A Mighty Endeavor

by Stuart Slade

  Maitland Wilson turned the radio off and took a deep breath. “Winnie certainly knows how to play on the heartstrings, doesn’t he? The question is, where does that leave us?”

  Wavell was having his work cut out stopping himself from laughing. “Beneath that bombast beats a political heart, Jumbo. When we get the transcript of that broadcast, read it carefully. He’s recognized that the Commonwealth of Nations has replaced the British Commonwealth and paid tribute to all we have achieved over the last six months. Then, he deftly inserts himself as the leader of that Commonwealth and thus positions himself to take the credit. It’s a classic ‘I am their leader, I must follow them’ gambit. I’d hate to play him at bridge.”

  “He’s half-American. He probably prefers poker.” Maitland Wilson opened the file he had brought with him. “The Italians have tried to break out through our blocking force at Beda Fomm. Our Flying Column arrived at the Benghazi-Tripoli road and set up roadblocks just 30 minutes before the leading elements of the Italian Tenth Army arrived. The Italians threw some 20,000 troops and a hundred tanks against what was little more than a reinforced battalion. The fighting was close and often hand-to-hand. At one point, a regimental sergeant major captured an Italian light tank by hitting the commander over the head with a rifle-butt.”

  Maitland Wilson paused for a second to think about that and shuddered. “The final Italian effort came this morning. The last twenty Italian M13/40 tanks broke through the thin cordon of riflemen and antitank guns. But even this breakthrough was ultimately stopped by the fire of our field guns, located just a few yards from regimental HQ. Our blocking force has been reinforced by additional elements of the 7th Armoured Division, but it doesn’t really matter. The Italian Tenth Army is breaking up and surrendering. God knows how we’re going to cope with all the prisoners on top of the ones we have already got.”

  Wavell wasn’t really worried. “Jumbo, that’s going to be a nonproblem. We’ve had an approach from Rome. They are offering an Armistice leading to a peace treaty. They’ll write off East Africa, in exchange for us pulling back to the Libyan-Egypt border and returning their prisoners of war. They’ll return the few of ours they hold, of course.”

  “Can we rely on them? Or are we ourselves committing the same sin as That Man?”

  That caused Wavell to stop dead. “It is a hell of a thing; isn’t it, Jumbo? We hesitate to make peace and end a war on favorable terms, in case it is seen as following the example laid down by That Man. I can’t think of anything more telling as an example of the damage he has caused. No, I don’t think we are doing the same thing at all. If anything, we have reversed the positions. Now we are the ones who will be dictating terms and the Italians are the supplicants.”

  “Getting out of Cyrenaica is a good thing, Archie. The whole area is a deadly trap. It has to be occupied because that’s where all the ports are, but anybody can push a mobile force across the desert and cut them off the way we did. I would advise we include an agreement on force levels in Libya and a demilitarized zone along the border to secure our position and then we’ll be fine.”

  Wavell nodded. “I’ll send the reply to Ciano in Rome.”

  Maitland Wilson grinned. “And a copy to London?”

  “Why on earth would I want to do that? Send one to Ottawa though. Calcutta of course, and Canberra. In fact, Jumbo, everybody but That Man.”

  Government House, Calcutta, India

  “We’ve won.” Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow and Prime Minister pro tem of India sounded disbelieving. “India has won. With a little assistance, of course.”

  General Auchinleck made a polite choking noise. “I think, Your Excellency, that we had just a bit more than a little assistance from the Commonwealth of Nations.”

  “Not as far as our people are concerned.” Pandit Nehru, Deputy Prime Minister pro tem of India, sounded more than thoughtful. “We have won a great victory over Italy and occupied Eritrea. It is with India that Italy is negotiating the surrender of that colony and its liberation under our tutelage. It is an absolute recognition of our status and independence. Our people recognize this and they rejoice in it.”

  “Not you, Pandit.”

