Meanwhile the Beaverbrook-Harriman talks in London were completed, and on September 22 the Anglo-American Supply Mission set off in the cruiser London from Scapa Flow through the Arctic Sea to Archangel, and thence by air to Moscow. Much depended on them. Their reception was bleak and discussions not at all friendly. It might almost have been thought that the plight in which the Soviets now found themselves was our fault. The Soviet generals and officials gave no information of any kind to their British and American colleagues. They did not even inform them of the basis on which Russian needs of our precious war materials had been estimated. The Mission was given no formal entertainment until almost the last night, when they were invited to dinner at the Kremlin. It must not be thought that such an occasion among men preoccupied with the gravest affairs may not be helpful to the progress of business. On the contrary, many of the private interchanges which occur bring about that atmosphere where agreements can be reached. But there was little of this mood now, and it might almost have been we who had come to ask for favours.
One incident preserved by General Ismay in an apocryphal and somewhat lively form may be allowed to lighten the narrative. His orderly, a Royal Marine, was shown the sights of Moscow by one of the Intourist guides. “This,” said the Russian, “is the Eden Hotel, formerly Ribbentrop Hotel. Here is Churchill Street, formerly Hitler Street. Here is the Beaverbrook railway station, formerly Goering railway station. Will you have a cigarette, comrade?” The Marine replied, “Thank you, comrade, formerly bastard!” This tale, though jocular, illustrates none the less the strange atmosphere of these meetings.
In the end a friendly agreement was reached. A protocol was signed setting out the supplies which Great Britain and the United States could make available to Russia within the period October 1941 to June 1942. This involved much derangement of our military plans, already hampered by the tormenting shortage of munitions. All fell upon us, because we not only gave our own production, but had to forgo most important munitions which the Americans would otherwise have sent to us. Neither the Americans nor ourselves made any promise about the transportation of these supplies across the difficult and perilous ocean and Arctic routes. In view of the insulting reproaches which Stalin uttered when we suggested that the convoys should not sail till the ice had receded, it should be noted that all we guaranteed was that the supplies would “be made available at British and United States centres of production”. The preamble of the protocol ended with the words, “Great Britain and the United States will give aid to the transportation of these materials to the Soviet Union, and will help with the delivery”.
“The effect of this agreement”, Lord Beaverbrook telegraphed to me, “has been an immense strengthening of the morale of Moscow. The maintenance of this morale will depend on delivery.…
“I do not regard the military situation here as safe for the winter months. I do think that morale might make it safe.”
Although General Ismay was fully empowered and qualified to discuss and explain the military situation in all its variants to the Soviet leaders, Beaverbrook and Harriman decided not to complicate their task by issues on which there could be no agreement. This aspect was not therefore dealt with in Moscow. Informally the Russians continued to demand the immediate establishment of the Second Front, and seemed quite impervious to any arguments showing its impossibility. Their agony is their excuse. Our Ambassador had to bear the brunt.
It was already late autumn. On October 2 the Central Army Group of von Bock renewed its advance on Moscow, with its two armies moving direct on the capital from the south-west and a Panzer group swinging wide on either flank. Orel on October 8 and a week later Kalinin on the Moscow-Leningrad road were taken. With his flanks thus endangered and under strong pressure from the central German advance, Marshal Timoshenko withdrew his forces to a line forty miles west of Moscow, where he again stood to fight. The Russian position at this moment was grave in the extreme. The Soviet Government, the Diplomatic Corps, and all industry that could be removed were evacuated from the city over five hundred miles farther east to Kuibyshev. On October 19 Stalin proclaimed a state of siege in the capital and issued an Order of the Day: “Moscow will be defended to the last.” His commands were faithfully obeyed. Although Guderian’s armoured group from Orel advanced as far as Tula, although Moscow was now three parts surrounded and there was some air bombardment, the end of October brought a marked stiffening in Russian resistance and a definite check to the German advance.
My wife felt very deeply that our inability to give Russia any military help disturbed and distressed the nation increasingly as the months went by and the German armies surged across the steppes. I told her that a Second Front was out of the question and that all that could be done for a long time would be the sending of supplies of all kinds on a large scale. Mr. Eden and I encouraged her to explore the possibility of obtaining funds by voluntary subscription for medical aid. This had already been begun by the British Red Cross and the Order of St. John, and my wife was invited by the Joint Organisation to head the appeal for “Aid to Russia”. At the end of October, under their auspices, she issued her first appeal. A generous response was at once forthcoming. For the next four years she devoted herself to this task with enthusiasm and responsibility. In all nearly eight million pounds were collected by the contributions of rich and poor alike. Many wealthy people made munificent donations, but the bulk of the money came from the weekly subscriptions of the mass of the nation. Thus through the powerful organisation of the Red Cross and St. John and in spite of heavy losses in Arctic convoys medical and surgical supplies and all kinds of comforts and special appliances found their way in unbroken flow through the icy and deadly seas to the valiant Russian armies and people.
