by Walter Reid
There was a variety of motives for his anxiety to meet Roosevelt again, including a boyish desire to be on the scene as history was being made. But his main practical concern was to ensure that America did not divert her resources from the European theatre to the Pacific. Although the staff talks earlier in the year had involved an acceptance of the priority of the European war, in the aftermath of the shock of Pearl Harbor, as Churchill confided to Gil Winant, things could be different.1
American entry in the war was about the only good news at this time. Churchill received the news of the loss of the Repulse and of the Prince of Wales (on which he had travelled to Placentia Bay just a few months earlier) when he boarded the Duke of York for the ARCADIA conference in Washington; and as he travelled across the Atlantic, Hong Kong was attacked by the Japanese. All the same, the atmosphere on the voyage to Washington was very different from that on the way home from Newfoundland. There was now the prospect – the certainty – of ultimate victory, of working in partnership, albeit as a junior partner, with the most powerful industrial nation in the world. There was no apprehension of the humiliations he would suffer when he was increasingly denied any real share of direction of the joint enterprise. But even at this stage, Churchill had to accommodate himself to the President’s requirements. When he had told Roosevelt of his plan for an immediate visit, he was advised that the President would be unable to see him for at least a month: they eventually met on 22 December.
During ten days on board the Duke of York, Churchill and the British mission did very substantial preparatory work, which stood them in good stead when they met their American opposite numbers. The discussion was not entirely harmonious. Churchill faced a battle from the Chiefs of Staff (Pound, Portal and Dill – whose successor, Brooke was holding the fort in London). He was reminded that after Pearl Harbor and the loss of the Prince of Wales and the Repulse air superiority was a total prerequisite which limited naval operations. Equally, he was distressed that the Chiefs were prepared to countenance the idea of the Japanese ‘running wild in the western Pacific’ while the European war was fought out.
But despite their cavils, he presented them with a series of masterly appreciations of the post-Pearl Harbor situation in the course of the voyage. They have been described as ‘some of the most influential and prescient state papers of the war’.2 The papers consisted of ‘The Atlantic Front’ which set out more or less what was in the event to happen: Anglo-American landings in Vichy North Africa meeting British forces from the east; ‘The Pacific Front’, flawed by over-optimism as the fall of Singapore was to show just seven weeks later; and ‘The Campaign of 1943’, which envisaged a Continental landing to be greeted with enthusiasm and assisted by those liberated from Nazi rule. On board the Duke of York, he was deeply conscious that he had to impress the Americans with an optimistic assessment of the type of war he wished to wage. He had warned the King before his departure that following Pearl Harbor it was to be feared and expected that America would reduce her material support to Britain. The papers were intended to energise and shock-start the American war effort.
Together they outline the grand strategy which in the west at least was to be the basis of what actually happened, and which won the war; they were designed also to stimulate the Chiefs of Staff into a more ambitious frame of attitude than they usually adopted and to overcome what Churchill saw as a narrow, pedestrian and over-cautious frame of mind.
He was not alone in that view. On 22 July 1941 Colville recorded in his diary that ‘The more I see of the Chiefs of Staff’s conclusions, the more depressed I am by the negative attitude they adopt. They seem convinced their function is to find reasons against every offensive proposal put forward and to suggest some anodyne, ineffective alternative. Their excuse may be shortage of equipment, shipping and manpower; but they show no disposition to improvise or take risks.’3 There is a good deal of his master’s voice in this; but professionals in committee are inclined to excessive caution.
Three years after making that observation about the Chiefs, Colville returned to the subject with a more analytical and very perceptive reflection: ‘Whatever the P.M.’s shortcomings may be, there is no doubt that he does provide guidance for the Chiefs of Staff and the F.O. on matters which, without him, would often be lost in the maze of inter-departmentalism or frittered away by caution or compromise. Moreover, he has two qualities, imagination and resolution, which are conspicuously lacking among other Ministers and among the Chiefs of Staff.’4 On the day after he wrote that, looking at the sheer volume of paper that the war generated, Colville said something no less perceptive: ‘I pity the lot of the future historian’.
