Von Brauchitsch had been summoned to see Hitler on the afternoon of the 24th. It had been his chance to point out both the lunacy of the measure, and the golden opportunity now before them to finish off the battle in the north with the destruction of the BEF. When he arrived back at the OKH command post at 8 p.m., Halder found him shaken and humiliated; far from convincing Hitler, von Brauchitsch had been forced to listen to one of the Führer’s furious rants. The Commander-in-Chief tried to put across his arguments, but failed. ‘Apparently again a very unpleasant interview with the Führer,’ noted Halder tersely.
However, while von Brauchitsch had been receiving his tongue-lashing from Hitler for daring to act independently, Halder had been working out how to get around the halt order. Late in the afternoon he had come up with a cunning plan and accordingly issued a message to Army Groups A and B. ‘Expanding on the directives in the May 24 Army High Command order’ he gave the ‘go-ahead’ for the continuation of the attack towards Dunkirk–Cassel–Estaires–Armentières–Ypres–Ostend – in other words, not the entire Canal Line, but just the northern half, which would shut the gate on the retreating British. This was clever wording; a ‘go-ahead’ was not the same as a new order, and it meant von Rundstedt need not lose face, nor the Führer order, strictly speaking, be disobeyed.
Incredibly, however, von Rundstedt dug in his heels and refused to forward on the message to von Kleist or von Kluge. Halder could scarcely believe it. ‘This is a complete reversal of the plan,’ he railed. ‘I wanted to make AGp. A the hammer and AGp. B the anvil in this operation. Now B will be the hammer and A the anvil. As AGp. B is confronted with a consolidated front, progress will be slow and casualties high.’ A crisis was now boiling over not just in Paris and London but within the German army too. Halder urged von Brauchitsch to try again to persuade Hitler to change his mind that morning, but Hitler was having none of it. The decision was to be von Rundstedt’s Hitler told him, and von Rundstedt’s only. And von Rundstedt, along with his Chief of Staff, General Georg von Sodenstern, was determined to keep the halt order in place throughout 25 May. This was more than just differences of military ideology – this was pure stubborn bloody-mindedness. That the Commander-in-Chief of the army was not permitted to move his forces as he saw fit was crazy.
Hitler’s almost complete lack of military understanding was further proved with his indulgence of Feldmarschall Göring. On the 23rd, Göring had been sitting at a heavy oak table beside his train when the news arrived that the enemy was now almost entirely surrounded in Flanders. Banging his fist on the table, he declared, ‘This is a wonderful opportunity for the Luftwaffe. I must speak to the Führer at once.’ He then rang Hitler and told him that his Luftwaffe could set the Channel ports ablaze then destroy the British troops trapped in the encirclement. Hitler told him to do so, believing Göring’s boast – this way, he reasoned, the army could be kept in its place but the end result would be the same.
Listening to the conversation was Hitler’s army adjutant, Major Gerhard Engel, a 34-year-old career officer from Frankfurt an der Oder in east Germany, who had joined Hitler’s staff two years earlier. As the Führer’s army adjutant, Gerhard was the intermediary between Hitler and von Brauchitsch and Halder. Although he was only a major, his access was considerable – all three of Hitler’s service adjutants spent long hours at the beck and call of the Führer and would also accompany him on trips and at other functions. Gerhard was hardly a man to rock the boat, but even he was incensed by Göring’s claims and by Hitler’s agreement. Afterwards, General Jodl, OKW Chief of Staff, told Gerhard that Göring had bitten off more than he could chew.
Hermann did not think so, however. ‘Our air force,’ he told Milch, ‘is to mop up the British. I’ve persuaded the Führer to hold the army back.’ Milch immediately expressed his concerns: the Channel ports were at the limit of most of the fighter units’ range, and they had already been involved in heavy and continual fighting since the offensive began. Furthermore, there was still a job to do supporting the army. Göring brushed aside such worries. ‘The army always wants to act the gentleman. They round up the British as prisoners with as little harm to them as possible. The Führer wants them to be taught a lesson.’ General Kesselring was as concerned as Milch about these new orders, and also pointed out the difficulty of such a task. Bombing Rotterdam into the ground had been one thing; destroying the Channel ports and the British was quite another. ‘I pointed out to Göring that the modern Spitfires had recently appeared,’ Kesselring noted, ‘making our air operations difficult and costly.’ Kesselring’s misgivings also fell on deaf ears. Sadly for the Germans, Göring was revealing a lack of military acumen to match that of Hitler.