16*
CHAPTER II
MY MEETING WITH ROOSEVELT
IN the meantime a great deal had happened in the English-speaking world. In the middle of July Mr. Harry Hopkins arrived in Britain on his second mission from the President. The first topic which he opened to me was the new situation created by Hitler’s invasion of Russia and its reaction upon all the Lend-Lease supplies we were counting on from the United States. Secondly, an American general, after being given the fullest facilities for inspection, had made a report throwing doubt upon our ability to withstand an invasion. This had caused the President anxiety. Thirdly, and in consequence, the President’s misgivings about the wisdom of our trying to defend Egypt and the Middle East had been deepened. Might we not lose all through trying to do too much? Finally, there was the question of arranging a meeting between me and Roosevelt somehow, somewhere, soon.
This time Hopkins was not alone. There were in London a number of high United States officers of the Army and Navy, ostensibly concerned with Lend-Lease, and in particular Admiral Ghormley, who was working daily with the Admiralty on the Atlantic problem and the American share in its solution. I held a meeting with Hopkins’s circle and the Chiefs of Staff on the night of July 24 at No. 10. Hopkins brought with him, besides Admiral Ghormley, Major-General Chaney, who was called a “special observer”, and Brigadier-General Lee, the American Military Attaché. Averell Harriman, who had just returned from his tour in Egypt, in which by my directions he had been shown everything, completed the party.
Hopkins said that the “men in the United States who held the principal places and took decisions on defence matters” were of opinion that the Middle East was an indefensible position for the British Empire, and that great sacrifices were being made to maintain it. In their view the Battle of the Atlantic would be the final decisive battle of the war, and everything should be concentrated on it. The President, he said, was more inclined to support the struggle in the Middle East, because the enemy must be fought wherever he was found. General Chaney then placed the four problems of the British Empire in the following order: the defence of the United Kingdom and the Atlantic sea lanes: the defence of Singapore and the sea lanes to Australia and New Zealand; the defence of the ocean
routes in general; and, fourth, the defence of the Middle East. All were important, but he placed them in that order. General Lee agreed with General Chaney. Admiral Ghormley was anxious about the supply line to the Middle East if American munitions were to go there in great volume. Might this not weaken the Atlantic battle?
I then asked the British Chiefs of Staff to express their views. The First Sea Lord explained why he felt even more confident of destroying an invading army this year than last. The Chief of the Air Staff showed how much stronger was the Royal Air Force compared with the German than in the previous September, and spoke of our newly increased power to batter the invasion ports. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff also spoke in a reassuring sense, and said that the Army was immeasurably stronger now than in the previous September. I interposed to explain the special measures we had taken for the defence of aerodromes after the lessons of Crete. I invited our visitors to visit any airfield in which they were interested. “The enemy may use gas, but if so it will be to his own disadvantage, since we have arranged for immediate retaliation and would have admirable concentrated targets in any lodgments he might make on the coast. Gas warfare would also be carried home to his own country.” I then asked Dill to speak about the Middle East, and he gave a powerful exposition of some of the reasons which made it necessary for us to stay there.
My feeling at the end of our discussion was that our American friends were convinced by our statements and impressed by the solidarity among us.
Nevertheless the confidence which we felt about Home Defence did not extend to the Far East should Japan make war upon us. These anxieties also disturbed Sir John Dill. I retained the impression that Singapore had priority in his mind over Cairo. This was indeed a tragic issue, like having to choose whether your son or your daughter should be killed. For my part I did not believe that anything that might happen in Malaya could amount to a fifth part of the loss of Egypt, the Suez Canal, and the Middle East. I would not tolerate the idea of abandoning the struggle for Egypt, and was resigned to pay whatever forfeits were exacted in Malaya. This view also was shared by my colleagues.
One afternoon Harry Hopkins came into the garden of Downing Street and we sat together in the sunshine. Presently he said that the President would like very much to have a meeting with me in some lonely bay or other. I replied at once that I was sure the Cabinet would give me leave. Thus all was soon arranged. Placentia Bay, in Newfoundland, was chosen, the date of August 9 was fixed, and our latest battleship, the Prince of Wales, was placed under orders accordingly. I had the keenest desire to meet Mr. Roosevelt, with whom I had now corresponded with increasing intimacy for nearly two years. Moreover, a conference between us would proclaim the ever closer association of Britain and the United States, would cause our enemies concern, make Japan ponder, and cheer our friends. There was also much business to be settled about American intervention in the Atlantic, aid to Russia, our own supplies, and above all the increasing menace of Japan.
I took with me Sir Alexander Cadogan, of the Foreign Office, Lord Cherwell, Colonels Hollis and Jacob, of the Defence Office, and my personal staff. In addition there were a number of high officers of the technical and administrative branches and the Plans Division. The President said he would bring the chiefs of the United States fighting services with him, and Mr. Sumner Welles of the State Department. The utmost secrecy was necessary because of the large numbers of U-boats then in the North Atlantic, so the President, who was ostensibly on a holiday cruise, transhipped at sea to the cruiser Augusta, and left his yacht behind him as a blind. Meanwhile Harry Hopkins, though far from well, obtained Roosevelt’s authority to fly to Moscow, a long, tiring, and dangerous journey, by Norway, Sweden, and Finland, in order to obtain directly from Stalin the fullest knowledge of the Soviet position and needs. He was to join the Prince of Wales at Scapa Flow.