  “Not Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru.” Nehru sighed again. “I had dreams of an India that would stand for freedom, for peace and justice. An India that would use its power and authority to end wars and create a world of peace. Instead, India is becoming an imperial power, exerting its influence by force of arms. We have won a victory but it was one by our Jawans, not the force of our arguments. And my fellow Indians rejoice in this. Excuse my sadness, for this is indeed an auspicious day.”

  General Auchinleck forbore the temptation to quote the old adage about artillery being the final argument of kings. Instead he sought and found an argument that would reconcile Nehru to the fact that being an independent country had its penalties as well as virtues. One of the former was the need to resort to military force now and then.

  “Pandit, what matters surely is the moral compass that guides us, regardless of the means we adopt. If our aim is justice and we moderate the means so that we do not compromise that end, is not that the objective that you seek? Our objective is freedom, peace and justice for all. Our arms have won that for the Eritreans. We have not become their colonial overlord; we have freed them just as we freed ourselves. We may not be happy with the means but our moral compass remains intact.”

  “Thank you, General. Your words comfort me a little, but they also highlight something that has been disturbing me for some time. The last six months have shown me how complex the problems facing our country are. They also show how ill-prepared I and my colleagues are to take over running the country in the face of these problems. General, you spoke of a moral compass. Mine must be the good of India and the proper rule of this country.

  “Our original agreement was a two-year transition period from the colonial administration to an all-Indian government. I would like to modify that agreement to remove the time limit inherent within it. I believe we can achieve far more if we work together as the situation requires than if we try to comply with an artificial timetable. Also, I am not yet qualified to lead the government. I would like to suggest that Doctor Rajendra Prasad be considered as the first President of India, when the time comes. He is well-respected by every faction and a knowledgeable man of the world. We can present this change as a result of our victory in Eritrea; holding to the opinion that it shows how powerful India has become, provided all who live here work together.”

  The Marquess of Linlithgow was silenced by the enormity of the gesture he had just heard. In effect, Nehru was surrendering the goals and achievements of a lifetime in order to enhance India’s chance of making it to a viable nationhood. In some ways, he thought, that must be just about the most remarkable thing I have ever heard.

  “Pandit, India is indeed guided by a moral compass and I do not fear for its integrity, as long as it is in hands such as yours. Thank you for enlightening us and setting an example that the future will hold dear.”

  Once again, silence fell on the meeting room. For the first time, the Cabinet gathered was united; even the hold-outs who had supported Sir Richard Cardew were silenced by the magnaminity of Nehru’s words.

  Eventually, Sir Martyn Sharpe coughed quietly. “If I might move to the next item on the agenda. We have been in discussion with William Pawley, the head of the Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company (CAMCO). Their position in China has become untenable and they have agreed to move their operations to Bangalore. The move is being funded by an Australian businessman, a Mr. Essington Lewis, who recently gained access to substantial American investment funds. The new company will be known as Hindustan Aircraft Limited and will be 50 percent owned by the Indian Government.” Sir Martyn gave a quick nod to Pandit Nehru at that.

  “With them, they bring licenses to build two aircraft. One is the Hawk 75 that we already have in our inventory as the Mohawk. The other is the Vult
ee V-11 light attack aircraft. We are placing an order for 48 V-11s and for the same number of Hawk 75s. The first aircraft will, of course, be assembled from kits supplied by Curtiss and Vultee. However, as a result of a detailed memorandum from one of our American advisors, a Mr. Boyington, a new version of the Hawk 75 will be built. This will be powered by the R1820-86 engine rated at I,450 hp and will be armed with six .303 machine guns. This aircraft will be called the Mohawk V; with its reduced weight and extra power, it will be the equal of any fighter in the region. The contract calls for the first Indian-built machines to fly on April 3, 1942. These are, of course, not just the first combat aircraft to be built in India; they are the first miltary aircraft to be ordered by independent India.”

