A Mighty Endeavor (4 page)
The remark was addressed to Sir Martyn Sharpe, Assistant Secretary for Domestic Affairs and a protege of the Marquess. Sir Martyn’s official duties were to look after the routine activities of his Department. In reality, his job was to maintain relations with the Indian politicians in the Congress Party. It was the kind of unofficial, back-door communications channel that the British seemed to thrive upon. One uniquely suited to India’s environment. In the frantic hours that had passed since the news had been broadcast, Sir Martyn had spoken, on an entirely unofficial basis of course, with Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, leader of the Congress Party. That conversation had not been helpful in maintaining his tranquility.
“Your Excellency, I can quote the initial reaction of the Congress Party to this meeting. Their position is and I do quote exactly, ‘You have lost the war you forced on us, now you can leave while we make peace. Next week will be soon enough.’ They offer us help in packing our bags and making our way to the railway station.”
“Damned cheek.” Tarrant growled to nobody in particular.
“Gerry, they have to say that. Their own membership will tear them apart if they said anything else. Their real position is held within those two words: ‘next week’. They want to find out what the hell is going on as well before they commit themselves.”
Lord Linlithgow frowned at Sir Martyn’s final choice of words, but let the matter pass. Everybody was frustrated and edgy from the knowledge that great things were afoot and they knew nothing of them. “I suppose it was inevitable they would demand peace. They never wanted a part of this war in the first place.”
“They never wanted into this war, that is true, Your Excellency. To be honest, your decision to take us in was almost as offensive to them as we have found London’s treatment of us has been. That point was made, quite gently I may say, by Nehru who described the situation as ‘Karmic Justice’.”
A smattering of laughter ran around the room. Lord Linlithgow shook his head, “I can see their point on that. In retrospect, I think the Indian declaration of war was not one of my better hours.”
Privately, Sir Martyn agreed, but he was not going to say so. “Nevertheless, India is at war and I suspect that having found themselves in it, they do not want out of it at the abrupt and unsolicited command of a dubiously legitimate Prime Minister in London. They want to end the war by their own hand and leave it with their heads held high. To accept this diktat from London would leave them crawling way like whipped dogs. They, also, are offended, Your Excellency. Their offer to help us pack our bags and make our way to the railway station should be seen in that light. It isn’t cheek, Gerry; it’s their way of telling us they want to work with us on our departure, not against us.”
There was a learned nodding of heads around the conference table. Subtle meanings attached to apparently inconsequential words were meat and drink for those present. There was a wealth of experience in doing just that around the table.
“Which takes us to the next question.” Harold Hartley, known to all as HH, asked the obvious question. “Are we still at war with Germany?”
“That, at least, I can answer.” Lord Linlithgow answered firmly. “India is a Dominion, not a colony. We declared war by our decision; we end that war by our decision. We may take our lead from London, if they deign to give us one, but the decision is made here, not there. And so, the answer is a clear yes. We are still at war with Germany and will remain so until we, or our successors, decide otherwise.”
“That also is the Australian position, your Excellency. Prime Minister Menzies points out that Australia had its reasons for declaring war and that those are not necessarily changed by a British surrender.” Tarrant relayed that input with a certain level of relish.
“That is absurd.” Sir Richard Graham Cardew, the Cabinet Secretary, had gone bright red. “If the India Office commands, then it is our part to obey. The final authority lies there, not here.” Cardew was one of the oldest men at this table; his experience over the last 30 years had formed his opinions and attitudes to the point where they were set in stone.
“That may have been the case once, Sir Richard; it is not now. India a Dominion heading towards independence.”
“Never!” Cardew’s interruption was explosive.
“Inevitably, Sir Richard, and I will thank you not to interrupt me again. India is inevitably heading towards independence and most of us will live to see that day. The question is not whether independence will happen, but when and under what terms. Do we simply walk out and leave or do we arrange a slow and gracious hand-over of power? Sir Martyn, in your experience, what is the Congress Party position on this? Their real position, not the one for public consumption.”
Sir Martyn thought carefully. “Their various demands that we should simply leave now are indeed for public consumption. Or, perhaps I should say, to the rank and file membership of their party for whom they have to display a continued militancy. Their real position is that they are prepared to accept an interim regime provided there is a steady visible transfer of power. I except Gandhi from this of course; he demands we quit now and he means every word of it. The wretched man is quite impossible, I fear. But, your Excellency, an early casualty of that transfer process will have to be your own position. The place you occupy must be occupied by an Indian. Probably Nehru. And membership of the Commonwealth is a likely casualty also. Not in the immediate future, perhaps, but at some time, an independent India will sever relations there.”
“That is outrageous. You betray us, Sir Martyn.” Cardew was deep crimson and appeared on the verge of a stroke.
