by Mary Soames
While life for all ranks in the Hyde Park battery had great advantages from the point of view of access in off-duty hours to entertainment, shops, and general contact with civilian life, our location also placed particular pressures on us: we really had to be on our toes as a “showpiece” for the relatively new phenomenon of mixed anti-aircraft batteries, which were of interest both to our own military pundits and to overseas official visitors. This made site life quite demanding: “Phyllis” was a great stickler not only for our personal smartness and deportment at all times, but also for the general appearance of the gun site. Stones forming the edging to flower beds at the camp entrance had to be whitewashed, and roads and pathways kept swept; on the eve of any special visitation potted plants (according to season) were hastily planted in among the regular shrubs and plants by “volunteers,” and there was a good deal of grumbling about “eyewash.” Our most important (and most popular) visitor this summer was Queen Elizabeth: with her were the Princess Royal and the Director of the ATS, Mrs. Jean Knox, plus a positive gaggle of male “top brass.” Despite an unhelpful downpour, I was relieved to be able to report to my diary that “everything went off all right.”
* * *
* Fleet Admiral Ernest King (1878–1956): Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Fleet and Chief of Naval Operations, 1942–45.
† General George Marshall (1880–1959): Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army, 1939–45, and later Secretary of State, 1947–49: his plan for the economic recovery of Europe after the war became known as the “Marshall Plan.”
‡ Film released in 1942, set in occupied Belgium, directed by Anthony Asquith.
§ Clothes were rationed on a points/coupons system from June 1941 to 1 February 1949.
‖ Captain Edward Molyneux was one of the great couturiers of the thirties, with salons in London and Paris. My mother had many of her clothes from him. In due course Molyneux would make my wedding dress.
a FANY: acronym of the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, a British women’s ambulance unit formed in 1907. Its title was later changed to the Women’s Transport Service, but the name FANY stuck. Its members served as drivers and welfare workers; many worked for SOE (Special Operations Executive) as wireless operators and cipher clerks, and some as agents (many of whom operated in France).
b Harold Nicolson (1886–1968): author, critic, and National Liberal MP. Married to Vita Sackville-West, poet, author, and gardener.
c Up to now church bells had been silent—they were intended to be rung to warn that the invasion had started—but those dark days had passed.
d Rationing even extended to makeup: there is a mention in my diary about “my quota” being in at Cyclax.
e For Alamein: the subject of the heated discussion between WSC and CSC at the luncheon at No. 10 on 6 November 1942, of which an account appears earlier in this chapter.
f Princess Elizabeth joined the ATS as a commissioned officer in 1945.
g Squadron Leader John Dering Nettleton had been awarded the VC in April 1942 for “unflinching determination as well as leadership and valour of the highest order.”
h Charles Wilson (1882–1977), created first Baron Moran in 1943. President of the Royal College of Physicians 1941–50, he was WSC’s doctor from 1940 to the end of his life, and accompanied him on nearly all his travels from 1941 onwards.
i To date there is still no lift!
j The other half was at Burnt Oak, in the northwest suburbs of London.
k These “rompers” were officially called WSC’s “siren suit” and were modelled on the “boiler suit” he used to wear while bricklaying: he wore them at Chartwell and Chequers. The daytime ones were made of suitable weight, and usually approximating to an air force blue. For dinner at home he had luscious velvet ones (CSC used to take great pleasure in organizing these)—usually dark green or deep red (with slippers to match).
l Oliver Lyttleton, Minister of Production.
CHAPTER 14
“Subaltern George”
I SEE FROM MY MILITARY RECORD THAT FROM 29 JULY TO 20 SEPTEMBER 1943 I was officially “Attached to the Personal Staff of the Minister of Defence.” This meant that on 29 July I left my battery without explanation: in fact I knew that I was to go with my parents on a voyage to North America, and that I would act officially as an ADC to my father. Although I was of course much excited by the prospect of this journey, I was genuinely concerned about the “rightness” of this arrangement; however, over the next weeks I would feel that I was able to make myself useful, as well as having a most thrilling and interesting time.
