A Joint Declaration by the United States of America, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, China, Australia, Belgium, Canada, Costa Rica, Cuba, Czechoslovakia, the Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Greece, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, India, Luxemburg, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Norway, Panama, Poland, South Africa, and Yugoslavia.
The Governments signatory hereto,
Having subscribed to a common programme of purposes and principles embodied in the Joint Declaration of the President of the United States of America and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, dated August 14, 1941, known as the Atlantic Charter,
Being convinced that complete victory over their enemies is essential to defend life, liberty, independence, and religious freedom, and to preserve human rights and justice in their own lands as well as in other lands, and that they are now engaged in a common struggle against savage and brutal forces seeking to subjugate the world, DECLARE:
(1) Each Government pledges itself to employ its full resources, military or economic, against those members of the Tripartite Pact and its adherents with which such Government is at war.
(2) Each Government pledges itself to co-operate with the Governments signatory hereto, and not to make a separate armistice or peace with the enemies.
The foregoing declaration may be adhered to by other nations which are, or which may be, rendering material assistance and contributions in the struggle for victory over Hitlerism.
It may well be thought by future historians that the most valuable and lasting result of our first Washington conference—“Arcadia”, as it was code-named—was the setting up of the now famous “Combined Chiefs of Staff Committee”. Its headquarters were in Washington, but since the British Chiefs of Staff had to live close to their own Government they were represented by high officers stationed there permanently. These representatives were in daily, indeed hourly, touch with London, and were thus able to state and explain the views of the British Chiefs of Staff to their U.S. colleagues on any and every war problem at any time of the day or night. The frequent conferences that were held in various parts of the world—Casablanca, Washington, Quebec, Teheran, Cairo, Malta, and the Crimea—brought the principals themselves together for sometimes as much as a fortnight. Of the two hundred formal meetings held by the Combined Chiefs of Staff Committee during the war no fewer than eighty-nine were at these conferences; and it was at these full-dress meetings that the majority of the most important decisions were taken.
The usual procedure was that in the early morning each Chiefs of Staff Committee met among themselves. Later in the day the two teams met and became one; and often they would have a further combined meeting in the evening. They considered the whole conduct of the war, and submitted agreed recommendations to the President and me. Our own direct discussions had of course gone on meanwhile by talks or telegrams, and we were in intimate contact with our own staff. The proposals of the professional advisers were then considered in plenary meetings, and orders given accordingly to all commanders in the field. However sharp the conflict of views at the Combined Chiefs of Staff meeting, however frank and even heated the argument, sincere loyalty to the common cause prevailed over national or personal interests. Decisions once reached and approved by the heads of Governments were pursued by all with perfect loyalty, especially by those whose original opinions had been overruled. There was never a failure to reach effective agreement for action, or to send clear instructions to the commanders in every theatre. Every executive officer knew that the orders he received bore with them the combined conception and expert authority of both Governments. There never was a more serviceable war machinery established among allies, and I rejoice that in fact if not in form it continues to this day.
The Russians were not represented on the Combined Chiefs of Staff Committee. They had a far-distant, single, independent front, and there was neither need nor means of staff integration. It was sufficient that we should know the general sweep and timing of their movements and that they should know ours. In these matters we kept in as close touch with them as they permitted. I shall in due course describe the personal visits which I paid to Moscow. And at Teheran, Yalta, and Potsdam the Chiefs of Staff of all three nations met round the table.
I have described how Field-Marshal Dill, though no longer Chief of the Imperial General Staff, had come with us in the Duke of York. He had played his full part in all the discussions, not only afloat, but even more when we met the American leaders. I at once perceived that his prestige and influence with them was upon the highest level. No British officer we sent across the Atlantic during the war ever acquired American esteem and confidence in an equal degree. His personality, discretion, and tact gained him almost at once the confidence of the President. At the same time he established a true comradeship and private friendship with General Marshall.