“Sir Richard, I have warned you before about interrupting others here. Once more and I will ask you to withdraw.”
“There is no need for that, Your Excellency. I will not stay here and listen to treason.” Cardew flung his chair back and stormed out of the cabinet room. The crash as the door closed behind him caused the papers on the great conference table to flutter. Lord Linlithgow raised an eyebrow at the disturbance.
“Pray continue, Sir Martyn. I find your insight most important.”
“Well, your Excellency, the position of an Indian as a replacement for the Viceroy is essential for any agreement on a transition. It will be a sign of real power and authority that will cause the rank and file of the Congress Party to accept much else. Leaving the Commonwealth will be more of a symbolic gesture, especially in the light of today’s events. It will be a dramatic breaking of ties that will also justify much else. It may even make acceptable India staying in the war. There is an interesting aside to that question; we speak of India’s membership of the Commonwealth but what of the position of Britain? Is the government in London the legitimate government of Britain? If so, should it remain in the Commonwealth? If it is not, and there forms a Government in Exile, should not that entity be the legitimate representative of the British people within the Commonwealth?”
“It is lucky that Sir Richard stormed out after all. Had he heard you say that, he would now be dead on the floor from apoplexy and poor old HH here would have weeks of paperwork to do.” Linlithgow looked around the room.
“In that event, I would feel it my duty to offer him every assistance within my power. But, your Excellency, my point remains; Congress can be persuaded to stay in the war.”
“You believe that’s essential, don’t you?” Linlithgow’s voice had a note of sympathy within it. He was well aware that Sir Martyn’s wife was Jewish. Indeed, that was one factor that had influenced him in placing his trust with the man. Somebody who had the strength of character to do what he felt was right despite the possible effects on his career and the unspoken but very real social objections to the marriage also had the strength to do his work well.
“I do, Your Excellency. There are some things that are such incarnate evil that any decent man should stand against them regardless of the price the act must demand. I believe that Prime Minister Churchill understood that.”
The Marquess of Linlithgow nodded. “And so does the Viceroy of India.”
Cabinet Office, 10 Downing Street, London
“Is there no sign of Mister Churchill?”
Sir Edward Bridges needlessly consulted the reports he had received and shook his head. “We traced him as far as Oxford and then kept all the roads out of Oxford under surveillance, but I fear Winston was not detected by any of the patrols. I can only presume that he is still in Oxford.”
“That would be uncharacteristic of the man. He was always one for action, no matter how ill-advised. He will be on the move. With his affection for the French, he will choose to go there. Are all the roads south from Oxford under surveillance?”
“They are, Prime Minister. But, how completely that surveillance has been maintained is another matter entirely. We British do not have an
overweening police force. We do not even see the need to arm our police. As an orderly people used to the rule of law, we do not have the need for either large numbers of police or to have them armed. In this case, to maintain surveillance of all the thoroughfares, ranging from the trunk roads to farm lanes, is beyond them. And then there are the trains, of course.”
Halifax drummed his fingers impatiently. “It is apparent, I think, that a small, well-trained police force as we have now is an estimable thing indeed. But the times have changed and many pairs of eyes will be needed on our streets. We must be ready to reinforce our existing police force with an auxiliary police unit, one whose loyalty can be absolutely guaranteed.”
“I do not think the British people will take kindly to the return of the black-and-tans, Prime Minister.”
Halifax looked shocked. “Sir Edward, I mean no such thing. Placing a para-military force on the streets would be an outrage. I simply mean recruiting well-meaning citizens to assist our existing police force and provide a presence where otherwise limited numbers would preclude the police from doing so themselves. I wish the Home Office to see to the formation of such a unit immediately.”
And to hell with the Cabinet or any form of consultation,
thought Bridges.
If this isn’t going to turn into a paramilitary force on the streets, then nothing will.
He had a decision to make, one that had kept him awake almost all the previous night. There were a considerable number of very senior civil servants abroad at the moment, including a large party in Canada and the United States. They had been discussing arms purchases and other war material acquisition programs with American businessmen, all with the aim of ensuring American industrial support for the faltering British war machine. There were already discrete warnings that none of those men would be returning to Britain. Indeed, the words ‘Government in Exile’ had also been whispered. All they needed was a figurehead and support from the Dominions and the threat could become real.
Was it a threat?
Bridges had to ask himself that question.
If it is, should I be part of it? Should I drop my position here, the authority I have and the influence I have built in exchange for a life of exile?
He thought of his house, his gardens and his beloved fishpond.
Should
I
abandon those with a strong possibility of never seeing them again?
