. From that time forth the air attacks on Britain, though often on a larger scale through the general multiplication of aircraft, took the second place in the Fuehrer’s thoughts and German plans. They might be maintained as effective cover for other designs, but Hitler no longer counted on them for decisive victory. Eastward ho! Personally, on purely military grounds, I should not have been averse from a German attempt at the invasion of Britain in the spring or summer of 1941. I believed that the enemy would suffer the most terrific defeat and slaughter that any country had ever sustained in a specific military enterprise. But for that very reason I was not so simple as to expect it to happen. In war what you don’t dislike is not usually what the enemy does. Still, in the conduct of a long struggle, when time seemed for a year or two on our side and mighty allies might be gained, I thanked God that the supreme ordeal was to be spared our people. As will be seen from my papers written at the time, I never seriously contemplated a German descent upon England in 1941. By the end of 1941, the boot was on the other leg; we were no longer alone; three-quarters of the world were with us. But tremendous events, measureless before they happened, were to mark that memorable year.

While to uninformed continentals and the outer world our fate seemed forlorn, or at best in the balance, the relations between Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia assumed the first position in world affairs. The fundamental antagonisms between the two despotic Powers resumed their sway once it was certain that Britain could not be stunned and overpowered like France and the Low Countries. To do him justice, Stalin tried his very best to work loyally and faithfully with Hitler, while at the same time gathering all the strength he could in the enormous mass of Soviet Russia. He and Molotov sent their dutiful congratulations on every German victory. They poured a heavy flow of food and essential raw materials into the Reich. Their Fifth Column Communists did what they could to disturb our factories. Their radio diffused its abuse and slanders against us. They were at any time ready to reach a permanent settlement with Nazi Germany upon the numerous important questions open between them and to accept with complacency the final destruction of the British power. But all the while they recognised that this policy might fail. They were resolved to gain time by every means, and had no intention, as far as they could measure the problem, of basing Russian interests or ambitions solely upon a German victory. The two great totalitarian empires, equally devoid of moral restraints, confronted each other, polite but inexorable.

There had, of course, been disagreements about Finland and Rumania. The Soviet leaders had been shocked at the fall of France, and the end of the Second Front for which they were so soon to clamour. They had not expected so sudden a collapse, and had counted confidently on a phase of mutual exhaustion on the Western Front. Now there was no Western Front! Still, it would be foolish to make any serious change in their collaboration with Germany till it could be seen whether Britain would give in or be crushed in 1940. As it gradually became apparent to the Kremlin that Britain was capable of maintaining a prolonged and indefinite war, during which anything might happen about the United States and also in Japan, Stalin became more conscious of his danger and more earnest to gain time. Nevertheless, it is remarkable, as we shall see, what advantages he sacrificed and what risks he ran to keep on friendly terms with Nazi Germany. Even more surprising were the miscalculations and the ignorance which he displayed about what was coming to him. He was indeed from September, 1940, to the moment of Hitler’s assault in June, 1941, at once a callous, a crafty and an ill-informed giant.

With these preliminaries we may come to the episode of Molotov’s visit to Berlin on November 12, 1940. Every compliment was paid and all ceremony shown to the Bolshevik envoy when he reached the heart of Nazi Germany. During the next two days long and tense discussions took place between Molotov and Ribbentrop, and also with Hitler. All the essential facts of these formidable interchanges and confrontations have been laid bare in the selection of captured documents published early in 1948 by the State Department in Washington under the title “Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941.” On this it is necessary to draw if the story is to be told or understood.

After luncheon the Soviet Envoy was received by the Fuehrer, who dilated further upon the total defeat of Britain.

The Fuehrer then outlined to Molotov the course of military operations up to the present, which had led to the fact that England no longer had an ally on the Continent. . . . The English retaliatory measures were ridiculous, and the Russian gentlemen could convince themselves at first hand of the fiction of alleged destruction in Berlin. As soon as atmospheric conditions improved, Germany would be poised for the great and final blow against England. At the moment, then, it was her aim to try not only to make military preparations for this final struggle, but also to clarify the political issues which would be of importance during and after this showdown. He had, therefore, re-examined the relations with Russia, and not in a negative spirit, but with the intention of organising them positively—if possible, for a long period of time. In so doing he had reached several conclusions:

2. Because of the tremendous extension of the war, Germany had been forced, in order to oppose England, to penetrate into territories remote from her and in which she was not basically interested politically or economically.

3. There were, nevertheless, certain requirements, the full importance of which had become apparent only during the war, but which were absolutely vital to Germany. Among them were certain sources of raw materials, which were considered by Germany as most vital and absolutely indispensable.

Hitler then retired for the night. After supper at the Soviet Embassy there was a British air raid on Berlin. We had heard of the conference beforehand, and though not invited to join in the discussion did not wish to be entirely left out of the proceedings. On the “Alert” all moved to the shelter, and the conversation was continued till midnight by the two Foreign Secretaries in safer surroundings. The German official account says:

When in August, 1942, I first visited Moscow I received from Stalin’s lips a shorter account of this conversation which in no essential differs from the German record, but may be thought more pithy.

The Berlin conversations made no difference to Hitler’s deep resolve. During October, Keitel, Jodl, and the German General Staff had under his orders been forming and shaping the plans for the eastward movement of the German armies and for the invasion of Russia in the early summer of 1941. It was not necessary at this stage to decide on the exact date, which might also be affected by the weather. Having regard to the distances to be traversed after the frontiers were crossed, and the need of taking Moscow before the winter began, it was obvious that the beginning of May offered the best prospects. Moreover, the assembly and deployment of the German Army along the two-thousand-mile front from the Baltic to the Black Sea, and the provision of all the magazines, camps, and railway sidings, was in itself one of the largest military tasks ever undertaken, and no delay either in planning or in action could be tolerated. Over all hung the vital need for concealment and deception.

For this purpose two separate forms of cover were used by Hitler, each of which had advantages of its own. The first was an elaborate negotiation about a common policy based on the partition and distribution of the British Empire in the East. The second was the domination of Rumania, Bulgaria, and Greece, with Hungary on the way, by a steady influx of troops. This offered important military gains, and at the same time masked or presented an explanation for the building-up of the German armies on the southern flank of the front to be developed against Russia.

The negotiations took the form of draft proposals by Germany for the accession of Soviet Russia to the Three-Power Pact at the expense of British interests in the Orient. If Stalin had accepted this scheme events might for a time have taken a different course. It was possible at any moment for Hitler to suspend his plans for invading Russia. We cannot attempt to describe what might have happened as the result of an armed alliance between the two great empires of the Continent, with their millions of soldiers, to share the spoil in the Balkans, Turkey, Persia, and the Middle East, with India always in the background and with Japan as an eager partner in the “Greater East Asia Scheme.” But Hitler’s heart was set on destroying the Bolsheviks, for whom his hatred was mortal. He believed that he had the force to gain his main life-aim. Thereafter all the rest would be added unto him. He must have known from the conversations at Berlin and other contacts that the proposals which he made Ribbentrop send to Moscow fell far short of Russian ambitions.

A draft, bearing no date, of a Four-Power Pact was found in the captured correspondence of the German Foreign Office with the German Embassy in Moscow. This apparently formed the basis for Schulenburg’s conversation with Molotov reported on November 26, 1940. By this Germany, Italy, and Japan were to agree to respect each other’s natural spheres of influence. In so far as these spheres of interest came into contact with each other, they would constantly consult each other in an amicable way with regard to the problems arising therefrom.

Germany, Italy, and Japan declared on their part that they recognised the present extent of the possessions of the Soviet Union and would respect them.

The Four Powers undertook to join no combination of Powers and to support no combination of Powers which was directed against one of the Four Powers. They would assist each other in economic matters in every way and would supplement and extend the agreements existing among themselves. The agreement would continue for a period of ten years.

To this there was to be a secret protocol by which Germany declared that, apart from the territorial revisions in Europe to be carried out at the conclusion of peace, her territorial aspirations centred in the territories of Central Africa; Italy declared that, apart from territorial revisions in Europe, her territorial aspirations centred in the territories of Northern and Northeastern Africa; Japan declared that her territorial aspirations centred in the area of Eastern Asia to the south of the Island Empire of Japan; and the Soviet Union declared that its territorial aspirations centred south of the national territory of the Soviet Union in the direction of the Indian Ocean.

The Four Powers declared that, reserving the settlement of specific questions, they would mutually respect these territorial aspirations and would not oppose their achievement.^[3]

As was expected, the Soviet Government did not accept the German project. They were alone with Germany in Europe, and at the other side of the world Japan lay heavy upon them. Nevertheless they had confidence in their growing strength and in their vast expanse of territory, amounting to one-sixth of the land-surface of the globe. They therefore bargained toughly. On November 26, 1940, Schulenburg sent to Berlin the draft of the Russian counter-proposals. These stipulated that the German troops should be immediately withdrawn from Finland, which, under the Compact of 1939, belonged to the Soviet Union’s sphere of influence; that within the next few months the security of the Soviet Union in the Straits should be assured by the conclusion of a mutual assistance pact between the Soviet Union and Bulgaria, which geographically is situated inside the security zone of the Black Sea boundaries of the Soviet Union, and by the establishment of a base for land and naval forces of the U.S.S.R. within range of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles by means of a long-term lease; that the area south of Batum and Baku in the general direction of the Persian Gulf should be recognised as the centre of the aspirations of the Soviet Union; that Japan should renounce her rights to concessions for coal and oil in Northern Sakhalin.

No effective answer was returned to this document. No attempt was made by Hitler to split the difference. Issues so grave as these might well justify a prolonged and careful study in a friendly spirit by both sides. The Soviets certainly expected and awaited an answer. Meanwhile on both sides of the frontier the forces, already heavy, began to grow, and Hitler’s right hand reached out towards the Balkans.

The plans prepared on his instructions by Keitel and Jodl had by now reached sufficient maturity to enable the Fuehrer to issue from his headquarters on December 18, 1940, his historic Directive Number 21.

From this moment the moulds had been shaped for the supreme events of 1941. We, of course, had no knowledge of the bargainings between Germany and Russia for dividing the spoils of our Empire and for our destruction; nor could we measure the as yet unformed intentions of Japan. The main troop movements of the German armies eastward had not yet become apparent to our active Intelligence Service. Only the infiltration and gradual massing in Bulgaria and Rumania could be discerned. Had we known what is set forth in this chapter, we should have been greatly relieved. The combination against us of Germany, Russia, and Japan was the worst of our fears. But who could tell? Meanwhile, “Fight on!”

The destruction of the Graf Spee in the action off the Plate in December 1939, had brought to an abrupt end the first German campaign against our shipping in the wide oceans. The fighting in Norway had, as we have seen, paralysed for the time being the German Navy in home waters. What was left of it was necessarily reserved for the invasion project. Admiral Raeder, whose ideas on the conduct of the German war at sea were technically sound, had some difficulty in carrying his views in the Fuehrer’s councils. He had even at one time to resist a proposal made by the Army to disarm all his heavy ships and use their guns for long-range batteries on shore. During the summer, however, he had fitted out a number of merchant ships as disguised raiders. They were more powerfully armed, were generally faster than our armed merchant-cruisers, and were provided with reconnaissance aircraft. Five ships of this type evaded our patrols and entered the Atlantic between April and June, 1940, whilst a sixth undertook the hazardous northeast passage to the Pacific along the north coasts of Russia and Siberia. Assisted by a Russian ice-breaker, she succeeded in making the passage in two months, and emerged into the Pacific through the Bering Sea in September. The object which Admiral Raeder laid down for the conduct of these ships was threefold: first, to destroy or capture enemy ships; secondly, to dislocate shipping movements; and, thirdly, to force the dispersion of British warships for escort and patrol to counter the menace. These well-conceived tactics caused us both injury and embarrassment. By the first weeks of September, these five disguised raiders were loose upon our trade routes. Two of them were working in the Atlantic, two others in the Indian Ocean, and the fifth, after laying mines off Auckland, New Zealand, was in the Pacific. Only two contacts were made with them during the whole year. On July 29, Raider E was engaged in the South Atlantic by the armed merchant-cruiser Alcantara, but escaped after an inconclusive action. In December another armed merchant-cruiser, the Carnarvon Castle, attacked her again off the Plate River, but she escaped after some damage. Up till the end of September, 1940, these five raiders sank or captured thirty-six ships, amounting to 235,000 tons.

At the end of October, 1940, the pocket battleship Scheer was at last ready for service. When the invasion of England had been shelved, she left Germany on October 27, and broke out into the Atlantic through the Denmark Strait north of Iceland. She was followed a month later by the eight-inch gun cruiser, Hipper. The Scheer had orders to attack the North Atlantic convoys, from which the battleship escorts had been withdrawn to reinforce the Mediterranean. Captain Krancke believed that a homeward-bound convoy had left Halifax on October 27, and he hoped to intercept it about November 3. On the 5th his aircraft reported eight ships in the southeast, and he set off in pursuit. At 2.27 P.M. he sighted a single ship, the Mopan, which he sank by gunfire after taking on board the crew of sixty-eight. By threats he had been able to prevent any wireless reports being made by the Mopan. At 1.50 P.M., whilst thus occupied, the masts of the convoy H.X. 84, consisting of thirty-seven ships, appeared over the horizon. In the centre of the convoy was the ocean escort, the armed merchant-cruiser Jervis Bay. Her commanding officer, Captain Fegen, R.N., realised at once that he was faced with hopeless odds. His one thought, after reporting the presence of the enemy by wireless, was to engage the pocket battleship for as long as possible and thus gain time for the convoy to disperse. Darkness approached, and there would then be a chance of many escaping. While the convoy scattered, the Jervis Bay closed his overwhelming antagonist at full speed. The Scheer opened fire at eighteen thousand yards. The shots of the old six-inch guns of the Jervis Bay fell short. The one-sided fight lasted till 6 P.M., when the Jervis Bay, heavily on fire and completely out of control, was abandoned. She finally sank about eight o’clock with the loss of over two hundred officers and men. With them perished Captain Fegen, who went down with the ship. He was awarded the Victoria Cross posthumously for his heroic conduct, which takes an honoured place in the records of the Royal Navy.

Not until the end of the fight did the Scheer pursue the convoy, but the wintry night had now closed in. The ships had scattered and she was able to overtake and sink only five before darkness fell. She could not afford, now that her position was known, to remain in the area, on which she expected that powerful British forces would soon converge. The great majority of this valuable convoy was therefore saved by the devotion of the Jervis Bay. The spirit of the merchant seamen was not unequal to that of their escort. One ship, the tanker San Demetrio, carrying seven thousand tons of petrol, was set on fire and abandoned. But the next morning part of the crew reboarded the ship, put out the fire, and then, after gallant efforts, without compasses or navigational aids, brought the ship into a British port with her precious cargo. In all, however, 47,000 tons of shipping and 206 merchant seamen were lost.

Scheer, determined to place as many miles as possible between herself and her pursuers, steamed south, where ten days later she met a German supply ship and replenished her fuel and stores. On November 24, she appeared in the West Indies, where she sank the Port Hobart, outward-bound to Curaçao, and then doubled back to the Cape Verde Islands. Her later activities were spread over the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans, and not till April, 1941, did she return to Kiel, after again successfully traversing the Denmark Strait. Her five months’ cruise had yielded a harvest of sixteen ships of 99,000 tons sunk or captured.

From June onward the troop convoys (called by the code name “W.S.”)^[1] sailed monthly under heavy escort round the Cape to the Middle East and India. At the same time the numerous troop convoys between ports in the Indian Ocean and the continuous stream of Canadian troops reaching this country from across the Atlantic threw the utmost strain on our naval resources. Thus we could not reinstitute the hunting groups which had scoured the seas for the Graf Spee in 1939. Our cruisers were disposed in the focal areas near the main shipping routes, and ships sailing independently had to rely on evasive routing and the vastness of the ocean.

On Christmas Day, 1940, convoy W.S. 5A, consisting of twenty troopships and supply ships for the Middle East, was approaching the Azores when it was attacked by the cruiser Hipper, which had followed the Scheer out a month later. Visibility was poor and the Hipper was unpleasantly surprised to find that the escort comprised the cruisers Berwick, Bonaventure, and Dunedin. There was a brief, sharp action between the Hipper and the Berwick, in which both ships were damaged. The Hipper made off, and in the mist succeeded in escaping to Brest, in spite of strenuous efforts by the Home Fleet and by Force “H” from Gibraltar to catch her, but only one ship of the convoy, which carried over thirty thousand men, the Empire Trooper, had to put into Gibraltar for repairs.

We could not regard the state of the outer oceans without uneasiness. We knew that disguised merchant ships in unknown numbers were preying in all the southern waters. The pocket battleship Scheer was loose and hidden. The Hipper might break out at any moment from Brest, and the two German battle-cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau must also soon be expected to play their part.

The enormous disproportion between the numbers of the raiders and the forces the Admiralty had to employ to counter them and guard the immense traffic has been explained in Volume I. The Admiralty had to be ready at many points and give protection to thousands of merchant vessels, and could give no guarantee except for troop convoys against occasional lamentable disasters.

A far graver danger was added to these problems. The only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril. Invasion, I thought, even before the air battle, would fail. After the air victory it was a good battle for us. We could drown and kill this horrible foe in circumstances favourable to us, and, as he evidently realised, bad for him. It was the kind of battle which, in the cruel conditions of war, one ought to be content to fight. But now our life-line, even across the broad oceans and especially in the entrances to the island, was endangered. I was even more anxious about this battle than I had been about the glorious air fight called the Battle of Britain.

The Admiralty, with whom I lived in the closest amity and contact, shared these fears, all the more because it was their prime responsibility to guard our shores from invasion and to keep the life-lines open to the outer world. This had always been accepted by the Navy as their ultimate, sacred, inescapable duty. So we poised and pondered together on this problem. It did not take the form of flaring battles and glittering achievements It manifested itself through statistics, diagrams, and curves unknown to the nation, incomprehensible to the public.

How much would the U-boat warfare reduce our imports and shipping? Would it ever reach the point where our life would be destroyed? Here was no field for gestures or sensations; only the slow, cold drawing of lines on charts, which showed potential strangulation. Compared with this there was no value in brave armies ready to leap upon the invader, or in a good plan for desert warfare. The high and faithful spirit of the people counted for nought in this bleak domain. Either the food, supplies, and arms from the New World and from the British Empire arrived across the oceans, or they failed. With the whole French seaboard from Dunkirk to Bordeaux in their hands, the Germans lost no time in making bases for their U-boats and co-operating aircraft in the captured territory. From July onward we were compelled to divert our shipping from the approaches south of Ireland, where of course we were not allowed to station fighter aircraft. All had to come in around Northern Ireland. Here, by the grace of God, Ulster stood a faithful sentinel. The Mersey, the Clyde were the lungs through which we breathed. On the east coast and in the English Channel small vessels continued to ply under an ever-increasing attack by air, by E-boat ^[2] and by mines. As it was impossible to vary the east coast route, the passage of each convoy between the Forth and London became almost every day an action in itself. Few large ships were risked on the east coast and none at all in the Channel.

The losses inflicted on our merchant shipping became most grave during the twelve months from July ’40 to July ’41, when we could claim that the British Battle of the Atlantic was won. Far heavier losses occurred when the United States entered the war before any convoy system was set up along their eastern coast. But then we were no longer alone. The last six months of 1940 showed extremely heavy losses, modified only by the winter gales, and no great slaughter of U-boats. We gained some advantage by larger patterning of depth-charges and by evasive routing; but the invasion threat required strong concentrations in the Narrow Seas and our great volume of anti-U-boat new construction only arrived gradually. This shadow hung over the Admiralty and those who shared their knowledge. The week ending September 22 showed the highest rate of loss since the beginning of the war, and was in fact greater than any we had suffered in a similar period in 1917. Twenty-seven ships of nearly 160,000 tons were sunk, many of them in a Halifax convoy. In October, while the Scheer was also active, another Atlantic convoy was massacred by U-boats, twenty ships being sunk out of thirty-four.

As November and December drew on, the entrances and estuaries of the Mersey and the Clyde far surpassed in mortal significance all other factors in the war. We could of course at this time have descended upon de Valera’s Ireland and regained the southern ports by force of modern arms. I had always declared that nothing but self-preservation would lead me to this. But perhaps the case of self-preservation might come. Then so be it. Even this hard measure would only have given a mitigation. The only sure remedy was to secure free exit and entrance in the Mersey and the Clyde.

Every day when they met those few who knew looked at one another. One understands the diver deep below the surface of the sea, dependent from minute to minute upon his air-pipe. What would he feel if he could see a growing shoal of sharks biting at it? All the more when there was no possibility of his being hauled to the surface! For us there was no surface. The diver was forty-six millions of people in an overcrowded island, carrying on a vast business of war all over the world, anchored by nature and gravity to the bottom of the sea. What could the sharks do to his air-pipe? How could he ward them off or destroy them?

As early as the beginning of August, I had been convinced that it would be impossible to control the western approaches through the Mersey and Clyde from the Command at Plymouth.

I encountered resistances. The Admiralty accepted my view in September of moving from Plymouth to the North, rightly substituting the Mersey for the Clyde. But several months elapsed before the necessary headquarters organisation, with its operation rooms and elaborate network of communications, could be brought into being, and in the meantime much improvisation was necessary. The new Command was entrusted to Admiral Sir Percy Noble, who, with a large and ever-growing staff, was installed at Liverpool in February, 1941. Henceforward this became almost our most important station. The need and advantage of the change was by then recognised by all.

Towards the end of 1940 I became increasingly concerned about the ominous fall in imports. This was another aspect of the U-boat attack. Not only did we lose ships, but the precautions we took to avoid losing them impaired the whole flow of merchant traffic. The few harbours on which we could now rely became congested. The turn-round of all vessels as well as their voyages was lengthened. Imports were the final test. In the week ending June 8, during the height of the battle in France, we had brought into the country 1,201,535 tons of cargo, exclusive of oil. From this peak figure imports had declined at the end of July to less than 750,000 tons a week. Although substantial improvement was made in August, the weekly average again fell, and for the last three months of the year was little more than 800,000 tons.

As we shall see in the next volume, this project was fruitful. Ships equipped for catapulting fighter aircraft to attack the Focke-Wulf were developed early in 1941.

My indignation at the denial of the Southern Irish ports mounted under these pressures.

One evening in December I held a meeting in the downstairs War Room with only the Admiralty and the sailors present. All the perils and difficulties, about which the company was well informed, had taken a sharper turn. My mind reverted to February and March, 1917, when the curve of U-boat sinkings had mounted so steadily against us that one wondered how many month’s fighting the Allies had in them, in spite of all the Royal Navy could do. One cannot give a more convincing proof of the danger than the project which the admirals put forward. We must at all costs and with overriding priorities break out to the ocean. For this purpose it was proposed to lay an underwater carpet of dynamite from the seaward end of the North Channel, which gives access to the Mersey and the Clyde, to the hundred-fathom line northwest of Ireland. A submerged minefield must be laid three miles broad and sixty miles long from these coastal waters to the open ocean. Even if all the available explosives were monopolised for this task, without much regard to field operations or the proper rearmament of our troops, it seemed vital to make this carpet—assuming there was no other way.

Let me explain the process. Many thousands of contact mines would have to be anchored to the bottom of the sea, reaching up to within thirty-five feet of its surface. Over this pathway all the ships which fed Britain, or carried on our warfare abroad, could pass and repass without their keels striking the mines. A U-boat, however, venturing into this minefield, would soon be blown up: and after a while they would find it not good enough to come. Here was the defensive in excelsis. Anyhow, it was better than nothing. It was the last resort. Provisional approval and directions for detailed proposals to be presented were given on this night. Such a policy meant that the diver would in future be thinking about nothing but his air-pipe. But he had other work to do.

At the same time, however, we gave orders to the R.A.F. Coastal Command to dominate the outlets from the Mersey and Clyde and around Northern Ireland. Nothing must be spared from this task. It had supreme priority. The bombing of Germany took second place. All suitable machines, pilots, and material must be concentrated upon our counter-offensive, by fighters against the enemy bombers, and surface craft assisted by bombers against the U-boats in these narrow vital waters. Many other important projects were brushed aside, delayed, or mauled. At all costs one must breathe.

We shall see the extent to which this counter-offensive by the Navy and by Coastal Command succeeded during the next few months; how we became the masters of the outlets; how the Heinkel 111’s were shot down by our fighters, and the U-boats choked in the very seas in which they sought to choke us. Suffice it here to say that the success of Coastal Command overtook the preparations for the dynamite carpet. Before this ever made any appreciable inroad upon our war economy the morbid defensive thoughts and projects faded away, and once again with shining weapons we swept the approaches to the isle.

Before a great enterprise is launched the days pass slowly. The remedy is other urgent business, of which there was at this time certainly no lack. I was myself so pleased that our generals would take the offensive that I did not worry unduly about the result. I grudged the troops wasted in Kenya and Palestine and on internal security in Egypt; but I trusted in the quality and ascendancy of the famous regiments and long-trained professional officers and soldiers to whom this important matter was confided. Eden also was confident, especially in General Wilson, who was to command the battle; but then they were both “Greenjackets,”^[1] and had fought as such in the previous war. Meanwhile, outside the small group who knew what was going to be attempted, there was plenty to talk about and do.

For a month or more all the troops to be used in the offensive practised the special parts they had to play in the extremely complicated attack. The details of the plan were worked out by Lieutenant-General Wilson and Major-General O’Connor, and General Wavell paid frequent visits of inspection. Only a small circle of officers knew the full scope of the plan, and practically nothing was put on paper. To secure surprise, attempts were made to give the enemy the impression that our forces had been seriously weakened by the sending of reinforcements to Greece and that further withdrawals were contemplated. On December 6 our lean, bronzed, desert-hardened, and completely mechanised army of about twenty-five thousand men leaped forward more than forty miles, and all next day lay motionless on the desert sand unseen by the Italian Air Force. They swept forward again on December 8, and that evening, for the first time, the troops were told that this was no desert exercise, but the “real thing.” At dawn on the 9th the battle of Sidi Barrani began.

It is not my purpose to describe the complicated and dispersed fighting which occupied the next four days over a region as large as Yorkshire. Everything went smoothly; Nibeiwa was attacked by one brigade at 7 A.M., and in little more than an hour was completely in our hands. At 1.30 P.M. the attack on the Tummar camps opened, and by nightfall practically the whole area and most of its defenders were captured. Meanwhile, the 7th Armoured Division had isolated Sidi Barrani by cutting the coast road to the west. Simultaneously the garrison of Mersa Matruh, which included the Coldstream Guards, had also prepared their blow. At first light on the 10th, they assaulted the Italian positions on their front, supported by heavy fire from the sea. Fighting continued all day, and by ten o’clock the Coldstream Battalion Headquarters signalled that it was impossible to count the prisoners on account of their numbers, but that “there were about five acres of officers and two hundred acres of other ranks.”

At home in Downing Street they brought me hour-to-hour signals from the battlefield. It was difficult to understand exactly what was happening, but the general impression was favourable, and I remember being struck by a message from a young officer in a tank of the 7th Armoured Division, “Have arrived at the second B in Buq Buq.” I was able to inform the House of Commons on the 10th that active fighting was in progress in the desert; that five hundred prisoners had been taken and an Italian general killed; and also that our troops had reached the coast. “It is too soon to attempt to forecast either the scope or the result of the considerable operations which are in progress. But we can at any rate say that the preliminary phase has been successful.” That afternoon Sidi Barrani was captured.