Realistic logistic assessments had still to be made, and it was a mistake to imagine, as Churchill did, that the British navy could make much of an impression in the Pacific; but caution alone will not win wars, and it was necessary to inspire the Chiefs of Staff to think ambitiously. Brooke was to be a very great CIGS, a very great planner, but he was not imaginative or original: his skill was in what he called ‘prevision, preplanning and provision’. Even his generally approving biographer, Sir David Fraser, acknowledges that Churchill’s ‘conceptual reach, at best, far surpassed that of his professional advisers; including Brooke’.5 Again, ‘He could and often did impressively surpass his supporters in his imaginative span. He was capable of seeing the war as a whole and envisaging how it might be won.’6
Eventually Churchill and Roosevelt met as allies for the first time on 22 December 1941. The welcome Churchill received from FDR was warmer than that extended by Eleanor, who remained distant from the representative of Empire. When the two sides met formally in the ARCADIA talks, the Americans, including the President, were generally impressed by the plans that were presented to them. Essentially the American Joint Chiefs accepted that the western theatre was decisive, confirming the Staff Conversations of February 1941 when Germany had been designated ‘the key to victory’.
Churchill had arranged that his papers and draft agenda were radioed ahead via the embassy in Washington so that no time was lost when conversations began. Many Americans felt that they had been bulldozed at Placentia Bay: this time they wanted none of that, and Roosevelt instructed his advisers to study the British agenda and prepare their own. There were differences among the President’s senior advisers. Admiral (‘Ernie’) King succeeded Admiral Harold R. (‘Betty’) Stark as Chief of US Naval Operations after Pearl Harbor. Stark had opposed war aid to Europe, but King was even more negative. He was always regarded as one of the more extreme examples of Anglophobes among the American Chiefs. He ‘was vindictive, irascible, overbearing, hated and feared … drank too much, seduced his fellow officers’ wives, was a poor support’.7 He did not trust Churchill and particularly detested Brooke. On the other hand, he liked Pound and Portal and had plenty of distaste for his own countrymen. He thought Marshall stupid, Hap Arnold a ‘yes’ man and Admiral Leahy, on whom Roosevelt particularly depended, a fixer.
One of the potentially sticky moments at Washington occurred when the Prime Minister thought it as well to disclose to the President at a late-night session that he had been reading deciphered State Department intelligence. He had stopped the practice after Pearl Harbor.8 Roosevelt does not seem to have been greatly concerned. He was presumably told about Ultra, but had limited interest in ciphers and codes.9
At this first conference as allies Churchill and Roosevelt got on pretty well at a personal level. There was the warmth of a house party, and Churchill was treated as a welcome guest. The President took pleasure in personally mixing cocktails for the company before dinner. But among the professional entourages there was no such camaraderie. It was disappointing for the British to find that their new colleagues were suspicious, prickly and far from part of one united team.
Dill found the Americans hopelessly disorganised. Portal annoyed them by suggesting that they put their air forces at Britain’s disposal. Marshall and many of his colleagues were none too happy abo
ut the British ‘indirect’ strategy. For Marshall there would have to be another Great War with a huge land offensive, and what he called ‘Fabian strategy’ was irrelevant. Given his distance from the British position he was all the more astounded to be hugged by Dill in the course of the talks. The spirit of some of these meetings is conveyed in a description by General Stilwell of a meeting at Cairo later in the war, in 1943: ‘Brooke got nasty and King got good and sore. King almost climbed over the table at Brooke’.10
There were differences over a Joint Declaration of Allied War Aims based on the Atlantic Charter and to be signed on New Year’s Day 1942. Churchill was irritated that Roosevelt and Hopkins had proposed that India should be a separate signatory. Roosevelt’s views on India were to take up a lot of Churchill’s time at various stages in the war, but for the moment the Americans dropped the matter.