I spent a few hectic days at home reorganizing my uniform (less emphasis on battle dress and gaiters; addition of tropical kit), in the course of which I spent a lot of time at that excellent establishment in Piccadilly, Austin Reed (where my orders were labelled “Subaltern George” for security’s sake).
On 4 August my father was on the eve of his departure by sea, with many colleagues and a large staff, for the Quebec Conference with President Roosevelt and the Canadian Prime Minister, Mr. Mackenzie King. My mother retired to bed to garner her energy; to our petit comité for dinner of my father, myself, Sarah, and Uncle Jack (who were not coming on the voyage) was added an unexpected guest—Brigadier Orde Wingate, the brilliant and fearless commander of the Chindits, the guerrilla forces in Burma. I was deeply struck by him, as my diary entry late that night records:
The ‘Clive of Burma’ came almost straight from the plane [in his crumpled tropical uniform—summoned by WSC]. He is a triple DSO. Looks like Lawrence & is a Tiger of a man. We were all greatly impressed. I can see Papa has great things in mind for him. He is to come on the trip. Mrs Wingate [after frantic telephonings from No. 10] was snatched off the train from Scotland southbound & instructed to wait at Edinburgh. Very dramatic & exciting. He looks terribly strained & ill & I do hope the sea voyage will do him good; 11.30 [pm] we left. Dark starless night. Sarah came to the station. On train 1st Sea Lord/Brigadier Wingate/Averell [Harriman]. I am so excited I can hardly believe it’s all true.
I continued my account on the morning of 5 August: “It is cold & wet and we are speeding along the coast Northwards. The sea looks pretty rough. We picked up Mrs Wingate at Edinburgh … of her more later.” By the end of that day we were well ensconced aboard ship:
Arrived Faslane 14.30. Went aboard The Maid of Orleans [a tender]. At Faslane came the news CATANIA IS OURS! Went up the Gairloch & there was the Q.M. [Queen Mary]* in the Tail of the Bank opposite Greenock. Nearly two years ago it was here I went aboard The Prince of Wales—a lance corporal & said goodbye & Godspeed to Papa setting out for the first of his many heroic & fateful journeys. How wonderfully our prayers have been answered so far. Dutch notices are plastered all over the ship to kid everyone it was Queen Wilhelmina coming aboard. (Their figures at any rate are not dissimilar).
… Our suites are luxurious and most comfortable. I am in a little green room next to Mummie … The ‘special’ party is over 200 strong—among Cs [Chiefs] of Staff & their Staffs are Kathy H[arriman] & the Dam Buster†—who I met this evening & seems delightful. To dinner. Averell & Kathy/CIGS [Alan Brooke]/Lord Leathers [Minister of War Transport]/Tommy [Thompson].
The food is UNBELIEVABLE. White rolls & masses of butter.
Shipboard life was indeed very agreeable. Well wrapped up, despite “dirty weather & a fairly heavy sea which grew worse” we tramped the deck: our escort at times could very clearly be seen wallowing in heavy seas, “coming over green.” Various permutations of the party lunched or dined with my parents, and I happily noted “Papa in a benign sunny mood.” For myself, I had a lovely time being entertained in the wardroom, touring the ship, and enjoying the company of Kathy and Dam Buster, and of charmers like “Pug” Ismay and Peter Portal.
Mrs. Wingate, who was about twenty-six, lovely to look at, and with a melodious voice, started out with a romantic aura and received a universally friendly welcome from all and sundry; however, as the voyage progressed it became pa
infully clear that she was immensely impressed with herself, and was a bore and a prig to boot. Brigadier Wingate, next to whom I sat at dinner one night, I found “extremely interesting but very intense. God! what a ménage with Mrs W.… But he is not so tiresome. I wonder if he will be a great new figure.” Major General Wingate, as he would soon become, was supported by my father and became a popular hero with his exploits in Burma, but was killed in an air crash in the jungle in March 1944. My father called him “a man of genius who might have been a man of Destiny.”‡
We made landfall on the afternoon of Monday, 9 August, when I went up onto the bridge with Guy Gibson “and watched Canada appear. Saw 2 whales. It was lovely & most impressive steaming into Halifax harbour with our US Navy escort ‘line astern.’ Mounties in scarlet & blue patrolled the quayside.” Although elaborate security arrangements had been made, the true identity of “Colonel Warden” (my father’s pseudonym for this trip) had become known, and there was a large and enthusiastic crowd at the railway station as well as the official welcoming party to greet him and “Mrs. Warden” and their colleagues. After civilities, we all boarded a long and most wonderfully comfortable train, and started on our seven-hundred-mile (and twenty-two-hour) journey to Quebec.