Nor did he help matters two days later when he visited the Führer. The two men went for a stroll around Felsennet, Hitler followed by his army adjutant, Gerhard Engel. ‘Impression,’ Gerhard jotted later in his diary, ‘G. successfully stirred it up against Army. F[ührer] emphasised repeatedly the political reliability of the Luftwaffe in contrast to the Army.’
Now that both French and British commanders had accepted the inevitable, they began being more co-operative with one another again. Early on the 26th, Gort saw Blanchard, who was not only reconciled to the decision to fall back towards the coast, but positively helpful in drawing up lines of withdrawal to the north. The two agreed that certain roads should be used exclusively by the BEF. On the night of the 26th/27th, I and II Corps, having left rearguards at the frontier defences, were to swing back into the centre of the corridor while the French First Army prolonged the line. The following night, the bulk of the BEF was to fall behind the River Lys, with rearguards protecting the new line until the night after that. Thus his men were to fight by day and fall back under the cover of darkness. He did not have enough men to hold a continuous line along the southern flank along the Canal Line, so instead Gort decided to man the main villages, towns and high points and turn them into strongpoint redoubts.
Although Gort was careful not to mention anything about evacuation to Blanchard at this stage, he and Pownall were meanwhile making preparations for the defence of Dunkirk. Fortunately, a canal ran south from the port to Bergues, some five miles away. Running across Bergues, roughly east–west, was another canal, the Bergues–Furnes Canal, which went all the way to Nieuport, some twelve miles to the east. From Nieuport, a river ran two miles to the sea. These canals and rivers were to mark the boundary of the Dunkirk bridgehead. It was a strong defensive position. In front and behind lay a myriad of other dykes and irrigation channels that were difficult for vehicles to cross and easily flooded – which lessened the effect of shelling and made life even harder for motor transport. The Flanders countryside all around was flat as a board; only lines of poplars, small villages and red-tiled farmhouses interrupted the view. As a holding position, it wasn’t at all bad.
Gort put General Ronald Adam in charge of preparing the port and the perimeter, relieving him of command of III Corps and sending with him the BEF’s Quartermaster-General plus a bevy of other staff officers to help. How many troops – if any – would get away was still anyone’s guess, however, and already Dunkirk was being heavily bombed. ‘It is all a first-class mess-up,’ noted Henry Pownall, ‘and events go slowly from bad to worse, like a Greek tragedy the end seems inevitably to come closer and closer with each succeeding day and event.’
In Britain, it was the National Day of Prayer, as called for by the King, although for Britain’s leaders there were more practical matters to attend to before they got down on their knees and appealed to the Almighty. The first War Cabinet of the day was held at 9 a.m., in the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street, although Churchill was still living further down Whitehall at the Admiralty. Also present were the Chiefs of Staff. Churchill began by telling them that the previous evening he had received a letter from his personal representative in Paris, General Sir Edward Spears, which he then read out. The French were deeply pessimistic; the Weygand Plan had been cancelle
d. Blanchard’s Army Group had lost all its heavy guns and had no armoured vehicles. Refugees hampered any movement. The Belgians, he warned them, were about to capitulate. That was not unexpected in the circumstances – after all, where could they go once they had fallen back to the sea? Nonetheless, it caused a further headache for Gort, who had just plugged the gap between the BEF and the Belgian army but would have to fill another hole in his line once the Belgians were out of the fight altogether. As Churchill pointed out – and this had still not been authorized by the War Cabinet at this stage – evacuation now looked like the only option. This being the case, there was a good chance, he told them, of getting off a considerable number of the BEF. There was little reason, however, for his optimism on that score.
