A Mighty Endeavor (33 page)

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Authors: Stuart Slade

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BOOK: A Mighty Endeavor
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“He didn’t like the flak.” Lieutenant Colonel Beaumont was satisfied at the performance his troops had put up. They’d done well for men who’d never thought they would end up fighting at sea.

“He didn’t have to. Mostly, his job is to find us and then call in the U-boats. Only, with most merchant ships being barely capable of token resistance, the Focke-Wulf crews are getting over-confident. I doubt he was expecting the volume of fire we put up. Now he’s going back to doing what he was supposed to.”

“U-boats.” Beaumont spoke the words as if they were a curse. “They’re waiting for us.”

“They’re trying.” Stewart was less worried about them than the bomber. “But we’re holding 22 knots and that makes us a hard target. The bastards will be laying in wait, for sure. So, we’ll make their job a bit harder. We’ll swing north and that’ll take us clear of anybody that Kondor had called
in.”

Stewart drummed his fingers on the bridge rail and thought for a second before giving out the new helm orders. He had to swing far enough north to take his ship clear of any U-boats in ambush positions, yet not so far north he would delay their transit to Canada any more than absolutely essential. He made another decision.

“Increase revolutions for 24 knots.”

 

Cabinet Office, 10 Downing Street, London, United Kingdom

“How did things ever come to this?” Lord Halifax looked at R.A. Butler with distress compounded by confusion. “Any hope that Winston would take his removal with good grace was asking far too much, but as a distinguished parliamentarian who knew and understood the rules, I thought he would take it on the chin and retire quietly. I was expecting a bare minimum of public cooperation at least, no matter how bitter he felt privately. But, first he disappears, and then turns up in Canada breathing fire and brimstone upon us.”

“What did you expect from a half-breed American whose main support is that of inefficient but talkative people of a similar type?” Butler nearly snarled the comment out. His antipathy, bordering on hatred, for Churchill was well-known. He had wanted Churchill arrested after the coup, but cooler and wiser heads had intervened. They had pointed out that Halifax and Butler had absolutely no grounds for arresting him other than that he had been on the wrong side of a party coup, and any attempt at an arrest would have alienated their support base. To arrest a man over a philosophical and policy disagreement was just not done. Churchill’s continued presence in the House would have been awkward for all concerned certainly, but not anything that would justify detention or any breech of a very prominent person’s civil liberties.

It had seemed such a good idea to distract Churchill by throwing out a rumor that his life was in danger should he return to London. Butler had always known that they had to keep Churchill away from a microphone for the critical hours after the coup. Support for the new government was just one cracking good Churchillian speech away from wavering and a couple of Beaverbrook editorials wouldn’t have helped either.
How could we have known he would take that threat seriously?
Butler asked himself the question with a frustrated snarl.
Churchill had no reputation for cowardice, or reticence. By fleeing the way he did, he made our threat real. His absence from London and public view raised as many, if not more, questions and doubt about the new regime than any stink he might have kicked in the normal course of events if he’d returned. People would have seen a degree of sour grapes and thwarted ambition/revenge in any counter-coup effort, and tuned them out to some degree. But his silence was deafening, the genitive undercurrents playing much less softly, and get swamped by events in any case.

Then he had turned up in Canada with rumors swirling of a daring escape, pursued by dark and mysterious agents of the coup. There had even been whispers that he had been taken on his way to a secret execution only to be rescued by a group of Scottish supporters and smuggled to safety. Instead of being delayed and entangled, he got away and formed a countergovernment in Canada. We got what we wanted, an unopposed assumption of power, but arriving in Canada the way he did has only confused Imperial opinion and given them another reason to delay and again withhold legitimacy from our Government. Damn the man.

“Silencing Churchill is our first priority.” Butler had one idea at least along those lines. It was an idea that his new National Security Service was well-placed to carry out, even though it seemed to take far longer to get things done than he had expected. “He must be made to cease his attacks upon us. We do have a tool for that purpose, one that might prove most effective.”

