by Nick Barratt
Tired officers, with no preparation and only a tentative grasp of what was intended, then issued the orders to assemble once more and face the enemy. As before, heavy machine-gun fire came from the right flank, but this time the objective was to take those positions.
B Company fought its way into Fresnoy le Petit, meeting stubborn resistance, including the two remaining officers and entirely losing touch with the remainder of the battalion. Throughout the day the several small parties of which the company was now composed resisted all attempts of the enemy to surround them.57
Their gallantry was in vain, however:
At dusk, being still isolated, these parties withdrew, still fighting, onto our line of posts.58
Oldham had been involved in the first stage of the assault. Under the German bombardment that accompanied the British advance, a shell exploded near his position. The blast knocked him unconscious and he was buried under the mud and debris thrown up by the explosion. He was dragged out by his men, still unconscious, and immediately taken to a first-aid post and then transferred to the nearest casualty clearing station for assessment, where he regained consciousness. Despite having no obvious physical injuries, he was clearly concussed and in no fit state to return to his unit, continuing to vomit and suffering from crippling headaches.59
He was moved to a field hospital on 20 September and three days later was sent home from Le Havre, arriving in Southampton on the morning of 24 September. While recuperating, he contracted flu on 8 October – possibly a mild strain of the deadly swine or Spanish flu which started to sweep across the globe from August onwards. He survived, though this delayed his recovery for several weeks. For Oldham, the war was over.
A medical board sat in judgment on Oldham’s injuries at 3rd London General Hospital, Wandsworth, on 14 November 1918, three days after the Armistice had been signed that ended hostilities. Given the minor nature of his injuries, he was passed fit to return to service. His period of absence was classified as leave and extended to 5 December 1918, at which point he was discharged from active service. He was entitled to wear his uniform for another month – just in case he needed time to buy civilian dress – and on ceremonial occasions thereafter. Although he was placed on the reserve list, where he would remain until December 1921 in case of military emergency, Oldham was instructed to return to civilian duties in the Foreign Office. He retained his Sam Browne belt and bayonet for his Lee-Enfield rifle and reputedly his service revolver – ‘just in case’. His experiences in the trenches had changed him forever, and according to his sisters he returned ‘shattered and broken’ by the Great War.
Chapter four
THE PARIS PEACE CONFERENCE (1918–1919)
No matter how hard you try, you cannot imagine the shambles, the chaos, the incoherence, the ignorance here. Nobody knows anything because everything is happening behind the scenes.
PAUL CAMBON, FRENCH AMBASSADOR TO BRITAIN, 1898 – 1920
With the Armistice signed, thoughts of politicians and diplomats alike turned to the peace process – although the possible shape of the post-war world had been raised as long ago as September 1916, when the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Lord Robert Cecil, first circulated a ‘Memorandum on proposals for diminishing the occasion of future wars’. This was seen, albeit primarily by Cecil himself, as the first British articulation of the need for a global organisation that would ensure the maintenance of peace.
In January 1918, US President Woodrow Wilson issued ‘Fourteen points’ that outlined the American view about how the world would operate after peace had been brokered. These included self-determination for smaller nations, free trade, open diplomatic processes, freedom of navigation on the high seas, disarmament to the lowest possible level, various territorial adjustments including the contentious issue of colonial claims and a general association of nations under specific covenants to safeguard the previous points (the League of Nations).
Wilson’s ideas were based on an inquiry led by foreign policy advisor Edward House and a team of around 150 staff. From the British perspective, the Permanent Under-Secretary of State, Lord Hardinge, established the Political Intelligence Department within the Foreign Office in March 1918 to draw together as much information as possible on both Allied and enemy countries. This could be used when peace arrived. Under the direction of men such as William Tyrrell and James Headlam-Morley, 180 country guides were compiled by an army of technical experts and were crammed with every piece of information that was considered of potential use. Inside the Foreign Office, there was a growing confidence that the peace process would mark the moment when diplomacy would finally and rightfully be returned to the hands of the professionals rather than the politicians.
Yet despite these meticulous preparations, the rapidity with which fighting ceased took many officials by surprise. Whilst Oldham was recuperating in hospital and undergoing his final medical examination by the doctors in Wandsworth, plans were hastily assembled by the Allies for a grand conference. Once Paris was confirmed as the venue over Geneva – despite initial opposition from Lloyd George, and US fears that Switzerland was ‘saturated with every kind of poisonous element and open to every hostile element in Europe’ – attention began to focus on what would actually be discussed. The French, led by Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, had drafted an outline proposal which was circulated to the Allies on 29 November. With the help of Foreign Office Librarian Alwyn Parker, Hardinge produced his own complicated blueprint for the conference, with various interlinked geographical committees that placed Foreign Office officials at the heart of the process.