Immense expansions were ordered in the production sphere. In all these Beaverbrook was a potent impulse. The official American history of their industrial mobilisation for war* bears generous testimony to this. Donald Nelson, the Executive Director of American War Production, had already made gigantic plans. “But,” says the American account, “the need for boldness had been dramatically impressed upon Nelson by Lord Beaverbrook …” What happened is best portrayed by Mr. Nelson’s own words:
“Lord Beaverbrook emphasised the fact that we must set our production sights much higher than for the year 1942, in order to cope with a resourceful and determined enemy. He pointed out that we had as yet no experience in the losses of material incidental to a war of the kind we are now fighting.… The ferment Lord Beaverbrook was instilling in the mind of Nelson he was also imparting to the President. In a note to the President Lord Beaverbrook set the expected 1942 production of the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada against British, Russian, and American requirements. The comparison exposed tremendous deficits in 1942 planned production. For tanks these deficits were 10,500; for aircraft 26,730; for artillery 22,600; and for rifles 1,600,000. Production targets had to be increased, wrote Lord Beaverbrook, and he pinned his faith on their realisation in ‘the immense possibilities of American industry’ … The outcome was a set of production objectives whose magnitude exceeded even those Nelson had proposed. The President was convinced that the concept of our industrial capacity must be completely overhauled.… He directed the fulfilment of a munitions schedule calling for 45,000 combat aircraft, 45,000 tanks, 20,000 anti-aircraft guns, 14,900 anti-tank guns, and 500,000 machine-guns in 1942.”
These remarkable figures were achieved or surpassed by the end of 1943. In shipping, for example, the new tonnage built in the U.S.A. was as follows:
Continued concentration of mind upon the war as a whole, my constant discussions with the President and his principal advisers and with my own, my two speeches and my journey to Canada, together with the heavy flow of urgent business requiring decision and all the telegrams interchanged with my colleagues at home, made this period in Washington not only intense and laborious but even exhausting. My American friends thought I was looking tired and ought to have a rest. Accordingly Mr. Stettinius very kindly placed his small villa in a seaside solitude near Palm Beach at my disposal, and on January 4 I flew down there, and found time to deal with several difficult questions which pursued me. The Italian “human torpedo” attack in Alexandria harbour which had disabled the Queen Elizabeth and Valiant has already been described. This misfortune, following upon all our other naval losses at this moment, was most untimely and disturbing. I saw its gravity at once. The Mediterranean battle fleet was for the time being non-existent, and our naval power to guard Egypt from direct overseas invasion in abeyance. It seemed necessary in the emergency to send whatever torpedo planes could be gathered from the south coast of England. This had, as will presently be seen, an unpleasant sequel.
I was also much disturbed by the reports which Mr. Eden had
brought back with him from Moscow of Soviet territorial ambitions, especially in the Baltic States. These were the conquests of Peter the Great, and had been for two hundred years under the Czars. Since the Russian revolution they had been the outpost of Europe against Bolshevism. They were what are now called “social democracies”, but very lively and truculent. Hitler had cast them away like pawns in his deal with the Soviets before the outbreak of war in 1939. There had been a severe Russian and Communist purge. All the dominant personalities and elements had been liquidated in one way or another. The life of these strong peoples was henceforward underground. Presently, as we shall see, Hitler came back with a Nazi counter-purge. Finally, in the general victory the Soviets had control again. Thus the deadly comb ran back and forth, and back again, through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. There was no doubt however where the right lay. The Baltic States should be sovereign independent peoples.
I set out by train to return to Washington on the night of the 9th, and reached the White House on the 11th. There I found that great progress had been made by the Combined Chiefs of Staff, and that it was mostly in harmony with my views. The President convened a meeting on January 12, when there was complete agreement upon the broad principles and targets of the war. The differences were confined to priorities and emphasis, and all was ruled by that harsh and despotic factor, shipping. “The President,” says the British record, “set great store on organising … a combined United States-British expedition to North Africa. A tentative time-table had been worked out for putting 90,000 United States and 90,000 British troops, together with a considerable air force, into North Africa.” On “Grand Strategy” the Staffs agreed that “only the minimum of forces necessary for the safeguarding of vital interests in other theatres should be diverted from operations against Germany.” No one had more to do with obtaining this cardinal decision than General Marshall.