Halifax looked up. “And that is?”

“When Winston cut and ran, he left his family behind. Lady Clementine and the children. I have instructed the Security Service to detain them. We can make it clear to Winston that the treatment of his wife and children will be determined by his conduct while in Canada. We can make the conditions of their detention sufficiently arduous to drive the point home.”

There was a long silence while Halifax stared at Butler, his expression one of total disbelief. Eventually, when Halifax spoke, his voice was quiet and passionless.

“Are you completely out of your mind? Has your distaste for Winston driven every vestige of common sense from your wits? What you suggest is foolish beyond measure. I can think of nothing that would damage the standing or stability of our government more than the course of action you so lightly suggest. Even if that consideration did not apply, your proposal is reprehensible. You say you have issued orders for the detention of Lady Clementine and the children?”

“Yes, although
....

“Then we must pray that the time is not already too late. Your Permanent Secretary is available?”

“Arnold Robins? He is outside.” Butler was slightly bewildered at the sudden change in the atmosphere and the way Halifax had changed from a weak and pliant tool to a real authority figure.

“Send him in. Immediately.”

Robins must have been waiting in the anteroom, for his appearance was delayed by only a few seconds. Halifax took the time to calm down and swallow his outrage at Butler’s suggestion. When he arrived, Robins had a look of distinct concern on his face.

“Robins, I understand you were given instructions to order the detention of Lady Clementine Spencer-Churchill and her children. Have these instructions yet been issued?”

“Prime Minister, in view of the somewhat nebulous and inexplicit nature appertaining to the remit of the National Security Service and the arguably marginal and peripheral nature the subject of the instructions we have been given has to the political security of the realm, it was believed that the central deliberations and decisions that would result in the issue of the instructions in question would benefit from legal consultation as to their accommodation within the political process and that there could be a case for re-structuring the nature of the contemplated actions in such a way as to eliminate them from the immediate agenda pending a clarification of the responsibilities of the Service with regard to the population at large.”

Halifax relaxed. “Thank God for that. Robins, you will take personal responsibility for ensuring that the safety of Lady Clementine Spencer-Churchill and her family and placing them on a suitable means of conveyance to Canada. You will confirm to me in person when these instructions have been fulfilled. Now, leave us.”

Once the room was clear, Halifax returned his attention to Butler. “There is a time and a place for the adoption of dark methods, Richard: when the security of the realm is at stake and we are obliged to take that path in the cause of the greater good. Even then, we should regard that path as a last resort. Bear that in mind when you undertake actions on behalf of this Government.”

 

Room 208, Munitions Building, Washington, DC, USA

“The Air Corps is crating up the 110 Hawk 81s built to French specifications now and we’ll be shipping them to India and South Africa. They’ve named them the Tomahawk I, by the way. Meanwhile, Captain Chennault is organizing the expansion of the Chinese air forces in an effort to reduce Japanese expansionism in China. He will be purchasing newly-built P-40B aircraft and also recruiting pilots for the Chinese. If his plans hold true, those aircraft will be in service by the end of the year.” Secretary Stimson looked around with satisfaction. He was clearing his airfields of the ex-British and French aircraft before he was forced to take them into USAAC service.

“We’ve heard from the Commonwealth governments on the 140 British Hawk 81s. They’re calling them Tomahawk IIs. They’ve agreed amongst themselves that they are to be delivered to the Middle East. Forty aircraft, are to go to Kenya and will equip two South African fighter squadrons. The other one hundred will go to Egypt and equip two British, one Australian and one Indian squadron.” Cordell Hull also looked very happy. The war was still on and the prospect of disaster that had seemed so imminent earlier had receded dramatically. The Italian invasion of Egypt had stalled at Sidi Barrani and the British forces in Egypt were gathering to expel them. Even more significantly, the rest of the Commonwealth was funnelling reinforcements to East Africa and the Middle East.