However, the politicians had other ideas; Foreign Secretary Arthur Balfour duly presented Hardinge’s plan to the War Cabinet in October 1918. Prime Minister Lloyd George, long distrustful of the Foreign Office or indeed any institution comprised of ‘experts’, simply laughed at it. Instead he asked War Cabinet member General Jan Smuts to come up with an alternative. The result was even more complicated than Hardinge’s and required the presence of a range of experts from different government departments. Alongside six groups of territorial experts from the Foreign Office, there were specialists from the Board of Trade for advice about the pros and cons of free trade and the global economy; a delegation from the Treasury to advise on financial issues including the economist John Maynard Keynes; representatives from the branches of the armed forces, including the recently formed Royal Air Force, and a plethora of advisors for discussions about the proposed League of Nations and freedom of the seas. Needless to say, many lawyers were invited. In a further snub to Hardinge, Lloyd George asked the Cabinet Secretary, Maurice Hankey, to head the British secretariat, a move which left Hardinge even more bitter and resentful despite Hankey’s best attempts to smooth ruffled feathers. Things had not got off to an auspicious start.
It was apparent from the outset that large numbers of backroom staff were required to support the British delegation at the conference, whatever shape it took. Office space was required to house the clerks, typists, cipher staff, messengers and payroll officers, plus the official delegates and technical experts – all of whom needed accommodation as well as somewhere to work. Around 400 people were required, as well as a separate printing operation with a further 130 staff to ensure that briefing documents and reports were speedily produced for the various meetings. The budget came from the beleaguered Treasury, already shattered by the war effort. Preparations got underway at once. The administrative and logistical burden largely fell upon the Foreign Office, with the long-suffering Alwyn Parker organising the necessary accommodation in Paris within two days of the Armistice – the Hôtel Majestic for personnel, with higher ranking officials taking either secure flats or suites next door in the Villa Majestic and the Hôtel Astoria was set aside for office space. The Foreign Office was initially allocated to the fourth floor.
There was also the issue of security – in terms of protecting British intelligence, given that large numbers of nations
would be attending, as well as ensuring the safety of the politicians involved, given continuing fears of revolutionary activity articulated by Wilson in the context of Geneva. Such fears were well-founded; Clemenceau was lucky to survive an assassination attempt on 19 February 1919.
The task of intelligence protection was the responsibility of Sir Henry Penson’s intelligence clearing house, also allocated an entire floor, while the Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police and Head of the Criminal Investigation Department, Basil Thomson, was assigned the latter task. He took his work very seriously, down to the level of ensuring that the rooms at the hotels were cleaned by British hands brought over especially for the purpose, rather than leave it to chance that a ‘native’ cleaner might try to secure secrets from the delegates’ rooms. His preferred plan was to bring in demobilised Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps staff, not simply because they were female, but because many had undertaken signals intelligence work during the war – the ‘Hush-WAACs’ – and could therefore be trusted on a security detail.
Alongside various plain-clothed police officers from Special Branch, he requested two men for ‘subterranean activities’ – his own intelligence-gathering operation, which included Major Stewart Menzies, who would rise to lead Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service. The entire staff of the hotel were replaced by British workers and even local messenger services were shunned on the grounds of security. A group of ten Girl Guides – the youngest being Jessie Spencer from Richmond, Surrey aged only 13 years and 7 months – were sent over to run messages and undertake light office work. This provoked an outcry from various groups shocked at the exploitation of children – ‘prurient little flappers who should be at school and under parental control’, according to the chairman of the advisory committee for Eltham schools, Lady Ellen McDougall.60
Back in England, the task of assembling the support staff from within the Foreign Office who would work at the Astoria continued through November and December, alongside the job of ensuring that sufficient arrangements were made for those left behind. In effect, there would be two Foreign Offices in place, a shadow one in Paris focusing on conference activity under the control of Balfour and Hardinge and the permanent one in London which was temporarily placed under the command of Lord Curzon, Lord President of the Council.
During this period of frenzied activity and growing excitement, Oldham finally returned to his desk in Whitehall – a war hero, and a wounded one at that, who had served his King and country valiantly with tales to tell worthy of any of the King’s Messengers. Coupled with his application to join the diplomatic corps in 1916, which had received strong support from his superiors, it is clear that his star was in the ascendancy. Even so, it is still surprising to find that Oldham was selected as one of the team of six clerks who would travel to Paris for the conference, part of the centralised Establishment Section that would oversee all the day to day administration, filing, correspondence and registry work for all the delegations from different departments. This was a pivotal role – the key bureaucracy not just for the Foreign Office but the entire British presence in Paris.
Correspondence to secure the funds to enable selected staff to go to Paris flowed thick and fast between the Foreign Office and the Treasury as time started to run out. On 12 December, Assistant Under-Secretary Sir Maurice de Bunsen made it clear to Treasury officials that the Foreign Secretary himself had approved their plans to create a fully staffed secretariat in Paris.