At journey’s end our party was met at Charmy (a little station nestled below the Heights of Abraham, famously stormed by General Wolfe in 1759) by the Prime Minister of Canada, Mr. Mackenzie King,§ the provincial Governor and his lady, and divers “personalities,” and whisked up to the Citadelle, which stands so imposingly on the cliffs above the St. Lawrence River and dramatically dominates the old city of Quebec. At that time the Citadelle was a royal residence,‖ and the King had offered it to my father, his family, and his immediate entourage for their stay: the rest of the large party was accommodated in the Château Frontenac, a large and luxurious hotel quite close by. Despite its stern exterior, the Citadelle inside is a charmingly arranged house, from which one can emerge on to the long, wooden-planked terraces which command wonderful views over the city and river. It was after dark when we arrived, and I remember my mother and I stood for quite a long time looking out over the twinkling city lights below us—after four years of blackout at home it seemed a wonderful sight.
The Conference itself, between President Roosevelt, my father, and Mr. Mackenzie King, was not due to start until the beginning of the following week, and while the staffs were completing their plans and agenda the President invited my parents and myself to stay with him and Mrs. Roosevelt at Hyde Park, his family home on the banks of the Hudson River. We would travel there by train, and my father conceived the delightful idea that on the way a detour could be made so that he could show us the Niagara Falls. However, my mother was in no fit state to travel—indeed, she was completely exhausted: already tired when she went on board the Queen Mary, she had hoped to recoup her energy during the voyage, but unfortunately had suffered a series of sleepless nights—so she decided to stay in Quebec and rest up in order to be ready for the considerable demands the conference period would make on her in terms of entertaining and being entertained. My father was dreadfully disappointed, and though I offered to stay with her for company, she insisted I go with him. So we reluctantly left her in the good care of Grace Hamblin, Lord Moran, Mr. Mackenzie King (who was quite a cosy old thing), and several very nice Canadian ladies.
We left in the early evening, and as the train slid through lovely countryside it was really touching to see that “little groups of people gathered at the side of the track to wave at Papa.” In my diary I am ecstatic and excited by it all, and “this journey especially—just me and Papa à deux is a real treat for me. He is being so sweet & kind—calling on me at 8 on Thursday morning [12 August] to see that I was getting ready & had eaten breakfast.” At Victoria Park we left the train and were
met by the Mayor of Niagara & a battery of press hounds—I was bunched—Papa too with gladioli—& then we saw the Falls. O they are wonderful. We then drove on & saw the Rapids from various viewpoints & then went to Brock’s Monument & looked down on the river Niagara—broad & peaceful after all its convulsions & swirlings flowing into Lake Ontario … Back in the train & travelled through the state of N.Y. & then followed the Hudson to Hyde Park.
Below the President’s property, which stands on quite a high cliff, is a halt, and there the President himself, driving his jeep, met us, with Mrs. Roosevelt and Harry Hopkins, and whirled us up the steep, winding, narrow track to the mansion. Cocktails were served at eight, and the other guests were the U.S. ambassador to Eire, “Mrs Delano Roosevelt [the President’s mother] and Admiral Brown, the Pres’s PA. I sat next to the Pres. He was most kind charming & entertaining.”
The next morning Mrs. Roosevelt was kindness itself and took personal trouble to see that I had a good time, notwithstanding her many preoccupations, as she was very shortly to depart on a long tour of overseas U.S. establishments. “Rigged out in her clothes I rode her horse called ‘Here’s How’ accompanied by a very nice corporal; then Mrs R. drove us (my father and myself) down to her own house Val-Kill across the valley from the mansion, where we saw again her personal private secretary/PA, Miss Malvina Thompson” (who had accompanied Mrs. Roosevelt on her visit to England in October 1942).
