Publicly the groundswell of opinion in favour of the need for changes to take place actually appeared to be considerable.55 A commentary published in The Round Table in February 1942 concluded that with the widening war, the Dominions secretary should now be a full member of the War Cabinet. The Times also carried an editorial endorsing a more significant role for the Dominions in formulating Imperial policy.56 At the same time accompanying the demands for the rapid agreement of 'improved machinery for consultation', somewhat fanciful calls began to again resurface lauding the merits of an Imperial War Conference.57 There were also vivid published accounts for British readers of how a Japanese invasion of Australia could be mounted.58 In one version, a heavy aerial bombardment would be followed by simultaneous landings at Darwin, Cairns and Townsville. In other accounts Brisbane and even Freemantle were mentioned as targets for 'Jap' paratroopers while the so-called 'Brisbane Line' became a cause célèbre as the focal point of concentration of defence in the vital south-east of the country. Plans existed for a 'scorched earth' policy if there was an actual invasion. Although the Japanese had actually decided that they would isolate Australia—and ignore New Zealand altogether—in the Antipodes the worst was assumed.
In the last week of January 1942 Churchill stood before the House of Commons to make a lengthy statement. This provided a detailed analysis of the war situation and formed part of a debate that parliament was told he considered as a vote of confidence in his leadership. He also took the opportunity presented by his speech to confirm that accredited representatives of any of the four Dominions would have the right to be heard in the War Cabinet.59 Waterson felt that the speech was 'a great performance'.60 So much so that the South African believed if he were now 'to change his Cabinet a bit', the prime minister's position could not be challenged. Churchill's announcement was, however, heartily condemned within sections of the British media, not because it was seen as going too far but, rather, that it did not go far enough. The conclusion was that the 'Commonwealth would still be ruled by Britain alone, just as Britain is ruled by Mr Churchill'. His actions threatened to 'wipe out a hundred and sixty years or so of constitutional progress and to hark back upon the traditions of George III and Lord North, who split the English-speaking world'. One correspondent called the proposals 'humiliating' while another saw them as 'slightly ungracious'.61 There had been an astonishing level of improvisation relied upon to make the alliance machinery work and this had 'manifestly failed'. The solution in this case was seen to be an 'Imperial Executive', one that answered to an 'Imperial Legislature' empowered to impose an Empire-wide tax to fund Imperial defence.62 This was accompanied by continuing political debate with Cranborne, speaking in the House of Lords in January 1942, confirming that it was intended to make some changes at the formative level, the lower level of consultation over matters of defence, foreign affairs and supply.63 Elibank understood Churchill's speech to mean that visiting prime ministers from the Dominions would no longer merely be invited to attend War Cabinet meetings but would automatically become members. He was corrected by the Dominions secretary, who told him that this membership would apply when the general conduct of the war was under discussion, allowing them to be involved in the formulation of policy. The War Cabinet was, however, responsible to the British Parliament of which they were not members.
The following day the message was formally repeated to each of the overseas Dominion governments along with the news that they were being invited to send service liaison officers to keep in contact with the chiefs of staff organization.64 The day before there had been further warnings in the British press from Curtin that with 'too many flowery words' from Whitehall, 'patience has limits'.65 The reaction to Churchill's speech among the Australian media had meanwhile been generally favourable, one newspaper describing it 'as a masterly political speech of a magnificent political fighter'.66 While the government in Canberra was still far from satisfied, after some further discussion it was agreed that with the right to representation secured, they would agree to the London-based council. Curtin believed that the calibre of the individual selected to press the Dominion's claims would be crucial, and in the first instance it would be the far from convincing Page.67 The Australian had spent the intervening weeks building a power-base. Among his supporters apparently was Ernest Bevin, who had provided 'the most stimulating and satisfactory talk [he] had with any Empire statesman since coming to Britain in the last twenty years'.68 The Minister of Labour had suggested to him that the FO should absorb the DO making it 'the second office in government' and offered to support 'a united Empire front'.
The position in Singapore was now unquestionably the coalition's focus and further deterioration was accompanied by a lengthy debate in the House of Lords. Running over two days, it was permeated by a sense of outrage that the coming debacle should have been allowed to happen.69 One commentator offered a typically Churchillian view: 'Clearly the defence of Singapore is not going to last much longer ... One feels terribly depressed—more depressed, I think, than after Dunkirk—to be beaten and humiliated in this way by Asiatics is almost more than a Victorian Englishman can bear!'70 The subsequent collapse of resistance in Malaya perhaps, therefore, brought with it a certain sense of release. Described by Curtin as 'Australia's Dunkirk', the well-documented defeat inflicted upon the garrison defending Singapore had a chilling effect throughout the Empire on public and political opinion alike.71 In the days following, Churchill found himself under great pressure to implement a major restructuring of his government and when he again faced an obviously hostile House of Commons he had already bowed to the inevitable.72 The series of changes that he announced were said to reflect the expanded nature of the war but it was clear that they were intended to help re-instil faltering confidence in the prime minister's ability to lead. Notable among them was the resignation of some formerly key figures such as Max Beaverbrook and Arthur Greenwood, the promotion of others including Oliver Lyttelton, and the overall reduction of the War Cabinet from nine to seven members.