From December 11 onward the action consisted of a pursuit of the Italian fugitives by the 7th Armoured Division, followed by the 16th British Infantry Brigade (motorized) and the 6th Australian Division, which had relieved the 4th Indian Division. On December 12, I could tell the House of Commons that the whole coastal region around Buq Buq and Sidi Barrani was in the hands of British and Imperial troops and that seven thousand prisoners had already reached Mersa Matruh.

The moment the victory of Sidi Barrani was assured—indeed, on December 12—General Wavell took on his own direct initiative a wise and daring decision. Instead of holding back in general reserve on the battlefield the 4th British Indian Division, which had just been relieved, he moved it at once to Eritrea to join the 5th British Indian Division for the Abyssinian campaign under General Platt. The division went partly by sea to Port Sudan, and partly by rail and boat up the Nile. Some of them moved practically straight from the front at Sidi Barrani to their ships, and were in action again in a theatre seven hundred miles away very soon after their arrival. The earliest units arrived at Port Sudan at the end of December, and the movement was completed by January 21. The division joined in the pursuit of the Italians from Kassala, which they had evacuated on January 19, to Keren, where the main Italian resistance was encountered. General Platt had, as we shall see, a hard task at Keren, even with his two British Indian Divisions, the 4th and 5th. Without this farseeing decision of General Wavell’s the victory at Keren could not have been achieved and the liberation of Abyssinia would have been subject to indefinite delays. The immediate course of events both on the North African shore and in Abyssinia proved how very justly the Commander-in-Chief had measured the values and circumstances of the situations.

I hastened to offer my congratulations to all concerned, and to urge pursuit to the utmost limit of strength.

By December 15 all enemy troops had been driven from Egypt. The greater part of the Italian forces remaining in Cyrenaica had withdrawn within the defences of Bardia, which was now isolated. This ended the first phase of the battle of Sidi Barrani, which resulted in the destruction of the greater part of five enemy divisions. Over 38,000 prisoners were taken. Our own casualties were 133 killed, 387 wounded, and 8 missing.

Bardia was our next objective. Within its perimeter, seventeen miles in extent, was the greater part of four more Italian divisions. The defences comprised a continuous anti-tank ditch and wire obstacles with concrete block-houses at intervals, and behind this was a second line of fortifications. The storming of this considerable stronghold required preparation. The 7th Armoured Division prevented all enemy escape to the north and northwest. For the assault there were available the 6th Australian Division, the 16th British Infantry Brigade, the 7th Battalion Royal Tank Regiment (twenty-six tanks), one machine-gun battalion, one field and one medium regiment of corps artillery.

To complete this episode of desert victory, I shall intrude upon the New Year. The attack opened early on January 3. One Australian battalion, covered by a strong artillery concentration, seized and held a lodgment in the western perimeter. Behind them engineers filled in the anti-tank ditch. Two Australian brigades carried on the attack and swept east and southeastward. They sang at that time a song they had brought with them from Australia which soon spread to Britain.

This tune always reminds me of these buoyant days. By the afternoon of the 4th, British tanks—“Matildas.” as they were named—supported by infantry, entered Bardia, and by the 5th all the defenders had surrendered. Forty-five thousand prisoners and 462 guns were taken.

By next day, January 6, Tobruk in its turn had been isolated by the 7th Armoured Division, and on the 7th the leading Australian brigade stood before its eastern defences. Here the perimeter was twenty-seven miles long and similar to that of Bardia, except that the anti-tank ditch at many points was not deep enough to be effective. The garrison consisted of one complete infantry division, a corps headquarters, and a mass of remnants from the forward areas. It was not possible to launch the assault till January 21, when, under a strong barrage, another Australian brigade pierced the perimeter on its southern face. The two other brigades of the division entered the bridgehead thus formed, swinging off to left and right. By nightfall one-third of the defended area was in our hands, and early next morning all resistance ceased. The prisoners amounted to nearly 30,000, with 236 guns. The Desert Army had in five weeks advanced over two hundred miles of waterless and foodless space, had taken by assault two strongly fortified seaports with permanent air and marine defences, and captured 113,000 prisoners and over 700 guns. The great Italian army which had invaded and hoped to conquer Egypt scarcely existed as a military force, and only the imperious difficulties of distance and supplies delayed an indefinite British advance to the west.

Throughout these operations vigorous support was provided by the Fleet. Bardia and Tobruk were in turn heavily bombarded from the sea, and the Fleet Air Arm played its part in the battle on land. Above all, the Navy sustained the Army in its advance by handling about three thousand tons of supplies a day for the forward troops, besides maintaining an invaluable ferry service for personnel through the captured ports. Our victorious army was also greatly indebted for their success to the mastery which the Royal Air Force gained over the Regia Aeronautica. Although in inferior numbers, the aggressiveness of our pilots soon established a complete moral ascendancy that gave them the freedom of the air. Our attacks on enemy airfields reaped a rich reward, and hundreds of their aircraft were later found wrecked and abandoned.

It is always interesting to see the reactions of the other side. The reader is already acquainted with Count Ciano, and should not be too hard on weak people who follow easily into wrong courses the temptations of affluence and office. Those who have successfully resisted all such temptations should form the tribunal. When Ciano faced the firing-squad he paid his debts to the full. Villains are made of a different texture. We must not however imagine that it is better to be a rare villain than a Ciano or one of the multitudinous potential Cianos.

Ciano saw his father-in-law twice on this day and found him very calm. “He comments on the event with impersonal objectivity . . . being more preoccupied with Graziani’s prestige.” On the 11th it was known in the inner circle at Rome that four Italian divisions must be considered destroyed, and, even worse. Graziani dwelt upon the daring and design of the enemy rather than upon any counter-measures of his own. Mussolini maintained his composure. “He maintains that the many painful days through which we are living must be inevitable in the changing fortunes of every war.” If the British stopped at the frontier nothing serious would have happened. If, on the contrary, they reached Tobruk, “he thinks the situation would verge on the tragic.” In the evening the Duce learned that five divisions had been “pulverised” in two days. Evidently there was something wrong with this army!

On December 13 a “catastrophic telegram” came from Graziani. He contemplated retiring as far as Tripoli, “in order to keep the flag flying on that fortress at least.” He was indignant that he should have been forced into so hazardous an advance upon Egypt by Rommel’s undue influence on Mussolini. He complained that he had been forced into a struggle between “a flea and an elephant.” Apparently the flea had devoured a large portion of the elephant. On the 15th, Ciano was himself by no means sure that the English would be content to stop at the frontier, and records his opinion in that sense. Graziani, in default of military deeds, served up to his master bitter recriminations. Mussolini remarked, perhaps with some justice, “Here is another man with whom I cannot get angry, because I despise him.” He still hoped that the British advance would be stopped at least at Derna.

I had kept the House daily informed of our progress in the desert, and on December 19, I made a long statement on the general war position. I described the improvement of our home defence and urged increasing vigilance. We must expect a continuance of the air attacks, and the organisation of shelters, the improvement of sanitation, and the endeavour to mitigate the extremely bad conditions under which people had to get their night’s rest was the first task of the Government at home. “The Air-Raid Precautions, the Home Office, and the Ministry of Health are just as much in the front line as are the armoured columns which are chasing the Italians about the Libyan Desert.”

I also thought it necessary to utter a warning about the sinkings in the Atlantic.

I thought it the moment to address the Italian people by the broadcast, and on the night of December 23 I reminded them of the long friendship between Britain and Italy. Now we were at war.

I read out the message I had sent to Mussolini on becoming Prime Minister and his reply of May 18, 1940, and I continued:

It is curious that on this same day Mussolini, speaking of the moral of the Italian Army, remarked to Ciano,^[5] “I must nevertheless recognise that the Italians of 1914 were better than these. It is not flattering for the régime, but that’s how it is.” And the next day, looking out of the window, “This snow and cold are very good. In this way our good-for-nothing Italians, this mediocre race, will be improved.” Such were the bitter and ungrateful reflections which the failure of the Italian Army in Libya and Albania had wrung from the heart of this dark figure after six months of aggressive war on what he had thought was the decadent British Empire.

This was a time when events were so fluid that every possible stroke had to be studied beforehand, and thus the widest choice of action lay open to us. Our victory in Libya had already stimulated the revolt against Italy in Abyssinia. I was most anxious that the Emperor, Haile Selassie, should re-enter his country as he desired to do. The Foreign Office thought this step premature. I deferred to the judgment of the new Secretary of State, but the delay was short, and the Emperor, eager to run all risks, was soon back on his native soil.

Finally, I was most anxious to give Vichy its chance to profit by the favourable turn of events. There is no room in war for pique, spite, or rancour. The main objective must dominate all secondary causes of vexation. For some weeks past the Chiefs of Staff Committee and the General Staff of the War Office had been preparing an Expeditionary Force of six divisions, and making plans, if the French attitude should become favourable, to land in Morocco. We had the advantage of M. Dupuy, the Canadian representative at Vichy, as a channel of communication with Marshal Pétain. It was necessary to keep the United States informed; for I already sensed the President’s interest in Tangier, Casablanca, and indeed in the whole Atlantic seaboard of Africa, the German occupation of which by U-boat bases was held by the American military authorities to endanger the security of the United States. Accordingly, with the full approval of the Chiefs of Staff and the War Cabinet, the following message was sent by the hand of M. Dupuy to Vichy and notified by the Foreign Office to our Chargé d’Affaires in Washington.

A similar message was sent by another hand to General Weygand, now Commander-in-Chief at Algiers. No answer of any kind was returned from either quarter.

At this stage we may review the numerous tasks and projects for which plans and in most cases preparations had been made and approval in principle obtained. The first was of course the defence of the island against invasion. We had now armed and equipped, though not in all cases at the highest standard of modern equipment, nearly thirty high-class mobile divisions, a large proportion of whom were Regulars, and all of whose men had been under intense training for fifteen months. Of these we considered that, apart from the coastal troops, fifteen would be sufficient to deal with oversea invasion. The Home Guard, now more than a million men, had rifles and some cartridges in their hands, apart from our reserve. We therefore had twelve or fifteen divisions available for offensive action overseas as need and opportunity arose. The reinforcement of the Middle East, and especially of the Army of the Nile, from Australia and New Zealand and from India, had already been provided for by shipping and by other arrangements. As the Mediterranean was still closed, very long voyages and many weeks were required for all these convoys and their escorts.

Secondly, in case Vichy or the French in North Africa should rally to the common cause, we had prepared an Expeditionary Force of six divisions, with an air component, for an unopposed and assisted landing in Moroccan Atlantic ports, principally Casablanca. Whether we could move this good army to Morocco or to Ceuta, opposite Gibraltar, more rapidly than the Germans could come in equal numbers and equipment through Spain depended upon the degree of Spanish resistance. We could however, if invited, and if we liked it, land at Cadiz to support the Spaniards.

Thirdly, in case the Spanish Government yielded to German pressure and became Hitler’s ally or co-belligerent, thus making the harbour at Gibraltar unusable, we held ready a strong brigade with four suitable fast transports to seize or occupy some of the Atlantic islands. Alternatively, if the Portuguese Government agreed that we might for this purpose invoke the Anglo-Portuguese Alliance of 1373, “Friends to friends, and foes to foes,” we might set up with all speed a base in the Cape Verde Islands. This operation, called “Shrapnel,” would secure us the necessary air and refueling bases to maintain naval control of the critical stretch of the route round the Cape.

Fourthly, a French de Gaullist brigade from England, with West African reinforcements, was to be sent round the Cape to Egypt in order to effect the capture of Jibouti in case conditions there became favourable (“Operation Marie”).^[6]

Preparations were also being made to reinforce Malta, particularly in air power (“Operation Winch”), with the object of regaining control of the passage between Sicily and Tunis. As an important element in this policy, plans had been made for the capture by a brigade of commandos, of which Sir Roger Keyes wished to take personal command, of the rocky islet of Pantelleria (“Operation Workshop”). Every effort was ordered to be made to develop a strong naval and air base in Crete at Suda Bay, pending the movement thither of any reinforcements for its garrison which a change in the Greek situation might require. We were developing airfields in Greece both to aid the Greek Army and to strike at Italy, or if necessary at the Rumanian oilfields. Similarly, the active development of airfields in Turkey and technical assistance to the Turks was in progress.

Finally the revolt in Abyssinia was being fanned by every means, and respectable forces were based on Khartoum to strike in the neighbourhood of Kassala, on the White Nile, against the menace of the large Italian army in Abyssinia. A movement was planned for a joint military and naval advance from Kenya up the East African coast towards the Red Sea to capture the Italian fortified seaports of Assab and Massawa, with a view to the conquest of the Italian colony of Eritrea.

Thus I was able to lay before the War Cabinet a wide choice of carefully considered and detailed enterprises which could at very short notice be launched against the enemy, and certainly from among them we could find the means for an active and unceasing overseas offensive warfare, albeit on a secondary scale, with which to relieve and adorn our conduct of the war during the early part of 1941, throughout which the building up of our main war strength in men and munitions, in aircraft, tanks and artillery, would be continuously and immensely expanded.

As the end of the year approached both its lights and its shadows stood out harshly on the picture. We were alive. We had beaten the German Air Force. There had been no invasion of the island. The Army at home was now very powerful. London had stood triumphant through all her ordeals. Everything connected with our air mastery over our own island was improving fast. The smear of Communists who obeyed their Moscow orders gibbered about a capitalist-imperialist war. But the factories hummed and the whole British nation toiled night and day, uplifted by a surge of relief and pride. Victory sparkled in the Libyan Desert, and across the Atlantic the Great Republic drew ever nearer to her duty and our aid.

We may, I am sure, rate this tremendous year as the most splendid, as it was the most deadly, year in our long English and British story. It was a great, quaintly organised England that had destroyed the Spanish Armada. A strong flame of conviction and resolve carried us through the twenty-five years’ conflict which William II and Marlborough waged against Louis XIV. There was a famous period with Chatham. There was the long struggle against Napoleon, in which our survival was secured through the domination of the seas by the British Navy under the classic leadership of Nelson and his associates. A million Britons died in the First World War. But nothing surpasses 1940. By the end of that year this small and ancient island, with its devoted Commonwealth, Dominions and attachments under every sky, had proved itself capable of bearing the whole impact and weight of world destiny. We had not flinched or wavered. We had not failed. The soul of the British people and race had proved invincible. The citadel of the Commonwealth and Empire could not be stormed. Alone, but upborne by every generous heartbeat of mankind, we had defied the tyrant in the height of his triumph.

All our latent strength was now alive. The air terror had been measured. The island was intangible, inviolate. Henceforward we too would have weapons with which to fight. Henceforward we too would be a highly organised war machine. We had shown the world that we could hold our own. There were two sides to the question of Hitler’s world domination. Britain, whom so many had counted out, was still in the ring, far stronger than she had ever been, and gathering strength with every day. Time had once again come over to our side. And not only to our national side. The United States was arming fast and drawing ever nearer to the conflict. Soviet Russia, who with callous miscalculation had adjudged us worthless at the outbreak of the war, and had bought from Germany fleeting immunity and a share of the booty, had also become much stronger and had secured advanced positions for her own defence. Japan seemed for the moment to be overawed by the evident prospect of a prolonged world war, and, anxiously watching Russia and the United States, meditated profoundly what it would be wise and profitable to do.

And now this Britain, and its far-spread association of states and dependencies, which had seemed on the verge of ruin, whose very heart was about to be pierced, had been for fifteen months concentrated upon the war problem, training its men and devoting all its infinitely varied vitalities to the struggle. With a gasp of astonishment and relief the smaller neutrals and the subjugated states saw that the stars still shone in the sky. Hope and within it passion burned anew in the hearts of hundreds of millions of men. The good cause would triumph. Right would not be trampled down. The flag of Freedom, which in this fateful hour was the Union Jack, would still fly in all the winds that blew.

But I and my faithful colleagues who brooded with accurate information at the summit of the scene had no lack of cares. The shadow of the U-boat blockade already cast its chill upon us. All our plans depended upon the defeat of this menace. The Battle of France was lost. The Battle of Britain was won. The Battle of the Atlantic had now to be fought.

May-December, 1940

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

The first table contains the figures which were given to the President in my letter of December 8, 1940.^[1]

TABLE II

Monthly Totals of Shipping Losses

May, 1940 to December, 1940

1. Aircraft Production in 1940

2. Operational Strengths During the Battle of Britain

SUMMARISED ORDER OF BATTLE (BOMBER COMMAND) AND BOMBER

Bomber Command

3. Operational Strengths of Fighter Command

Week by Week

4. Comparison of British and German Fighter Strength
During the Battle of Britain

The preceding table gives the overall strength of Fighter Command, including Blenheims and Defiants. But these cannot be reckoned, for the purposes of comparisons, as part of the day fighting force which consisted of Hurricanes and Spitfires.

After taking representative dates in the period July 10-October 31, the approximate daily average of Squadrons available for operations, of these two latter types combined, is:

On the German side figures of serviceability are not at present available; comparison can therefore be made only in terms of Initial Equipment. The German IE was:

The comparable Initial Equipment figures for British Hurricanes and Spitfires averaged over the 12 weeks, was 827.

between Mr. Churchill and Mr. Menzies ^[1]

Abbeville, 46, 78, 148;
  captured by Germans, 72;
  entered by German Army, 59
 
Abbreviations, list of, 724 f.
 
Abrial, Admiral, Commandant Northern Naval Frontier, French naval commander at Dunkirk, 111, 114
 
Abyssinia, 120, 121;
  attack on Italian position in, 424;
  campaign in, 612; Italian army in, 626;
  Italian garrison in, 418;
  liberation of, 612;
  rebellion in, 505, 621, 626;
  return to, of Haile Selassie, 622
 
“Act of Faith,” American, 278
 
Addresses, by Churchill: to House of Commons—on American negotiations for bases and destroyers, 415;
  on bad news, 99;
  on battle of Sidi Barrani, 611;
  on Belgian surrender, 95 f.;
  on British fighting spirit, 237;
  on British surrender, 400;
  on Chamberlain, 550 f.;
  on debt of “so many to so few,” 340;
  on policy, 25 f.;
  to Parliament—on Battle of Britain, 327;
  on British determination, 225 f.;
  on Dunkirk evacuation, 115 ff.;
  on invasion, 283;
  on Lend-Lease Bill, 569;
  on 99-year lease of bases, 408 f.;
  on R.A.F., 320;
  on air victory of Sept. 15, 1940, 337;
  on State compensation for bombing damage, 350;
  on war aim, of British survival, 26
 
Aden: air reinforcement of, 429;
  ships from, 45;
  Gulf of, 471
 
Admiralty, the, 221, 251, 252, passim;
  Churchill message to, 639 f.;
  decision of, on heavy ships, 291;
  fears war with France, 512 f., 514 f.;
  First Lord of, 16;
  on Horse Guards Parade, 375;
  policy of, in Mediterranean, 441, 444;
  message to Somerville, 234;
  new flag for, 465;
  orders French ships barred from Dakar, 482;
  receives reports on French squadron, 480
 
Adriatic, the, 129
 
Aerial mine curtains, 392
 
Aerial mines, 395
 
Aeroplanes, U.S.: bought by Britain, 554
 
Africa, 64, 113, passim;
  French colonial domain in, 473, 525;
  French leaders, to, 526;
  French movement into, 179;
  French troops from, 48;
  Italian military activity in, 418 f.;
  war to, 401
 
African: Atlantic seaboard, U.S. interest in, 623;
  bases, to Germany, 514;
  campaign, 614;
  theatre of war, 611
 
Aintree Camp: French naval personnel at, 169
 
Air: attacks underrated, 443;
  battle, decisive, Sept. 15, 1940, 325;
  battle, turning-point of, 455;
  Coastal Command, 608;
  Commander-in-Chief, Middle East, Churchill message to, 686 f.;
  Defence Artillery, 343;
  Defence Great Britain, expansion of, table, 397;
  Defence Research Committee, 382, 390, 392;
  fighting, daylight, 455;
  Interception (A.I.), 162;
  mastery, 328, 458;
  Ministry, 412, 434;
  Ministry, Churchill message to, 711;
  power, in invasion, 281 f.;
  Raid Precautions (A.R.P.), 354, 619;
  superiority, 88 f.;
  supply units, table, 716;
  victory, Sept. 15, 1940, 337
 
Air-borne: radar, 389;
  invasion, 296;
  troops, 176, 285
 
Aircraft: British need for, 498;
  catapulted, 604;
  expendable, 604;
  lost from the Argus, 453;
  to Malta or Egypt, 452;
  pilotless, 374;
  losses of, table, 339;
  production, gains in, 465;
  production, 1940, table, 715;
  production, priority of, 461;
  production, U.S., 565;
  strength, in Battle of Britain, table, 715 ff.
 
Air Force: primacy of, 458.
  See also British, French, German, Italian, Luftwaffe, Royal, Russian Air Force
 
Air-raid: shelters, 365 f.;
  warnings, 352
 
Aisne R., 110, 141, 148, 189
 
Aitken, Max, son of Lord Beaverbrook, 325
 
Aix-la-Chapelle, 29 f.
 
Alarm, the, 352
 
Alaska: as operational theatre, 5 n.
 
Albania: Greeks enter, 549;
  Italian army in, 434, 548, 621;
  Italian desire for, 532;
  Italian invasion of Greece from, 549;
  Italian reverses in, 613
 
Albert, 71;
  Canal, 11, 28, 32, 34, 38
 
“Albion, perfidious,” 509
 
Alcantara, merchant-cruiser, 595
 
Aldershot, 273, 470, 474
 
Alert, the, 352
 
Alexander, Field Marshal Honourable Sir Harold Rupert Leofric George, First Lord of the Admiralty, G.O. Commander-in-Chief Southern Command, 4, 76, 239;
  replaces Gort as C.-in-C. of B.E.F., 109;
  British commander at Dunkirk, 114;
  Churchill message to, 127;
  visits Pétain ministers, 217.
  See also First Lord, First Lord of the Admiralty
 
Alexandria, 232, 425, 441, passim;
  aircraft to, 443;
  British Fleet at, 127, 435;
  convoy from Malta to, 440;
  defence of, 431, 451;
  destroyers from, 447;
  English Fleet to be forced from, 523;
  French vessels immobilized at, 236;
  Mediterranean Fleet based on, 439;
  resources at, 445;
  store ships from, to Malta, 445;
  tank units to, 449
 
Algeria, 223, 524;
  part of, asked for by Franco, 521
 
Algiers, 233, 236;
  defence of, 623
 
All Clear, the, 352
 
Allied Forces: escape German trap, 87;
  losses of, in Havre peninsula, 150;
  to rescue of Belgium, 38 f.;
  total strength of, May 1940, 30
 
Alpine Front: Italian attack on, 129
 
Alsace, 50, 64;
  Alsace-Lorraine, under German yoke, 510
 
America, 226;
  American Army, in Normandy, 5;
  American Army Mobilisation Plan, 143;
  bombing of Germany, 7;
  Chargé d’Affaires at Vichy, 517;
  Constitution, 187;
  destroyers, for Britain, 132 f. (see also Destroyers, American);
  Fleet, 436;
  Hemisphere defence of, 407;
  naval and air bases, offered by Great Britain, 414;
  Navy, 6;
  Navy, Mussolini’s opinion of, 522;
  opinion, changes in, 557;
  production of military equipment, 566;
  shipping losses, 8;
  squadron, to Singapore, 498;
  warships, to West Africa, 488;
  weapons, destination of, 569;
  Union, safety of, 553;
  Americans, friends of France, 514.
  See also United States
 
Amery, Leopold S., Secretary of State for India, 164, 172, 423.
  See also Secretary of State for India
 
Amiens, 46, 59, passim
 
Ammunition: needed, 462 f., 465
 
Amphibious: operations, 614;
  power, value of, 548;
  warfare, 252, 460, 466, 504;
  warfare planned by Churchill in 1917, 243 f.
 
Amsterdam, 312
 
Anderson, Sir John, Minister of Supply, 369;
  Lord President of the Council, 369, 495.
  See also Minister of Supply
 
Anderson shelters, 170, 267, 349, 365, 372
 
Anglo-American relations, 557
 
Anglo-French: Agreement, 205;
  Armada, for Dakar, 479;
  Army, 35;
  Union, draft of Declaration of, 208 f.;
  Union, rejected by French Council, 213;
  war council, in Tours, British record of, 180 ff.
 
Anglo-Portuguese Alliance of 1373, 625
 
Anglo-Soviet relations, 133, 135 f.
 
Anglo-Spanish relations, 519
 
Anne, Queen, 380
 
Annexe, the, 345, 348, 368;
  lived in, by Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, 375
 
Anson, 561
 
Antigua, 412, 414
 
Anti-aircraft (A.A.): British, 343;
  artillery, with radar, 392, 393;
  batteries, 334;
  Command, 336;
  guns, for Crete, 535;
  guns, for Greek airfields, 539;
  guns, improved, 461;
  guns, in position, 502
 
Anti-Comintern Pact, 497
 
Anti-tank obstacles, 174
 
Anti-U-boat construction, 600;
  craft, 458, 513
 
Antwerp, 38, 41, 43, 308
 
Anzio, 423
 
Arabs, 173
 
Arc de Triomphe, 309
 
Archangel, 590
 
Ardennes, the, 31, 38;
  Forest of, 32, 74
 
Argentine: exchange arrangements with, 556
 
Argus, British aircraft-carrier, 453
 
Ark Royal, British aircraft-carrier, 234, 440, passim
 
Arlington Cemetery: Dill buried in, 20
 
Armoured: divisions, 462;
  Fighting Vehicles (A.F.V.’s), 247
 
Army: of the Delta, 429, 430, 431;
  of the Nile, 454, 498;
  Organisation, Churchill messages on, 695 ff.;
  property, leasing of, 568;
  strength of, 458 f.
  See also, American, Belgian, British, Dutch, Free French, French, Greek, Italian, German, Russian, Soviet Army
 
Arnold, General H. H., Chief of U.S. Air Force, 21
 
Arras, 46, 54, passim;
  Battle of, map, 69;
  British attack Germans at, 68 ff.;
  counter-attack at, 83;
  Garrisoned by B.E.F., 66;
  given up by Gort, 81;
  lost, 75
 
Arrow Park: French troops at, 169
 
“Arsenal of democracy”: Roosevelt broadcast on, quoted, 573
 
Artificial island: suggested by Churchill in 1917, 245
 
Asdics, 133, 398, passim;
  trawlers, 601
 
Asia: war in, 5
 
Asquith, Herbert Henry, 281
 
Assab: plan to capture, 626
 
Assistant Chief of Naval Staff (A.C.N.S.): Churchill message to, 642
 
Assouan: Nile inundation control at, 431
 
Athens: Blenheim squadron to, 541;
  danger of loss of, 538;
  Italian minister in, 533
 
Atlantic, 415, 444;
  bases, in bad hands, 514;
  Battle of, 599, 630;
  control of, by British Navy, 559;
  convoys, losses in, 441;
  food and trade routes across, 402;
  German raiders in, 594;
  Northern and Southern, 562;
  route, maintenance of, 563;
  seaboard, U.S. defence of, 408;
  sinkings in, 620;
  tonnage, loss of, 563;
  U-boats destroyed in, 6;
  U.S. naval strength in, 563
 
Attila: hordes of, 621
 
Attlee, Right Honourable Clement Richard, leader of the Opposition 1935-40, Lord Privy Seal 1940-42, deputy leader of House of Commons, 9, 12, passim;
  Churchill message to, 260;
  represents Labour Party, 208
 
Auckland: mines off, 595
 
Austen, General Godwin, British commander: evacuates British Somaliland, 433
 
Austerlitz: Battle of, 38
 
Australasia: contact with, 519;
  theatre of war, 6
 
Australia, cruiser, 482, 486, 490
 
Australia: naval vessels of, 435;
  Prime Minister of, Churchill messages to, 194 ff., 434 ff., 704 f.;
  Australian song, 615 f.;
  troops, 55, 107, passim
 
Austro-Hungary: in Triple Alliance with Italy and Germany, 119
 
Automatic bomb sights, 162
 
Axis: objective, 523;
  Powers, 240, 562;
  and France, identical interest of, 525;
  French support of, 524;
  Spanish debt to, 518
 
 
Badoglio, Marshal Pietro, Supreme Chief of General Staff of Italian Army: criticised by Graziani, 469;
  intrigues against, 618
 
Bahamas, 414
 
Baku, 589
 
Balfour: on ships vs. forts, quoted, 489
 
Balkans, 546, 547, 587;
  British action in, 128;
  German interests in, 584;
  Hitler reaches towards, 589;
  question of, 582;
  Russian interests in, 581
 
Baltic, the, 286, 298, 456;
  ports, 287, 289;
  States, annexed to Soviet Union, 137
 
Bamako: de Gaulle force at, 483
 
“Banshee howlings,” 354
 
Bapaume, 65
 
Barbarossa operation: German Directive No. 21 for, 589 ff.
 
