by Frank McLynn
This was all a fabrication, as was Hurley’s solemn assurance that he had warned Mountbatten against playing ‘divide and rule’. The only one playing games at this juncture was the machiavellian Hurley, and in this he was aided by the shadowy Wedemeyer, who was, however, less circumspect in covering his tracks as a ‘stirrer’. Although Stilwell bought Hurley’s mendacious bill of goods about Mountbatten, he saw through Wedemeyer and commented: ‘The young man sure does appreciate himself. Gave him my idea of the tactical plan and now he’s giving it back to me as his.’20 Thus did Wedemeyer play with Stilwell the role Mountbatten had already played with Slim.
With the Soong sisters on the sidelines still stressing the importance of Stilwell at Cairo, Hurley met Chiang on 12 November and summarised Roosevelt’s vision. He wanted to maintain Britain as a first-class power while dismantling her imperialism and clearing her out of Asia; he believed in a strong China as a dominant force in Asia; he intended to defeat Japan in the Pacific and the Japanese homeland, not Singapore, as the British would like; and he was committed to the triumph of democracy worldwide.21 Stilwell had no quarrel with any of that, but he objected vehemently to the idea that B-29s should be based in China without demanding any quid pro quo from Chiang, not even a ritual and meaningless obeisance to the principle of democracy. His old hatred of FDR was rekindled and he took to referring to him in his diary as ‘Rubberlegs’ – a reference to the President’s incapacitation by polio. In his own mind, Stilwell now thought that the only way to break the everlasting circle of Chiang’s stalling and tergiversation was to imitate the Bolsheviks in 1917 or Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1745 – that is, to go it alone. If he got control of the Ledo force and invaded Burma with it, the generalissimo would be checkmated. This became Stilwell’s primary aim at Cairo.22 Almost as if reading his mind, Chiang started cutting down on the fresh troops he was prepared to assign to the Ledo force: first it was 50,000, then 25,000, then 20,000, finally only 14,000. There were times when Stilwell became so desperate that he contemplated intriguing with sympathetic Chinese generals to stage a kind of internal coup that would maintain the generalissimo as a figurehead while he and they could have a free hand in waging war. He and his friends all agreed that Chiang would not survive six months in peacetime, but how could he be unseated in wartime if FDR and his acolytes continued to give him such massive, blinkered support? There is historical irony here. Stilwell was plotting to cut Chiang out of the loop at the very moment that Roosevelt was in effect boosting the generalissimo, since for the first time he would meet the Allied leaders as an equal.23 Moreover, both men approached the coming conference from diametrically opposite perspectives. For Chiang this was the climax of his career, the moment when he was finally taken seriously as an international statesman.24 For Stilwell, the conference (and its sequel in Tehran) was the apogee of cant and humbug, the reductio ad absurdum of the Alice-Through-the-Looking-Glass world in which he had lived for the past two years. As he noted sourly: ‘What a gag the Big Four will put on: Stalin the Communist, really approaching the democrat, with capitalist tinges. Roosevelt the Democrat backing Imperialist Britain. Churchill the Imperialist, giving lip-service to the Atlantic Charter. Chiang Kai-shek the Fascist, posing as a democrat.’25
On 15 November Stilwell left Chungking and made a five-day journey to Cairo, with stopovers at Delhi, Karachi, Abadan, Basra and Jerusalem. On 20 November he checked into the Mena House hotel near the Pyramids, where a huge contingent of Allied generals was staying, engendering what Harold Macmillan called ‘a scramble for bathrooms’.26 Chiang and Madame had already arrived, and Stilwell scrupulously checked that the generalissimo’s position was still as they had discussed at Chungking, even though he thought it pure cloud cuckoo land. Chiang was proposing to offer FDR 90 divisions, of which the first 30 would be ready by January 1944, the second 30 by August 1944 and the final 30 by January 1945. In return for this, and full Chinese cooperation in the invasion of Burma, Chiang wanted not just 10,000 tons a month over the Hump and B-29s based in China (which was feasible), but 13 US divisions with which to launch an offensive against the Japanese in central and northern China (which was not).27 Chiang’s lack of realism was the principal factor that would turn the Cairo conference into fiasco and make it the least successful of all the wartime summits, but Alanbrooke thought a serious mistake had been made in allowing the generalissimo to arrive early, dominate the agenda and distort the meeting’s general purpose, which was supposed to be discussion of the war in Europe. As Alanbrooke correctly stated, the order of business should have been Europe, discussions with Stalin on points of difference, and a general communiqué on the Second Front; only then, as a coda, should Chinese affairs have been discussed. ‘The whole conference had been thrown out of gear by Chiang Kai-shek arriving here too soon. We should never have started our conference with Chiang; by doing so we were putting the cart before the horse. He had nothing to contribute towards the defeat of the Germans, and for the matter of that uncommonly little towards the defeat of the Japanese. Why the Americans attached such importance to Chiang I have never discovered. All he did was to lead them down a garden path to a communist China!’28