The long special train which carried our whole company, including a large ciphering staff, picked me up at the station near Chequers. We boarded the Prince of Wales from a destroyer at Scapa. Before darkness fell on August 4 the Prince of Wales with her escort of destroyers steamed out into the broad waters of the Atlantic. I found Harry Hopkins much exhausted by his long air journeys and exacting conferences in Moscow. Indeed, he had arrived at Scapa two days before in such a condition that the Admiral had put him to bed at once and kept him there. Nevertheless he was as gay as ever, gathered strength slowly during the voyage, and told me all about his mission.
The spacious quarters over the propellers, which are most comfortable in harbour, become almost uninhabitable through vibration in heavy weather at sea, so I moved to the Admiral’s sea-cabin on the bridge for working and sleeping. I took a great liking to our captain, Leach, a charming and lovable man and all that a British sailor should be. Alas! within four months he and many of his comrades and his splendid ship were sunk for ever beneath the waves. On the second day the seas were so heavy that we had to choose between slowing down and dropping our destroyer escort. Admiral Pound, First Sea Lord, gave the decision. Thenceforward we went on at high speed alone. There were several U-boats reported, which we made zigzags and wide diversions to avoid. Absolute wireless silence was sought. We could receive messages, but for a while we could not speak except at intervals. Thus there was a lull in my daily routine and a strange sense of leisure which I had not known since the war began. For the first time for many months I could read a book for pleasure. Oliver Lyttelton, Minister of State in Cairo, had given me Captain Hornblower, R.N.*, which I found vastly entertaining. When a chance came I sent him the message, “I find Hornblower admirable.” This caused perturbation in the Middle East Headquarters, where it was imagined that “Hornblower” was the code-word for some special operation of which they had not been told.
We arrived at our rendezvous at 9 a.m. on Saturday, August 9, and as soon as the customary naval courtesies had been exchanged I went aboard the Augusta and greeted President Roosevelt, who received me with all honours. He stood supported by the arm of his son Elliott while the National Anthems were played, and then gave me the warmest of welcomes. I gave him a letter from the King and presented the members of my party. Conversations were then begun between the President and myself, Mr. Sumner Welles and Sir Alexander Cadogan, and the Staff officers on both sides, which proceeded more or less continuously for the remaining days of our visit, sometimes man to man and sometimes in larger conferences.
On Sunday morning, August 10, Mr. Roosevelt came aboard H.M.S. Prince of Wales and, with his Staff officers and several hundred representatives of all ranks of the United States Navy and Marines, attended Divine Service on the quarterdeck. This service was felt by us all to be a deeply moving expression of the unity of faith of our two peoples, and none who took part in it will forget the spectacle presented that sunlit morning on the crowded quarterdeck—the symbolism of the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes draped side by side on the pulpit; the American and British chaplains sharing in the reading of the prayers; the highest naval, military, and air officers of Britain and the United States grouped in one body behind the President and me; the close-packed ranks of British and American sailors, completely intermingled, sharing the same books and joining fervently together in the prayers and hymns familiar to both.
I chose the hymns myself—“For Those in Peril on the Sea” and “Onward, Christian Soldiers”. We ended with “O God, Our Help in Ages Past”. Every word seemed to stir the heart. It was a great hour to live. Nearly half those who sang were soon to die.
President Roosevelt told me at one of our first conversations that he thought it would be well if we could draw up a joint declaration laying down certain broad principles which should guide our policies along the same road. Wishing to follow up this most helpful suggestion, I gave him on this same Sunday a tentative outline of such a declaration, and after much discussion between ourselves and telegraphic debate with the War Cabinet in London, we produced the following document:
JOINT DECLARATION BY
THE PRESIDENT AND THE PRIME MINISTER
August 12, 1941
The President of the United States of America and the Prime Minister, Mr. Churchill, representing His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom, being met together, deem it right to make known certain common principles in the national policies of their respective countries on which they base their hopes for a better future for the world.
First, their countries seek no aggrandisement, territorial or other.
Second, they desire to see no territorial changes that do not accord with the freely expressed wishes of the peoples concerned.
Third, they respect the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live; and they wish to see sovereign rights and self-government restored to those who have been forcibly deprived of them.
Fourth, they will endeavour, with due respect to their existing obligations, to further the enjoyment by all States, great or small, victor or vanquished, of access, on equal terms, to the trade and to the raw materials of the world which are needed for their economic prosperity.
Fifth, they desire to bring about the fullest collaboration between all nations in the economic field, with the object of securing for all improved labour standards, economic advancement, and social security.
Sixth, after the final destruction of the Nazi tyranny* they hope to see established a peace which will afford to all nations the means of dwelling in safety within their own boundaries, and which will afford assurance that all the men in all the lands may live out their lives in freedom from fear and want.
Seventh, such a peace should enable all men to traverse the high seas and oceans without hindrance.
The Second World War Page 62