Bardia, 614;
  bombarded by British Fleet, 440, 616;
  British objective, 615;
  “Bardia Day,” 628;
  isolated, 614;
  Italian magazine at, 419;
  surrendered, 616
 
Bardufosse, Norway, 162
 
Barham, British battleship, 287, 445, passim
 
Barratt, Air Vice-Marshal commanding British Air Force in France, 156
 
Bases: air and naval, 99-year leases on, 407, 408, 416;
  betrayal of, 514;
  British, for lease, 402 f.
 
Basra, 164, 499
 
Bathurst, 535;
  de Gaulle agents at, 484;
  de Gaulle forces at, 491
 
Battle of Britain, 320.
  See also Britain, Battle of
 
Battle Fleet, 502
 
Battle of France, 320;
  considered lost, by French High Command, 48 n.;
  final phase of, 148 ff.
 
Battleship strength: relative, 561
 
Batum, 589
 
Baudouin, M.: in French Foreign Office, 179;
  of French Secretariat, 110;
  Minister for Foreign Affairs, 215
 
Beach: defences, 278;
  resistance, 292
 
Beagle, British destroyer, damaged, 402
 
“Beauman Force,” British unit, 148, 149
 
Beaverbrook, Lord, Minister of Aircraft Production, 12 f., 162, 178, passim;
  Churchill messages to, 687, 698 f.;
  invited into War Cabinet, 325.
  See also Minister of Aircraft Production
 
Beigbeder, Spanish Foreign Minister, 522;
  removed, 528
 
Belgian: Army, 64, 65, 83, 91;
  capitulation, 95, 124;
  coasts, German control of, 302;
  front, 28;
  front, broken, 75, 82;
  frontier, 30;
  Government, 162;
  continues in the war, 95;
  reassembles on foreign soil, 91;
  repudiates surrender, 95;
  and Polish gold, in Central Africa, 487;
  surrender, 191;
  troops, from France to North Africa, 207
 
Belgium, 74, 246, 262;
  British pledge to, 225;
  colonial possessions of, 588 n.;
  conquered, 261 f.;
  delivered, to Hitler, 91;
  and Holland and Luxembourg, invaded by Germany, 31 f.;
  King and Queen of, to England, 91;
  neutrality of, 28, 34;
  and Northwest France, map, 315.
  See also Low Countries
 
Benghazi: Italian magazine at, 419
 
Berbera, to be held, 432
 
Berchtesgaden, Suñer to, 528
 
Bering Sea, 595
 
Berkeley, British vessel, 211
 
Berlin: bombed, 342;
  Molotov visits, 579;
  Berlin-Rome Axis, 120
 
Bermuda, 403, 414;
  British destroyer crews to, 407
 
Berwick, British cruiser: engages Hipper, 597
 
Besançon: reached by Germans, 191
 
Bessarabia: demanded by Soviet, 137
 
Besson, General, Commanding General 2d French Army Group, 30
 
Béthune, 70, 93
 
Bevin, Ernest, Minister of Labour and National Service, secretary of Transport and General Workers’ Union, 12, 111, 326, 394;
  into War Cabinet, 325 f.
 
Biggin Hill, 331
 
Billotte, General, Commanding General 1st French Army Group, 28, 30 f., passim;
  killed in motor collision, 61
 
Birmingham, 387;
  aircraft industries in, 88 f.;
  bombed, 377
 
Biscay ports, 289, 290, 293 n.;
  U-boats from, 441
 
Bismarck, 503, 561;
  not ready, 437
 
Black Move, the, 373
 
Black Sea: boundaries, of Soviet Union, 589;
  question of, 582;
  Russian interests in, 581
 
Blackpool: French troops at, 169
 
Blanchard, General, Commanding General First French Army, 66, 68, 70, 124;
  abandons Weygand Plan, 84;
  conference of, with Gort, at Cassel, 92 ff.;
  decides against evacuation, 93
 
Blanc-Nez, 273
 
Blitz: German, 341 ff.
 
Blockade: weapon of, 458
 
Bloody Foreland, 605
 
Blue Nile, 421, 505
 
Bluecher, 456
 
Board of Trade: London, 373
 
Boche, the, 510
 
Bock, General von, commander of German Army Group B, 29, 31, 148
 
Boer War, 265 n., 420
 
Bolsheviks: Hitler’s hatred for, 587
 
Bolshevism, 120
 
Bomb-disposal squads, 361
 
Bomber Command: operational strengths of, table, 715;
  prize open to, 503
 
Bombing damage: State compensation for, 349
 
Bombs: delayed-action, 360, 363;
  incendiary, 370
 
Bonaventure, British cruiser, 597
 
Bordeaux, 210, 212, passim;
  armistice, 199 ff.;
  collapse, 225;
  seat of French Government, 183, 199
 
Boreas, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
Bosphorus, 589
 
Boulogne, 59, 78, passim;
  captured by Germans, 72;
  evacuated, 83;
  Napoleon at, 330;
  garrison, withdrawn, 79
 
Bourne, Lieutenant-General Sir Alan George Barwys, Director of Combined Operations, Adjutant-General Royal Marines, 249
 
Brauchitsch, General Heinrich Alfred Hermann Walther von, Commander-in-Chief of German Army, 76;
  orders advance of armour, 77 f.
 
Brazen, British destroyer: sunk, 402
 
Bremen: bombed, 308
 
Brenner Pass, 621;
  Hitler-Mussolini meeting at, 523 f.
 
Brest, 193, 194, passim;
  Hipper escapes to, 597;
  peninsula, 192
 
Bretagne, French battleship: blown up, 236
 
Bridges, Sir Edward, Secretary to War Cabinet, 17 f., 139, 643;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Brighton, 263;
  area, 305
 
Brilliant, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
Bristol, 603;
  bombed, 377;
  Channel, minefield for, 293
 
Britain: American interest in, Roosevelt quoted on, 568;
  attacked by Italian Air Force, 544;
  Battle of, 182, 222, 225, 319 ff.;
  Battle of, chart, 340, 383, 394, 418, 452, 598;
  aircraft strength in, tables, 715 ff.;
  comparison of British and German fighter strength in, table, 716 f.;
  losses in, chart, 340;
  lost, by German Air Force, 528;
  won, by Britain, 472, 497, 630;
  Britain, declares war on Italy, 129;
  defence of, 452;
  defence of, against invasion, 624;
  exchange control policy of, 556;
  and France, union between, 205;
  German preparations for invading, 434;
  invasion of, 117;
  invasion of, postponed, 577;
  and Italy, friendship between, 620;
  North African raids of, 420 f.;
  neutral in Spanish Civil War, 518;
  temper of, 257;
  ties with France, 510;
  total exchange resources of, 566;
  war aim of, 26;
  western coasts of, 448
 
British:
  aid, from Dominions or Colonies, 255;
  aircraft losses, chart, 340;
  Air Force, 40, 577;
    expansion of, 623;
    in France, 31;
    in French crisis, 50 f.;
    and Fleet, for bargaining with Hitler, 143
    (see also Royal Air Force);
  British Ambassador in France, 209;
    at Madrid, 516;
  British Army, 4, 65, 237;
    equipment of, lost at Dunkirk, 141 f.;
    Mussolini’s opinion of, 522;
    tanks, 31;
  British bombers, to Greece, 536;
    bombing, of German shipping centres and invasion shipping, 308;
    of Germany, 7;
    of invasion ports, 434;
    of Turin and Milan, prevented by French, 156;
  British brains, 391;
  casualties, 6;
  Chargé d’Affaires, in Washington, 623;
  cities, night bombing of, 391;
  coastline of, 289;
  collapse of, 405;
  collapse of, American view of, 145;
  command of the sea, undisputed, 238;
  Commonwealth of Nations, and U.S., 558;
  convoys, in Channel, 321;
  counter-measures, 389;
  determination, 526;
  dollar resources, 555;
  Eastern Mediterranean Fleet, 435;
  Empire, 400, 620;
    dissolution of, 584;
    in the East, partition of, 587;
    as estate in bankruptcy, 583;
    in Four-Power Pact, 588 n.;
    Mussolini’s opinion of, 621;
    partition of, by Axis and France and Italy, 584;
    and U.S., identity of interest between, 559;
  Expeditionary Force, endangered, 50;
    evacuation of, 59, 62;
    evacuation, reasons for, 93;
    in France, plan for, 144;
    on half rations, 66;
    for Morocco, 624;
    to North Africa, 623;
    ordered to withdraw, 45;
    reconstitution of, 139 ff.;
    to be rebuilt, 117;
    remainder of, evacuated from Brittany, 193;
    troops in France after evacuation, 147 f.;
    under French command, 36;
    way to Dunkirk cleared by Hitler stop order, 76;
  British exports to U.S., 556;
  fear, of German operations in Spain and North Africa, 520;
  fighters, to Greece, 536;
  Fleet, 118, 195, passim;
    to America or Canada, 405;
    American opinion on, 401;
    ascendancy of, in Mediterranean, 441;
    assurance concerning, 416;
    attacks French Fleet, 236;
    as bargaining counter with Germany, 57;
    and Italian Fleets, 188;
    at Dakar, 489;
    in Eastern Mediterranean, 440;
    French action against, 514;
    not to be handed over to Germany, 399;
    guarantee against invasion, 281;
    possible fate of, 400;
    to repel Japanese invasion of Australia or New Zealand, 436;
    not to be surrendered or sunk, 414;
    U.S. supplies for, 227;
    British and Free French ships, retire from Dakar duel, 489;
    and French Fleets, reunion of, 623;
    and French naval forces, 516;
    forces, U.S. weapons allocated to, 554;
  Foreign Office, messages from, to Reynaud on separate peace, 206 f.;
    and German Air Forces, struggle between, 381;
    and German fighter strength, compared, in Battle of Britain, table, 716 f.;
  gold, at Capetown, removed by U.S. battleship, 573;
  Government, plans of, for moving Government offices, 366;
  Guiana, 411, 414;
  Isles, conquest of, impossible, 406 f.;
    military strength, 436 f.;
  islands, U.S. bases in, 563;
  Intelligence, 389;
  Intelligence Service, 593;
  and Italian forces, for Mersa Matruh, 504;
  life-line, endangered, 598;
  military equipment, 144;
  morale, 89, 100;
    after Dunkirk, 138:
  naval preparations, for evacuation, 97;
    British Navy, 125, 290, 625 n.;
    control of Atlantic by, 559;
    duty of, 598;
    established in Mediterranean, 454;
    exertions of, 536;
  offensive power of, 460;
    under Nelson, 628;
    British offer, of bases to U.S., 413 f.;
  orders, for U.S. munitions, 554;
  parachute troops, 247;
  pledge of French fellowship, by Churchill to Reynaud, 186;
  pledge to French, Czechs, Poles, Norwegians, Dutch, Belgians, 225;
  policy, defensive, 440;
  prospects for 1941, 558;
  Purchasing Commission, 555;
  Quisling Government, 405;
  raiding forces, proposed by Churchill, 243;
  rejection, of Hitler’s peace offer, 521;
  reprisal, questioned, 363;
  resistance, to Germany, 216;
  resolve, 181, 224 f.;
  science, 381, 391;
  sea and air power, against Germany, 559;
  sea patrol, 282;
  shipping losses, 8, 560;
  shipping needs, 561;
  Somaliland, 429;
    as a base, 433;
    British driven from, 432;
    Italian forces enter, 418, 433;
    British story, the, climax of, 628;
  struggle, effects of, on U.S., 566;
  supplies, to Eire, 606;
  surrender, to Germany, 57;
  survival, as war aim, 26;
  trade, in sterling, 556;
  transcontinental air transport, in Middle East, 494;
  Treasury, bombed, 345;
  troops, for Crete, 540;
  ultimatum, to French Fleet, 236;
  war aim, 180;
    and U.S. land forces, table, 5;
    and U.S. survival, bound up together, 403;
    British-Italian relations, 119
 
Brittany, 140;
  peninsula, bridgehead in, 192
 
Broadcasts, by Churchill: to France, on British steadfastness, 217;
  to French, on Hitler and Hitlerism, 509 ff.;
  on German bombing and invasion, 329 f.;
  to Italy, on Mussolini’s war against Britain, 620 f.
 
Brooke, Field Marshal Sir Alan Francis, Chief of Imperial General Staff, G.O. Commander-in-Chief Anti-Aircraft Command, Commander-in-Chief Home Forces, 20, 76, 192, 194, 297;
  Churchill messages to, 286 ff., 468 f.;
  commander B.E.F. after Dunkirk, 191;
  fights off Germans, at Dunkirk bridgehead, 96;
  record of, 265 f.;
  succeeds Ironside in command of Home Forces, 264
 
Brooke, Ronnie, 265 n.
 
Brooke, Victor, 265 n.
 
Brussels, 40, 311;
  entered by German Army, 54
 
Buckingham Palace: King George at, 378;
  luncheons in, 628;
  shooting-range in, 379
 
Bukovina: demanded by Soviet, 137;
  Molotov on, 583
 
Bulgaria, 581;
  aspirations of, in Macedonia, 532;
  German domination of, 587;
  German troops in, 593;
  pact, with Soviet Union, 589;
  possible German Stroke through, 546;
  warning to, 547
 
Bullitt, William C, U.S. Ambassador to France, 143, 178
 
Buq Buq, 543, 611
 
Burma Road, 256;
  reopened, 497, 498
 
 
Cabinet rank, Ministers of, list, 14
 
Cadiz, 624
 
Cadogan, Sir Alexander: Churchill message to 682
 
Cairo, 453, 500, passim;
  British conference in 540;
  Eden in, 504, 536, 538;
  Wavell to, 432
 
Calais, 59, 61, passim;
  bombarded by Erebus, 275 n.;
  defence of, 79;
  to be held, 81;
  threatened by Germans, 72
 
Cambrai, 64, 65, 70, 83;
  reached by German Army, 54
 
Cameroons, 486
 
Campbell, Right Honourable Sir Ronald Hugh,
  British Ambassador to France, 200, 204, passim;
    Foreign Office messages to, 211
 
Canada, 145, 252, 408;
  and Dominions, dollar needs of, 574;
  evacuation of children to, 646 n.;
  Government of, 407;
  pilot training in, 577;
  Prime Minister of, Churchill messages to, 194 ff., 689 ff.;
  Canadian forces, U.S. weapons allocated to, 554:
    troops, to Brest, 147;
    to Britain, 107, 299, 597;
    for France, 140 f.
 
Canal Zone, 500, 501, 506
 
Canaris, Admiral, Chief of German Secret Service, 528
 
Canary Islands, 492;
  bases in, 523;
  British ready to seize, 519;
  German base in, 522
 
Cangé, 183, 200
 
Cape Gris-Nez, 273
 
Cape route, 45, 418, passim;
  naval control of, 625
 
Cape Verde Islands: British base in, 625;
  Scheer at, 597
 
Capetown: U.S. battleship to, 573
 
Capuzzo, Italian fort: captured by British, 420, 614
 
Cargo ships: turn-around of, 603
 
Carlton Club, 205;
  bombed, 347
 
Carnarvon Castle, merchant-cruiser, 595
 
Carr, Lieutenant-General Laurence, Assistant Chief Imperial General Staff, 165, 168
 
Casablanca, 7, 169, passim;
  action at, 475;
  Massilia anchors at, 219;
  Primauguet and Gloire escorted to, 486;
  U.S. interest in, 623
 
“Cash and Carry”: U.S. principle of, 555
 
Casualties: American, and British, 6
 
Catroux, General: from Indo-China to command French North African colonies, 474;
  to Syria, 487
 
Central Africa: under Free French control, 494;
  German interests in, 588
 
Centurion, British dummy-battleship, 299
 
Ceylon: as a naval base, 435
 
Chad, 483
 
Chamberlain, Austen, 551
 
Chamberlain, Neville, Lord President of the Council, leader of Conservative Party, 9 f., 18, 37, passim;
  Churchill message to, 260;
  death of, 346, 550;
  guarantee to Germany by, 533;
  resigned leadership of Conservative Party, 496;
  Chamberlain Administration, 572
 
Champs Elysées, 309
 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, 349, 374;
  Churchill messages to, 602 f., 605, 650
 
Channel, 270, passim;
  air supremacy over, 319 f.;
  British patrols in, 279;
  crossing of, 281, 304;
  as German invasion route, 301;
  ports, defence of, under Gort, 79
 
Charles-Roux, M., French Foreign Secretary-General: refuses to serve under Laval, 216
 
“Chars allemands,” 59
 
Chatfield, Lord: Churchill message to, 701
 
Chatham, William Pitt, first Earl of, 628
 
Chautemps, M., Vice-President of French Council, 203, 213, 215, 218, 221
 
Cherbourg, 193, 387;
  peninsula, 193
 
Chequers, 332, 336, 361;
  luncheon at, 525
 
Chief of Air Staff (C.A.S.), 548;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Chief of Imperial General Staff (C.I.G.S), 20, 79, 81, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Chief Whip, of National Government: Stuart succeeds Margesson as, 572
 
Chiefs of Staff (C.O.S.), 139, 174, 243, passim
  approve “Compass,” 543;
  meet with Churchill and de Gaulle, 478;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  favour continuing war alone, 89
 
Chiefs of Staff Committee, 16, 295, 464;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  plans of, for Morocco, 622 f.;
  proposals for Dakar, 474
 
Children: evacuation of, to Canada and U.S., 646 n.
 
China, 256;
  Japan, absorbed in, 436;
  supplies to, 497
 
Churchill, H.M. destroyer: Churchill message to captain of, 673
 
Churchill, Right Honourable Winston Spencer, Prime Minister of Great Britain, Minister of Defence, leader of the House of Commons, head of the War Cabinet: formed National Coalition Government, 4;
  addressed by letter by Darlan, 239 ff.;
  at Anglo-French war council in Tours, 180 ff.;
  becomes leader of Conservative Party, 496;
  bomb-proof shelter for, 375;
  to Concarneau in cruiser, 211;
  declares British determination to fight on, 155;
  as described in German official account, 580;
  leadership of, referred to by Hull, 143;
  letter to, from King George, 626;
  lunches weekly with King and Queen, 379 f.;
  plans cruiser rendezvous with Reynaud, 210;
  plans State compensation for bomb damage, 349;
  policy of personal correspondence with heads of states, especially Roosevelt, 22;
  promoted friendship of Italy and Britain, 121;
  reports French situation to War Cabinet, 158 f.;
  speculates on survival of France as an active belligerent, 221 ff.;
  Stalin, message to, unanswered, 136;
  stimulated beach landing of armour, 254;
  suggests guerrilla plan and move to Africa, 155;
  visits Birmingham, 377;
  visits bombed southern areas, 332;
  visits east and south coasts, 263;
  visits France, 152 f., 178 f.;
  visits Margate, 349;
  visits Moscow, 585;
  visits Paris, 45, 64, 109;
  weeps at Peckham bombing, 348;
  Churchill-Menzies correspondence, on Dakar, 718 ff.
  See also Addresses, Broadcasts, Letters, Messages, Memoranda, Minutes, Notes, Talks
 
Ciano, Count Galeazzo, Italian Minister for Foreign Affairs, 122, 128, 278, 524 n.;
  delivers Italian declaration of war against Britain and France, 129;
  Diary, quoted, 126, 131, 469, 471, 618, 619,621;
  Diary, quoted, on German attack on Britain, 261;
  Diplomatic Papers, quotes Keitel, 258;
  letter to Churchill, 131
 
City of Benares, sunk, 646 n.
 
Civil Defence Committee, 370
 
Civil Defence Service, substituted for A.R.P., 371
 
Civilisation, agony of, 560
 
Clemenceau, Georges, 203;
  quoted, 151
 
Clyde R., 342, passim;
  estuary of, 600;
  tankers, laid up in, 603
 
Coalition: Cabinet, British, 8;
  Government, 4 ff.;
  National, 3 ff.
 
Coastal: command, counter-offensive by, 608;
  heavy artillery, 277
 
Code names, list, 723
 
Codrington, British destroyer: sunk, 402
 
Coldstream Guards, 470, 610
 
Colijn, Mr., Dutch Prime Minister: on Dutch water-controls, 34
 
Collaboration: among Germans, French, Italians 582;
  principle of, conceded by Pétain to Hitler, 525;
  question of, 585
 
Combined: Chiefs of Staff Committee, 21;
  Operations Command, 249, 252
 
Comines, 96
 
Commander-in-Chief (C.-in-C.), 165, 286, 295;
  Fighter Command, 326;
  Home Forces, 175, 464;
  Churchill messages to, 286 ff., 693;
  Mediterranean, 445, 447, 545;
  Churchill message to, 694 f.;
  Mediterranean Fleet, 445, 446;
  general directive for, 428 ff.;
  Commanders-in-Chief, of Navy, Army, Air, 471
 
Commandos, 166, 246;
  equipment for, 468;
  prejudices against, 466;
  ten companies formed, 247
 
Commons, House of, 16, 242, 372, passim;
  Chamber of, blown up, 356 f.;
  Churchill addresses to, 96, 99, 237, 340, 415, 550 f., 611, 619 f.;
  demonstration in, in support of Churchill, 238;
  informed by Churchill, of Belgian surrender, 95;
  vote of confidence of, 26
 
Communist and Nazi Empires, 227
 
Communists: in Britain, 278, 626;
  and Fascists, in Britain, 55 f.
 
“Compass”: British attack at Mersa Matruh, 542;
  Churchill to Wavell on, 545 ff.;
  plan of, 542;
  plan of, approved, 543
 
Compiègne, 66, 309
 
Concarneau, 211
 
Congress, 404, 406, 407, 416, 567;
  special session of, 555
 
Conservative Party, 9 f.
 
Constantinople, 547
 
Controller: Churchill messages to, 666, 671
 
Convoy: system, 599;
  W.S. 5A, attacked by Hipper, 597;
  convoys, routing of, 602
 
Cooper, Duff, Minister of Information, 220;
  to Casablanca, 475
 
Coral Sea, 6
 
Corap, General, Commander Ninth French Army, 36, 42 f.
 
Corfu, 532;
  attack on, planned by Italian Fleet, 545
 
Cork and Orrery, Earl of, British naval commander in Norway, 54
 
Cornwall, and Delhi, intercept the Primauguet, 486
 
Cornwall, to Ireland, minefield from, 293
 
Corps zones, 175
 
Corregidor, 108
 
Corsica, 510
 
Council, Lord President of, 9
 
Counter-attack, 292, 295
 
Counter-offensive, 242;
  by Navy and Coastal Command, 608
 
Courtaulds in America, sold by Britain, 573
 
Courtrai, 82
 
Coventry: aircraft industries in, 88 f.;
  bombed, 376 f.;
  bombed by “X apparatus,” 388
 
Cox, Oscar S., of Maine, 568
 
Crete, 45;
  air base in, 538;
  air reinforcements for, 538 f.;
  anti-aircraft guns for, 535;
  bombers to, 535;
  British base in, 625;
  British forces to, 534;
  British occupation of, 544;
  British troops for, 537;
  defence of, 534, 539;
  as fortress, 549;
  importance of, 534;
  situation in, described by Eden, 540 f.
 
Cripps, Sir Stafford, becomes Ambassador to Russia, 133, 136
 
Cromarty Firth, 294, 295, 298
 
Cromwell, Oliver, 203;
  attacks San Domingo, 1655, 493
 
“Cromwell,” code-word for invasion, 312
 
Cross-Channel heavy guns, 247
 
Crow, Dr., 393
 
Cruiser rendezvous: between Churchill and Reynaud, 211;
  called off, 212
 
Cumberland, 482, 486;
  put out of action, 489
 
Cunningham, Admiral Sir Andrew, Commander-in-Chief Eastern Mediterranean, 440, 441, 443, passim;
  Churchill messages to, 451 f., 662;
  on Crete, 540;
  on Suda Bay, 547
 
Cunningham, Vice-Admiral John, co-commander of Dakar expedition, 477;
  ordered to bar French ships from Dakar, 482
 
Curtiss fighters: needed, in Britain, 57
 
Cuxhaven: bombed, 308
 
Cyrenaica: Italian troops in, 418, 614
 
Czechoslovakia, 262;
  British pledge to, 225;
  troops, from France to North Africa, 207
 
 
Dakar, 233, 474, passim;
  attacked, 488;
  blockade of, 483, 502;
  bombardment of, 490;
  British withdrawal from, 490;
  Churchill-Menzies correspondence on, 718 ff.;
  commanders at: agree to break off, 491;
  countermanding orders, 483;
  episode, analysed, 493;
  expedition: dangers in, 478;
  fate of, sealed by chapter of accidents, 482;
  fiasco, 498;
  force commanders: report from, 484 ff.;
    unwilling to abandon expedition, 483;
  French squadron leaves, 485;
  plan: for capture of, 476;
  plan to occupy, 474;
  plans: Churchill minute on, 479;
    delays in, 478;
    leakage of, 478;
  resistance of, 492;
  strategical importance of, 487;
  to be taken by de Gaulle, 475;
  as a U-boat base, 486 f.;
  Vichy partisans, masters of, 488
 
Daladier, Édouard, French Minister of War, 46, 51, 64;
  to Africa, 219;
  drafts a resistance administration in North Africa, 219;
  shifted to Foreign Affairs, 57
 
Danish Fleet: in 1801, 232
 
Danton, Georges Jacques, 232
 
Dardanelles, 589
 
Darlan, Admiral Jean François, Prime Minister of France Feb. 1941, Chief of State April 1942, 110, 111, 184, 216, 219;
  bombarding Genoa, 447;
  disavowed by Vichy Government, 240;
  disliked Germans and British, 231;
  forms French Commissariat in Africa, 240;
  hostile to Britain, 516, 527;
  letter to Churchill, on his actions as Admiral, 239 ff.;
  Minister of Marine, 215, 230;
  orders French troops evacuated at Dunkirk, 111;
  promises of, to Churchill, on French Fleet, 158;
  re-creates French Navy, 229;
  would send French Fleet to Canada, 159, 178
 
Decision for 1941, 560
 
Declaration of Union, 210, 212
 
Defence Advisory Committee on Shipping Resources, meeting of, 567
 
Defence Committee, 16, 18, 19 n., 434;
  abandons Dakar attack, 490;
  considers war with Italy, 45
 
Defence of the Realm Act, 63
 
de Fonblanque, General, chief of Brooke’s embarkation staff, 194
 
de Gaulle, Charles André Joseph Marie 153, 156, 169, passim;
  aid of, 473;
  agrees with Dakar plans, 479;
  on Anglo-French Union, 207;
  attempts landing at Rufisque, 489;
  British support of, 508;
  broadcasts from Britain, 508;
  Churchill’s admiration of, 509;
  Churchill messages to, 516 f., 672, 676;
  committed to co-operation with Britain, 485;
  conqueror of Africa, 580;
  as “Constable of France,” 215;
  Dakar administration by, 476;
  escapes from France, broadcasts to France, quoted, 218;
  established at Duala, 494;
  French Under-Secretary for War, 205;
  favours guerrilla warfare, 159;
  “L’homme du destin,” 182;
  at Libreville, 516;
  meets with Churchill and Chiefs of Staff, 478;
  military agreement with, 508;
  movement of, 486, 523;
  operations of, in West Africa, 483;
  plan of, to capture Jibouti, 625 n.;
  praised by Churchill, in the House of Commons, 493;
  resents British dealings with Vichy, 509;
  telephones draft of Declaration of Union to Reynaud, 209;
  wishes to occupy Dakar, quoted, 484;
  de Gaullist brigade, to Egypt, 625
 
Dejean, M., on Free French London staff, 509
 
de la Laurencie, General, Commanding General French Third Army Corps, 97
 
Delight, British destroyer: sunk, 402
 
Delta, 419, 425, 471;
  British troops in, 427;
  defence of, 432, 613;
  irrigation canals of, 431;
  zone, 431
 
de Margerie, Captain, head of Reynaud’s private office, 110, 113
 
Denmark, 126, 246, 262;
  seized, 261;
  Strait, 597
 
Depth charges, 599
 
Derna: Italian magazine at, 419
 
Desert: Army, achievements of, 616;
  victory, map, 617
 
Destroyer-cum-bases negotiations, 555
 
Destroyers: American, 24, 401, 406, 408, 458;
  condition of, 604, 606;
  effect of, 521;
  needed, in Britain, 57;
  as a quid pro quo, 410;
  request for, renewed, 398;
  transferred to Britain, 404, 415;
  British, damaged, 402;
  sunk, 402;
  and flying-boats, American, 403
 
De Valera, 600, 606, 607;
  De Valera-aided German blockade, 605
 
Devonshire, cruiser, 482, 490
 
Devonshire, Eng., 383
 
De Wilde ammunition, 456, 465
 
Dieppe, 61, 150, 387;
  area, 334
 
“Dieu protège la France,” on the louis d’or, 510
 
Dill, General Sir John G., Chief of Imperial General Staff, head of Joint Staff Mission, 20, 45, 49, passim
 
Dinant, 40
 
Diplomatic Papers, Ciano, quoted, 258
 
Directive No. 21, issued by Hitler, 589
 
Director of Operations, 481
 
Disraeli, quoted, 551
 
Dive-bombers, 395;
  in Poland and France, 31
 
Dnieper R., 591
 
Dniester R., 592
 
Dobbie, General, Governor of Malta, 500, 501, 504
 
Dodecanese: action in, 614;
  operations against, “Mandibles,” 694;
  planned diversions against, 537
 
Dominions, the, 400;
  Prime Ministers of: assurances, to Churchill, 225;
  reassured by Churchill, 194 ff.
 