Also included among the promotions was that of the Labour politician Sir Stafford Cripps, who had emerged as a favoured candidate to become Dominions secretary among certain of the high commissioners in London.73 Seen by Churchill as one of his most serious potential threats he instead became Lord Privy Seal and the Leader of the House.74 Attlee, in being confirmed officially as deputy prime minister, a role he had been effectively fulfilling for some time, was named as the new secretary of state for Dominion affairs.75 This decision marked the formal acceptance of everything that had been so passionately argued for by Cranborne and those senior members of the DO who had supported him throughout the previous 16 months. The now former minister, although apparently at one stage considered as the next possible foreign secretary, had once more been struck down by a bout of ill-health, and was instead offered the role of colonial secretary, which he gratefully accepted.76 His considerable achievements at the DO, a department into which he had breathed much needed spirit and confidence, would ensure that Bobbety would be long-remembered after his departure. It would be up to his successor to implement the changes he had sought to implement and help ensure that the Anglo-Dominion relationship prospered in the environment of an expanded global conflict. Unfortunately within the DO his replacement was seen to have neither the knowledge for his new role nor the interest, instead appearing to those who surrounded him as being 'somewhat aloof'.77
Despite the much enhanced role of the new Dominions secretary, the reaction from the high commissioners was much the same and similar to that which had been endured by Attlee's predecessors. He had greater seniority but both Bruce and Massey found him dull and taciturn, talking with him was like 'a conversation with a bronze Buddha except for the monosyllabic ejaculations which he utters occasionally'.78 Waterson was typically scornful: 'Went to the House to hear Attlee on the war situation. He treated [it] to an insulting meagre string of platitudes. The members were impatient and rather badly behaved like s
choolboys when the headmaster is away and a weak under-master is temporarily in charge.' One DO civil servant told the South African that he now served under a secretary of state 'who would be ideally suited as an assistant manager of a bank in a small town in the south of England'. Bruce was so disgusted with the paucity of information still being distributed that the first week of March found him claiming to be on the point of resigning.79 To a man the Dominions' representatives were also unimpressed with the expanded War Cabinet which, in their eyes, had changed from being 'a joke' to 'a farce'.80 They were perhaps naive to expect more for, as one London journal pointed out to its readership, the changes in fact offered little that was new.81 This was the result of a 'species of arrogant negligence' for which the British prime minister was directly responsible meaning ultimately Britain would continue to rule the Commonwealth.
Militarily the situation was also showing little sign of improvement. The acrimonious dispute over whether Australian troops should be sent to Rangoon showed that the coalition was not pulling together in the face of the Japanese advance. It was a cause for extreme bitterness within the parliament in Canberra, and raised questions from the British high commissioner about who was in control, Curtin or Evatt.82 At Westminster Harold Nicolson could only lament that 'the whole Eastern Empire has gone. Australia has as good as gone. Poor little England. But I should not have minded all this so much if we had fought well.'83 This last point was difficult to counter. At the same time, while Singapore had now passed into enemy hands it continued to poison relations within the alliance. Numerous reports continued to be received in London about the conduct of Australian troops. Although these were largely considered as still being unofficial, many talked of Anzac troops deserting en masse, throwing away their guns, rushing ships at the Kippel Harbour and generally wandering the streets of Singapore Town drunk and stealing from the local populace. Among the many devastating charges was reference to the commonly used local nickname for them, 'daffodils', so named because they were 'beautiful to look at but yellow all through'. Reviewing these the DO was concerned that censorship would not prove enough to prevent such damaging accounts from gaining a much wider coverage: 'As these stories spread throughout the Empire, they will inevitably lower the opinion in the Empire of the Australians in general and Australian troops in particular. Whether or not they are true they can only be damaging to Anglo-Australian relations.' Nobody was passing judgement, as it was recognized that there was 'no disgrace to troops to be defeated by a superior force', and no attempt was made in these Whitehall reports to ignore the fact that some British and Indian troops had also broken in the face of the Japanese attacks. The issue was that the reports all spoke of Australian forces as having been the most defeatist and least reliable and should such assessments get out the result would almost certainly be that the already strained relations which existed would likely deteriorate. Particularly as in the coming months those who had been evacuated or lost family members would likely make themselves more vocal and it was feared it would not be long before they made the charge that 'if the Australians had held we should not have lost Singapore'.84
The concern was not misplaced and the mood in the House of Commons was an angry one:
A lot of bitter comment in the Smoking Room today about the Singapore disaster. It seems to have been a terribly bad show if only half of what one is told is true—bad leadership and no guts anywhere—the Australians appear to have behaved abominably, giving up the unequal battle and boarding ships in the harbour—I suppose this will all be kept secret to spare their feelings—at any rate such I am told is the reason why the Government is unwilling to have an enquiry—possibly Winston fears one too!85