With all participants in Cairo by 21 November (Chiang and Mountbatten had come from Delhi by a more direct route), an attempt at serious work began. But the element of farce that was never far away from the proceedings was immediately apparent when Churchill decided to pay a courtesy call on Chiang, whom he had never met (FDR had never met an upper-class Oriental of any kind) before a cursory encounter in the hotel lobby. Speaking through an interpreter, Churchill told the generalissimo he would call on him next day at noon. The ‘interpreter’ replied: ‘The generalissimo is delighted and says when will you call?’ A puzzled Churchill tried again with different words: ‘Tell his Excellency that when the sun is at its zenith I will come.’ Chiang then replied that he would expect the premier at ten the next morning. ‘Impossible. I never get up as early as that,’ replied Churchill, before proceeding to give the interpreter an angry tongue-lashing.29 On the 21st, the British and Americans kept themselves apart, with Churchill holding court at dinner with Alanbrooke, Portal, Dill, Jumbo Wilson, Sholto Douglas and Mountbatten. On the 22nd, there was a combined meeting of the American and British staffs to discuss their approach to Chiang. Dinner saw Churchill and FDR in conclave with the Allied chiefs of staff, Harry Hopkins, Mountbatten, Stilwell (whom Alanbrooke persisted in regarding as a crank) and Chennault. There was disagreement both between the British and Americans and within both parties. The British chiefs of staff felt the priority must be Europe; Alanbrooke said that he was not about to strip the Mediterranean of shipping just to equip Mountbatten for ventures in Sumatra.30 This predictably annoyed Churchill, who had laid elaborate plans for Operation CULVERIN, the assault on North Sumatra, or the TORCH of the Indian Ocean as he absurdly called it.31 Alanbrooke tried to be diplomatic with Churchill (secretly he was exasperated) and mentioned Brian Horrocks as a possible task force commander for CULVERIN but gradually made it clear that the plan was anyway quixotic as no resources had been allocated to what was agreed to be a difficult undertaking. Mountbatten proposed as a compromise another operation, codenamed BUCCANEER, involving an advance along the Arakan coast to Akyab and an amphibious attack on the Andaman islands. Churchill, in a sulk that CULVERIN had been rejected, then switched his attention entirely, to Rhodes and the Dodecanese, and Mountbatten to his consternation even saw some of his beloved landing-craft diverted to this theatre.32
When the Americans joined the discussion, further complications arose. As far as Burma was concerned, it was basically the same old tug-of-war, with the British taking an imperial perspective and wanting to aim for Singapore while FDR and his acolytes were obsessed with China. The cross-cutting complexities can be appreciated when it is realised that the Americans backed Mountbatten on BUCCANEER as a prelude to an assault on Rangoon, while the British military planners thought that retaking the Burmese capital made little sense
strategically and that the objective should be Singapore, as its recapture would ‘electrify the eastern world’.33 Roosevelt, initially cool on BUCCANEER, came round to it strongly, perhaps especially when he sensed the vehemence of Churchill’s opposition to it. Mountbatten looked for, and to some extent got, the support of the US admirals for amphibious operations, though this was limited to ‘in principle’ approval without any offer of resources. But the Americans concurred in feeling that Mountbatten had performed well and his champion at Quebec, Admiral King, was again impressed.34 Alanbrooke’s impatience with Mountbatten and BUCCANEER again led to some spirited and even acrimonious verbal spats between him and King. As usual Stilwell reported the encounter in melodramatic terms: ‘Brooke got nasty and King got good and sore. King almost climbed over the table at Brooke. God, he was mad at Brooke. I wish he had socked him.’35 Field Marshal Dill, whose heroic work in Washington was the most valuable link in the entire Anglo-American alliance, tried to be statesmanlike and praised the Mountbatten–Stilwell combination as the ‘dream ticket’. This was passing interesting, as Mountbatten–Wingate had originally been talked up in these terms, Mountbatten–Slim was actually as close as anything ever came to such an actuality, and now here was Dill proposing yet a third permutation, conveniently overlooking the fact that Mountbatten was entirely British Empire-centred and Stilwell an unregenerate Sinophile.36 All in all, it is not surprising that the Anglo-Americans were ill-prepared for the Kuomintang tsunami that hit them next day, given how divided they were themselves.