North Africa was an important topic, negotiated directly between the two top men. Churchill raised it with FDR before the top level conferences even began. He was concerned that Algeria was in the hands of the Vichy authorities and by the fact that the French battleships Jean Bart and Richelieu were stationed there. He wanted action in the area. Roosevelt agreed, and repeated his agreement on the following day: ‘He considered it very important to morale to give this country a feeling that they are in a war, to give the Germans the reverse effect, to have American troops somewhere in active fighting across the Atlantic’. On the other hand, he thought that major operations in Europe itself might have to wait until 1944, as opposed to two years earlier, as Churchill wanted.
From the start and for a long time thereafter the President’s advisers tried to row back from what had been agreed about North Africa: as far as even limited operations were concerned, by 26 December the Americans were saying that shipping shortages meant that they could not cope with North Africa as well as relieving British forces in Ireland and Iceland. Roosevelt supported the American change of position. The time ‘was not right at present’ for North Africa. Churchill was angry, ‘reluctant to take No for an answer because of shipping’; during the First World War, the Americans had brought 2 million soldiers to France in five months. The matter was not resolved.
This sort of exchange and stalemate was repeated in innumerable separate meetings where the implications of grand strategy were thrashed out. Though there are no official American records of ARCADIA, it is clear that feelings ran high. Hopkins noticed that because the British came much better prepared than the Americans their opposite numbers could do little more than be flatly negative. He asked Halifax to tell British staff officers that ‘negative replies from [the] US Staff … should not, repeat not, be taken too seriously’.11
Apart from anything else, while Churchill continuously worked very closely with the Chiefs of Staff, the same was not true on the American side. By now the British command, civil and military, knew each other very well and, despite frequent, furious outbursts, understood each other. On the way over on the Duke of York, Churchill had emphasised to the Chiefs of Staff that the important thing was that they should present a united front. The result overwhelmed the Americans. Later, Marshall recalled that in this period there ‘was too much anti-British feeling on our side: more than we should have had. Our people were always ready to find Albion perfidious.’ After the conference, Stilwell excoriated the British who had ‘completely hypnotised’ Roosevelt and sold him ‘a bill of goods’.
One ally was not present at ARCADIA, but de Gaulle managed to remind everyone of his existence. On 24 December Admiral Muselier, now de Gaulle’s Minister of the Marine, seized the Atlantic island group of St Pierre and Miquelon, which were controlled by Vichy France. Britain had hitherto refrained from any action against the islands because America did not want the Vichy regime alienated. Now de Gaulle ordered Muselier to act despite the fact that he had undertaken not to do so without British agreement. Indeed he ordered that no warning was to be given to ‘the foreigners’ – Britain, the United States and Canada. The move annoyed everyone, except the islanders. The Canadian government was considerably embarrassed. Germany considered action against Vichy North Africa for allowing it to happen. The Vichy naval commander at Martinique, with a powerful fleet at his disposal, demanded the eviction of the Free French. Above all, America, squarely for Vichy and hostile to de Gaulle, was far from happy.
Secretary of State Cordell Hull, in particular, was furious. He took the narrow, legalistic view that ‘the so-called Free French’ had no right to do what they had done. Hull was no friend of the Free French: he did not want them for instance to sign the Declaration of War Aims. But his views were not those of all Americans. Individual Americans were not displeased to see the Axis forces or their friends being given a kick, and the New York Herald Tribune preferred Churchill’s approving response to the raid. ‘The Prime Minister has certainly blown all question of St. Pierre-Miquelon and Washington’s “so-called Free French” through the dusty windows of the State Department. For Mr. Churchill there is nothing “so-called” about the Free French “who would not bow their knees” and “whose names are being held in increasing respect by nine Frenchmen out of ten” … [Few] Americans after this can do otherwise than criticize the befuddlement and want of courage in the manner of [the State Department’s] utterances.’ It was in fact hardly open to Churchill to be too censorious about de Gaulle’s frolic, as he had authorised Ismay on 13 December to allow ‘a Free French descent upon Miquelon and St Pierre’ ahead of an Anglo-America ultimatum: ‘[I]f you feel it better to unmuzzle Muselier now, I am prepared to consent’.12
Churchill felt that Hull cut ‘a rather pathetic figure’ in a matter which ‘did not enter at all into our main discussions’.13 Hull rumbled on for quite some time, even complaining to an outsider, Mackenzie King of Canada, that ‘he thought both the President and Mr. Churchill had yesterday been headed in the wrong direction … [T]hey had not realised what it would mean if the American government lost touch with Vichy, and if the South American republics got the idea that the US was countenancing force in any way.’14
The Americans unfairly regarded de Gaulle for most of the war as a closet fascist and, on the other hand, they did not find Vichy particularly distasteful. Hence Churchill: ‘You’re being nice to Vichy; we’re being nice to de Gaulle’. Hull went on and on. America threatened naval action against the islands. There was much diplomacy, proposal and counter-proposal, before a face-saving communiqué was issued – after which the Free French remained in place.