Churchill then told them that Paul Reynaud would shortly be arriving and that the Cabinet should be prepared to hear from him that the French could not carry on the fight. The Prime Minister then announced that he had previously asked the Chiefs of Staff to prepare a document about what Britain should do if the French were to drop out of the war. ‘What are the prospects of our continuing the war alone against Germany and probably Italy?’ Churchill asked, reading out the remit he had given the Chiefs of Staff. ‘Can the Navy and the Air Force hold out reasonable hopes of preventing serious invasion, and could the forces gathered in this Island cope with raids from the air involving detachments not greater than 10,000 men?’
The Chiefs of Staff made some comments in turn and then Halifax spoke up. ‘On the broader issue,’ he said, ‘we have to face the fact that it is not so much now a question of imposing a complete defeat upon Germany but of safeguarding the independence of our own Empire and if possible that of France.’ In other words, he now believed the Nazis were unbeatable. In this connection, he then told them about his meeting with Bastianini the day before. Mussolini’s principal wish was to secure peace in Europe.
That would mean peace under German domination. ‘That we could never accept,’ said Churchill emphatically. ‘We must ensure our complete liberty and independence. I am opposed to any negotiations which might lead to a derogation of our rights and power.’
None of the other War Cabinet members agreed or disagreed with either Halifax or Churchill, and after a few more comments on Italy’s intentions, the eighteen-page aide-memoire prepared by the Chiefs of Staff, entitled ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’, was handed out. Chamberlain then asked if it was possible to ask the French whether Italy could be bought off. ‘This,’ he pointed out, ‘might at least keep matters going.’
‘I agree that this point is worth bearing in mind,’ said Churchill.
As Halifax glanced through the document he revealed his own lack of military understanding. Britain’s ability to carry on, he said, depended on whether air superiority could be established over the Luftwaffe. No, Newall interjected, it depended on Britain preventing the Germans from achieving such air superiority as would enable them to invade this country. Halifax now blundered again. ‘If France collapses,’ he said, ‘I assume that the Germans would no longer need large land forces. They will then be free to switch the bulk of their effort to air production. What effect would that have on the crucial question of air?’ He was being naive about Germany’s relations with the Soviet Union and also the difficulties of switching from one type of war production to another. Halifax then suggested that in the last resort they ask the French to put their factories out of gear.
Any undertakings of this case would be worthless, pointed out Chamberlain, ‘since the terms of peace which the Germans would propose would inevitably prevent their fulfilment’.
‘I agree,’ said Churchill. ‘It has to be expected, moreover, that the Germans would make the terms of any peace offer as attractive as possible to the French, and lay emphasis on the fact that their quarrel was not with France but with England.’
A clear split was emerging between Churchill, who was anxious not to become involved in any dialogue with Germany or Italy, and Halifax, who believed it was worth considering. The progression from this was either fighting on or suing for peace, as both men were well aware. For the time being, however, the discussions had to be put on hold. It was time to break up the meeting: the service at Westminster Abbey which was the centrepiece of the National Day of Prayer was due to start at 10 a.m. Churchill and Chamberlain then hurried down Whitehall to the Abbey. The King and Queen arrived punctually, both carrying gas masks and accompanied by Wilhelmina, the Queen of the Netherlands. Churchill, however, after staying for the first ten minutes or so, quietly slipped away to be ready to meet M. Reynaud.
Halifax had returned straight to the Foreign Office, where he was visited by Bastianini; the two achieved no more than they had the day before. Soon after, Churchill was lunching with Reynaud at Admiralty House. The French Prime Minister was, unlike Pétain and Weygand, an Anglophile, but although he had not, as Churchill had feared, come to tell them they were about to throw in the towel, he made it clear that the writing was on the wall. He personally would never sue for peace but a time might come when he was forced to resign; he now told Churchill about the depth of Pétain’s and Weygand’s defeatism. Even Reynaud admitted the war could no longer be won on land. Churchill told him that as soon as the north of France was cleared up the Germans would not turn south but immediately begin attacking Britain. Reynaud disagreed. ‘The dream of all Germans,’ he said, ‘was to conquer Paris.’
‘Whatever happens,’ Churchill replied, ‘we are not prepared to give in. We would rather go down fighting than be enslaved to Germany.’