On the 14th I took leave of Mr. Roosevelt. He seemed concerned about the dangers of the voyage. Our presence in Washington had been for many days public to the world, and the charts showed more than twenty U-boats on our homeward courses. We flew in beautiful weather from Norfolk to Bermuda, where the Duke of York, with escorting destroyers, awaited us inside the coral reefs. I travelled in an enormous Boeing flying-boat, which made a most favourable impression upon me. During the three hours’ trip I made friends with the chief pilot, Captain Kelly Rogers, who seemed a man of high quality and experience. I took the controls for a bit, to feel this ponderous machine of thirty or more tons in the air. I got more and more attached to the flying-boat. Presently I asked the captain, “What about flying from Bermuda to England? Can she carry enough petrol?” Under his stolid exterior he became visibly excited. “Of course we can do it. The present weather forecast would give a forty miles an hour wind behind us. We could do it in twenty hours.” I asked how far it was, and he said, “About three thousand five hundred miles.” At this I became thoughtful.
However, when we landed I opened the matter to Portal and Pound. Formidable events were happening in Malaya; we ought all to be back at the earliest moment. The Chief of the Air Staff said at once that he thought the risk wholly unjustifiable, and he could not take the responsibility for it. The First Sea Lord supported his colleague. There was the Duke of York, with her destroyers, all ready for us, offering comfort and certainty. I said, “What about the U-boats you have been pointing out to me?” The Admiral made a disdainful gesture about them, which showed his real opinion of such a menace to a properly escorted and fast battleship. It occurred to me that both these officers thought my plan was to fly myself and leave them to come back in the Duke of York, so I said, “Of course there would be room for all of us.” They both visibly changed countenance at this. After a considerable pause Portal said that the matter might be looked into, and that he would discuss it at length with the captain of the flying-boat and go into weather prospects with the meteorological authorities. I left it at that.
Two hours later they both returned, and Portal said that he thought it might be done. The aircraft could certainly accomplish the task under reasonable conditions; the weather outlook was exceptionally favourable on account of the strong following wind. No doubt it was very important to get home quickly. Pound said he had formed a very high opinion of the aircraft skipper, who certainly had unrivalled experience. Of course there was a risk, but on the other hand there were the U-boats to consider. So we settled to go unless the weather deteriorated. The starting time was 2 p.m. the next day. It was thought necessary to reduce our baggage to a few boxes of vital papers. Dill was to remain behind in Washington as my personal military representative with the President. Our party would consist only of myself, the two Chiefs of Staff, and Max Beaverbrook, Charles Moran, and Hollis. All the rest would go by the Duke of York.
I woke up unconscionably early next morning with the conviction that I should certainly not go to sleep. I must confess that I felt rather frightened. I thought of the ocean spaces, and that we should never be within a thousand miles of land until we approached the British Isles. I thought perhaps I had done a rash thing, that there were too many eggs in one basket. I had always regarded an Atlantic flight with awe. But the die was cast. Still, I must admit that if at breakfast, or even before luncheon, they had come to me to report that the weather had changed and we must go by sea I should have easily reconciled myself to a voyage in the splendid ship which had come all this way to fetch us.