  Sir Martyn’s statement was capped by a thunderous burst of applause; the more enthusiastic pounded on the table. George Edward Parkes reached over and shook Nehru warmly by the hand. Watching the celebration, Sir Eric Haohoa realized that the crisis over India’s continued existence had been weathered.

  Whatever happened now, a newly independent India had been born.

  Nagpur Central Jail, Maharashtra, India, December 31, 1940

  “He has, of course, been properly treated?” Sir Eric Haohoa asked the question politely, but the prison governor took offense anyway.

  “Of course he has, sir. We may be well removed from the center of administration down here, but we know what is right and what is not. I’ll not say he is the most popular prisoner we have ever had, especially after our Jawans took down the Eye-ties in East Africa, but he has received every courtesy due to his previous rank and position.”

  Jawans, thought Sir Eric. Not so long ago, no British civil servant would have considered using the Indian word for an enlisted soldier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lock rattling and the creak of the cell door opening.

  “Have you come to gloat, you wretched little guttersnipe?” Sir Richard Cardew spoke words loaded with venom. The hatred in his glare was so intense, Sir Eric actually felt himself taking a half-step backwards.

  “No, sir; I have not. In fact, I have come to release you. The Cabinet has decided that it is no longer necessary to hold you in custody, nor would it be legal to do so without bringing you to trial. That option was seriously considered, since your actions caused the deaths of many good and honorable men. However, Deputy Prime Minister Nehru himself suggested that the disruption caused by bringing you to trial would far outweigh any benefits it might bring. So, on his initiative, it was decided that you should be released. You may remain in India if you so wish, or you may return to Britain. The choice is yours.”

  “I will not stay silent. I will fight you. I represent the true government of India and the true feelings of the better people here. I will not be silent.”

  Sir Eric smiled, just a little sadly. “You may do as you wish, Richard. It does not matter. You see, you have no constituency here. You have no power base, no support structure. While you have sat here, India has become a real country at last; one that stands on its own feet and whose voice is heard in the world. We have won great military victories and the Government of Italy is negotiating directly with us to end our war against them. With us, Richard; not London. The break with London is complete and final and even those who might once have had some sympathy for you are now swept up with the issues involved in ruling an independent country. Your voice, should you choose to raise it, will be an echo of the past.”

  “The Empire still stands …”

  “No, Richard, it does not. You do not understand what I am telling you. Italy is negotiating directly with us; with Australia and South Africa. Canada has given its recognition to the Churchill government in Ottawa. The West Indies have struck out on their own as well. The Empire has gone; the British Commonwealth is now the Commonwealth of Nations and Britain’s voice is not heard in its councils. Richard, we are a new nation that has already won respect. We have an Army with a record of victories won in its own name. We have a Navy that is enough to give even the strongest of enemies cause to pause for thought. We have an air force that grows in strength and power every day. Six months ago, there was not a single fighter aircraft east of Suez. Now, we have four squadrons; tomorrow, we will stand up a fifth. That squadron will be stationed in Singapore. We have bombers; we have transport aircraft, flying boats and our own training school. Compared with all that, your voice is a very poor and insignificant thing.”

  “You want to destroy the Empire. You treasonous, seditious, disloyal, subversive swine.” Sir Richard was foaming at the mouth with almost uncontained fury.

  For the first time, Sir Eric’s voice lost its dispassionate tone. “Destroy the Empire? Never. My family have loyally served the Empire for three centuries; since a time when the Cardews were still stealing sheep from farms in Wales. It is Halifax and his cronies in London who have destroyed the Empire. It was always our policy that, in the event of Britain being occupied or forced to surrender, the rest of the Empire would fight on. The consequences of that policy, a policy that stemmed from and was promulgated by London, you will remember, were never realized until the situation actually arose and we had to deal with it.