“Doodle-bugs,” 350
 
Douai, 54, 83
 
Dover, 82, 100, 105, passim;
  barrage, 288;
  conference at, on evacuation, 59;
  defences of, 263;
  and London, defence lines between, 277;
  promontory, 294, 298;
  heavy guns for, 273;
  sector, Churchill visits, 463;
  Straits of, 270, 282, 288, 302;
  invasion craft through, 296;
  to be commanded by artillery, 275
 
Dowding, Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Caswell Tremenheere, Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief
  Fighter Command, 42, 146, 154, passim;
  on Fighter Command strategy, 324
 
Downing Street, 344;
  No. 10 bombed, 346;
  No. 11, 11 n.
 
Draft Agreement, of Four-Power Pact, 588 n.
 
Drake, Sir Francis, 330, 391
 
Duala, 474, 483, 491, 502;
  as Free French rallying point, 494
 
Dublin: bombed, 389
 
Duce, 620.
  See also Mussolini
 
Duke of York, 561
 
Du Moulin de la Barthète, 525 n.
 
Duncan, Sir Andrew, Minister of Supply, 496
 
Dunedin, British cruiser, 597
 
Dunkerque, French battle-cruiser, 232;
  aground, 236
 
Dunkirk, 58, 62, 79, passim;
  air fighting over, 282;
  not to be attacked by Germans, 78;
  bridgehead, 76, 86, 97;
  British morale after, 138;
  Deliverance, 82, 89, 99 ff.;
  evacuation from, 100 ff., 110, 193, 195;
  list of ships, table, 102;
  French troops evacuated from, 147;
  “Miracle of,” 242;
  munitions lost at, 256;
  perimeter of, 114;
  perimeter of, maps, 103;
  threatened, by Germans, 72;
  Harbour, 105
 
Duplex pistols: at Taranto, 545
 
Dupuy, M., Canadian Ambassador to Vichy, 508, 623;
  Churchill message for, 705 f.
 
Dutch, the: British pledge to, 225;
  capitulation of, 201;
  in Far East discussions, 498;
  cease fire order of, 43;
  coasts, German control of, 302;
  East Indies, 562;
  as a Japanese objective, 435;
  Japan in, 436;
  Dutch harbours, 288;
  water-defences, breached by German Army, 34
 
Dynamite: underwater carpet of, 607
 
 
East Africa: Italian position in, 622;
  South African troops to, 126;
  East African coast, advance up the, 62
 
East and Middle East affairs, 164
 
East Anglia: Churchill visit to, 170
 
East coast, 288, 290
 
Eastern: Asia, Japanese interests in, 588;
  front, 29;
  Mediterranean, abandonment of, 440, 443;
  strong force in, 444;
  Fleet, 442, 447, 451
 
E-boats, 114, 599;
  attack of, repulsed, 450
 
Eden, Anthony, Secretary of State for War, 82, 90, 123, 144, passim;
  Churchill messages to, 499 f., 506, 534, 536, 538 f.;
  messages from, 505, 537 f., 540 ff.;
  in Middle East, 534;
  proposed Local Defence Volunteers, 55;
  quoted, 504;
  succeeds Halifax as Foreign Secretary, 571.
  See also Secretary of State for War
 
Egypt, 173, 256, 266, passim;
  attacks on, 435;
  Battle of, 418;
  bombing squadrons to, 434;
  British position in, 541;
  British troops in, 418, 536;
  Cape route to, 446;
  capture of, 523;
  de Gaullist brigade to, 625;
  defence of, 451, 534, 541, 612, 625 n.;
  to be defended, 418;
  events in, 433;
  German forces into, 523;
  German-Italian threat to, 541;
  Greek aid from, 538;
  heavy armour to, 428;
  impending battle in, 463;
  Italian advance on, 619;
  Italian troops cleared from, 614;
  Italian invasion of, 417, 419, 428, 469;
  main attack on, 448;
  Mussolini’s plans for conquest of, 524;
  planes to, via overland route, 453;
  possible German attack on, 440;
  security of, 541;
  situation in, 471;
  tanks to, 446, 450, 477;
  troops to, 164, 535, 609;
  troops to, round the Cape, 442;
  vehicles from, 536;
  Egyptian: Army, 432;
  frontier, crossed by Graziani’s army, 542;
  Government, 431
 
Eire:
  agricultural subsidies to, 606;
  bases in, 563;
  British supplies to, 606;
  Government of, 564;
  ports of, 561;
  U.S. influence on, 564
 
Eisenhower, General Dwight D., 4, 192
 
Elizabeth, Queen of Great Britain: narrow escape of, 378
 
Emden: bombed, 308
 
Empire Trooper, British troopship, 598
 
Enemy:
  coasts, bombardment of, 458;
  ports, 292
 
England:
  armoured brigade from, 430;
  beaten, 579;
  connections between, and Southern Ireland, 605;
  Greek aid from, 538;
  Laval’s hatred of, 527;
  operations against, 590;
  English Channel, 174, 599;
  English Fleet: to Greek ports, 523.
  See also Britain, British
 
Epidemics: danger of, 359
 
Equatoria, 486;
  Equatorial Africa, 483, 625 n.
 
Erebus, British monitor: attack of, on Gris-Nez, 275, 276
 
Eritrea:
  British Indian Division to, 612;
  Italian garrison in, 418;
  plan to conquer, 626
 
Estonia: taken over by Soviet, 136
 
Ethiopia: Emperor of, 622
 
Europe:
  to be Bocheland, 511;
  British blockade of, 512;
  freedom of, 510;
  German domination of, 559;
  Italian or German reinforcements from, 432
 
Evasive routing, 600
 
“Excess” operation, 615
 
Expeditionary Force: for Morocco, 622
 
 
Falange, the, 522
 
Far East: sphere of danger, 562
 
Faroe Islands, 294, 401
 
Fascism:
  in Italy, 120;
  versus Bolshevism, 121;
  Fascists, and Communists: in Britain, 55 f.
 
Fegen, Captain, R.N.: awarded Victoria Cross, 596
 
Fifth Column: in Britain, 278, 285
 
Fighter:
  Command, operational strengths of, table, 716;
  Group No. 11, 333;
  strength, British and German, comparison of, table, 716 f.
 
Finance: question of, 566
 
Finland, 578, 591;
  as German ally, 591;
  Russian invasion of, 133;
  in Russian sphere, 583, 589
 
Fire guards, 370
 
First French Army, 83
 
First Lord, 236, 445, 449, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
First Lord of the Admiralty:
  Churchill messages to, 169, 639, 642 f.
 
First Sea Lord, 290, 291, 445, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  message to Churchill, 445 f.;
  visits Pétain ministers, 217
 
First World War, 628
 
Flamingo, passenger plane, 45, 152
 
Flandin, M., succeeds Laval as Vichy Foreign Minister, 528
 
Fleet:
  Air Arm, 616;
  armour for, 446;
  support of land operations by, 616 f.
 
Florence: Hitler and Mussolini meet in, 532
 
Fluvial mines, 41
 
Flying-boats, 402
 
Foch, Marshal Ferdinand, 35, 42, 57
 
Focke-Wulf, 604
 
Fog, hampers Dakar operation, 488
 
Folkestone, 306
 
Forbes, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Charles Morton, Commander-in-Chief of Home Fleet, 291
 
Force H: at Gibraltar, 234, 442, passim
 
Foreign Office, 373, 481, passim
 
Foreign Secretary, 207, 211, passim:
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  broadcast reply of, to Hitler peace feeler, 260;
  Eden succeeds Halifax as, 571;
  letter from, 479
 
Foresight, destroyer, 489
 
“Former Naval Person,” 24, passim
 
Formidable, carrier, 503
 
Fort Manuel, 490
 
Forth, Firth of, 282, 599
 
Fortress bombers, 7
 
Fortune, Major-General Victor Morven, commander of British 51st Division, 149
 
Forward Movement: map, 33
 
Four Powers:
  Pact, draft of, outlined, 587;
  territorial aspirations of, 588
 
France, 128, 256, 262, passim;
  African possessions of, 473;
  air support for, 157;
  American aid for, 514;
  asks Italy for armistice, 130;
  attitude toward England, 580;
  Battle of, 27 ff., 53 ff., passim;
  and Britain, union between, 205;
  Churchill broadcasts to, 217;
  collaboration of, with Germany and Italy, 582;
  collapse of, 224, 439;
  colonial possessions of, 588 n.;
  defeat of, 466;
  defection of, 515;
  as a Dominion, 213;
  effect on, of U.S. neutrality, 555;
  fall of, 3 ff., 255, 520, 578;
  Germanised, expedition from, 476;
  Metropolitan, danger of war with, 475;
  moves seat of government to Tours, 152;
  in North Africa, 624;
  Northwest, and Belgium, map, 315;
  obliteration of, by Hitler, 510;
  occupied, by Germans, 240;
  offers Italy territorial concessions, 126;
  possibility of two governments in, 160;
  tank strength of, 31;
  tides in, 498;
  unable to carry on, 180;
  Unoccupied, 512;
  Government of, at Vichy, 238;
  Western, map, 197
 
Franco, General Francisco:
  asks support of Mussolini in claims on Hitler, 521;
  astuteness of, 520;
  dealings of, with Hitler and Mussolini, 530;
  delays and demands of, 528 f.;
  feeling of, toward Hitler and Mussolini, 518;
  Government, Mediterranean neutrality of, 519;
  keeps Spain out of the war, 529;
  meets Hitler at Hendaye, 524;
  policy of, 519;
  territorial requests of, from Hitler, 521
 
Franco-American relations, 517
 
Franco-Belgian frontier, 35
 
Franco-British Union, 205.
  See also Anglo-French Union
 
Franco-Italian campaign, 130
 
François-Poncet, M., French Ambassador to Italy, quoted, 129
 
Franklyn, Lieutenant-General Sir Harold Edmund, G.O.C. British troops in Northern Ireland, 68 f.;
  withdraws at Arras, 70
 
Free French, 473;
  colonies, 562;
  force, for Dakar, 474;
  hopes of Dakar, blotted out, 488;
  forces, in England, 478
 
Freedom of the seas: doctrine of, 563
 
Freetown, 483, 488;
  British Dakar force approaches, 482;
  Dakar force to, 478;
  troops to, 491, 500, 535
 
French:
  Admiralty, reports French ships at Gibraltar, 480;
  agony, 177 ff.;
  Air Force, to North Africa, 206 f.;
  Alpine troops, 130;
  Ambassador to U.S., 513;
  Armistice, 309, 520;
  Army, 4, 30, 117, 201, 203, 320;
  Army, British aid to, 147;
  Communism in, 28;
  last stand of, map, 190;
  resistance of, collapses, 60;
  First, surrender, of, forced at Lille, 97;
  French attitude, in North Africa, 546;
  battleships, 513;
  to Toulon, 515;
  French and Belgian
  orefields, German control of, 442;
  French, block British bombing, of Turin and Milan, 156;
  and British Fleets, 183;
  British pledge to, 225;
  broadcast, by Churchill;
  Cabinet, convulsions in, 199;
  in decomposition, 213 f.;
  Catalonia, 524;
  Cameroons, de Gaulle’s operations against, 483;
  Channel ports, 289, 293;
  invasion fleets assembling in, 296;
  coastline, as German base, 401;
  German control of, 302;
  colonial domain, in Africa, 525;
  Colonies, danger of war with, 475;
  rescue of, 486;
  Council of Ministers, 201, 208, 210;
  contracts, for munitions, 215;
  cruisers, at Dakar, 502;
  squadron, 492;
  declaration of war, risk of, 476;
  Empire, 201, 510;
  First Army, 65;
  Fleet, 187, 188, passim;
  to Britain, 210, 212, 216, 266;
  to Canada, 159;
  Darlan’s control of, 229;
  Darlan’s promise concerning 158;
  in French colonial harbours, 512;
  menace of, to Britain, 231;
  to be moved beyond German reach, 200;
  put out of action by Britain, 236;
  Roosevelt to Pétain Government on, quoted, 513 f.;
  seizure of, by Germany and Italy, 516;
  surrender of, to Germany, 517;
  U.S. interest in, 517;
  French front, 4, 189;
  broken, by German armour, 42;
  gold, frozen in U.S., 526;
  Government, 179, 203, 223, 516;
  British aid to, 624;
  British warning to, quoted, 516;
  formed, by Pétain, 215;
  to Bordeaux, 183;
  to Tours, 178;
  High Command, Churchill talk to, 112;
  spirit of defeat of, 49;
  High Commissariat, in Africa, 240;
  leaders, to Africa, 526;
  Mediterranean Fleet, 439;
  military leadership, 35 f.;
  Minister of Marine, 230;
  “mobilisation,” 37 n.;
  Morocco, asked for by Franco, 521;
  naval personnel, attitude of, towards German seizure, 231;
  naval vessels, in British ports, 233 f.;
  U.S. offers to buy, 518;
  Navy, 561, 562;
  British demands on, 235;
  disposition of, 232 f.;
  re-created by Darlan, 229;
  removed from German calculations, 237;
  French people, and Vichy Government, 527;
  ports, German control of, 561;
  relations, with Britain, 528;
  Republic, President of, 203;
  resistance administration, in North Africa, 219;
  seaboard, in German hands, 599;
  squadron, reaches Dakar, 482;
  near the Straits, 480;
  support, asked by Churchill, 511;
  support, of Axis Powers, 525;
  surrender, 302;
  troops, evacuated from Dunkirk, 106;
  from Norway and Britain to France, 147;
  repatriated to Morocco, 169;
  Volunteer Unit, 429;
  West Africa, recognized Darlan’s authority, 240
 
Frère, General, Commanding General French Sixth Army, 64, 65, 71, 72
 
Frisian islands, for British naval and air base, 244
 
Fulmar fighters, 443, 444, 452
 
Furious, 536, 547;
  bringing flyables, 615
 
Fuzes: automatic, 396;
  delayed-action, 427;
  photo-electric, 644 n.;
  sensitive, 392
 
 
Gambetta: quoted, 512
 
Gamelin, General Maurice Gustave, Commander-in-Chief of French Armies, 27 f., 36, 40, passim;
  dismissed, 75;
  displaced, by Weygand, as Commander-in-Chief, 57;
  final Order No. 12, 57, 75;
  orders Plan D, 32-34;
  Servir, 49 n.
 
Geneva Convention, 323
 
Genoa: bombarded, 447;
  bombed, 111
 
Gensoul, French Admiral, 236
 
George, Lloyd, 244, 399;
  offered U.S. Ambassadorship, 569
 
George VI, King of Great Britain, 613;
  account of bombing of Buckingham Palace, 378;
  intimate knowledge of Government, 379 f.;
  to King of Greece, quoted, 533;
  letter to Churchill from, 627
 
Georges, General Alphonse, French Commander-in-Chief of Northwestern Front, 32, 40, 54, passim
 
Georges Leygues, French cruiser, 486;
  class, 480
 
German:
  advance, possible, through Spain, 623;
  advances, map, 44;
  aggression, imminent, at Dakar, 479;
  aid, refused by Darlan, 240;
  air:
    assault, stages of, 341;
    Force, 31, 42, 282, 290, 313, 590 (see also Luftwaffe);
    at Dunkirk, 104, 114;
    defeat of, 390, 626;
    established in Sicily, 450;
    experimenting, 376;
    Hitler’s confidence in, 104;
    inadequate, 437;
    increased, 312;
    losses of, 399;
    responsibility, for invasion, 308 f.;
    Russian operations of, 592;
    three attack phases of, 321 f.;
    German air offensive, 521;
  air superiority, 88 f.;
  aircraft losses, chart, 340;
  armistice, 212, 213;
    quoted, 231;
  armour, 148 f., 203;
  armoured attack, halted by Hitler, 76;
  Army, 4, 28, 589;
    Russian operations of, 591;
    Command, on invasion, 303;
    groups, for Battle of France, 29 f.;
    Army, repulsed, at Dunkirk bridgehead, 96;
  attempts, to conquer Britain, 390;
    German attitude, towards Italian attack on Greece, 532, 546;
  aviation, on West African coast, 475;
  blockade, De Valera-aided, 605;
  bombers, losses of, 390;
  bombing, at Dunkirk, 104;
    of London, Oct. 15, 1940, 370;
  captured archives, on invasion plans and preparations, 301;
  Chargé d’Affaires, in Washington, 260;
  cities, bombed, 349;
  control, of French, Belgian, and Dutch coasts, 302;
    of French ports, 561;
    of Italian war machine, 451 f.;
  corpses, on south coast, 311;
  declaration of war, on U.S., unlikely, 563;
  dive-bomber attacks, 401;
  domination, of Europe, 559;
    of Roumania, Bulgaria, and Greece, 587;
  enthusiasm, for invasion, lost, 313;
  equipment, for Spanish troops, 529;
  Fleet, 302, 303, 308, 404, 413;
    unable to handle large invasion, 305;
  forces, blockading Calais, 80;
  General Staff, 586;
  Government, 413;
  harbours, 288;
  heavy batteries, along Channel coast, 273;
    begin firing, 274;
  heavy ships, 287;
  High Air Command, 386;
  High Command, 258, 314;
  interests, in Balkans, 584;
  interservice jealousies, 313 f.;
  intervention, for release of Laval, 528;
  invasion, of Great Britain, 155, 448, 456;
    plan, map, 307;
    troops, 296;
  long-range batteries, 297;
  merchant ships, as raiders, 594;
  military and aviation equipment, 460;
  Naval Staff, on Luftwaffe, quoted, 323, 328 f.;
  Navy, 237, 320, 590;
    paralysed, 594;
    weakness of, 437;
  Navy plan, for British invasion, 302 f.;
  German night attacks, cease, 390;
  occupation, of Morocco and French North Africa, feared, 520;
  peace offers, 261;
  peace suggestions, to Britain, through Sweden, U.S., Vatican, 260;
  pilots, prisoners in France, 182;
  ports, 290;
  pressure, on Vichy Government, 526 f.;
  Sea Rescue Service, 322;
  tanks, “chars allemands,” 59, 157;
  traffic, with U.S., 555;
  trap, fails, 87;
  troops, in Bulgaria, possibility of, 547;
    to Gibraltar, 520;
    in Spain, 520;
    on Spanish Peninsula, feared, 520;
  U-boats, destroyed, 6;
  warships, to Kiel, 274;
  German-Italian threat, to Egypt, 541;
    Treaty, 122;
  German-Soviet Pact, 137;
  Germans, beaten in the air, 472;
    expected in Africa, 471;
    on Moroccan coast, 623;
    through Spain, 624;
  violate French armistice, 240;
  Germany, 4, 400;
  air race with, 452;
  American bombing of, 7;
  British bombing of, 7, 402, 608;
  and Britain, fighter strength of, compared, table, 716 f.;
  British sea and air power against, 559;
  collaboration of, with France and Italy, 582;
  combined with Russia and Japan, 593;
  to crush Soviet Russia in quick campaign, 589;
  declaration of war on U.S., 404;
  in Four-Power Pact, 487 f.;
  French colonies against, 475;
  grants France an armistice, 219;
  hegemony of, over Europe, 135 f.;
  interests of, in Central Africa, 588;
  invades Belgium, Holland, Luxembourg, 27, 31 f.;
  as mediator between Russia and Japan, 582;
  military power of, 458;
  plans of, for invading France, 38;
  possible occupation by, of North African colonies, 527;
  Russian bargainings with, 593;
  Russian counter-proposals to, 589;
  in Triple Alliance, with Italy and Austro-Hungary, 119
 
Gestapo, 118;
  policemen, 621
 
Gibraltar, 45, 124, 222, passim;
  Admiral North at, 480;
  asked for, by Franco, 521;
  bombed, by Vichy Government, 238;
  British naval force at, 439;
  capture of, 523;
  defences of, 504;
  destroyers at, 443, 444, 503;
  Eastern Mediterranean Fleet to, 443;
  Force H at, 440;
  French bombing of, 492;
  Hitler favours assault on, 523;
  Italian ships seized at, 129;
  possible capture of, by Germans, 520;
  preparation for attack on, 528;
  route from, to Malta, dangerous, 446
 
Giraud, General Henri Honoré, Commanding General Seventh French Army, 27, 42 f., 48
 
Gironde R., 219, 448
 
Gladiators: defending Malta, 453
 
Glasgow: guns from, for Dover, 276
 
Glasgow: bombed, 377;
  Rolls-Royce works at, 376
 
Glass famine: danger of, 360
 
Gloucester, 447
 
Gneisenau, battle-cruiser, 232, 598;
  out of action, 287 n.;
  damaged, 437
 
Goering, Reichsmarshal Hermann, Commander of German Air Force, 313, 316, 321, passim;
  boasts of, 577;
  confident, of victory, 309;
  doubtful, 338;
  hopeful, 327;
  ignorant, of “split-beam” failure, 387
 
Gold: Dutch and Belgian, 574;
  exchange of, in South Africa, for Ottawa, 573;
  Polish and Belgian, from West Africa, 476
 
Gort, Lord, commander British Expeditionary Force in France, 32, 40, 47, passim;
  action of, unexplained, 81;
  to Casablanca, 475;
  confers with Blanchard, 92;
  Churchill messages to, 89 f., 107 f.;
  considers withdrawal towards coast, 54, 58;
  decision of, to abandon Weygand Plan and withdraw B.E.F., 84;
  fights his way towards Dunkirk, 76;
  on immediate withdrawal, 93;
  not notified of Ypres conference, 61;
  ordered by War Office to evacuate “the maximum,” 86;
  ordered to defend Calais, 79;
  proposes Allied attack, 70;
  orders general withdrawal to Dunkirk bridgehead, 97;
  reports Cassel conference with Blanchard, 92 ff.;
  returned to England, 109
 
Government: offices, safety of, 372 ff.;
  working hours, 355 f.
 
Governor: of Dakar, letter to be taken to, 479
 
Graf Spee, 597;
  destruction of, 594
 
Gravelines, 78, 82, 86, 90
 
Gravesend, 306
 
Graziani, Marshal Rodolfo, Italian Commander-in-Chief, 543;
  changes plans, 470;
  fears African disaster, 469;
  Ho Difeso la Patria, quoted, 128;
  Italian army of, 542;
  prestige of, 618;
  telegram from, quoted, 619
 
Great Britain: effect on, of U.S. neutrality, 555;
  and U.S., common interests of, 405;
  transactions between, 415.
  See also Britain, British, England
 
“Greater East Asia Scheme,” 587;
  Sphere, 582
 
Greece, 413, 434;
  aid for, 541;
  air reinforcements for, 537 ff.;
  airfields in, 626;
  attack on Italy, as aid to, 537;
  Blenheims to, 535;
  British armour to, 538;
  defence of, 625 n.;
  dollar needs of, 574;
  future of, 541;
  German domination of, 587;
  invaded, by Italian army, 533, 549;
  Italian aggression against, 127;
  Italian attack on, begins, 532;
  Italian menace to, 434;
  King of, message of King George to, 533;
  liquidation of, by Italy, 523;
  Mussolini decides to attack, 531;
  R.A.F., victories in, 547;
  reinforcements for, 537, 610;
  Greek Army, aid of, 626;
  skill and prowess of, 549;
  counter-attack of, 620 f.;
  Field Army, British military mission with, 534;
  front, information from, 534;
  Italian check on, 549;
  Government, rejects Italian ultimatum, 533;
  resistance, 538, 549;
  situation, Eden on, quoted, 540 ff.;
  gravity of, 538;
  troops, British equipment for, 540;
  in Crete, 539
 
“Greenjackets,” 610
 
Greenwood, Arthur, Minister without Portfolio, 12;
  heads Production Council, 63
 
Griffin, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
Grigg, Sir James, Chief of Imperial General Staff: Churchill messages to, 676 f., 681 f.
 
Gris-Nez, 302;
  German battery at, 275
 
Guadalcanal, 6
 
Guerrilla plan: for France, 154, 155, 181
 
Guildhall: bombed, 378
 
Gurkhas, 173
 
 
Haakon VII, King of Norway, 110
 
Haile Selassie, Emperor of Abyssinia, 621;
  British pledges to, 622;
  return of, to Abyssinia, 622
 
Halder, Colonel-General Franz, Chief of General Staff of German Army, 306, 313;
  cites Hitler’s intervention in German strategy, 76;
  quoted, 29;
  rejects Raeder’s invasion plans, 304 f.
 