It was, as the captain had predicted, quite a job to get off the water. Indeed, I thought that we should hardly clear the low hills which closed the harbour. There was really no danger; we were in sure hands. The flying-boat lifted ponderously a quarter of a mile from the reef, and we had several hundred feet of height to spare. There is no doubt about the comfort of these great flying-boats. The motion was smooth, the vibration not unpleasant, and we passed an agreeable afternoon and had a merry dinner. These boats have two storeys, and one walks up a regular staircase to the control room. Darkness had fallen, and all the reports were good. We were now flying through dense mist at about seven thousand feet. One could see the leading edge of the wings, with their great flaming exhausts pouring back over the wing surfaces. In these machines at this time a large rubber tube which expanded and contracted at intervals was used to prevent icing. The captain explained to me how it worked, and we saw from time to time the ice splintering off as it expanded. I went to bed and slept soundly for several hours.
I woke just before the dawn, and went forward to the controls. The daylight grew. Beneath us was an almost unbroken floor of clouds.
After sitting for an hour or so in the co-pilot’s seat I sensed a feeling of anxiety around me. We were supposed to be approaching England from the south-west and we ought already to have passed the Scilly Islands, but they had not been seen through any of the gaps in the cloud floor. As we had flown for more than ten hours through mist and had had only one sight of a star in that time, we might well be slightly off our course. Wireless communication was of course limited by the normal war-time rules. It was evident from the discussions which were going on that we did not know where we were. Presently Portal, who had been studying the position, had a word with the captain, and then said to me, “We are going to turn north at once.” This was done, and after another half-hour in and out of the clouds we sighted England, and soon arrived over Plymouth, where, avoiding the balloons, which were all shining, we landed comfortably.
As I left the aircraft the captain remarked, “I never felt so much relieved in my life as when I landed you safely in the harbour.” I did not appreciate the significance of his remark at the moment. Later on I learnt that if we had held on our course for another five or six minutes before turning northwards we should have been over the German batteries in Brest. We had slanted too much to the southward during the night. Moreover, the decisive correction which had been made brought us in, not from the south-west, but from just east of south—that is to say, from the enemy’s direction rather
than from that from which we were expected. This had the result, as I was told some weeks later, that we were reported as a hostile bomber coming in from Brest, and six Hurricanes from Fighter Command were ordered out to shoot us down. However, they failed in their mission.
To President Roosevelt I cabled, “We got here with a good hop from Bermuda and a thirty-mile wind.”
CHAPTER VII
THE FALL OF SINGAPORE
I WAS expected to make a full statement to Parliament about my mission to Washington and all that had happened in the five weeks I had been away. Two facts stood out in my mind. The first was that the Grand Alliance was bound to win the war in the long run. The second was that a vast, measureless array of disasters approached us in the onslaught of Japan. Everyone could see with intense relief that our life as a nation and Empire was no longer at stake. On the other hand, the fact that the sense of mortal danger was largely removed set every critic, friendly or malevolent, free to point out the many errors which had been made. Moreover, many felt it their duty to improve our methods of conducting the war and thus shorten the fearful tale. I was myself profoundly disturbed by the defeats which had already fallen upon us, and no one knew better than I that these were but the beginnings of the deluge. The demeanour of the Australian Government, the well-informed and airily detached criticism of the newspapers, the shrewd and constant girding of twenty or thirty able Members of Parliament, the atmosphere of the lobbies, gave me the sense of an embarrassed, unhappy, baffled public opinion, albeit superficial, swelling and mounting about me on every side.
On the other hand, I was well aware of the strength of my position. I could count on the goodwill of the people for the share I had had in their survival in 1940. I did not underrate the broad, deep tide of national fidelity that bore me forward. The War Cabinet and the Chiefs of Staff showed me the highest loyalty. I was sure of myself. I made it clear, as occasion required, to those about me that I would not consent to the slightest curtailment of my personal authority and responsibility. The Press was full of suggestions that I should remain Prime Minister and make the speeches but cede the actual control of the war to someone else. I resolved to yield nothing to any quarter, to take the prime and direct personal responsibility upon myself, and to demand a Vote of Confidence from the House of Commons. I also remembered that wise French saying, “On ne règne sur les âmes que par le calme.”
The Second World War Page 67