At 11 a.m. on 23 November, a distinguished cast assembled at the President’s villa for the meeting with Chiang. Apart from FDR and Churchill, all the chiefs of staff plus Harry Hopkins, Mountbatten, Stilwell, Chennault and ‘a full house of Chinese generals’ were present. Alanbrooke was bemused by the presence of Madame Chiang, who had not been invited but simply gatecrashed on the reasonable assumption that no one would dare to turn away the generalissimo’s wife. He described the scene:
She was the only woman amongst a very large gathering of men, and was determined to bring into action all the charms nature had blessed her with. Although not good looking she certainly had a good figure which she knew how to display at its best. Also gifted with great charm and gracefulness, every small movement of hers arrested and pleased the eye. For instance at one critical moment her closely clinging black dress of black satin with yellow chrysanthemums displayed a slit which extended to her hip bone and exposed one of the most shapely of legs. This caused a rustle amongst those attending the conference and I even thought I heard a suppressed neigh come from a group of some of the younger members!’37
The real problem was that no one quite knew whether they were dealing with Madame or her husband. Whenever the official interpreter translated Chiang’s words, Madame would intervene to say that he had not quite conveyed the nuance of what the generalissimo had said. Alanbrooke commented that it left one wondering who was running the show, and that although Madame appeared to be the leading spirit, she was not to be trusted. She was, he thought, ‘a queer character in which sex and politics seemed to predominate, both being used indiscriminately individually or unitedly to achieve her ends’. As for Chiang himself, he ‘reminded me more of a cross between a pine marten and a ferret than anything else. A shrewd foxy sort of face. Evidently with no grasp of war in its larger aspects but determined to get the best of the bargains.’38 Chiang’s only contribution was to reiterate that the Chinese contribution to the Burmese war depended entirely on naval operations in the Bay of Bengal. Since everything he said had to be translated twice, once by his interpreter and then by Madame, the meeting turned into a painfully slow performance.
The afternoon was even worse. Alanbrooke and King soured the atmosphere still further with a slanging match about the Andaman islands while the British and Americans waited for the Chinese delegation to arrive. Earlier Stilwell had arisen to make a presentation on Chiang’s behalf, only to receive a message that the generalissimo was going to come to the afternoon session and speak in person. He then changed his mind and cancelled that decision, then cancelled his recantation too, restating his intention to come in person before finally recancelling.39 At 3.30 p.m. three Chinese generals came in sheepishly with their staff and took their places. Alanbrooke asked them to speak but they declined, saying they merely wished to listen. It was obvious that since Chiang had finally decided it was beneath his dignity to attend, he had sent his aides along to save ‘face’. But since he had not briefed them or authorised them to negotiate about anything, their presence was totally pointless. An embarrassing silence followed. Alanbrooke, in the chair, in vain coaxed and even goaded them to say something. Some 60 to 70 British and American officers looked on in stupefaction as the dozen or so Chinese sat whispering together. They then repeated that they simply wished to listen.40 Patiently Alanbrooke said that the Allied opinion was well known and position papers had been circulated; the point of the meeting was to have a discussion. This simply provoked a fresh round of whisperings and long silences, at the end of which the Chinese spokesman repeated the same weary mantra he had used all afternoon: ‘We wish to listen to your deliberations.’ Meanwhile the suppressed sound of amusement on the Anglo-American side threatened to become outright laughter at the gruesome farce. Fearing a diplomatic incident if the embarrassing comedy was allowed to continue, Alanbrooke quickly adjourned the meeting on the pretext that the Chinese had ‘doubtless’ not had enough time to study the Allies’ proposals. They were glad to be able to slip out of the door. Alanbrooke blamed the Americans for the fiasco. ‘Mopping my brow I turned to Marshall and said, “That was a ghastly waste of time!” To which he replied, “You’re telling me!” Considering that it was thanks to him and the American outlook that we had had to suffer this distressing interlude I felt that he might have expressed his regret otherwise. These two episodes on one day went a long way to convince me that there was little to be hoped for from Chiang’s China.’41 The Chinese had been infuriating and exasperating, but even Stilwell thought that Alanbrooke had chaired the meeting in too Mandarin a matter. ‘Terrible performance. They couldn’t ask a question. Brooke was insulting. I helped them out.’ In fact he had had to save Chinese face by answering questions Chiang’s generals dared not. Stilwell’s biographer, curiously, thinks Alanbrooke was more to blame than the dumb Chinese. ‘Brooke, the type of Englishman who considered a foreigner something to be snubbed and, if non-white, to be stepped on, pressed the embarrassed Chinese further.’42
On the morning of the 24th, the chiefs of staff went to the President’s villa for a session with him and Churchill. FDR made it plain that he wanted to press on with BUCCANEER to appease Chiang, who, however, was already beginning to try FDR’s patience by insisting on his 10,000 tons a month over the Hump while reserving his position on Burma. Churchill made it equally clear that he did not want BUCCANEER because he wanted landing-craft for an invasion of Rhodes – in pursuit of his current will o’ the wisp, an obsession with prising Turkey out of its neutrality.43 Marshall expressed his dislike for the Rhodes operation on the grounds that it would detract not just from BUCCANEER but, much more seriously, from OVERLORD. Marshall departed for lunch with Chiang while FDR discussed Chinese affairs informally with Madame. She told him that Chiang was adamant that as part of the post-war settlement China should be given the Bonin islands east of Japan and regain Manchuria and Formosa (Taiwan); most of all, though, he needed to see Allied amphibious operations in the Indian Ocean so that he did not have to take the full weight of a Japanese onslaught. She brushed aside Roosevelt’s queries about the likelihood of civil war between the Kuomintang and the Communists.
That afternoon the chiefs of staff held another pointless meeting with the Chinese generals. Since Chiang had been briefed that their inability or unwillingness to answer questions the day before had made them a laughing stock, he had issued new orders. In effect they were told to filibuster. When Alanbrooke asked for their comments and
queries they responded by raising the most pointless and absurd nit-picking details, asking for the proportion of Indian troops as against British in the forthcoming campaigns. In the end an exasperated Alanbrooke gave up.44 He, Stilwell and Mountbatten were all in the deepest gloom. But suddenly there came news that heartened them tremendously. Chiang had got away with so much in the past because of FDR’s supine attitude that he thought he could order up American materiel at will. He had reckoned without the fiery Marshall, never a man to cross, who had no illusions about Chiang, the KMT or China. When Chiang laid out all his demands without offering anything in return, Marshall lost his temper and told him some long-overdue home truths. The generalissimo, he said, seemed to be in a world of his own and overlooked the fact that there was a war going on in Europe. If he was really committed to the Allied cause, there should be no more shilly-shallying and he should exert all his efforts to reopen the Burma road. Finally, and with brutal bluntness, he told the generalissimo that he did not care for his attitude. He was making demands for supplies as if they were his by right. He seemed to forget that these were American goods, American planes, American troops and he had no automatic right to them. ‘There must be no misunderstanding about this,’ was his parting shot.45 Stilwell was especially delighted that Marshall, of all people, had finally had a taste of the real Chiang, not the ‘great leader’ of Roosevelt’s imagination. ‘A grand speech for the G-Mo to hear,’ he wrote, ‘and incidentally for the Limeys. Louis [Mountbatten] told to go fix it up with the G-Mo. Welcome change from telling me to fix it up.’46