Halfaya, 470
 
Halifax, Lord, 10 f., 120, 123, passim;
  proposals of, to Italy, 125;
  succeeds Lothian as British Ambassador to U.S., 570
 
Halifax, N.S.: British destroyer crews to, 407;
  convoy, disaster to, 602;
  tankers, laid up at, 603
 
Hampstead citadel, “Paddock,” 367
 
Hango, 591
 
Harbour: open-sea, 245
 
Havas Agency, 219
 
Havre, 72, 150, passim;
  burning of, 158
 
Harwich, 59, passim;
  defences of, 263;
  and London, defence lines between, 277
 
“Hats”: operation against Italy, 446, 449, 451
 
Hazebrouck, 92
 
“Hedgehog,” Italian battle formation, 470
 
Heinkel 111’s: shot down, 608
 
“Hellfire Pass,” 470
 
Heligoland, 297
 
Hendaye: Hitler to, 532;
  meets Franco at, 524
 
Hermes, British aircraft-carrier, 236
 
“Herrenvolk,” the, 520
 
Herriot, Édouard, President of French Chamber, 182, 204, 219, 221
 
“High-frequency war,” 389
 
Hillgarth, Captain, British Naval Attaché at Madrid, 519
 
Himmler, 259
 
Hindustani: used for messages, 50
 
Hipper, German cruiser, 595, 598;
  damaged by Berwick, 597
 
Hitler, Adolf, 4, 38, 120, passim;
  asks Pétain to help defeat Britain, 525;
  asks postponement of Italian declaration of war against Britain, 123;
  asks Spanish adherence, 529;
  attacks Belgium and Holland, 74 ff.;
  chance of, to become world conqueror, 401;
  Belgium, delivered to, 91;
  on city bombing, quoted, 342;
  co-operation of Stalin with, 578;
  dealings of Franco with, 530;
  decides on compromise invasion plan, 306;
  decides on total war against Russia, 134 f.;
  on defeat of Britain, quoted, 580 f.;
  desire of, for allies, 521;
  Directive No. 17, authorised by, 323;
  Directive No. 21, issued by, 589;
  discussions of, with Molotov, 579;
  dislikes Italian war against Greece, 583;
  doom of, 526;
  embarrassed by Spanish claims, 521;
  encircled, 289;
  on essentials for invasion of Britain, 319 f.;
  expects Britain to accept peace offers, 320;
  flowery idea of, 527;
  hatred of, for Bolsheviks, 587;
  help from, to Franco, 519;
  on invasion, quoted, 303 f.;
  intervenes in German rivalries, 313 f.;
  interview of, with Suñer, 522;
  intrigues of, 510;
  on Laval, quoted, 526;
  makes “peace offer” in Reichstag, 259;
  as master of Europe, 399;
  maxim of, 563;
  meets Franco at Hendaye, 524;
  Mussolini at Brenner Pass, 523;
  in Florence, 532;
  method of, with nations, 404, 529;
  to Molotov, on final blow against England, 580 f.;
  to Mussolini, on Franco meeting, quoted, 524;
  on Italian attack on Greece, quoted, 533;
  and Mussolini, at Munich, 130;
  needs free hand in East, 226;
  orders armour to be conserved, 77;
  orders British invasion, 296;
  quoted, 302;
  peace offer of, Britain rejects, 521;
  personally intervenes in German strategy, 76;
  to Pétain, at Montoire, 525;
  plans, for invading Russia, 586;
  postpones British invasion indefinitely, 337;
  preparing to attack England, 261;
  question of, 280;
  questioned, by Molotov, 581;
  reaches towards Balkans, 589;
  relations, with Franco, 518;
  resolved, on extinction of French nation, 510;
  schemes and crimes of, 511;
  Spanish Government, as ally of, 625;
  on Stalin, quoted, 524;
  states overrun by, 201;
  treatment, of neutral States by, 261 f.;
  turned to the East, 472, 577;
  vacillations of, 82;
  visits Rundstedt, 77;
  wisdom of, in France, 257;
  world domination by, 629;
  Hitlerism, 512
 
Hoare, Sir Samuel, British Ambassador to Spain, 10, 120, 518;
  Churchill message to, 526
 
Hog Island scheme, 564
 
Holland, 74, 246, 262;
  Belgium, Luxembourg, invaded by Germany, 31 f.;
  colonial possessions of, 588 n.;
  conquered, 261 f.;
  fate of, 55.
  See also Dutch, Low Countries, Netherlands
 
Holland, Captain, 234, 236
 
Hollis, Colonel Leslie Chasemore, Senior Assistant Secretary in the War Cabinet, Secretary of Chiefs of Staff Committee, 20, 295
 
Home: Affairs Committee, 369;
  Army, 291, 292, 497, 503;
  Command: Churchill message to, 290 f.;
  Defence, 141, passim;
  divisions, distribution of, 295;
  Fleet, 299, 597;
  Forces: Brooke replaces Ironside in command of, 264;
  Guard, 166, 174, 266, passim;
  activated, 399;
  called out, 312 f.;
  equipment of, 624;
  rifles for, 272;
  Office, 369, 619;
  Secretary, 370;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  and Minister of Home Security, Herbert Morrison succeeds Anderson as, 369
 
Hood, British battle-cruiser, 234, 440, 445;
  guns from, for coastal use, 278
 
Hopkins, Harry, 567
 
Hore-Belisha, Right Honourable Leslie, Eden follows as Secretary of State for War, 36
 
Horn Reef, 245
 
Horse transport, 462
 
Hotspur, British destroyer, 480
 
House of Commons: leadership of, offered to Chamberlain, taken by Churchill, 9.
  See also Commons, House of
 
Hull, Cordell, U.S. Secretary of State, 129, 570;
  Memoirs, on British surrender to Germany, 143
 
Humber R., 172, 263, 287, 299
 
Hungary, 587.
  See also Austro-Hungary
 
 
“I” tanks, 449, 499, 505
 
Iceland, 401;
  Canadian troops for, 270
 
Illustrious, British aircraft-carrier, 442, 443, 444, passim;
  aircraft from, attack Italian Fleet, 544
 
Imports: fall in, 602
 
Incendiary bombs, 370
 
India, 174, 421, 587;
  Russia to be directed towards, 524;
  troop convoys to, 597;
  troops from, 55, 107, 140, 163;
  Indian Army, 172;
  Indian Division, 427, 429;
  Indian Ocean, 429, 435;
  German raiders in, 595;
  Soviet interests, in direction of, 588;
  U-boats destroyed in, 6;
  Indian reinforcements, 499
 
Indo-China, 562;
  Catroux from, 474
 
Inglefield, destroyer, 489
 
Ingoldsby Legends: quoted, 385
 
Inundation: from Nile, 431;
  system, between Calais and Dunkirk, 78
 
International Zone: of Tangier, 256
 
Invalides, the: “L’Aiglon” ashes to, 527
 
Invasion, 112;
  action stations for, 312 f.;
  air co-operation, decisive for, 304;
  barges, in Channel ports, 456;
  beach defence against, 468 f.;
  beaches, 174;
  Britain ready for, 299 f.;
  challenge, 497;
  C.O.S. report, on defence against, 295 f.;
  danger, 441, 459, 498;
  defence against, 291 ff., 624;
  disagreements, between German Staffs, 304;
  embarkation ports, chosen, 306;
  fleet, assembling, 329;
  fleet, requisitioned, 308;
  German departure ports for, 290;
  German plan of, 289;
  imminent, 312, 477;
  landing ports, chosen, 306;
  minefields, 303;
  plan, map, 307;
  postponed, 337;
  prevented, 391;
  ports, Baltic, North Sea, Biscay, French Channel, 289;
  night bombing of, 457;
  possible, of western coasts, 448;
  prerequisites of, 304;
  probabilities, estimated by Pound, quoted, 289 f., 456;
  rumours, 311;
  “scare,” 299;
  sectors, 294, 295;
  shipping, bombed, 337;
  threat of, 165, 171, passim;
  U-boats, 303;
  weather and time schedule for, 304
 
Ionian Islands: Italian desire for, 532
 
Iraq, 173, 459, 499
 
Ireland, 161, 172, passim;
  American squadron for, 152;
  and Cornwall, minefield between, 293;
  horses in, 462;
  subsidies to, 605;
  unity of, 564;
  Irish ports and airfields, use of, 606;
  ports, denial of, 605;
  ports, U-boats to, 605;
  sea, minefield for, 293;
  situation, 605 f.;
  Irish, the, in U.S., 564;
  western coasts, 448
 
Iron Duke: guns from, for coastal use, 278
 
Ironside, General Edmund, Chief of Imperial General Staff, 58, 62, 82, 432;
  Air Force Chief of Staff, 89;
  Commander-in-Chief of Home Forces, 73, 174, 264
 
Irwin, Major-General, 484, 485;
  co-commander of Dakar expedition, 477;
  memorandum to V.C.I.G.S., 492
 
Ismay, Lieutenant-General, Sir Hastings Lionel, Chief of Staff to Minister of Defence, Deputy Secretary to War Cabinet, 17 f., 22, 50, 51, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Italian:
  Air Force, 126 f., 440, passim;
    attacks Great Britain, 544;
    aircraft, exaggerated fear of, 450;
  Army:
    in Abyssinia, 626;
    condition of, 616;
    invades Greece, from Albania, 533;
    in Libya and Albania, 621;
    Mussolini on, quoted, 621;
    attack of, on Greece, 532, 538;
    and British casualties, 420;
    divisions, pulverised, 619;
  Fleet, 7, 439, passim;
    as air target, 434;
    to attack Corfu, 545;
    British attack on, 543 f.;
    disabled, 544;
    at Taranto, 535;
    untested, 441;
  Italian invasion, of Greece, repulsed, 549;
  military activity, in Africa, 418 f.;
  road, along North African coast, 419;
  naval enterprise of, 447;
  Navy, 126 f.;
    strength of, 451;
    Italian plan, to attack Yugoslavia, 128;
    position of, in East Africa, 622;
    vis-à-vis England, in Mediterranean, 532;
    prestige of, 441;
    prisoners, acres of, 610;
    ships, seizure of, 127;
  shores, means of attacking, 451;
  Somaliland, 429;
    Italian garrison in, 418;
  Italian threat to Greece, 434;
    from Kassala, 505;
  troops, in North Africa, 418;
  U-Boats, destroyed, 6;
  ultimatum, to Greece, 533;
  war against Greece, disliked by Hitler, 583;
  Italian-British relations, 119;
  Italian-German Treaty, 122;
  Italians, British plan to attack, in Western Desert, 536;
    forced back of Albanian frontier, 549;
    matched by Greeks, 538;
    Nazi contempt for, 621
 
Italy, 4, 110, 121, passim;
  in Africa, Britain confident regarding, 547;
  to be attacked, 111;
  attack on, as aid to Greece, 537;
  and Britain, friendship between, 620;
  Churchill broadcast to, quoted, 620 f.;
  coast of, 445;
  collaboration of, with Germany and France, 582;
  defeat of, in Mediterranean, prospect of, 435;
  desert transport of, 427;
  in Four-Power Pact, 487 f.;
  Geneva sanctions against, 122;
  in Greece and North Africa, 528;
  invasion of Egypt by, 469;
  interests of, in North Africa, 588;
  morale in, 546;
  offensive against, 444;
  oil supplies of, 111;
  planning of operations against, 126 f.;
  power of, in Eastern Europe, 128;
  revolt against, in Abyssinia, 621;
  Royal Family of, 620;
  in Triple Alliance with Germany and Austro-Hungary, 119;
  war with, considered, 45
 
 
Jacob, Colonel Edward Ian Claud, member Committee of Imperial Defence, Military Assistant Secretary to the War Cabinet, 20;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Jamaica, 414;
  captured by Cromwell expedition, 1655, 493
 
Japan, 4, 6, 226, passim:
  interests of, in Eastern Asia, 588;
  Axis alliance with, 523;
  asks closing of Burma Road, 256;
  combined with Germany and Russia, 593:
    in Four-Power Pact, 487 f.;
    intentions of, 593;
    menace of, 231;
    possible war with, 499;
    rights of, in Northern Sakhalin, 589;
  and Russia, Germany as mediator between, 582:
    thrusting southward, 562;
    war against, 5, 435;
    watching, 629;
  Japanese, the, 25;
    aircraft, proximity fuzes used against, 396;
    invasion, of Australia or New Zealand, 435;
    declaration of war, danger of, 497;
  Navy, 561
 
Jean Bart, French battleship: unfinished, 233, passim;
  to Mediterranean, 516;
  to Toulon, 515
 
Jeanneney, M., President of French Senate, 182, 204, passim
 
Jefferis, Major Charles Joseph, Assistant Under-secretary of State, Colonial Office: at work on “sticky” bomb, 167
 
Jervis Bay, merchant-cruiser, 596
 
Jewish colonists, 173, 426
 
Jibouti: plan for capture of, 625
 
“Jim Crows,” roof spotters, 352
 
Jodl, Colonel-General Gustav, 309, 523, 586, 589;
  quoted, 314
 
Johnson, Samuel, quoted, 162
 
Joint Planning Committee, 249, 250;
  Staff, Churchill message for, 662 f.
 
Jones, Dr. R. V., Deputy Director of Intelligence Research, at Air Ministry, 384
 
Jutland, Battle of: King George VI in, 379
 
 
Kassala:
  on the Blue Nile, 418, 505, 626;
  evacuated by Italians, 612
 
Kattegat, 293
 
Keitel, Field Marshal Wilhelm, Chief of Supreme Command of Armed Forces of Germany, Commander of Axis African Command, 259, 586, 589;
  on attack on Britain, 258;
  carries Hitler stop order to northern front, 77
 
Kennedy, Joseph Patrick, U.S. Ambassador to Britain, 183, 184, passim
 
Kent, 263, 332, 341;
  promontory, 298
 
Kenya, 418, 425, 426, passim:
  defence of, 429;
  British troops in, 421, 505, passim
 
Keren:
  victory at, 612
 
Kerr, Philip, Marquess of Lothian, British Ambassador to U.S., 399
 
Keyes, Admiral Sir Roger, Admiral of the Fleet, Chief of Combined Operations Command, 61, 68, 249, 625;
  receives message from Churchill, for King Leopold, 90;
  reports Belgian situation, 91
 
Khartoum, 418, 421, 426, passim
 
Kiel, 597;
  bombed, 308;
  German warships to, 274;
  Canal, 360, 456
 
Kiev, 591
 
King, Admiral Ernest Joseph, Commander-in-Chief of American Fleet, Chief of Staff of U.S. Navy, 21
 
King, Lieutenant-General Charles John Stuart, Engineer-in-Chief, War Office, 361
 
King, William Lyon Mackenzie, Prime Minister of Canada, 400, 508;
  Churchill messages to, 145, 227
 
King George V, 503, 561
 
King’s African Rifles (K.A.R.), 425, 427, 429
 
King’s Royal Rifles, 610 n.
 
Kleist, General Paul Ludwig Ewald von, Commander of Southern German Army in Belgium, Holland, and France, 31, 40
 
Kluge, Field Marshal General Guenther von, Commander of German Fourth Army, 78
 
“Knickebein,” German code-word, 384;
  apparatus, 386;
  stations, 387
 
Knox, Colonel (William) Franklin, U.S. Secretary of War, 403, 405
 
Koritza: captured by Greeks, 549
 
Krancke, Captain, commander of Scheer, 595
 
 
Labour: Minister of, 12; Party, 9 f.;
  Supply, Director of, 63
 
“L’Aiglon,” ashes of, to the Invalides, 527
 
Lampson, Right Honourable Sir Miles Wedderburn, Ambassador to Egypt and High Commissioner for the Soudan, 622
 
Lancastria catastrophe, 194
 
Lancing College: Montgomery headquarters at, 263
 
Land forces: British and U.S., table, 5
 
Landing-craft: in invasion, 282 f.;
  at Narvik and Dunkirk, 248;
  tank (L.C.T.), 251;
  Landing Ships Infantry (L.S.I.), 253;
  Tank (L.S.T.), nicknamed “Winette,” 252;
  L.S.T. (2), mass-produced in U.S., 252
 
Laon: falls to Germans, 45
 
Latvia: taken over by Soviet, 136
 
Laval, Pierre, French Foreign Minister, 216, 218;
  arrested, 528;
  hatred, of England, 527;
  on Hitler, quoted, 524 f.;
  Hitler on, quoted, 526;
  influence of, against England, 516;
  at Montoire, 524;
  policy of, 202;
  retires to Paris, 528;
  Government, 240
 
Le Gentilhomme, Brigadier-General Paul Louis: in Egypt, 625 n.
 
League of Nations, 120, 121
 
Leahy, Admiral William D.: U.S. Ambassador to Vichy Government, 508, 513
 
Lease-Lend—Weapon for Victory, Edward R. Stettinius, Jr.: quoted, 142, 554, 556
 
Lebrun, Albert, President of French Republic, 204, 210, passim;
  succeeded by Pétain, 238
 
Leeb, General von, Commander of German Army Group C, 30, 148
 
Leeds: bombed, 377
 
Lend-Lease, 7;
  Bill: Churchill to Parliament on, quoted, 569;
  idea, originated in U.S. Treasury Dept., 568;
  opponents of, 573;
  passage of, 572;
  scope of, 574
 
“Leopard”: brigades, 286;
  troops, 285.
  See Commandos
 
Leopold, King of Belgium, 61, 68, passim;
  British message to, 90;
  surrenders, 95
 
Letters, by Churchill: to George VI, 627 f.;
  to Menzies, on Dakar, 718 ff.;
  to Roosevelt, on prospects for 1941, 558 ff.
 
L’Europa verso la Catastrofe, Galeazzo Ciano, quoted, 524
 
Liberal Party, 13
 
Libreville, 483, 516
 
Libya, 419, 422, 428;
  Italian Army in, 621;
  offensive in, 534, 538;
  victory in, 612, 613, 621;
  Libyan Desert, Italian difficulties in, 548
 
Lille, 83, passim;
  French in, 97
 
Lindemann, Professor Frederick, 167, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Lithuania: Molotov on, 583;
  taken over by Soviet, 136
 
Littorio, Italian battleship: torpedoed, 544;
  Littorios, Italian battleships, 440, 561
 
Liverpool, 474, 603;
  bombed, 377;
  landing-craft, overland to, 478
 
Lloyd, Lord, Secretary of State for Colonies, 164, passim;
  Churchill message to, 173 f.;
  visits Pétain ministers, 217
 
Local Defence Volunteers (L.D.V.), 166, 266.
  See Home Guard
 
Loire R.: reached by Germans, 191
 
Lombardy, 169
 
London, 290, 296, 350, passim;
  blitz, 341 ff.;
  bombing effects in, 355;
  danger of epidemics in, 359;
  daylight bombing of, 332;
  destruction in, 574;
  destruction in, visited by King and Queen, 378;
  first large-scale attack on, 328;
  incendiary bombing of, 378;
  indiscriminate bombing of, 322;
  night bombing of, 342;
  Port of, 325;
  prime importance of, 291;
  supreme enemy objective, 293;
  “takes it,” 358 ff.;
  Londoners: fortitude of, 372;
    ordeal of, 365 f.
 
Longmore, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Murray, Inspector-General of Royal Air Force, Commander-in-Chief Middle East Air Forces: on air aid to Greece, 541;
  air co-operation of: Churchill message to, 535
 
Longwy, 30 f., 37
 
Loraine, Sir Percy, British Ambassador to Italy, 129, 131
 
Lord President of the Council: Anderson succeeds Chamberlain as, 369
 
Lord Privy Seal: Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Lorenz beam, 384
 
Losses at sea: monthly, table, 714;
  weekly, table, 713 f.
 
Lothian, Lord, British Ambassador to U.S., 56, 399, 400, passim;
  changes in, 554 f.;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  to England, 554;
  dies, 569;
  on U.S. aid to Britain, 558
 
Louis of Battenberg, Prince, 281
 
Louis XIV, 628
 
Louvain, 38, 41
 
Low Countries, 322, 578;
  German invasion of, 27.
  See also Belgium, Dutch, Holland, Netherlands
 
Luftwaffe, 154, passim;
  losses in, 326;
  raids of, 324 f.;
  victorious, over Poland, Norway, Low Countries, France, 322
 
Luxembourg, 40;
  invaded by Germany, 31 f.
 
Lyons, 128;
  captured, by Germans, 130
 
Lys: R., 61, 93;
  Canal, 83, 84
 
Lyttelton, Captain Right Honourable Oliver, President Board of Trade, Minister of State, member of War Cabinet, Minister of Production, Controller of Non-Ferrous Metals, 346
 
 
MacArthur, General Douglas, 108
 
McNaughton, Lieutenant-General Robert George Latta, Commander 1st Division Canadian Overseas Force, G.O.C. Canadian Corps, 270
 
Macedonia: Bulgarian aspirations in, 532
 
Maddalena, Italian fort: captured by British, 420
 
Madrid, 481, 522;
  British Ambassador in, 516, 526;
  Naval Attaché in, 480
 
Maginot Line, 30, 32, 36, passim;
  penetrated, by Germans, 191
 
Magnetic mines, 360, 386;
  treatment of, 601
 
Maitland-Wilson, General: Commander of Army of the Nile, 498;
  of Desert Army, 504
 
Malaya, 499
 
Malta, 222, 422, 434, passim;
  air defence of, 453;
  air reconnaissance from, 545;
  aircraft to, 443, 452;
  anti-aircraft defences of, 444, 452, 535;
  channel, 450;
  convoy to, 450, 503;
  convoys from, 447;
  defences of, 454;
  defenceless, 472;
  doom of, 440;
  as a Fleet base, 444;
  Governor of, 472;
  guns and aircraft for, 446;
  Harbour, 163;
  Hurricanes to, 442;
  as operational theatre, 5 n.;
  position of, 500, 504;
  protected, 445;
  reinforcement of, 432, 472, passim;
  tanks at, 502;
  troops for, 544
 
Manchester: bombed, 377
 
Mandel, Georges, French Minister of Interior, 179, 210, 213;
  to Africa, 219;
  arrested, 219 f.;
  murdered, by German orders, 221;
  Premier of North African administration, 219
 
“Mandibles,” operation against the Dodecanese, 694
 
Margate: visited by Churchill, 349
 
Margesson, Captain David, Chief Whip of National Government, 347, 348;
  succeeds Eden, as Secretary of State for War, 571;
  Churchill message to, 657
 
“Marie” operation, 625
 
Marin, Louis, French Minister, 210
 
Marlborough, John Churchill, Duke of, 380;
  against Louis XIV, 628
 
Marne R., 189
 
Marseilles, 128, 130
 
Marshall, General George C., Chief of Staff of U.S. Army, 20;
  secures military equipment for Britain and France, 142
 
Martel, General, French commander, 69
 
Martin, John, Churchill’s principal private secretary, 337
 
Martini, General, Chief of German Air Research, 389
 
Martinique, 233;
  French Fleet to, 235;
  French naval vessels immobilised at, 237
 
Mass of manoeuvre, 153, 289.
  See also strategic reserve
 
Massawa: plan to capture, 626
 
Massilia, French cruiser, 221;
  takes Ministers to Africa, 219
 
Matildas, 499, 505;
  enter Bardia, 616
 
“Meacons,” 383
 
Mechanised Transport (M.T.) ships, 447
 
Mediterranean, 110, 121, 222, passim;
  action in, 411, 442;
  aircraft to, 452;
  Allied Fleets in, 126;
  balance of naval power in, 544;
  British access to, 519;
  control of, 401;
  effort in, 513;
  naval strength in, 562;
  Navy, established in, 454;
  or Cape route, 448;
  closed, 127, 624;
  command of, 439, 623;
  danger-values in, 448;
  defeat of Italy in, prospect of, 435;
  difficulties, 534;
  to be dominated by Mussolini, 417;
  Eastern and Central, operation in, 451;
  Mediterranean, enemy air attack in, 443;
  equipment through, 424;
  Fleet, 613;
  to Malta, 501, 502;
  part assigned to, 546;
  reinforcement of, 503;
  at Suda Bay, 548;
  free movement through, 422;
  Italian claims in, 125;
  main fleets in, map, 438;
  merchant vessels in, 446;
  military convoys in, 499;
  naval operations in, 424;
  operations, hampered, 450;
  Passage, 439 ff.;
  passage of, by a merchant ship, 450;
  route, 449, 471;
  shipping in, to be thinned out, 45;
  situation in, 503;
  successful operations in, 449;
  western exit from, 445
 
Meiktila: Italian camp at, 542
 
Memoirs of Cordell Hull, The, 129 n.
 
Memoranda, by Churchill: 1917, on artificial island, 245;
  1917, on tank-landing lighters, 244;
  on Vichy situation, 526 f.;
  for War Cabinet, on munitions, 458 ff.
 
“Menace,” code name of Dakar expedition, 477
 
Menzies, Right Honourable Robert Gordon, Prime Minister of Australia and Minister for Co-ordination of Defence: Churchill message to, 613;
  correspondence with Churchill on Dakar, 718 ff.
 
Merchant shipbuilding capacity, 564;
  shipping, losses in, 599;
  ship raiders, 561;
  tonnage, losses of, 567;
  U.S. production of, 564
 
Mersa Matruh, 421, 432, 471, passim;
  British attack planned at, 538, 542;
  British and Italian forces for, 504; garrison of, 610;
  Italian attack on, 431;
  position at, 430 f.
 