Pushing a jammed window open to get some air one night at Washington Churchill suffered a slight heart attack. His doctor, Charles Wilson, later Lord Moran, did not burden him with a diagnosis. He decided that the Prime Minister could not receive the conventional treatment of rest and convalescence, and the conference continued. Churchill found time, despite still feeling under the weather, to travel to Ottawa and make his speech to the Canadian Parliament (‘Some chicken! Some neck!’). He had already spoken to both Houses of Congress and told them that if his father had been American and his mother British, he might have got there on his own. Congress always enjoyed his addresses (‘We only hear about the war when Churchill talks to us’, he was delighted to hear), and he revelled in the occasions. Roosevelt was not pleased.15
25
ARCADIA Resumed
The visit to Canada was followed by a short trip to Florida, where Churchill spent some days splashing in the sea as he loved to do. He returned to Washington for the end of the conference on 12 January.
In the absence of the principals, the discussions had gone on. Despite the agreement on Europe first, the strategic implications of the policy left plenty of room for dissension. There was a critical shortage of sealift for Europe, and Marshall argued that the problem was not that of finding troops. There were plenty of troops for both theatres. The problem was finding the shipping. It was proposed that the troops destined for Iceland and Northern Ireland be cut from 8,000 and 16,000 men to 2,500 and 4,000 men respecti
vely, allowing 21,800 to be sent to the Far East. There were ramifications implied in any such decision. Marshall himself was concerned that the diversion of shipping to the Pacific would cut Lend-Lease to the Soviet Union by 30 per cent. Stilwell observed the discussions: ‘All agreed on being disgusted with the British hogging all the material: quite willing to divide ours with us, but never any question of putting theirs in the pot.’1
When these staff proposals were brought back to Roosevelt and Churchill, the Prime Minister was alarmed, particularly by the impact on the Russians. There was not, at this stage, a lot to separate the PM and the President on Russia: both were fairly well disposed towards Stalin. Roosevelt consistently dismissed the idea that Russia wanted to dominate Europe. Like Churchill, he took the view that the Soviet leader was not unconstrained: they both thought that their Russian opposite number was controlled by others more extreme than he. Sometimes Molotov was thought to be this powerful influence, at other times ‘a council of commissars’ or simply, as Churchill described them, ‘the Soviet Leaders, whoever they are’.2 At a less personal level, Roosevelt thought that Russia had to be drawn into a closer relationship with the West, so that she could be one of the world’s policemen. Roosevelt’s views were broadly those of his entourage. The Secretary of State, Cordell Hull, identified a distinction between America’s ‘sane and practical liberalism’ and Churchill’s ‘conservatism’.3
Before the principals came to adjudicate on the shipping issue, Roosevelt returned to the North African offensive. He embarrassed Churchill by forcing an admission that Auchinleck’s battle against Rommel was not going well. At an informal meeting over dinner on the evening of 12 January, when FDR was absent, it was clear that neither Stimson nor Marshall was in favour of immediate action in North Africa.