With reference to the semi-official correspondence which has passed between this office and your department on the subject of the arrangements to be made for the control of the expenditure of the British delegation to the peace conference at Paris, I am directed by Mr Secretary Balfour to request that you will lay before the lords commissioners of His Majesty’s Treasury the following proposals which have been framed with a view to the setting up of a strong establishment section which shall ensure both economical administration and efficient accountancy.61
The post of Establishment Officer was granted to Alexander Allen Paton, a Liverpool-based businessman who had made his name in cotton and was closely associated with Balfour. He had acted as attaché to the British Embassy in Washington in 1915 and organised the arrangements for Balfour’s mission to the US to cement American intervention in 1917. He was a trusted advisor with a track record of work within the Contraband Department of the Foreign Office. In a move to secure Treasury support, it was pointed out that:
Mr Paton is prepared to give his services without a salary but he will, of course, be repaid his out-of-pocket expenses for travelling etc and the Secretary of State desires to reserve the right to recommend that some suitable recognition of his services shall be awarded at the conclusion of the present mission.62
Paton would receive the support of William Henry Robinson, the Assistant to the Foreign Office Chief Clerk, to whom was delegated the responsibility for managing the office accommodation set up by poor Parker at the Hôtel Astoria, with oversight for all staff issues once the Establishment Section had been set up. To assist him, Robinson would require a personal staff of not less than six clerks:
It has not been possible, up to the present, to select them all, but two of them will be Mr FO Baron and Mr EH Oldham, both of whom have been serving as officers in His Majesty’s forces.63
To be named as one of the six shows real confidence in Oldham’s abilities and doubtless his newly honed language skills helped his cause. Furthermore, it seems that he had come to the attention of some of the bigwigs because a special case was laid before the Treasury about his salary, endorsed by none other than Balfour himself:
Mr Oldham is a second division clerk of five years seniority, and his present salary is £100 a year. Mr Balfour feels it would not be fair to expect an officer to accept employment in Paris on a salary of less than £150 and he proposes that Mr Oldham’s salary shall be made up to that amount for the time being. The other members of staff will probably be either junior second division clerks, who should receive treatment similar to that proposed for Mr Oldham, or women, for whom salaries of £2 10s or £3 a week, according to their experience and capacity, should be provided, together with the same terms in regard to lodging and maintenance as to other members of the staff of the delegation.64
This was quite a pay rise, along with free board and lodging. A £30 uniform allowance was thrown in as well, as even junior officials such as Oldham were considered likely to have to wear diplomatic uniform should the situation arise. The Treasury replied on 20 December with grudging acceptance of de Bunsen’s request, though they were not happy about the special provisions made for Oldham:
While, in view of the provision of free board and lodging in Paris, as well as outfit allowances, My Lords cannot but regard as somewhat illogical the proposal to fix an overriding minimum salary of £150 for male clerks and £130 per annum for certain women clerks employed there and while they would have preferred the simple principle of arranging that all officers should draw their London salaries, they are willing in the exceptional circumstances to sanction its adoption on the understanding that the salaries fixed are in all cases inclusive of all overtime worked.65
Also approved were payments for Mr Bebb from the Exchequer and Audit Department, who would be the Accounting Officer for the Establishment – supported by Miss Cullis and her team of clerks responsible for payroll – and for Captain Butler-Stoney, formerly of the Coldstream Guards, to act as Secretary to the Establishment Committee.
However, given the relentless time pressure to have everything in readiness for the politicians and experts at the end of December, the Treasury endorsement was provided retrospectively. The Establishment Section was required immediately so that they could assist with the preparations. An advance party was originally scheduled to leave England on 11 December but due to various delays finally departed three days later. Oldham found himself part of a group consisting of his five clerical colleagues, 70 lady clerks, ten girl guides, two nurses,
a doctor, a representative from the Ministry of Food and Alwyn Parker. All waited at Charing Cross station for their Pullman car to leave at 11.00 am, destined for Folkestone Harbour station.
Once they had disembarked from the train and ferried their luggage to the harbour, they caught the 2.15 pm boat to Boulogne. They docked at 4.00 pm – arrangements having been made in advance to ensure the minimum delay at customs, with everyone vouched for by Thomson – before catching another train, complete with dining car, at 5.30 pm, to arrive in Paris four hours later. Parker, reliable as always, had sent a telegram the night before to ensure that they were met by cars at Gare du Nord, the Paris station, to escort them to the Majestic, along with two motor lorries for their bags.
Someone who accompanied Oldham to Paris in December was George Antrobus, who provided his own take on proceedings:
This preliminary party consisted, if I remember right, of some two dozen men and 96 women… The Government had taken over the palatial Hotel Majestic in the Avenue Kleber to house the personnel and had made pretty complete arrangements for a long stay. The noble army of peacemakers even included a doctor – a noted Mayfair accoucheur [male midwife], whose presence suggested to the Parisians that we had come to stay for nine months at least… The Majestic was filling up with a vast assemblage, drawn from every corner of the Empire, of delegates, negotiators, experts, technicians, clerks, advisers and hangers-on, all bursting with enthusiasm to make the world safe for Democracy. Most of them brought their wives (or some substitute therefore), some their children and some again their cousins, sisters and aunts.66