Mers-el-Kebir, military port of Oran, 232, 235
 
Mersey R., 342, 599, passim;
  estuary, 600;
  outlet from, 608;
  troopships in, 479
 
Messages, by Churchill: to Admiralty, 639 f.;
  to Air Chief of Naval Staff, 642;
  to Air Commander-in-Chief, Middle East, 686 f.;
  to Air Ministry, 711;
  to Alexander, on Italian ships, 127;
  to Amery, on troops from India, 173;
    on Army Organisation, 695 ff.;
  to Attlee, 260;
  to Beaverbrook, 655, 687, 698 f.;
    on aircraft production 465 f.;
  to Bridges, on Government working hours, 355 f.;
    on moving Government offices from London, 366 f.;
    on safety of Government offices, 372 ff.;
    on time lost in Government offices, 352;
    on the Tubes as air-raid shelters, 351;
    on war in Middle East, 423;
    for British Ambassador in Turkey, 547;
  to Cadogan, 682;
  to Captain of H.M. destroyer Churchill, 673;
  to Chamberlain, 10;
    on Hitler’s peace offer 260;
  to Chancellor of Exchequer, 650;
    on shipping and finances, 602 f.;
    on subsidies to Ireland, 605;
  to Chatfield, 701;
  to Chief of Air Staff, 638 f., 654, 659, 663 f., 674, 678, 679 f., 682 f., 684, 685, 687 f., 699 f., 711;
    on air operations in Mediterranean area, 434;
    on night bombing of German tanks, 60;
    on planes for Greece 535 f.;
    on R.A.F. losses, 326;
  to Chief of Imperial General Staff, 655, 667, 671, 672 f., 676, 678 f., 680 f., 683 f., 691 f., 700, 710 f.;
    on defence of Calais, 81 f.;
    on Gort’s movements, 81;
    on news from Greek front, 534 f.;
    on troops to Crete, 539 f.;
    for Chiefs of Staff, 648 f., 689;
    on continuing alone, 88 f.;
    on defence against invasion, 291 ff.;
    for Chiefs of Staff Committee, 276 f., 644 f., 656, 665, 673, 674 f., 676, 679, 693 f., 705 f., 709 f.;
  to Commander-in-Chief Home Forces, 693;
    on beach defence system, 468 f.;
    on invasion, 286 ff.;
  to Commander-in-Chief Mediterranean, 694 f.;
  to Controller, 666, 671;
  to Cunningham, 662;
  to Dakar commanders, 485;
    on abandoning operation, 491;
    to go on, 489;
  to de Gaulle, 672, 676;
    on relations with Vichy, 516 f.;
    for Dupuy, 705 f.;
  to Eden, on air reinforcements for Middle East, 539;
    on Crete, 534;
    on Greek situation, 536, 538 f.;
    on U.S. rifle convoys, 271;
    on a Western Desert offensive, 506;
  to First Lord, 647, 649 ff., 652, 659, 660, 662, 665, 666, 667, 668 f., 671, 677 f., 688 f., 690 f., 708;
    on American destroyers, 604;
    on attacking German battery at Gris-Nez, 275;
    on convoy routing, 602;
    on convoys of U.S. munitions, 272;
    on expendable aircraft, 604;
    on heavy gun at Dover, 274;
    on Jean Bart and Richelieu, 515;
    on losses in Northwest Approaches, 601;
    on Mediterranean operations, 447 f.;
    on Mediterranean route, 450 f.;
    on Middle East reinforcements, 548;
    on naval dispositions in Mediterranean area, 442;
    on a new Admiralty flag, 465;
    on Ramillies class ships, 451;
    on U-boat decoy ships, 604 f.;
    on vessels along French coast, 270 f.;
  to First Lord of the Admiralty, 639, 642 f.;
    on French forces for de Gaulle, 169;
  to First Sea Lord, 647, 649 ff., 660, 662, 665, 666, 683, 684 f., 688 f., 690 f., 693, 701 f., 708 f.;
    on construction of tank-landing craft in U.S., 254;
    on naval and air operations in Mediterranean, 443 f.;
  to Foreign Secretary, 647, 650, 666, 673, 675 f., 687, 692;
    on the British Fleet, 404 f.;
    on Jean Bart, 515;
    on peace proposals from Hitler, 171;
    on restoration of Haile Selassie, 622;
    on Turkish intervention, 547;
    on Vichy relations, 508;
  general confidential message on continuation of war, 91 f.;
  to Gort, on Calais and the Belgians, 89 f.;
    on the evacuation, 107 f.;
    on French resistance, 65;
  to Grigg, 676 f., 681 f.;
  to Hoare, on ideas for Vichy, 526;
  to Home Secretary, 641, 643 f., 646 f., 652, 657, 670 f., 673, 687, 691, 703, 709;
    on air-raid warnings and precautions, 353 f.;
    on draining of shelters, 355;
    on sirens, 355;
  to Ismay, 635, 636 f., 640 f., 642, 644 ff., 647 ff., 651, 653, 654 ff., 658 ff., 662 f., 664, 665, 667 f., 671 f., 673, 674 f., 676, 677, 679, 687, 689, 692 f., 695, 697, 702, 705 ff., 709 f.;
    on African campaign, 425 f.;
    on Alert No. 1, 464;
    on armoured divisions, 248;
    on artillery command of Straits of Dover, 276 f.;
    on bombers in Middle East.[,] 535;
    on bombing effects in London, 355;
    on British counter-offensive, 242 f.;
    on British offer of bases to U.S., 413;
    on campaign against Italy, 451 f.;
    on coastal evacuation, 267;
    on campaign in Middle East, 424;
    on coast defences, 284;
    on Combined Operations Command, 249;
    on cutting Italian North African motor road, 422;
    on Dakar plans, 475 f.;
    on defence of Calais, 79 ff.;
    on defence of London, 266;
    on delayed-action bombs, 363;
    on disposition of Colonial troops, 463 f.;
    on French “underground railway,” 220;
    on general military situation, 501 ff.;
    on German Channel batteries, 277;
    on heavy guns at Dover, 274 ff.;
    on Home Defence, 165 f.;
    on invasion conditions, 172;
    on invasion transports, 284;
    on Irish situation, 605 f.;
    on Joint Planning Committee, 249 f.;
    on Luftwaffe losses, 326;
    on Malta, 472;
    on offensive action, 246 f.;
    on oil for invasion harbours, 464;
    on “Operation Catapult,” 233;
    on “Operation Marie,” 625 n.;
    on retaliatory bombing, 364 f.;
    on rifles for Middle East, 535;
    on routes to Egypt, 446 f.;
    on seaport shelters, 267;
    on shipping for Mediterranean, 463 f.;
    on “sticky” bomb, 168;
    on Suda Bay defences, 548;
    on transport for U.S. munitions, 271;
    on troop disposition in African campaign, 426 f.;
    on troop movements in Middle East, 500 f., 535;
    on troops to Northern Ireland, 172;
    on troops from Palestine, Australia, India, 55 f.;
    on war with Italy, 126 f.;
    on written directives, 17 f.;
  to Jacob, 643, 670;
    on fog dangers, 464;
    for Joint Planning Staff, 662 f.;
  to Keyes, for Leopold, 90;
  to King (Mackenzie), on American aid, 145 f.;
    on transfer of British Fleet, 227;
  to King of Sweden, on German peace offers, 261 f.;
  to Lindemann, 636, 637, 638, 641, 653 f., 707 f.;
    on air production, 171;
    on troop equipment, 270;
    on Colonial troops, 173 f.;
  to Longmore, on Blenheims to Greece, 535;
  to Lord President, on withdrawal of B.E.F., 54 f.;
  to Lord Privy Seal, 652, 657, 710;
  to Lothian, on American attitude and aid, 228 f.;
    on American destroyers, 405 f.;
    on bases and destroyers, 402 f.;
    on British collapse, 400 f.;
    on British Fleet, 227;
    on German peace feelers, 260;
  to Margesson, 657;
  to Mayor of Tel Aviv, 668;
  to Menzies, on Middle East situation, 613;
  to Metaxas, on British aid, 533;
  to Minister of Agriculture, 674;
  to Minister of Aircraft Production, 635 f., 638, 643, 695, 702 f., 711 f.;
  to Minister of Health, 685 f., 707;
  to Minister of Home Security, 639, 707;
  to Minister of Information, 655, 656, 682;
    on air-raid publicity, 170;
  to Minister of Labour, 674, 693;
  to Minister of Mines, 655, 656;
  to Minister without Portfolio, 647;
  to Minister of Shipping, 706, 709;
  to Minister of Supply, 640, 665, 672, 674, 675, 700 f., 708;
    on need for ammunition, 465;
    on tank-landing craft, 248;
    on unexploded bombs, 361;
  to Minister of Transport, 656 f., 658, 659 f., 684;
    on oil imports, 603;
    on shipping problems, 603;
    on turn-around time of ships, 604;
  to Minister of Works and Bridges, 697 f., 701;
  to Mussolini, on Italian neutrality, 121 f.;
  to Nicholson, on utter defence of Calais, 82;
  to Pétain, on British Expeditionary Force to North Africa, 623 f.;
    on French Fleet, 216 f.;
  to Postmaster-General, 671;
  to President of Board of Trade, 675;
  to Press, on invasion, 263;
  to Prime Minister of Australia, 704 f.;
  to Prime Minister of Canada, 689 f.;
  to Prime Minister of New Zealand, 689;
  to Prime Ministers of Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Union of South Africa, on Home Defence, 194 ff.;
  to Prime Ministers of Australia and New Zealand, on general war situation, 435 ff.;
  to Reynaud, on B.E.F. activities, 71 f.;
    on concessions to Mussolini, 104 ff.;
    on continuing to fight, 185 f.;
    on evacuating French troops from Dunkirk, 106 f.;
    on French action, 68;
    on separate peace, 206;
    on stopping German tanks, 60 f.;
    on union of England and France, 186;
  to Roosevelt, 672;
    on American aid, 24 f., 56;
    on American query about the British Fleet, 414;
    on bases, 409 f.;
    on the British Fleet, 414;
    on British morale, 406 f.;
    on B.E.F.:
      on British offer of bases, 412 f.;
    on British situation, 401 f.;
    on Dakar, 487 f., 491;
    on French continuing in war, 184 f.;
    on French Fleet, 513;
    on French situation, 178;
    on a pro-German government in Britain, 188 f.;
    on Ireland, 152, 606 f.;
    on Italian reverses, 612 f.;
    on Jean Bart and Richelieu, 516;
    on Lend-Lease, 573 ff.;
    on letter from Churchill, 558;
    on Pacific possibilities, 497 f.;
    on his re-election, 553 f.;
    on Spanish situation, 529 f.;
    on tanks and tank-landing craft, 253 f.;
    on Taranto action, 545;
    on transfer of destroyers, 410 ff.;
    on U.S. representations to Vichy, 514;
  to secretary, War Office, 681;
  to Secretary of State for Air, 636, 637, 638 f., 642 f., 654, 660 ff., 663 f., 671, 674, 679 f., 683, 686 ff., 698, 711 f.;
    on bombing of invasion barges, 266, 457;
    on bombing Italy, 128;
    on retaliatory bombing of German cities, 365;
    on R.A.F. publicity in U.S., 327;
  to Secretary of State for Colonies, 635, 639, 640, 682, 690;
  to Secretary of State for Dominions, 690, 693 f., 699, 707;
  to Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, 640, 642;
    on Balkan mobilisation, 128 f.;
  to Secretary of State for India, 666;
  to Secretary of State for War, 642 f., 644, 647, 648, 653, 655, 658, 660, 661, 666, 667, 672 f., 676, 686, 695 f., 710 f.;
    on African campaign, on armoured brigade, 471;
    on armoured reinforcements, 471 f.;
    on bomb trepanning, 362;
    on bus transport for troops, 264;
    on Canadian troops, 270;
    on commando equipment, 468;
    on commandos, 466 f.;
    on delayed-action bombs, 361;
    on evacuation, of Calais, 81;
    on evacuating French from Dunkirk, 106;
    on Home Defence, 170;
    on Home Guard, 166;
    on Joint Planning Committee, 250 f.;
    on his Middle East inspection tour, 505;
    on recruiting of special companies, 467 f.;
    on troop disposition, in Middle and Far East, 499 f.;
    on troops for Britain, 163;
    on troops from India, 170 f.;
    on U.S. augers, 361;
  to Sikorski, 670;
  to Smuts, on African operations, 486 f.;
    on air defence of Britain, 146 f.;
    on British situation, 227 f.;
  to Staffs, on invasion forces, 289 f.;
  to Stalin, on Anglo-Russian relations, 135 f.;
  to Vice-Chief of Air Staff, 646, 659;
    on retaliatory bombing, 363;
  to Vice-Chief of Naval Staff, 642, 649 f.;
  to Wavell, on African campaign, 614 f.;
    on “Compass,” 545 ff.;
    on Libyan victory, 613 f.;
  Matt. 7:7, 615;
  to Wedgwood, on defence of London, 266 f.;
  to Weygand, 624;
    on the evacuation, 113 f.;
  to Wilson, on air-raid warnings, 352 f.;
    on transport for Government workers, 368 f.
 
Metaxas, General, Premier of Greece: Churchill message to, 533
 
Metropolitan Air Force: diverted to Dunkirk, 104 f.
 
Meuse R., 28, 32, passim
 
Middle East, 252, 266, 423, passim:
  action in, 498;
  air transport route to, 494;
  bombers to, 535;
  British Army in, 459, 499, 503, 537, 548, 597;
    position in, 164, 423, 424, 449, 541, 546, 623;
  centre of gravity in, 546 f.;
  concern for, 422;
  Eden in, 534;
  fate of, 425;
  importance of, 440, 459;
  loss of, 435;
  reinforcements to, 463, 503, 514, 624;
  responsibilities of, divided, 425;
  rifles for, 535;
  sea power in, 613;
  Middle Eastern Army, field state of, 506;
    Command, action of, 549;
    British troops to, 538;
    under Wavell, 421
 
Milan, 124, 162;
  bombed, 111, 130
 
Military:
  aid, American, to Britain, 406;
  equipment, American production of, 566;
  from U.S., 402;
  route, via the Mediterranean or the Cape, 428;
  situation, 18 May, 1940, map, 52;
  22 May 1940, map, 67;
  25 May, 1940, map, 85;
  28 May, 1940, map, 94;
  Staff, 18;
  tasks, first of, 620
 
Minches, 602
 
Minefield: barrage, southern, 601;
  Cornwall to Ireland, 293;
  southeastern, 293;
  submerged, 607;
  minefields, torn to pieces, 303
 
Mines: delayed-action, 431
 
Minimum action: statement of, 567
 
Minister: of Agriculture, Churchill message to, 674;
  of Aircraft Production, 13, 465;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Defence, 250;
    powers of, 16;
  of Economic Warfare, 140;
  of Health, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  importance of, 619;
  of Home Security, 370;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Information, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Labour, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Mines, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  without Portfolio, Churchill message to, 647;
  of Shipping, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Supply, 338, 457, 460;
  Anderson succeeds Morrison as, 369;
    Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Transport, Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of Works and Buildings, Churchill message to, 701;
  Ministers, of Cabinet rank, list, 14;
    Committee of, 424;
  ministerial demonstration, 100
 
Minutes, by Churchill: on concentration of small vessels on French coast, 58;
  on Dakar plans, 479
 
Mississippi R., 409
 
Molinié, General, French commander, 97
 
Molotov, V. M., Foreign Commissar of Soviet Union, 134, 524, 578;
  approves German policy, 133;
  on Bukovina, 583;
  conversation of, with Schulenburg, 587;
  criticism of, 586;
  on Lithuania, 583;
  meeting of, with Ribbentrop, German official account of, quoted, 579 f.;
  questions Hitler, 581;
  with Ribbentrop, in air raid, 586;
  on Tripartite Pact, 582;
  visits Berlin, 579
 
“Monday Cabinet Parade,” 19
 
Monnet, M., 205, 207;
  plan of, for French contracts, 214 f.
 
Montcalm, French cruiser, 486
 
Montgomery, Field Marshal Sir Bernard L., 4, 76, 264;
  commander of British 3d Division, 41;
  to France, 147;
  meets Churchill, 263
 
Montoire: entente of, 527;
  Hitler to, 532;
  meeting of Hitler, Ribbentrop, and Laval at, 524;
  Pétain summoned to, 524
 
Montrose, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
Moon and tides, for invasion, 298
 
Moore-Brabazon, Lieutenant-Colonel John Theodore Cuthbert, Minister of Transport 1940-41, Minister of Aircraft Production 1941-42, 346
 
Mopan: sunk, 596
 
Moray Firth, 601
 
Morgenthau, Henry, Jr., Secretary of U.S. Treasury, 557, 558, 568, 574
 
Morice, Deputy-Governor of French Morocco: quoted, 220
 
Moroccan bases, 623;
  coast, Germans on, 623;
  Morocco, 169, 222, passim;
  defence of, 623;
  Expeditionary Force for, 622;
  German occupation of, feared, 520;
  German pressure in, 487
 
Morrison, Herbert Stanley, Lord President of the Council, 338, 370;
  Home Secretary and Minister of Home Security, 369, 495 f.;
  Minister of Supply, 162, 459
 
Morrison shelter, 372
 
Morton, Major Desmond, 205, 207, 209, 474
 
Moscow: capture of, 592;
  Churchill visits, 585
 
Mosquito Armada, 105
 
Motor boats, American, 402;
  torpedo boats, American, 406
 
“Mulberry” harbours, 246
 
Munich, 10, 321, 399: crisis, 38;
  Hitler and Mussolini meet at, 130;
  the vote on, 571
 
“Munition Situation, The,” Churchill memorandum to War Cabinet, 458 ff.;
  munitions centres, bombed, 377;
  and destroyers, U.S. aid in, 560;
  directive on, 458 ff.
 
Mussolini, Benito, Premier of Italy, 4, 121, 124, passim;
  adventure of, German attitude towards, 546;
  advises alliance with Japan, 522;
  aggressive spirit of, 469;
  Albanian reverses of, 613;
  announces war with Britain and France, 129;
  appealed to, by Churchill, 122;
  asked by Franco to support Spanish claims, 521;
  attack of, on Greece, quoted, 532;
  attitude of, towards Britain and Hitler, 120;
  Churchill broadcast to Italy on, 620 f.;
  in conference with Ribbentrop, quoted, 522 f.;
  decides to declare war on Britain, 122 f.;
  directive of, on France and Yugoslavia, 128;
  dealings of Franco with, 530; dream of, 417;
  on Graziani, 469, 619; help of, to Franco, 519;
  influence of Rommel on, 619;
  insists on African operation, 469;
  invasion of Greece, a rebuff to, 549;
  on Italian Army, quoted, 621;
  meets Hitler, at Brenner Pass, 523;
  in Florence, 532;
  at Munich, 130;
  offers Hitler troops and air force for British invasion, 259, opinion of British Empire, 621;
  plans, for conquest of Egypt, 524;
  prestige of, 550;
  prudent waiting of, 120;
  radiant, 471;
  rebuffs Roosevelt, 123;
  rejects French territorial concessions, 126;
  relations of, with Franco, 518;
  reply of, to Churchill, 122;
  threatening Greece, 413;
  wants war, with Britain, 261
 
 
Names, code: list, 723
 
Napoleon, 117, 281, 330;
  at Austerlitz, 38;
  invasion of Spain by, 529;
  maxim of, 614;
  on Prussians, quoted, 511;
  quoted, 15 f.;
  son of, “L’Aiglon,” 527;
  tomb of, 528
 
Narrow Seas, 292 f., 402, 444, passim
 
Narvik, 54, 140;
  to be evacuated, 110;
  French materiél from, 169
 
Nasmith, Admiral Sir Martin Eric Dunbar, Naval Commander-in-Chief, Plymouth and Western Approaches, 601
 
National Coalition, 3 ff., 570;
  methods of, 22 f.;
  Fire Service, 371;
  Maritime Board, 564
 
Naval Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean Fleet, 431;
  construction, 411, 463;
  mines, dropped by German aircraft, 363;
  Staff, on “Operation Sea Lion,” 382 f.;
  Navy, counter-offensive by, 608.
  See also Fleet
 
Nazi: and Communist Empires, 227;
  contempt, for Italians, 621;
  Germany, 256;
  and Soviet Russia relations between, 578;
  Nazi peace, dictated in Paris, 185;
  pestilence, 511;
  Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, 133 n.;
  quoted, 579 f., 589 f.; 592 n.
 
Near East, 174.
  See also Middle East
 
Nelson, Admiral Horatio Lord, 232, 287, 503, passim;
  on ships vs. forts, 489
 
Netherlands Government-in-Exile, 162
 
Neutrality Act: U.S., 555
 
“Never surrender” policy, 118
 
“New Order in Europe,” 520, 562
 
New Zealand, Prime Minister of: Churchill messages to, see Messages; troops, 426
 
Newall, Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Cyril Louis Norton, Governor-General of New Zealand, 20, 196 f.
 
Newcastle: guns from, for Dover, 276
 
Newfoundland, 408, 411, passim;
  Government of, 407
 
Nibeiwa: Italian camp at, 542;
  captured 610
 
Nice, 130, 510
 
Nicholson, Brigadier Cameron Gordon Graham, Deputy Commander General Staff, Home Forces: ordered to defend Calais to the end, 82
 
Nieuport, 86, 97, 102
 
Nigeria: Governor of, 475
 
Night fighter aircraft, 344
 
Nile, Army of the, 614, 624
 
1940: unsurpassed, 628
 
Noble, Admiral Sir Percy, Commander-in-Chief at Liverpool, 601
 
Noguès, Governor-General of French Morocco: intercepts Daladier proclamation, 219
 
Normandy, 148, 299;
  American Army in, 5;
  German invasion troops in, 297;
  landing in, 254, 283
 
North, Admiral: commanding Atlantic station, 480
 
North Africa, 181, 183, 200, passim;
  French attitude in, 546;
  French Empire in, 474, 523;
  French Government, transfer to, 204;
  German occupation of, feared, 520;
  Italian interests in, 588;
  Italian traffic to, 540;
  Italian troops in, 418;
  Spanish claims in, 521;
  Vichy representatives to, 508;
  North African bases, 623;
  colonies, possible German occupation of, 527
 
North: Atlantic transport, 606;
  Channel, 607;
  Cornwall, 295;
  Sea, 29, 291, passim;
  British patrols in, 279;
  ports, 289;
  Northern Approaches, 561;
  Ireland, 175, 608;
  shipping around, 599;
  Sakhalin, Japanese rights in, 589;
  northwestern approaches: losses in, 410, 411, 513, 601
 
Norway, 54, 133, 163, passim;
  campaign in, 247, 320, 594;
  German aircraft from, 312;
  German troops from, 591;
  King of, 110;
  overrun, 161, 261;
  Norwegian coast, 293, 294;
  ports, 290;
  Norwegians, 523;
  British pledge to, 225
 
Notes, by Churchill: to Ismay, on new B.E.F., 139 ff.;
  on “Priorities,” 461 ff.
 
 
Observer Corps, Home Defence, 333, 340
 
Ocean transport, 560;
  oceanic war, indefinite, 406
 
O’Connor, Major-General Sir Richard Nugent, Commander Western Desert Forces in Libyan campaign, 610
 
Oil imports, 603
 
Oise R., 36;
  reached by German Army, 189
 
“One by one,” Hitler method, 529, 563
 
Operation: “Barbarossa”: General Directive No. 21 for, 289 ff.;
  general purpose of, 590;
  probable German allies in, 591;
  “Catapult,” 233;
  “Compass,” 542;
  “Dynamo,” 59, 100;
  chart, 115;
  “Hats,” 449, 450;
  “Mandibles,” 694;
  “Marie,” 625 n., 710;
  “Overlord,” 266, 478;
  “Royal Marine,” 41 n.;
  “Sea Lion,” 322, 323, passim;
  ordered by Hitler, 296;
  postponed indefinitely, 310;
  “Shrapnel,” 625;
  “Torch,” 478;
  “Winch,” 625;
  “Workshop,” 625, 694
 
Operational strengths, of Fighter Command: table, 716;
  operations: area of, May 1940, map, 116
 
Opposing forces: map, 39
 
Oran, 232, 235, 236, passim;
  Force II at, 440
 
Orléans: reached by Germans, 191
 
Ostend, 72, 82, passim
 
Ottawa, 573
 
 
Pacific: control of, by U.S. Navy, 559;
  German raiders in, 595;
  situation in, 435;
  war in, 6
 
“Paddock,” 367
 
Palairet, British minister in Athens: telegrams from, 538
 
Palazzo Venezia: Italian meeting in, 531
 
Palestine, 173, 459, 501;
  troops from, 55, 107, passim;
  troops in, 127, 426, passim
 
Pall Mall: in flames, 347
 
Panama Canal, 407
 
Pantelleria: plans for capture of, 625
 
Panzer divisions, 29, 189
 
Papagos, General, Greek Commander-in-Chief, 549
 
Parachute and Cable (P.A.C.) rockets, 661 n.;
  parachute mines, German, 364;
  parachutists, 285, 466
 
Paris, 37, 157, passim;
  attack on, 247;
  defence of, 50, 153;
  entered, by Germans, 157;
  evacuation of, 46;
  fall of, 191;
  Laval proposes parade in, 527;
  threatened, by German Army, 141
 
Park, Air Vice-Marshal, commanding No. 11 Fighter Group, 332, 334, passim;
  on air reserves, quoted, 336
 
Parliament, 260, 261, 299, passim;
  approves leasing of bases, 404;
  changes times of session, 356;
  Churchill addresses to, see Addresses; protection for, 374;
  reassured, by Churchill, 225 f.;
  passes Defence of the Realm Act, 63;
  Parliamentary Democracy, survival of, 357
 
Parma, Duke of, 391
 
Pas de Calais: German invasion troops in, 297;
  area, 312
 
Pasteur, French munitions ship, 214
 
Patton, General George S., Jr., 423
 
Pearl Harbour, 25
 
Peckham: Churchill visits, 348
 
Peirse, Vice-Chief of Air Staff, 89
 
Péronne: occupied by German Army, 54
 
Persia, 459, 587;
  Persian Gulf, 127, 164, 589
 
Pétain, Marshal Henri Philippe, Vice-President of French Council, 36, 57, 153, passim;
  anti-British, 527;
  attitude and influence of, 113;
  Churchill messages to, 216 f., 623 f.;
  on collaboration, with Germany, quoted, 526;
  concedes principle of collaboration, to Hitler, 525;
  a defeatist, 159;
  forms armistice government, 215;
  fraud of, 473;
  installed as Chief of Vichy France, 238;
  leader of French defeatist Ministers, 202;
  ready to ask an armistice, 156;
  rejects Anglo-French Union, 213;
  resigns from French Cabinet, 204;
  supports Weygand, for total surrender, 203;
  surrenders to Laval, 216;
  trial of, 223;
  U.S. message to, 514;
  to U.S., on French Fleet, quoted, 517 f.;
  willing to fight England, 525;
  Pétain Government; asks for armistice, 193;
  plans of, for Africa, 218 f.;
  Roosevelt to, on French Fleet, quoted, 513 f.;
  signs German armistice, 219;
  to Vichy, 238
 
Petre, Major-General Roderic Loraine, Divisional Command, 54
 
“Petreforce,” 54
 
Phillips, Admiral Vice-Chief of Naval Staff, 89, 364
 
Phillips, Sir Frederick, 558, 574
 
Photo-electric cells (P.E.), 396;
  fuzes, 396
 
Piccadilly, 347;
  bomb-proof shelter for Churchill in, 375
 
Pile, General Sir Frederick Alfred, Commander 1st Anti-Aircraft Division T.A., G.O. Commander-in-Chief, Anti-Aircraft Command, 338-340, 343, 393
 
Pilotless aircraft: attacks of, 374
 
Pim, Captain, 101
 
Plan D, Gamelin’s, 27 f., 32, passim;
  ordered into action, 32-34
 
Platt, Lieutenant-General Sir William, Commandant Soudan Defence Force, Commander Abyssinian campaign, 612
 
Pleven, M., 205, 207
 
Plymouth, 232, 233, passim;
  bombed, 377;
  Command at, 600;
  moved from, 601
 
Poitiers: scuttled, 486
 
Poland, 50, 126, passim;
  conquest of, 29;
  discussed, by Ribbentrop and Molotov, 584;
  invaded, 57;
  Poles: British pledge to, 225;
  Polish Brigade, 429;
  troops: evacuated by Britain, 193;
  from France to North Africa, 207;
  Polish volunteers, 427
 
Pope, the, 620
 
Port Hobart: sunk by Scheer, 597
 
Port Soudan, 426, 429, 612;
  “I” tanks to, 505
 
Portal, Air Chief Marshal Sir Charles Frederick Algernon, Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Bomber Command, Chief of Air Staff, 20
 
Portland, 282, 298
 
Portsmouth, 232, 233, 264, passim;
  landing craft from, to Liverpool, 478
 
Portuguese Government, 625
 
Postmaster-General: Churchill message to, 671
 
Pound, Admiral of the Fleet Sir (Alfred) Dudley (Pickman Rogers), Admiral of the Fleet, First Sea Lord, 21, 89, 239, passim;
  estimates of, on invasion troops, quoted, 289 f.;
  message from, to Churchill, 442 f.
 
Pownall, Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Royds, Vice-Chief of Imperial General Staff, Inspector-General of Home Guard, Commander of British Troops in Northern Ireland: gives account of Gort-Blanchard conference, 92 ff.
 
President, Board of Trade: Churchill message to, 675
 
Prételat, General, Commanding General Third French Army Group, 30
 
Primauguet, French cruiser: intercepted, 486
 
Prime Minister, of Great Britain, 16.
  See also Churchill
 
Prince of Wales, 561
 
“Priorities,” note on, by Churchill, 461 ff.;
  Priorities Board, U.S., 554
 
Prioux, General, commander cavalry corps, French First Army, 93, 97
 
Pripet Marshes, 591
 
Procès-verbal, Franco-German, 525
 
Production: of aircraft, 1940, table, 715;
  Council, 63, 463
 
Provence, French battleship: beached, 236
 
Proximity fuze: made in U.S., 396
 
Prussians: Napoleon on, quoted, 511
 
Purvis, Arthur, head of British Purchasing Commission, 25, 555, 556
 
Pyrenees, 520; frontier: rectification of, 524
 
 
“Q” ships, 604 n.
 