  “Even then, we were in denial until the abuse from London reached a point where we had no choices left. Complying with agreed Imperial policy and continuing the war meant we had to stand on our own and become truly independent countries. In requiring that, they destroyed the Empire. We have acted with sadness and reluctance; we have left the doors open, so that when we are victorious, we can rebuild what was tom down. That is a question for the future.

  “Here, now and in this present, your opinions are just those of a relic from a bygone age and have no significance. How insignificant? You are not the only person being released today. I might mention Prithvi Singh Azad, for example; or Priyada Chakraborty. You might have heard of Achyut Ghatak or Adhir Kumar Nag, They also are being released today and many more of their supporters. You are just one more prisoner; one released as an act of clemency by a government that views you as completely unimportant.”

  “But, those men. They organized an insurrection against the legal government!” Sir Richard was appalled at the list of released prisoners.

  “And you didn’t, Richard?

  “Now, come along. The warden wants to see you before you leave for home.” And I want you out of this prison before the idea of martyring yourself by suicide occurs to you.

  Cabinet Office, 10 Downing Street, London, United Kingdom

  “They ignored us.” Lord Halifax stared at the Foreign Office telegram with barely-contained fury. “They just ignored us.”

  And so our chickens come home to roost. Sir Edward Bridges looked at the Prime Minister with some shreds of sympathy. “Prime Minister, the Italians had to negotiate with those who held almost 200,000 of their men prisoner. Whatever their preferences, they had little choice in the matter.”

  “I speak not of the Italians, but of the traitors in Cairo. They ignored every message we sent them; they treated our instructions with contempt. They have betrayed everything that they are supposed to hold dear. Then, they signed an agreement with the Italians, without as much as a by-your-leave to us. I want them court-martialled and broken.”

  They did not treat your messages with contempt; they treated you in that manner. And, signing agreements with an enemy without as much as a by-your-leave is exactly what you did to them. Chickens returning to roost indeed. “That is a serious problem, Prime Minister. General Wavell is an officer in the Indian Army, not the British Army. At any court-martial, he would simply claim that as an Indian Army officer, orders from Calcutta overrode any orders he received from London. Indeed, he could well argue that a British court martial no longer has any jurisdiction over an Indian Army officer. I believe the court would look sympathetically on that claim, especially since the result of his decision was a remarkable feat of arms, leading to a stunning military victory. Such successes traditionally justify the means by wh
ich they were achieved. The traditional Army verdict on such circumstances is, I believe, ‘Well done and don’t ever do it again.’ I would advise, Prime Minister, that you adopt the same approach.”

  “You can’t do that, Prime Minister.” Butler’s voice was its suave self; Bridges was reminded of the times he had seen oil slicks spreading across water. “It will be showing weakness. The time has come, I think, to put a bit of stick about. Wavell and his cronies must be brought to heel and we must assert our authority over British forces outside these Islands.”

  Halifax looked desperate. For a moment, Bridges felt sorry for him. He was out of his depth and clutching for straws of support wherever he could find them. “Prime Minister, there is another Army principle it might be worth bearing in mind. ‘Never issue an order unless one is sure it will be obeyed.’

  That applies with great force here. At the moment, our authority over the forces abroad is tenuous and disputed. As long as we do nothing to bring the matter to a head, that is how it will remain. But, if we bring about a major confrontation with Middle East Command, a dispute which we cannot win, then all doubt will be removed and any authority we have left will be erased.”

  “Sir Edward, perhaps we have cause to doubt your loyalty?” Butler’s voice was still oily-smooth, but there was a distinctly threatening element to it.

  Bridges looked at Halifax and his lips formed a distinct phrase. “The Stone.” That was all it took to cause Halifax to backtrack very quickly.

  “Richard, there is no need to impugn Sir Edward’s loyalty. It is his duty to raise issues that we might consider unpalatable.” Butler nodded abruptly, but Bridges was in no doubt that he had just acquired a new and dangerous enemy. Halifax seemed distressed and uncertain as he continued speaking.