Stimson sounded enthusiastic. “It makes sense the way they’ve done it. Give them a few weeks and they’ll have a major edge in both the Middle East and East Africa while they use the ex-French aircraft to train new pilots and work up new squadrons. Any news on the rest?”

“There’s a conference in Jamaica that’ll sort all the other issues out. Main issue remains the Hawk 75s, the DB-7 bombers and the Hudson patrol planes. They’re squabbling over those. How goes the industry side of this, Phillip?”

“Not bad.” Stuyvesant consulted a file. “Bill Pawley is setting up an aircraft factory in India, using machine tooling the manufacturers here are replacing. The Canadians are already building Bolingbrokes, that’s a version of the Blenheim, and the Australians Beaufort torpedo bombers.”

“Our factories are re-equipping? We need those production lines running.” Hull was confused.

“We’ll get them going soon. We need them re-equipped now though so we won’t have to do it later when we’re straining for output. And, all those extra orders for machine tools get those lines running as well. By the way, the British also placed orders for P-38s and P-39s. Bell and Lockheed want to know whether to start work on them.”

Stimson shook his head. “Not now. We need those aircraft. It’s one thing to get rid of aircraft we’ve already built; quite another to divert future building capacity. We’ve got a problem with Japan and we’ll have to address it. They’ll come after us sooner or later.”

Cordell Hull shook his head. “We’re not interested in having a war in the Pacific. As far as the President is concerned, he regards Germany as being our primary enemy.”

“The problem with that attitude is that it only takes one side to start a war. If Japan wants to have a war with us, we don’t need to agree with them about it; they’ll come straight at us.” Stimson sounded grim. “The Philippines will be hit first, you mark my words.”

“Then we had better make sure that our defenses there are up to par. Can we send additional aircraft to defend Luzon? And extra troops?”

“We’d better. We can shift some of the new production we’re generating there within a few months.”

Stuyvesant looked up at the ceiling. “You know, it’s just possible Halifax has done us a big favor. If he hadn’t folded back in June, we wouldn’t be mobilizing the way we are now. And that means we’re going to have a lot more forces available a lot sooner. It might just be enough to persuade the Japanese that moving against us won’t be worth the effort. Of course, the more allies we have out in that part of the world, the better.”

 

Kingston, Jamaica

“Hot run over the Atlantic, Bob?”

“Some aggro with Kondors early on, but apart from that, easy trip. The doggies were glad to get off though and we were glad to get rid of them. They threw up in places we never knew existed. Parts of the ship still stink.” Captain Stewart wrinkled his nose in disgust at the memory. Driving a heavy cruiser fast through the North Atlantic was a sure guarantee of a rough ride and the Canadian infantry on board had suffered from acute, universal seasickness. Then, his crew had barely had time to unload the equipment they’d carried over and clean ship before the Canadian delegates had arrived for the trip down to Jamaica.

The harbor was well-stocked with warships. In addition to
Australia,
there were three other British cruisers,
Frobisher, Emerald
and
Enterprise.
Then there were six old British destroyers, Admiralty S-class fitted out as minelayers. Finally, in the middle of the harbor was an American heavy cruiser, the
Houston.
Stewart reflected that she was probably the only ship in the harbor that knew exactly who she belonged to. Across in the flying boat basin, the group was completed by the two anchored aircraft that had brought the Australian, Indian and South African delegations. Stewart was proud of the fact that the Australians had flown in, even if they had arrived in a Short S-23 rather than the larger S-26 used by the Indians.

“We’ve found a home.” Captain Roderick Glynn entered the bar and sounded pleased. As well he might; the status of West Indies Station and the ships that were based there had been indeterminate for all too long. “The Governor-General has announced that the West Indies will follow the example set by Australia, Canada, India and South Africa and continue the state of hostilities that exists with Germany. The warships of West India Station will govern themselves accordingly. Them’s our orders.”

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