Quai d’Orsay, 45
 
Queen, the, 627
 
Queen Elizabeth, 503
 
 
“R” class battleships, 445
 
Radar, 333, 384, passim;
  batteries fitted with, 392, 529;
  developments in, 396;
  equipment: on Illustrious, 533;
  problems of, 382;
  progress in, 383;
  study of, 391
 
Radio, 384;
  aids of, to navigation, 464;
  beacons, German, 383;
  beam, 385;
  sphere of, 461;
  Direction Finding (R.D.F.), 162;
  priority of, 460;
  stations, 285
 
Raeder, Grand Admiral Erich, Commander-in-Chief of German Navy, 303, 305, 313, passim;
  on difficulty of invasion, 310 f.;
  to Hitler on British invasion, 301 f.
 
Ramillies class ships: to be re-armoured, 451
 
Ramsay, Admiral Honourable Sir Alexander Robert Maule, Fifth Sea Lord, Chief of Naval Air Service, Naval Commander at Dunkirk, 108, 114;
  commanding at Dover, 59, 100, 273
 
Ramsgate, 304
 
Readiness, state of: charts, 268 f.
 
Reading, Lady, 371
 
Red Cross: on German transport planes, 322
 
Red Sea, 127, 429, 626
 
Regia Aeronautica: mastered, 618
 
Regular Army: re-formed, 399
 
Reichstadt, Duke of, Napoleon’s son, 527
 
Reith, Lord, Minister of Works and Buildings, 374, 603 n.;
  Churchill message to, 697 f.
 
Renown, 481
 
Resolution, British battleship, 234, 440, 490;
  damaged, 491
 
Retaliatory bombing: questioned, 363 f.
 
Revenge, British battleship, 299
 
Reynaud, Paul, Premier of France, 40, 46, 47, passim;
  agrees to strike at Italy, 111;
  asks Churchill to come to France, 152;
  British support of, 207;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  Churchill rendezvous with, 210;
  complains, of B.E.F. movements, 71;
  on continuing the war, 112;
  decides to establish French Government-in-Exile, 200;
  determined to fight on, 159;
  hopes to buy off Mussolini, 123;
  informed of B.E.F. evacuation, 86;
  La France a sauvé l’Europe, 123 n.;
  presents Anglo-French Union plan to French Council, 212;
  promised material aid, by Roosevelt, 184;
  receives replies from Churchill, on B.E.F. activities, 71 f.;
  reports Sedan break-through, 42;
  resigns, as French Premier, 214;
  on separate peace, 181;
  takes Ministry of War, 57;
  unable to persuade French Council, 203;
  urged by Churchill to appeal to Roosevelt, 181 f.;
  visits England, 123;
  Reynaud Cabinet, fall of, 229 f.;
  final meeting of, 212
 
Rhine: R., 30, 32, 37 passim;
  estuary, 456;
  Front, 148
 
Rhodes: attacked, by Mediterranean Fleet, 450
 
Ribbentrop, Joachim von, 226, 523, 587;
  to Ciano, on British defence, 278 f.;
  discussions of, with Molotov: German official account of, quoted, 579 f.;
  with Molotov, in air raid, 586;
  at Montoire, 524;
  to Rome, 522
 
Richelieu, unfinished French battleship, 233, 237, 476, passim;
  able to fire 15 in. guns 489;
  damaged, 236, 490;
  disabled, 491 f., 515;
  to Mediterranean, 516
 
Riggs, H. C.: in Ministry of Shipping, 101
 
Road mines, 427
 
Rockets, 162, 350, passim;
  rocket attacks, 374;
  batteries: British, 394
 
Rodney, 503, 561
 
Rolls-Royce aero-engine works, 376
 
Roman Catholic Church, the, 620
 
Roman Empire: to be rebuilt by Mussolini, 417
 
Rome: Italo-German conference in, 522;
  Rome-Berlin Axis, 120
 
Rommel, Marshal Erwin, German Commander-in-Chief in North Africa: at Arras, 69;
  influence of, on Mussolini, 619
 
Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, President of U.S., 20, 108, 125, passim;
  on American interest in defence of Great Britain, quoted, 568;
  to Churchill: on equipment, 25;
  on Jean Bart and Richelieu, 517;
  on publication of his message to Reynaud, 187;
  as Britain’s best friend, 229;
  broadcasts by: on “arsenal of democracy,” 573;
  on Italy, quoted, 132;
  Churchill correspondence with, 23;
  messages to, see Messages;
  letter to, on prospects for 1941, 558 ff.;
  Roosevelt, on defence of U.S., quoted, 568;
  friendship of, with Lothian, 555;
  interest of, in West African ports, 623;
  on leasing American vessels to Britain, quoted, 567;
  on lending to a neighbour, quoted, 568;
  to Mussolini, 123;
  Pétain Government, on French Fleet, quoted, 513 f.;
  position of, on bases and destroyers, 408;
  to press, 407;
  re-elected, 553;
  to Reynaud, 183 f., 200;
  rebuffed, by Mussolini, 125;
  on U.S. foreign policy, quoted, 553
 
Rougier, M., envoy of Pétain, 508 f.
 
Roumania, 578, 581;
  as German ally, 591;
  German domination of, 587;
  German guarantee to, 584;
  Germany in, 532, 593;
  gives up Bessarabia and
  Bukovina, to Soviet, 137;
  oilfields of, 626
 
Rotterdam, 306;
  massacre of, 262
 
Royal Air Force, 20, 49, 65, passim;
  attacks Tobruk, 440;
  compared with Luftwaffe, 322;
  condition of, 338;
  at Dunkirk, 104 f.;
  in France, 41;
  Greek victories of, 547;
  losses in, 326, 331 f.;
  mastery of, 299, 436 f., 618;
  success of, German record of, 308;
  triumphant, 338;
  victory of, Sept. 15, 1940, 455
 
Royal: Marines, 249;
  vy, 88, 111, 253, passim
 
Royal Sovereign, 445;
  class: re-armoured, 443
 
Rufisque: attempted Free French landing at, 484, 489
 
Rundstedt, Feldmarshal Karl Rudolf Gerd von: Commander of German Army Group A, 30, 31, 82, 148;
  halts German armour, 78;
  military commander of invasion, 306;
  on-the-spot diary of, 77;
  orders Dunkirk not to be attacked, 78;
  reports on Channel situation, 78
 
Russia, 120, 128, 223; Asiatic, 590;
  combined with Germany and Japan, 593;
  food and materials from, to Germany, 578;
  German relations with, 303;
  Hitler plans to invade, 586;
  Hitler on relations with, quoted, 581;
  Hitler, set on invasion of, 529;
  interests of, in Balkans and Black Sea, 581;
  and Japan, Germany as mediator between, 582;
  to be settled with by Hitler, 577;
  turns towards India, 524;
  Russian Air Force, 590;
    Army, 590;
    Baltic Sea Fleet, 590;
    campaign, preparations for, 590;
    counter-proposals, to Germany, 589;
  Fifth Columnists, in Britain, 578;
  policy, towards Germany, 578;
  question, the, 524;
  railroads, 592;
  sphere of influence, Finland in, 583.
  See also Soviet, Soviet Union
 
 
Saarbruecken, 191
 
“Safety first”: in war, 539
 
St. Nazaire, 193, 233, 448;
  new B.E.F. to be built up at, 107;
  Lancastria catastrophe at, 194
 
St. Omer: captured by Germans, 72, 83
 
St. Paul’s Cathedral: bombed, 378
 
St. Quentin: passed by German Army, 54;
  St. Quentin-Amiens pocket, 64
 
Salonika, 546;
  Italian plan for, 532
 
San Demetrio, tanker, 596
 
San Giorgio, Italian cruiser: sunk, 440
 
Scapa Flow, 275 n., 294
 
Scarpanto: attacked by Mediterranean Fleet, 450
 
Scharnhorst, 232;
  damaged, 437;
  out of action, 287 n.
 
Scheer, pocket battleship, 596, 597, passim
 
Scheldt R., 28, 32, 43, passim;
  Allies withdraw to, 54
 
Schulenburg, Count, German Ambassador to Russia, 589;
  conversation of, with Molotov, 587;
  quoted, 133, 134
 
“Scorched-earth” policy: in Britain, 176
 
Scotland, coast of, 290
 
Sea harbour: proposed by Churchill in 1917, 245;
  patrol, 292;
  losses, weekly, table, 713 f.;
  monthly, table, 714;
  tonnage: diminution of, 560
 
“Sea Lion”: delay of, 576;
  embarkation ports of: bombed, 308;
  postponed indefinitely, 310
 
Searchlight beams, 394
 
Second Front, 135;
  called for, by Russia, 29;
  end of, 578
 
Secret Protocol: areas mentioned in, 588 n.;
  in Four-Power Pact, 588
 
Secretary: War Office, Churchill message to, 681;
  of State, 413, 621;
  of State for Air, 12, 16;
    Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of State for Colonies: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of State for Dominions: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of State for Foreign Affairs: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of State for India: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  of State for War, 16, 79, 536, passim: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  makes inspection tour in Middle East, 501;
  Margesson succeeds Eden as, 571;
  recommends Brooke to replace Ironside, 264;
  of War, U.S., 568
 
Sedan, 31, 36, passim;
  break-through at, 43, 48 n., passim
 
Seine R., 148, 157, 258;
  reached by German Army, 189
 
Sensitive fuzes, 162
 
Seventy-fives, 272
 
Sheerness: small-boat rendezvous, 101
 
Sheffield: bombed, 377;
  the King to visit, 627
 
Shetland Islands, 290, 294, 401
 
Shipping: and finances: burden on, 602;
  German attack on, 606;
  losses, 8;
  in northwestern approaches, 411, 601;
  weekly and monthly, tables, 713 f.;
  ships: turn-around time of, 604
 
“Shrapnel” operation, 625
 
Sicily: conquest of, 423;
  German Air Force in, 450;
  and Tunis, passage between, 625
 
Sidi Barrani, 419, 470;
  battle of: begun, 610;
    casualties in, 614;
    captured, 611;
    victory of, 612
 
Siebel ferries, 283
 
Sikorski, General Wladyslaw: Churchill message to, 670
 
Simon, Lord, 10;
  Chancellor of the Exchequer, under Chamberlain, 556
 
Sinclair, Sir Archibald, Secretary of State for Air, leader of Liberal Party, 12, 208, 346
 
Singapore, 25, 176, 562;
  American squadron to, 498;
  Australian troops from, 421;
  to be defended, 435;
  Japanese siege of, 499
 
Sirens and other warnings, 355
 
Skagerrak, 293, 298
 
“Smeller,” the, 390
 
Smetona, Antanas, President of Lithuania, 136
 
Smuts, General Jan Christiaan, Prime Minister of Union of South Africa, 126, 426, 429, passim;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages
 
Sollum, 419, 431, 432;
  capture of, 614;
  Italian attack near, 470;
  magazine at, 419
 
Somaliland, 425, 426, 427;
  campaign, 265 n.
 
Somerville, Vice-Admiral Sir James Fownes, commanding Force H, 440, 450, 452, 454;
  Admiralty message to, 235;
  to French Admiral, on French Fleet, 235
 
Somme R., 59, 62, 65, passim;
  new French front on, 64
 
Soudan, the, 429, 459, 500;
  action in, 505, 537, 614;
  troops needed in, 487
 
South: Africa, 145, 146;
  exchange of gold in, 573;
  gold production in, 555;
  America, 562;
  Beveland Island, 38, 43;
  coast, 288, 290;
  defence concentration on, 297
 
Southampton, 59;
  bombed, 377
 
Southern: Asia, 559;
  Command: commanded by Brooke, 265;
  England, 386;
  Ireland, 564;
  connections between England and, 605;
  Railway, 138;
  southwestern approaches, 293
 
Soviet: demands Bessarabia and Bukovina, of Roumania, 137;
  takes over Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, 136;
  Communists, 134;
  Government: congratulate Germany, on defeat of France, 134;
    and German project, 588;
    policy of, toward England, 134;
    relations of, with Britain, France, Germany, 133;
  Russia: aid from, to Germany, 256;
    to be crushed, in quick campaign, 589;
    strength of, 629;
  Union: in Four-Power Pact, 588;
    interests of, towards Indian Ocean, 588;
    pact of, with Bulgaria, 589.
  See also Russia
 
Spain, 219, 222, 226;
  attitude of, 518, 546;
  civil war in, 518, 520;
  claims of, on Hitler, 520 f., 522, 524;
  entered, by German troops, foreigners in, 520;
  German pressure on, 487;
  invasion of, by Napoleon, 529;
  to be kept out of the war, 112;
  kept out of the war by Franco, 529;
  neutrality of, 518;
  possible declaration of war by, 523;
  possible German advance through, 623, 624;
  situation in, 529;
  Spaniards: Nazi and Fascist ideology of, 520;
  Spanish adherence: asked for by Hitler, 529;
    Armada, 330, 391, passim;
    control: of Mediterranean, 519;
    Government: as ally of Hitler, 625;
    interests, 519;
    resistance, 625
 
Spears, Major-General Sir Edward (Louis), British Liaison Officer to French Prime Minister and Minister of Defence, 72, 106, 110, passim;
  expressiveness of, 109;
  quoted, 214
 
Spheres of influence: German and Russian, 585
 
“Split beam,” 386;
  failure of, 388;
  method of, 385
 
Staffs: Churchill message to, 290 f.
 
Stalin, Josef V., Premier of Soviet Union, 133, 134, 203;
  Churchill message to, 135 f.;
  to Churchill, on Molotov, quoted, 586;
  co-operation of, with Hitler, 578;
  and Hitler: mutual distrust of, 524;
  opinion of, on spheres of influence, 585
 
Stanmore: R.A.F. Fighter Headquarters at, 331, 333, 334
 
“Starfish”: decoy fires, 388 f., 392
 
State of readiness: 13 July 1940, chart, 269;
  7 Sept. 1940, chart, 268
 
Statute, U.S.: permitting leasing, 568
 
Steel: from U.S., 24 f.
 
Sterling area: countries of, 556
 
Stettinius, Edward R., Jr., U.S. Council of National Defence, 554, 556, 567;
  quoted, 142
 
“Sticky” bomb, 167 ff.
 
Stimson, Henry L., U.S. Secretary of War, 108
 
Storm troops: German use of, 466
 
Straits: of Dover, 282, 286;
  of Gibraltar, 492;
  British blockade of, 502;
  French squadron near, 480;
  possible German occupation of, 529
 
Strasbourg, French battle-cruiser, 232, 237;
  damaged, 236;
  to Toulon, 515
 
Strategic reserve (mass of manoeuvre): no French, 46
 
Striking Companies, 247
 
Strong, Brigadier-General George Veazey, Assistant Chief of U.S. Army Staff, Assistant Chief of U.S. War Plans Division, 277;
  on Luftwaffe attacks, quoted, 337 f.
 
Stuart, Captain James: succeeds Margesson as Chief Whip, 572
 
Submarines: British and Italian, 440
 
Subsidies, agricultural: to Eire, 606
 
Suda Bay, 534, 547;
  as amphibious citadel, 549;
  as Fleet base, 540, 625 f.;
  occupied by British, 534;
  tragedy of, 549
 
Suez, 124, 429, 472;
  in Axis hands: as a Spanish condition, 529;
  Canal, 425, 435, 501;
  defence of, 613;
  Zone, 429
 
Suffolk: Earl of, 362
 
Suñer, Serrano: head of the Falange, 523;
  to Berlin, 522;
  made Spanish Foreign Minister, 528
 
Supreme War Council: meets at Briare, 152
 
Surcouf, French submarine, 232, 234
 
Swayne, Brigadier, British liaison officer in France, 66
 
Sweden, 226;
  conveys German peace offers to Britain, 260, 261;
  King of, 261;
  exchange arrangements with, 556;
  Swedish railroads and highways: to be available to Germans, 591
 
Swiss frontier, 30, 37;
  Switzerland, 32
 
Sydney, Australian cruiser, 441
 
Syria, 459, 487;
  “sticky” bomb used in, 169
 
 
Takoradi, 453, 547;
  air transport route from, 494;
  Hurricanes to, 548;
  planes from, 615
 
Talks, by Churchill: to War Cabinet, on French crisis, 50 f.;
  to French High Command, on general situation, 112
 
Tallinn, 137
 
Tana R., 418, 421, 429
 
Tangier, 112, 222, passim;
  British Consul-General at, 479 f.;
  International Zone at, 256;
  U.S. interest in, 623
 
Tank: Brigade: around the Cape, 472;
  warfare, 243;
  tanks, 285;
  to Egypt, 446;
  in flat-bottomed boats, 247;
  in Mediterranean, 447;
  tank-landing craft, 246, 285;
  for Britain, 243
 
Taranto, 450, 535;
  action at, 545;
  attack, conditions for, 545;
  repetition of, prevented, 545;
  Italian Fleet, base at, 544;
  retired to, 449
 
Teitgen, M., 238
 
Tel Aviv: Jews at, 422;
  Mayor of, Churchill
  message to, 668
 
Templewood, Lord, Ambassador on Special Mission, 520 n.
 
Temps, Le, des Illusions, Du Moulin de la Barthète, quoted, 524 f.
 
Tennant, Captain William George, R.N., Senior Naval Officer at Dunkirk, 105
 
Territorial aspirations: of Four Powers, 588
 
Thames: R., 287, 368;
  Estuary, 172
 
“Their finest hour,” 226
 
Three-Power Pact, 497;
  Russian accession to, 587
 
Throne and people: effect of war on, 628
 
Timber: British production of, 163
 
Time lost during air raids, 352
 
Tirpitz, unfinished German battleship, 437, 503, 561
 
Tizard, Sir Henry, 384
 
Tobruk, 614, 619;
  attacked, by R.A.F., 440;
  bombarded, 616; captured, 616;
  Italian magazine at, 419
 
“Torch,” 478
 
“Torres Vedras line,” 192
 
Toulon, 233, 236, passim;
  French battleships to, 515;
  Fleet destroyed at, 239;
  squadron left, 480
 
Tours, 200;
  meeting at, 184;
  seat of French Government, 178
 
Trafalgar: Battle of, 229;
  Day, 545
 
Transport: and General Workers’ Union, 12;
  of Government workers, 368
 
Treasury: British, 558;
  bombed, 345;
  Department, U.S., Lend-Lease idea originated in, 567
 
Tree, Mr. and Mrs.: entertain Churchill, 554
 
Trentham Park: French troops at, 169
 
Trepanning: in bomb disposal, 362
 
Trieste: Italian battleships withdrawn to, 545
 
Tripartite Pact, 581;
  signed, 523
 
Triple Alliance, 119
 
Tripoli, 419, 543, passim;
  Italian base at, 419;
  Tripolitania, 222;
  Italian troops in, 418
 
Trondheim, 287
 
Troop dispositions, 297, passim
 
Tubes, the, 365;
  as shelters, 351
 
Tug Argen Gap, 432
 
Tummar: Italian camps at, 542;
  captured, 610
 
Tunis, 124, 210, passim;
  defence of, 623;
  French in, 417;
  and Sicily, passage between, 625
 
Turin, 124, 162;
  bombed, by British, 111, 130
 
Turkey, 459, 532, 546, passim;
  action of, 546;
  airfields in, 626;
  assurances to, 546;
  attitude of, 562;
  British Ambassador in: Churchill message to, 547;
  effect of Greek fate on, 538;
  question of, 582;
  support of, 541;
  Turkish: intervention, Churchill on, 547;
  Mission, to the British Army, 505;
  position, 536;
  Turks, 174
 
Tuscaloosa, American warship, 567
 
Twilight War, 302, 518, 556
 
Tyne R., 233, 263;
  as second German major objective, 294;
  Tyneside: bombed, 324
 
Tyranny: Nazi and Fascist, 567
 
 
U-boats, 401, 402, 599, passim;
  attacks of, 606, 607;
  results of, 599, 602;
  bases: Biscayan, 441;
  West African, 475, 623;
  blockade of, 630;
  choked, 608;
  U-boat decoy ships, 604;
  U-boats: to Irish ports, 605;
  losses of, 6;
  table, 7;
  peril of, 598;
  protection of: for invasion, 302;
  sinkings by, 607
 
Uganda railway, 421
 
Ulster, 599
 
Umberto, Prince: commanding western Italian armies, 130
 
Unexploded bombs (U.X.B.), 361, 362;
  Disposal Squads, 362
 
Union Jack, the: as the flag of freedom, 629
 
Union of South Africa: Prime Minister of: Churchill message to, 194 ff.
 
United Kingdom, 564
 
United States, 117, 129, 157, passim;
  aid from, 112;
  to Britain, 125, 525;
  to the common cause, 562;
  in munitions and destroyers, 560;
  aircraft production in, 565;
  alarmed, for Britain, 256;
  Anglo-French Union, appeals to, 209;
  arming, 629;
  Atlantic seaboard, protection of, 412;
  of Africa, interest in, 623;
  Ambassador to: Halifax succeeds Lothian as, 570;
  approaches the war, 521;
  bases, in British islands, 563;
  and British Commonwealth of Nations, 558;
  and British Empire: identity of interest between, 559;
  and British land forces, table, 5;
  children, to be evacuated to, 646 n.;
  committed, 185;
  Congress, appropriation of, for civilian refugees in France, 187;
  conveys German peace offers to Britain, 260;
  criticism in, of Dakar operation, 493;
  defence of, programmes for, 559;
  Roosevelt on, quoted, 568;
  destiny of, 226;
  effects, of British struggle on, 566;
  of Italian war on, 620;
  entry of, into the war, 406;
  in Europe, Africa, Asia, 582;
  fighting front of, 6;
  foreign policy of: Roosevelt and Willkie, quoted on, 553;
  French Fleet, interest in, 517;
  French gold, frozen in, 526;
  forces: protection of shipping by, 563;
  U.S. weapons, allocated to, 554;
  Government, 405;
  breach of faith with, 514;
  gratitude to, 5;
  influence of, on Eire, 564;
  United States: the Irish in, 564;
  the Italian vote in, 120;
  landing-craft from, 283;
  likely to enter the war, 196;
  little aid from, 229;
  mechanised transport, to be purchased from, 462;
  mood of, 477;
  munitions from, 142 f., 271, 436, 577;
  British orders for, 554;
  Navy, 25, 183, 561;
  army, air frontiers of, 415;
  Asdic sets to, 403;
  control of Pacific by, 559;
  of seas by, 563;
  United States: offers to buy French naval vessels, 517;
  official feeling of towards Great Britain, 239;
  Pacific Fleet, 435;
  position of, if Britain collapsed, 399;
  presidential election in, 552;
  pressure, on Vichy by, 516;
  rifles from, 459;
  reports in, on Battle of Britain, 327;
  resources of, 218;
  16 in. guns from, 277;
  State Department: published Nazi-Soviet Relations, 1939-1941, 579;
  United States: support, of Britain by, 303;
  sympathy in, for London, 359;
  trustee, for French Fleet, 235;
  value of bases to, 403;
  visitors from, to Annexe cupola, 376;
  in the war, 599;
  weapons from, allocation of, 554.
  See also American
 
United States of Europe: under Hitler, 188
 
Unrotated projectile (U.P.), 393, 460
 
Ural Region, 592;
  Urals, 590
 
 
Valiant, British battleship, 234, 440, 445, passim
 
Vansittart, Sir Robert, 205, 207, 209
 
Vatican, 620;
  German peace proposals from, 171, 260
 
Verdun: victor of, with German guards of honour, 527
 
Verity, 82
 
Versailles, 399
 
V-1, small unmanned aircraft: proximity fuzes used against, 396
 
Vice Chief of Air Staff: Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  Vice Chief of Imperial General Staff: Irwin memorandum to, 492;
  Vice Chief of Naval Staff, 80;
  Churchill messages to, 642, 649 f.
 
Vichy: seat of Government of Unoccupied France, 238, 256;
  Vichy France, 477, passim;
  British relations with, 475, 487, 492, 502 f., 507;
  chance of, to profit, 622;
  disavowed Darlan, 240;
  Foreign Minister of: M. Flandin, 528;
  between Germany and Britain, 527;
  Government, 221, 475, 498;
  breaks relations, with Britain, 238;
  and the French people, 527;
  under German pressure, 526 f.;
  naval forces of, 562;
  pressure on, by U.S., 516;
  procedure of, 480;
  Vichy, ideas to, 526;
  likely declaration of war from, 490;
  partisans of, 492;
  possessions of, in Western Hemisphere, 488;
  possible bombing of, 535;
  warned, on the Jean Bart, 515
 
Victoria, Queen, 628
 
Vincennes: French G.Q.G., 64
 
Volga R., 590
 
Volpi, Signor, 121
 
Vuillemin, French Air General, 153
 
Vyshinsky, H.A.Y.: rules Latvia, 137
 
 
Walcheren Island, 38, 43
 
Walker, Admiral Wake: at Dunkirk, 107
 
Walpole, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
War administration: efficiency of, 21 f.
 
War Cabinet, 11, 13, 16, passim;
  abandons Dakar expedition, 483, 490;
  approves “Compass,” 543;
  proclamation, of Anglo-French Union, 208;
  leasing of bases, 404;
  Dakar expedition, 474, 477;
  Churchill memorandum for, 458 ff.;
  report to, 53;
  determined to defend England, 418;
  democratic rule of, 357;
  fidelity of, 549;
  members of, 13;
  Monday meetings of, 19;
  operation and co-operation of, 18 ff.;
  War Cabinet Defence Committee, 18;
  Secretariat, 18;
  War Cabinet Staff, 18;
  war direction: machinery of, 17;
  war, effect of: on Throne and people, 628;
  War Office, 433, 500;
  Movements Branch of, 138;
  opposition of: to commandos, 467;
  plans of, for Morocco, 622 f.;
  taken over, by Churchill, in Eden’s absence, 501;
  war production: reviewed, 457;
  warlike equipment, output of, 457
 
Warsaw, 591;
  Battle of, 57
 
Warship raiders, 561
 
Wash, the, 288, 293, 294, passim
 
Washington, D.C.: Churchill and Dill to, 20
 
Water supplies: depotabilised, 427, 431
 
Waterloo: Battle of, 332
 
Watten: crossing, captured by Germans, 83
 
Wavell, General Sir Archibald, Commander of Middle East Command, 163, 424, 433, passim;
  to Cairo, 432;
  Churchill messages to, see Messages;
  message from, to Churchill, 615;
  plans, for reinforcements to Crete, 541;
  reinforcements to, 498;
  tanks to, 477
 
Wedgwood, Sir Josiah, M.P., 375;
  Churchill message to, 266 f.
 