Calls for a public investigation were avoided but General Wavell was asked to produce a detailed private report on events leading up to the surrender. As Machtig rather adroitly put it, the findings made 'certain reflections upon the Australian troops who took part' and there was little enthusiasm about letting Bruce read a copy. Attlee felt it was inevitable that the Australian high commissioner would find out and recommended it be shown to him but Churchill refused. If Bruce mentioned the report he was to be told that it had been withheld to avoid 'a controversy breaking out on such a point which would be injurious to Imperial sentiment'.86 This did not prevent the prime minister from also making a public statement in which he said he could not disclose the report as it would cause bad feeling and this was noted by the press in Canberra. Trying to defend the Australian position in an article written for the Daily Express in April 1942, Menzies told his British readership:
Most of us like a good grumble occasionally; few of us are real haters. It is true that whispered anti-British agitation of a poisonous kind is going on, and good British Australians, the vast majority are unhappy about it. But I am convinced that these things are superficial and temporary; a resounding British success in some theatre of war would clear them. They are not a deep rooted condition; they are a skin irritation—a sort of eczema of war. You must also remember a little bit of human nature—that it is in many ways desirable to argue with a fellow bigger than yourself. It builds you up, even if it does not pull him down.87
It would be many months before Cross could write back to London with a more encouraging report about the Australian attitude.88 The fact that the war had come to Australia's very doorstep probably had had the greatest impact on public awareness. On the morning of 19 February 1942 nearly 200 Japanese planes had bombed the town of Darwin and 242 civilians and military personnel had been killed. The raid only lasted 45 minutes but the harbour was devastated with 25 ships sunk or damaged, among them an American destroyer. Many of the townspeople thought it to be the start of an invasion and panic resulted. The town was abandoned as civilians and deserting military fled along the road south in what later became known as the 'Adelaide River Stakes'; by the following day it was estimated that no more than 500 people were left.89 A new sense of seriousness was made clear when the South Australian government finally decided to ban all horse-racing and close the betting shops. There would, as a result, be virtually no sport organized for public amusement in the state, the first within the Commonwealth to take such a 'draconian' step.90
Matters were not helped by the worsening situation in the Western Desert. Here British Commonwealth forces found themselves forced to retreat in the face of a determined attack by Rommel's Afrika Korps and renewed Imperial disaster and humiliation followed. On 21 June 1942, after a final assault that lasted less than a day the port of Tobruk surrendered; garrisoned by South African, British and Indian troops, 33,000 men were captured along with vast amounts of supplies and equipment. For Churchill it seemed the British Army's morale had crumbled and he would later describe Tobruk's loss as one of the heaviest blows of the entire war.91 For his wartime coalition government it also presaged a serious parliamentary challenge although, in due course, this was easily seen off. The military commander on the ground, who Churchill would ultimately hold personally accountable for the disaster, was Auchinleck, and he complained back to London in July 1942 that he was hampered by his inability to detach subordinate Dominion formations for their parent divisions. In a sign of their growing independence, Dominion commanders refused to allow units to fight as piecemeal formations. The British general understood this was down to past events and political necessities but it hindered his flexibility and he reportedly never felt comfortable with troops he could not rely on not being suddenly removed from the fight.92 His deputy during the fighting around El Alamein in June and July 1942 even concluded that if there been three British divisions present prior to Tobruk's defeat as opposed to a largely Dominion force, 'we would have done better than we did'.93 The Empire appeared on the verge of collapse and nobody seemed to know how this might be stopped.
Holding the Imperial Line
The British Empire faced its nadir in 1942 as military defeat was followed by further military defeat. At its emotional centre outrage and dismay had followed the 'Ch
annel Dash', the escape of a German naval fleet consisting of Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and the Prinz Eugen, supported by a number of smaller ships, through the Straits of Dover to their German home ports. An editorial in The Times of London reported that 'nothing more mortifying to the pride of our seapower has happened since the seventeenth century'. The event signalled 'the end of the Royal Navy legend that in wartime no enemy battle fleet could pass through what we proudly call the English Channel'.1 The Far East position had collapsed and the massed Commonwealth armies that had been assembled in North Africa appeared to be faring little better with Tobruk gone and the final line of defence established near a small railway station at El Alamein. None of the alliance members were immune. The raid on Dieppe in August 1942 was the greatest amphibious attack since Gallipoli and the first European battle fought by the Canadians since the last war. Contemporary accounts and articles written shortly after the subsequent Normandy landings portrayed it as having been 'a symbol and an experiment' that provided important experience and allowed ideas to be trialed for future operations. The official Canadian historian would record that 907 of his compatriots died—nearly one-fifth of the total who had embarked on the raid—over 1,000 were wounded and nearly 2,000 more taken prisoner. The casualty rate was in fact the heaviest sustained in any Allied attack during the entire war.2
Empire Lost: Britain, the Dominions and the Second World War Page 16