The weather was hot and lovely, and after a long swimming session when “I got happily & heavily waterlogged” we had a “delicious picnic luncheon—Chowder & Hot dwgs [sic]. Wow!” I then artlessly described Mrs. Roosevelt’s companions, “Miss Marion Dickerman—charming & cultivated woman showed me the house which she shares with Miss Cook (a sinister looking old thing, with glittering eyes, white hair & brown skin—she terrified me & I had my doubts about her).” After more swimming, and playing deck tennis with “Mrs R & the children (a niece + 2 friends & very nice),” we had tea and then “returned to change for dinner. Again [I] sat next to [the] Pres. who I find more & more delightful & enthralling. Papa v. sleepy—went to bed early—So did we.”
On the Saturday it was again very hot: there was more riding and swimming, and a
picnic lunch at the Pres’ pavilion … Corn & water melon. The Pres. & Mrs R, Papa & self all drove through beautiful country with lovely ‘Colonial style’ churches to the Morgenthausa for tea—or rather mint juleps. Back just in time to change & pack. Dinner. Departed [by train] at 10.30—wishing Mrs R Godspeed & good fortune on the brink of her voyage.
Back in Quebec, we were much relieved to find my mother looking much better, although while officially “resting” she seemed to have had quite a busy time. I was touched and so proud when she told me that my father had said that he had liked having me with him alone during our Hyde Park visit.
The Conference now got going in earnest: the President arrived on the seventeenth, when the galaxy of politicos and “top brass” was at full strength. At this point a new and most charming person made his appearance on our scene—General George Marshall, the American Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staffs Committee.b One night at dinner “I was delighted to find myself next to Lord Louis Mountbatten … who is such fun & makes me laugh. After dinner the Pres. talked to me for quite a time—I find him so stimulating & gay. O what a wonderful time I’m having—I can hardly believe it’s true.” The Conference agenda concerned the planning of Operation Overlord (the code name for the Allied invasion of northwest Europe) and the setting up of the command for Far Eastern operations, and a few days later “Papa told us of Dickie’s [Lord Louis’s] appointment as Supreme Commander of the Far Eastern Pacific—We all drank his health.”
During all these days while the Conference was in progress, my mother and I were swept up in a bustle of being lunched or dined by our kind Canadian hosts; my parents also gave some lunches and dinners where I was de service, and I spent two days on my own visiting Canadian Women’s Army Corps (CWAC) units and establishments. My mother and I did a bit of sightseeing, I made my first broadcast, and (I see from my diary) we did a good deal of shopping: after four years of ever more stri
ngent wartime rationing at home—not only of food and petrol, but since the summer of 1941 clothing as well and from early 1942 even soap—one eagerly seized the opportunity to stock up on nylon stockings (no tights then), lingerie, and other items once so much taken for granted—for oneself and as presents for family and friends at home.
When the Conference came to an end with the departure of the President on the night of 24 August, my father and his staff and close colleagues were only too ready for a letup, and he was happy to accept the invitation of Colonel Frank Clark (head of a vast firm producing wood pulp for newsprint) to stay at his fishing lodge on the Snow River up in the Laurentian mountains. Accordingly that evening I drove with my parents, accompanied by Lord Moran, John Martin (Private Secretary), and Tommy Thompson, the sixty miles or so to La Cabanne. The keen fishermen among the Chiefs of Staff, Sir Alan Brooke and Sir Charles (Peter) Portal, were already up at Lac des Neiges, a large lake further up in the mountains, where their skill and tenacity over the next few days resulted in their catching a great number of fish. Those of our party who wanted to fish went up daily to Lac des Neiges: my mother mostly stayed at La Cabanne, but I tried my inexpert hand at the sport—with less than outstanding success: I reported to my diary that after a whole day’s fishing I had caught “1 fish, 1 sardine, the same guide 4 times, & 2 logs.” The President had requested that he be kept informed of the fishermen’s fortunes: “Be sure to have the big ones weighed and verified by Mackenzie King,” he cabled Winston on 27 August;1 the same day the latter reported: “Subaltern and I have caught a few, and the change and air are doing us all good.”