Welles, Sumner, Under-Secretary of State, U.S., 410
 
Wellington, Duke of, 456;
  quoted, 520
 
Wesson, Major-General Charles Macon, U.S. Chief of Ordnance, 142
 
West Africa: control of, 562;
  Free French forces for, 474;
  overland route from, 453;
  West African colonies, 535;
  German influence in, West coast:
  invasion of, 293;
  End, 344;
  Indian islands: bases in, 403;
  Indies, 416;
  western approaches, 402;
  control of, 600;
  losses in, 233;
  Desert: offensive in, 506;
  flank, map, 149;
  Front, 578;
  between Sept. 1939 and May 1940, 29;
  Hemisphere: trouble for, 530;
  Mediterranean: air conditions in, 442
 
Westminster Abbey, service of intercession and prayer in, 99;
  Palace of, 374
 
Weygand, General Maxime, French Commander-in-Chief at Algiers, 62, 65, 71, passim;
  ardent Catholic, 201;
  believes England done for, 213;
  cancels Gamelin’s Order No. 12, 61;
  Churchill messages to, 113 f., 216 f., 624;
  displaces Gamelin, as French Commander-in-Chief, 57, 75;
  Minister of Defence, 215;
  plan of: for French resistance, 64, 68, 70, passim;
  abandoned, by Gort, 83;
  similar, to Gamelin’s Order No. 12, 65;
  refuses military surrender, 201
 
White: Nile R., 418, 626;
  Russia, 591
 
Whitehall, 368;
  area, 374;
  district, 354
 
Whitman, Walt, 613
 
Whitshed, British destroyer: damaged, 402
 
Wight, Isle of, 304
 
Wilhelmshaven: bombed, 308
 
Wilkinson, Ellen, 371
 
William III: conflict of, against Louis XIV, 628
 
Willkie, Wendell: on aid to Britain, quoted, 553
 
Willoughby de Broke, Lord, 335
 
Wilson, Admiral “Tug,” 280
 
Wilson, General Sir Henry Maitland-, Commander of Army of the Nile, 542, 547, 610, passim
  See also Maitland-Wilson
 
Wilson, Sir Horace John, Permanent Secretary of the Treasury, Head of Civil Service: Churchill messages to, 352 f., 368 f.
 
Wilson, Woodrow, 412 n.
 
“Winch”: operation, 625
 
Windsor, 82, 378
 
“Winette,” 252
 
“Winston’s specials”: troop convoys, 597
 
Wireless: directional, 383
 
“Wizard of Oz,” 616
 
Wizard War, 381 ff.
 
Women’s Voluntary Services, 371
 
Wood, Sir Kingsley, Chancellor of the Exchequer, 348, 557
 
Woolwich, 465
 
Work week: for British workers, 368 f.
 
“Workshop”: operation, 625, 694
 
World Crisis, The, Churchill, 246
 
World: destiny, weight of, 628;
  domination, by Hitler, 629
 
Wormhould, 92
 
Wren, British destroyer: sunk, 402
 
Written directives: policy of, 17
 
Wytschaete, 84
 
 
“X apparatus,” 388, 389
 
 
“Y apparatus,” 389
 
Ybarnegaray, M., French Minister, 213
 
Yellow Sea, 435
 
Yencken, Arthur, Counsellor of British Embassy at Madrid, 518
 
Ypres, 84, 86, passim;
  Gamelin meets Leopold and Billotte at, 61
 
Yser: Canal, 86;
  River, 61, 96
 
Yugoslavia, 128, 162, 546;
  to be attacked by Italy, 128;
  interest of, 532;
  Italy against, 522;
  and Turkey, 547
 
 
“Z”: beginning of war, 140 n.
 
Zhdanov, A. A., member Soviet Politburo: rules Estonia, 137

A Publisher's Note in the original book (pp. 631-2) contained errata to correct mistakes made in the original printing. The note has been omitted from the ebook as the changes have been applied to the text.

	a	B.E.F. in France.
	b	Excludes Guerrillas in Abyssinia.
	c	Excludes Filipino troops.
	The dividing line between the Eastern and Western theatres is taken as a north-south line through Karachi.
	The following are not taken as operational theatres:
		Northwest frontier of India; Gibraltar; West Africa; Iceland; Hawaii; Palestine; Iraq; Syria (except on July 1, 1941).
	Malta is taken as an operational theatre; also Alaska from January, 1942, to July, 1943.
	Foreign contingents—e.g., Free French, Poles, Czechs—are not included.

Nationality	Losses in Gross Tons	Percentage
British	11,357,000	54
United States	3,334,000	16
All other nations (outside enemy control)	6,503,000	30
	----------	---
	21,194,000	100

	Total Engaged	Sunk		Damaged
A.A. cruiser	1	—		1
Destroyers	39	6		19
Sloops, corvettes and gunboats	5	1		1
Minesweepers	36	5		7
Trawlers and drifters	77	17		6
Special service vessels	3	1		—
Armed boarding vessels	3	1		1
Motor torpedo boats and Motor anti-submarine boats	4	—		—
Ex-Dutch skoots (naval crews)	40	4	}	(Not
Yachts (naval crews)	26	3		recorded)
Personnel ships	45	8		8
Hospital carriers	8	1		5
Naval motor-boats	12	6	}	(Not
Tugs	22	3		recorded)
Other small craft[A]	372	170
	---	---
Total	693	226

Allied Ships

Warships (all types)	49	8	}	(Not
Other ships and craft	119	9		recorded)
	---	---
Total	168	17

Grand Total	861	243

[A] Omitting ships’ lifeboats and some other privately owned small craft of which no record is available.

Date		From the Beaches	From Dunkirk Harbour	Total	Accumulated Total
May	27	Nil	7,669	7,669	7,669
	28	5,930	11,874	17,804	25,473
	29	13,752	33,558	47,310	72,783
	30	29,512	24,311	53,823	126,606
	31	22,942	45,072	68,014	194,620
June	1	17,348	47,081	64,429	259,049
	2	6,695	19,561	26,256	285,305
	3	1,870	24,876	26,746	312,051
	4	622	25,553	26,175	338,226
Grand total		98,780	239,446	338,226
Note: These figures are taken from a final analysis of the Admiralty records. The War Office figure for the total number of men landed in England is 336,427.

Pre-War Coast Defence
	9.2-inch	two
	6-inch	six
Recent Additions
	14-inch (Naval)	one
	9.2-inch	two (railway mountings)
	6-inch (Naval)	two
	4-inch (Naval)	two

Contents


Book One

The Fall of France

1.	The National Coalition	3
2.	The Battle of France The First Week. Gamelin	27
3.	The Battle of France The Second Week. Weygand	53
4.	The March to the Sea	74
5.	The Deliverance of Dunkirk	99
6.	The Rush for the Spoils	119
7.	Back to France	138
8.	Home Defence. June	161
9.	The French Agony	177
10.	The Bordeaux Armistice	199
11.	Admiral Darlan and the French Fleet. Oran	224
12.	The Apparatus of Counter-Attack. 1940	242
13.	At Bay	255
14.	The Invasion Problem	280
15.	Operation Sea Lion	301


Book Two

Alone

1.	The Battle of Britain	319
2.	The Blitz	341
3.	“London Can Take It”	358
4.	The Wizard War	381
5.	United States Destroyers and West Indian Bases	398
6.	Egypt and the Middle East. 1940	417
7.	The Mediterranean Passage	439
8.	September Tensions	455
9.	Dakar	473
10.	Mr. Eden’s Mission	495
11.	Relations with Vichy and Spain	507
12.	Mussolini Attacks Greece	531
13.	Lend-Lease	552
14.	Germany and Russia	576
15.	Ocean Peril	594
16.	Desert Victory	609

Appendices		633

Index		727

Maps and diagrams

	PAGE

The Forward Movements, Starting May 10	33
The Opposing Forces, May 13	39
German Advances, May 13-17, 1940	44
Situation Evening, May 18	52
Situation Evening, May 22	67
Battle of Arras, May 21-22	69
Situation at Nightfall, May 25	85
Situation, May 28	94
Diagram of Dunkirk Perimeter, May 29 and 30	103
Diagram of Dunkirk Perimeter, May 31 and June 1	103
Area of Operations, May, 1940	116
The Opposing Forces on the Western Flank, June 5, 1940	149
The German Advance, June 5-9	151
The Last Stand of the French Army, June 1940	190
General Map: Western France (Cherbourg-Brest)	197
State of Readiness, Infantry Divisions, July 13, 1940	269
State of Readiness, Infantry Divisions, September 7, 1940	270
Sketch Map of German Invasion Plan	307
General Map of the Northwest France and Belgium	315
Battle of Britain	340
Disposition of Main Fleets in Mediterranean, June 14, 1940	438
Desert Victory, December, 1940, to January, 1941	617

	Western Theatre		Eastern Theatre		Total			Western Theatre		Eastern Theatre		Total
Jan. 1, 1940	5	⅓	—		5	½	(a)	—		—		—
July 1, 1940	6		—		6			—		—		—
Jan. 1, 1941	10	⅓	—		10	⅓	(b)	—		—		—
July 1, 1941	13		—		13		(b)	—		—		—
Jan. 1, 1942	7	⅔	7		14	⅔		—		2	⅔	2	⅔	(c)
July 1, 1942	10		4	⅔	14	⅔		—		8	⅓	8	⅓
Jan. 1, 1943	10	⅓	8	⅔	19			5		10		15
July 1, 1943	16	⅔	7	⅔	24	⅓		10		12	⅓	22	⅓
Jan. 1, 1944	11	⅓	12	⅓	23	⅔		6	⅔	9	⅓	16
July 1, 1944	22	⅔	16		38	⅔		25		17		42
Jan. 1, 1945	30	⅓	18	⅔	49			55	⅔	23	⅓	79

Destroyed by	German	Italian	Japanese
British forces(a)	525	69	9	½
United States forces(a)	174	5	110	½
Other and unknown causes	82	11	10
Totals	781	85	130
Grand total of U-boats destroyed: 996
(a) The terms British and United States forces include Allied forces under their operational control. Where fractional losses are shown, the “kill” was shared. There were many cases of shared “kills,” but in the German totals the fractions add up to whole numbers.

May 11, 1940

Prime Minister, First Lord of the Treasury, Minister of Defence and Leader of the House of Commons	Mr. Churchill *	Conservative
Lord President of the Council	Mr. Neville Chamberlain *	Conservative
Lord Privy Seal	Mr. C. R. Attlee	Labour
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs	Lord Halifax *	Conservative
Minister without Portfolio	Mr. Arthur Greenwood	Labour

MINISTERS OF CABINET RANK

First Lord of the Admiralty	Mr. A. V. Alexander	Labour
Secretary of State for War	Mr. Anthony Eden *	Conservative
Secretary of State for Air	Sir Archibald Sinclair	Liberal


May 12

Lord Chancellor	Sir John Simon [becoming Lord Simon] *	National Liberal
Chancellor of the Exchequer	Sir Kingsley Wood *	Conservative
Home Secretary and Minister of Home Security	Sir John Anderson *	Non-Party
Secretary of State for the Colonies	Lord Lloyd	Conservative
President of the Board of Trade	Sir Andrew Duncan	Non-Party
Minister of Supply	Mr. Herbert Morrison	Labour
Minister of Information	Mr. Alfred Duff Cooper	Conservative


May 13

Secretary of State for India and Burma	Mr. L. S. Amery	Conservative
Minister of Health	Mr. Malcolm Macdonald *	National Labour
Minister of Labour and National Service	Mr. Ernest Bevin	Labour
Minister of Food	Lord Woolton *	Non-Party


May 14

Dominions Secretary and Leader of the House of Lords	Viscount Caldecote *	Conservative
Secretary of State for Scotland	Mr. Ernest Brown *	National Liberal
Minister of Aircraft Production	Lord Beaverbrook	Conservative
President of the Board of Education	Mr. Herwald Ramsbotham *	Conservative
Minister of Agriculture	Mr. Robert Hudson *	Conservative
Minister of Transport	Sir John Reith *	Non-Party
Minister of Shipping	Mr. Ronald Cross *	Conservative
Minister of Economic Warfare	Mr. Hugh Dalton	Labour
Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster	Lord Hankey *	Non-Party


May 15

Minister of Pensions	Sir W. J. Womersley *	Conservative
Postmaster-General	Mr. W. S. Morrison *	Conservative
Paymaster-General	Lord Cranborne	Conservative
Attorney-General	Sir Donald Somervell,* K.C.	Conservative
Lord Advocate	Mr. T. M. Cooper,* K.C.	Conservative
Solicitor-General	Sir William Jowitt, K.C.	Labour
Solicitor-General for Scotland	Mr. J. S. C. Reid,* K.C.	Conservative

* Members in previous Administration.

7,000	tons of ammunition
90,000	rifles
2,300	guns
120,000	vehicles
8,000	Bren guns
400	anti-tank rifles

6	battalions of infantry
9	regiments of yeomanry
8	battalions of Australian infantry

South coast from Bay of Biscay ports	20,000
South coast from Channel ports	5,000
East coast from Dutch and Belgian ports	12,000
East coast from German ports	50,000
Shetlands, Iceland, and coast of Scotland from Norwegian ports	10,000
	------
	97,000

Cromarty Firth to Wash inclusive ^[4]	3
Wash to Dover promontory	5
Dover promontory to Land’s End, and round to start of minefield	1½
Start of minefield to the Mull of Cantyre	¼
Mull of Cantyre northabout to Cromarty Firth	½

Cromarty Firth to Wash	3
Wash to Dover	5
Dover to North Cornwall	1½
North Cornwall to Mull of Cantyre	¼
Mull of Cantyre to Cromarty Firth	½
	---
Total	10¼

Sector	Distribution in accordance with Prime Minister’s assessment of vulnerability	Actual distribution of divisions

Cromarty-Wash	7½		8½
Wash-Dover	12½		7-10
Dover-North Cornwall	4¼		5-8
North Cornwall-Mull of Cantyre	½		2
Mull of Cantyre-Cromarty	1¼		½

	August	September

Wash-Thames	7 divisions	4 divisions plus 1 armoured brigade
South Coast	5 divisions	9 divisions plus 2 armoured brigades
Reserve for either sector	3 divisions	3 divisions plus 2 armoured divisions plus 1 division (equivalent) London District
Total available South Coast	8 divisions	13 divisions plus 3 armoured divisions

168	transports (of 700,000 tons)
1910	barges
419	tugs and trawlers
1600	motor-boats

	British Fighters Lost by R.A.F. (complete write-off or missing)	Enemy Aircraft Actually Destroyed (according to German records)	Enemy Aircraft Claimed by us (Fighter Command, A.A., Balloons, etc.)
Weekly Totals:

July 10-13	15	45	63
Week to July 20	22	31	49
Week to July 27	14	51	58
Week to Aug. 3	8	56	39
Week to Aug. 10	25	44	64
Week to Aug. 17	134	261	496
Week to Aug. 24	59	145	251
Week to Aug. 31	141	193	316
Week to Sep. 7	144	187	375
Week to Sep. 14	67	102	182
Week to Sep. 21	52	120	268
Week to Sep. 28	72	118	230
Week to Oct. 5	44	112	100
Week to Oct. 12	47	73	66
Week to Oct. 19	29	67	38
Week to Oct. 26	21	72	43
Oct 27-31	21	56	60

Monthly Totals:

July (from July 10)	58	164	203
August	360	662	1133
September	361	582	1108
October	136	325	254
Totals	915	1733	2698
Further tables will be found in Appendix C.

Air Defence Great Britain

Expansion 1940-1941

July, 1940	December, 1940	May, 1941

Heavy Guns

Total: 1200	Total: 1450	Total: 1687
Made up of:	Made up of:	Made up of:
4.5 inch 355	Static 1040	Static 1247
3.7 inch	Mobile 410	Mobile 440
static 313
3.7 inch
mobile 306
3 inch 226

Light Guns

Total: 587	Total: 650	Total: 790
Made up of:
Bofors 273
3 inch 136
(adapted for
low shooting)
20 mm. Hispano 38
2 pdrs. 140

Rocket Batteries

Nil	Nil	Total: About 40

Searchlights

Total: 3932		Total: Over 4500 (not fully manned)

Personnel Strength

Total: 157,319	Total: 269,000	Total: 312,500
	including 6000	including 6500
	women (3700 on	women (3500 on
	batteries, 2300 on	battery establishments,
	H.Q. and	3000 on H.Q. and
	Administrative Staffs)	Administrative Staffs)

Newfoundland	Antigua
Bermuda	St. Lucia
Bahamas	Trinidad
Jamaica	British Guiana

Contents

A.	Prime Minister’s Personal Minutes and Telegrams, May-December, 1940	635

B.	Weekly Losses at Sea by Enemy Action of British, Allied and Neutral Merchant Tonnage	713

C.	Aircraft Strength, Battle of Britain, 1940	715

D.	Correspondence Relating to Dakar between Mr. Churchill and Mr. Menzies	718

E.	List of Operational Code Names for 1940-1941	723

F.	List of Abbreviations	724

30-pound bombs	Nil
250-pound bombs	18
250-pound containers	Nil
500-pound containers	25
1000-pound containers	9

Week ended	British		Allied		Neutral		Total: British, Allied and Neutral
	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons
1940
June 2	28	79,415	5	25,137	2	4,375	35	108,927
June 9	13	49,762	8	22,253	4	14,750	25	86,765
June 16	15	60,006	10	40,216	6	23,170	31	123,392
June 23	16	91,373	12	81,742	12	39,159	40	212,274
June 30	6	30,377	4	13,626	5	19,332	15	63,336
	78	310,933	39	182,975	29	100,786	146	594,694
July 7	14	75,888	4	18,924	5	21,968	23	116,780
July 14	10	40,469	5	13,159	7	24,945	22	78,473
July 21	12	42,463	2	3,679	7	13,723	21	59,865
July 28	18	65,601	2	7,090	..	..	20	72,691
	54	224,421	13	42,852	19	60,536	86	327,809
August 4	14	67,827	2	7,412	5	13,768	21	89,007
August 11	9	32,257	2	7,674	2	6,708	13	46,639
August 18	10	41,175	1	7,590	2	4,134	13	52,899
August 25	20	108,404	1	1,718	2	8,692	23	118,814
	65	312,584	11	39,432	16	51,762	92	403,778
September 1	12	62,921	5	15,038	5	18,460	22	96,419
September 8	13	44,975	4	18,499	3	13,715	20	77,189
September 15	13	55,153	4	12,575	3	7,379	20	75,107
September 22	22	148,704	3	13,006	5	14,425	30	176,135
September 29	11	56,096	4	12,119	2	7,351	17	75,566
	59	304,928	15	56,199	13	42,870	87	403,997
October 6	8	30,886	3	5,742	1	3,687	12	40,315
October 13	10	52,668	3	17,537	4	14,544	17	84,749
October 20	34	154,279	7	24,686	6	26,816	47	205,781
October 27	6	9,986	2	6,874	1	1,583	9	18,443
November 3	13	65,609	4	5,403	..	..	17	71,012
	71	313,428	19	60,242	12	46,630	102	420,300
November 10	11	69,110	2	10,236	2	8,617	15	87,963
November 17	15	57,977	3	15,383	1	1,316	19	74,676
November 24	20	80,426	3	12,415	..	..	23	92,841
December 1	9	41,360	3	5,734	1	5,135	13	52,229
	55	248,873	11	43,768	4	15,068	70	307,709
Grand Total,
May 27 to
Dec 1, 1940	382	1,715,167	108	425,468	93	317,652	583	2,458,287
Notes.—Week ended December 1 is the last full week for which details are available, and from the nature of the circumstances must be considered provisional.

For the whole period the following commissioned ships of 500 gross tons and over (formerly merchant vessels) have been lost by enemy action, 20 vessels of 183,000 gross tones approximately.

Months	British		Allied		Neutral		Total: British, Allied and Neutral
	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons	No.	Gross tons
May, 1940	31	82,429	26	134,078	20	56,712	77	273,219
June, 1940	61	282,560	37	187,128	27	101,808	125	471,496
July, 1940	64	271,056	14	48,239	20	62,672	98	381,967
August, 1940	56	278,323	13	55,817	19	59,870	88	394,010
September, 1940	62	324,030	19	79,181	9	39,423	90	442,634
October, 1940	63	301,892	17	73,885	17	66,675	97	442,452
November, 1940	73	303,682	13	47,685	5	24,731	91	376,098
December, 1940	61	265,314	11	70,916	7	21,084	79	357,314
Totals	471	2,109,286	150	696,929	124	432,975	745	3,139,190

1 The National Coalition

LAND FORCES IN FIGHTING CONTACT WITH THE ENEMY “EQUIVALENT DIVISIONS”

U-BOAT LOSSES

The War Cabinet

2 The Battle of France: Gamelin

The First Week, May 10 to May 16

3 The Battle of France

The Second Week: Weygand

May 17 to May 24

4 The March to the Sea

May 24 to May 31

5 The Deliverance of Dunkirk

May 26 to June 4

British Ships

British and Allied Troops Landed in England

6 The Rush for the Spoils

7 Back to France

June 4 to June 12

8 Home Defence

June

9 The French Agony

10 The Bordeaux Armistice

11 Admiral Darlan and the French Fleet:

Oran

12 The Apparatus of Counter-Attack

1940

13 At Bay

July, 1940

14 The Invasion Problem

15 Operation Sea Lion

1 The Battle of Britain

2 The Blitz

3 “London Can Take It”

4 The Wizard War

5 The United States Destroyers and West Indian Bases

6 Egypt and the Middle East

1940

June—July—August

7 The Mediterranean Passage

8 September Tensions

The Munitions Situation

MEMORANDUM BY THE PRIME MINISTER

Priorities

NOTE BY THE PRIME MINISTER

9 Dakar

10 Mr. Eden’s Mission

October, 1940

11 Relations with Vichy and Spain

12 Mussolini Attacks Greece

October-November, 1940

13 Lend-Lease

14 Germany and Russia

15 Ocean Peril

16 Desert Victory

Appendices

Appendix A PRIME MINISTER’S PERSONAL MINUTES AND TELEGRAMS

May-December, 1940

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

Appendix B AUTHOR’S NOTE

TABLE II

Monthly Totals of Shipping Losses

May, 1940 to December, 1940

Appendix C AIRCRAFT STRENGTH DURING THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN, 1940[1]

1. Aircraft Production in 1940

2. Operational Strengths During the Battle of Britain

SUMMARISED ORDER OF BATTLE (BOMBER COMMAND) AND BOMBER

Bomber Command

3. Operational Strengths of Fighter Command

Week by Week

4. Comparison of British and German Fighter Strength During the Battle of Britain

Appendix D CORRESPONDENCE RELATING TO DAKAR

between Mr. Churchill and Mr. Menzies[1]

Appendix E LIST OF OPERATIONAL CODE NAMES FOR 1940-1941

1
The National Coalition

LAND FORCES IN FIGHTING CONTACT WITH THE ENEMY
“EQUIVALENT DIVISIONS”

2
The Battle of France: Gamelin

3
The Battle of France

4
The March to the Sea

5
The Deliverance of Dunkirk

6
The Rush for the Spoils

7
Back to France

8
Home Defence

9
The French Agony

10
The Bordeaux Armistice

11
Admiral Darlan and the French Fleet:

12
The Apparatus of Counter-Attack

13
At Bay

14
The Invasion Problem

15
Operation Sea Lion

1
The Battle of Britain

2
The Blitz

3
“London Can Take It”

4
The Wizard War

5
The United States Destroyers and
West Indian Bases

6
Egypt and the Middle East

7
The Mediterranean Passage

8
September Tensions

9
Dakar

10
Mr. Eden’s Mission

11
Relations with Vichy and Spain

12
Mussolini Attacks Greece

13
Lend-Lease

14
Germany and Russia

15
Ocean Peril

16
Desert Victory

Appendix A
PRIME MINISTER’S PERSONAL MINUTES
AND TELEGRAMS

Appendix B
AUTHOR’S NOTE

Appendix C
AIRCRAFT STRENGTH DURING THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN, 1940 ^[1]

4. Comparison of British and German Fighter Strength
During the Battle of Britain

Appendix D
CORRESPONDENCE RELATING TO DAKAR

between Mr. Churchill and Mr. Menzies ^[1]

Appendix E
LIST OF OPERATIONAL CODE NAMES FOR 1940-1941

Appendix F
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

	Gross production	Fighter production
January	802	157
February	719	143
March	860	177
April	1,081	256
May	1,279	325
June	1,591	446
July	1,665	496
August	1,601	465

Date	Total No. of Squadrons	No. of Squadrons operationally	Total I.E.* operational Squadrons	Total aircraft available for operations
July 11, 1940	40	35	560	467
July 18, 1940	40	35	560	510
July 25, 1940	40	35	554	517
August 1, 1940	40	35	560	501
August 8, 1940	41	36	576	471
August 15, 1940	37	31	496	436
August 22, 1940	37	31	496	491
August 29, 1940	38	32	512	482
September 5, 1940	39	36	576	505
September 12, 1940	41	38	608	547
September 19, 1940	42	38	608	573
September 26, 1940	42	38	608	569
*: “I.E.” abbreviation for “Initial Equipment.”

AIR SUPPLY UNITS

NUMBER OF AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED TO CURRENT OPERATIONAL
STANDARDS, READY FOR DISPATCH

Date	Within 48 hours	Additionally within 4 days

July 11, 1940	285	128
July 18, 1940	272	111
July 25, 1940	251	111
August 1, 1940	249	111
August 8, 1940	191	111
August 15, 1940	210	111
August 22, 1940	152	116
August 29, 1940	145	124
September 5, 1940	103	124
September 12, 1940	113	123
September 19, 1940	107	121
September 26, 1940	165	109


Date	Total number of Squadrons in Fighter Command	Number of Squadrons available for operations	Number of aircraft serviceable and available for operation

July 10	57	54	656
July 17	57	52	659
July 24	60	50	603
July 31	61	54	675
Aug. 7	61	56	714
Aug. 14	61	54	645
Aug. 21	61	57	722
Aug. 28	61	58	716
Sept. 4	63	58	706
Sept. 11	63	60	683
Sept. 18	64	61	647
Sept. 25	64	61	665

Single engine	approximately	850
Twin engine (Me. 110)	”	350
		---
	Total	1,200

A.A. guns	Anti-aircraft guns or ack-ack guns
A.D.G.B.	Air defence of Great Britain
A.F.S.	Auxiliary Fire Service
A.F.V.s	Armoured fighting vehicles
A.G.R.M.	Adjutant-General Royal Marines
A.R.P.	Air raid precautions
A.S.U.	Air Supply Units
A.T. rifles	Anti-tank rifles
A.T.S.	(Women’s) Auxiliary Territorial Service
B.E.F.	British Expeditionary Force
C.A.S.	Chief of the Air Staff
C.I.G.S.	Chief of the Imperial General Staff
C.-in-C.	Commander-in-Chief
Controller.	Third Sea Lord and Chief of Material
C.N.S.	Chief of the Naval Staff (First Sea Lord) or 1.S.L.
C.O.S.	Chiefs of Staff
D.N.C.	Director of Naval Construction
E.F.	Expeditionary Force
F.O.	Foreign Office
G.H.Q.	General Headquarters
G.O.C.	General Officer Commanding
G.Q.G.	Grand Quartier General
H.F.	Home Forces
H.M.G.	His Majesty’s Government
L. of C.	Line of Communications
L.D.V.	Local Defence Volunteers [renamed Home Guard]
M.A.P.	Ministry of Aircraft Production
M.E.	Middle East
M.E.W.	Ministry of Economic Warfare
M. of I.	Ministry of Information
M. of L.	Ministry of Labour
M. of S.	Ministry of Supply
O.K.H.	Oberkommando das Heeres. Supreme Command of the German Army
O.T.U.	Operational Training Unit
P.M.	Prime Minister
U.P.	Unrotated projectiles, i.e., code name for rockets
V.C.A.S.	Vice Chief of the Air Staff
V.C.I.G.S	Vice Chief of the Imperial General Staff
V.C.N.S.	Vice Chief of the Naval Staff
W.A.A.F.	Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
W.R.N.S.	Women’s Royal Naval Service. “Wrens”