Reynaud now remained at Admiralty House while Churchill returned to Downing Street for the second War Cabinet of the day. Now, at the second Cabinet, Halifax was more bullish. Since the morning session, all had read the Chiefs of Staffs’ aide-memoire, in which the following scenario was envisaged: most of the BEF lost, France making peace with Germany, Italy entering the war, and Europe, from Norway to North Africa, either in German hands or under German domination. Britain could still hold out, but only if the United States gave full financial and material support, and if the Royal Navy and RAF managed to maintain a control over and around the country. At the back, in an appendix, were Tommy Elmhirst’s estimates of Luftwaffe strength and that of the RAF. On 17 May, the RAF had just 491 fighters, including obsolescent Defiants. In contrast, he believed the Luftwaffe still had some 4,500 aircraft. Naval comparisons were more favourable: 319 of all types of ships for the Royal Navy compared with around a hundred for the Kriegsmarine. However, the Italian navy had some 400 vessels of all kinds, which then rather redressed the balance should the Italians come in with Germany, as it looked certain they would.
It was sobering stuff, and understandable that Halifax, for one, believed they were staring down the barrel. Their survival depended on so many ifs – ‘eventualities’ – that could in no way be even remotely guaranteed. Churchill had always been something of a warmonger; how could his judgement be trusted at this darkest hour?
Halifax now stated that he favoured an approach to Italy; Churchill said he doubted much would come of it but agreed that perhaps the War Cabinet should consider it. Soon after, the meeting broke up and Halifax left to see Reynaud at Admiralty House and to discuss the possible buying off of Mussolini. Churchill and the rest of the War Cabinet followed some ten minutes later. At about 4 p.m., Reynaud left for Paris and Churchill reconvened the War Cabinet at Admiralty House.
By now, the argument between Churchill and Halifax was becoming more heated. The Prime Minister pointed out that Britain was in a different position to France. First, Britain still had, in her navy and air force, powers of resistance, and, second, France was likely to be offered reasonable terms, but Britain was not. ‘If France could not defend herself,’ he said, ‘it is better that she should get out of the war rather than drag us into a settlement which involved intolerable terms.’ He was also wary of going cap in hand to Mussolini with the French, as Reynaud had suggested, before Britain had been
involved in any serious fighting.
Halifax disagreed that Hitler would necessarily ask for outrageous terms. ‘We might say to Signor Mussolini that if there was any suggestion of terms which affected our independence,’ he suggested, ‘we should not look at them for a moment.’ But he could see no harm in trying an approach.
Chamberlain, Attlee and Greenwood said little during this discussion. Churchill now recognized that he needed to tread very carefully. If the majority of the War Cabinet agreed with Halifax, he would be obliged to go along with them. In fact, if Chamberlain sided strongly with Halifax, Churchill’s position would be very difficult; the former Prime Minister, the one man who had dealt personally with Hitler, still carried considerable clout, far more than Attlee or Greenwood, who were new to government. And Churchill was still only sixteen days into the job; his position was far from secure. Halifax’s stance seemed, at face value, reasonable, and there was no doubting the gravity of the situation Britain was now in. However, Churchill knew that to try to bargain with Mussolini would be to set themselves down a path from which it would be very hard to turn back. In any case, he did not believe for a minute that Hitler would offer tolerable terms. There was thus no point in even considering it. They would fight on or die in the process.
‘Herr Hitler thinks he has the whip hand,’ said Churchill. ‘The only thing to do is to show him that he cannot conquer this country.’ However, he realized that some kind of concession to Halifax was now needed. He thus told the Foreign Secretary that he would not raise any objection to some kind of approach being made to Mussolini. The phrasing was intentionally vague; in reality he had no intention of making such a move. Halifax had already discussed a joint draft with Reynaud, which he now read out. Greenwood suggested Mussolini might demand Malta, Gibraltar and Suez. Chamberlain, crucially, said he suspected the Italian leader would demand more, and as part of a general settlement with Germany. The meeting ended with the five men agreeing that Halifax should, overnight, prepare a draft communiqué to Mussolini.
The Battle of Britain Page 26