There was another problem, or, rather, another aspect to the choice. He was well aware of Lord Halifax’s limitations. The man was an appeaser, a temporizer, a man who tended to agree with whoever he was speaking to. Bridges had a strong feeling that Butler, now Foreign Secretary in Halifax’s place, had been a much stronger driving force behind the coup than he admitted.
Bridges stopped himself sharply. Coups didn’t happen in Great Britain; they were the preserve of small, far-off countries that mattered little in the scheme of things.
But how else would one describe what had happened the day before?
Bridges guessed that if he threw in his lot with those who had decided to refuse the call home, Halifax would be surrounded by those whose beliefs had caused this situation.
Do I, Bridges, not owe it to the country to remain here, to keep the country running smoothly and to avoid the excesses that would otherwise surely take place?
“Well, Sir Edward?” Halifax sounded annoyed.
Bridges shook himself free from his mental debate and postponed it for another time. “An excellent idea, Prime Minister. I will set the necessary wheels in motion. Now, Prime Minister, there is the problem of the Dominions. They still have had no official word of what has happened here. We need to brief them on what has happened and why and we need to ask them to follow our lead in accepting the terms of the Armistice. We need to give the impression at least that we are consulting with them on this matter.”
“There is nothing to consult about and nothing to discuss. The terms of the Armistice are binding upon them as much as they are upon us here. They will obey them.” Lord Halifax crossed his arms, right hand over his withered left arm. It was an intimidating pose from a Prime Minister. In common with any civil servant, Bridges was skilled at reading body language. Halifax was signalling that his mind was closed to any argument. Nevertheless, Bridges felt honor bound to give it one more try.
“Prime Minister, this may be true with regard to the colonies that are ruled directly from London. But with the Dominions, we are dealing with essentially independent states that are self-governed. They declared war on Germany on their own account and they will make peace on their own account. We must go through the motions of discussing the situation with them. We must explain ourselves and convince them that ours is the route to follow. A blunt order from us is by far the least effective means of gaining their compliance. Our relations with them have a certain level of choreography. We ask them and they oblige. We make a discrete suggestion and they, after some thought, agree. If, by chance we must step on their toes we beg pardon and they smile and dismiss it as being of no consequence. But sadly when we give direct orders they tell us to go boil our heads. If you wish to count upon Imperial support for the actions you have taken, then I strongly urge you allow the Colonial and Dominion Offices to reopen communications and that we consult with them.”
“We shall indeed do that, Sir Edward. The Colonial and Dominion Offices will communicate the terms of the Armistice with Germany that we have signed and they will be informed that these terms are binding upon them also. The matter is settled; there is no need for additional consultation. We will hold them responsible for completing their part in the terms we have found acceptable. There is no need for weakness in this matter.”
Sir Edward Bridges was aghast. “Prime Minister, I must protest. A preemptory message of the kind you propose will have the most disastrous of effects upon our relations with the Dominions. A conciliatory tone, a gesture of consideration need not imply any irresolution on our part, only a desire to resolve what amounts to a very inconvenient situation for everyone. It will even be seen as a sign of strength, that we consider our position to be so secure and well-founded that it will withstand any objection made to it. We cannot drive the Dominions, Sir. We must lead them.”
“You presume much, Sir Edward. And so do the Dominions. They hide behind our skirts while profiting from Imperial Preference. This country carries the burden of their defense and little thanks we get for it. When I was Viceroy in India, I tried to discuss issues with them and they defied me. When I showed them the rod, they deferred to me. That is the way it has always been. Sir Edward; that is the way it will always be. Arrange for the message to be sent by the Colonial and Dominion Offices. Immediately.”
Or I will replace you with somebody who will do what I order. That’s what you have left unsaid, isn’t it?
Bridges felt depression swoop down upon him, but mixed with it was a sense of relief. His belief that he had a way out was proven false. He was trapped here by his own existing position and his own sense of duty. He had to remain in office in order to try and ensure that the country and the Empire ran smoothly.
Wardroom, Battleship HMS
Valiant,
Trincomalee, India
“Is it true?” Captain Edgar Porteous Woollcombe guessed what the answer would be before he got a response.
“It’s true. Winston is gone; Halifax is Prime Minister. He’s signed an Armistice with Germany.” Admiral James F. Summerville looked stricken, as if repeating the news somehow gave it extra weight. “You got here just in time by the look of it.”
“What do you mean, Sir?”
“I received a message from the Admiralty this morning. It advises us that an Armistice has been signed with Germany and we should govern ourselves in accordance with standing order number 03-9839. Well, I looked up that order and it says that our orders in the event of England being forced to capitulate are to continue to prosecute the war against Germany under the direction of the governments of the Commonwealth countries. In this event, we will govern our operations to sink, burn and destroy enemy forces and personnel without mercy until victory has been achieved. All signals, orders or communications from Britain directing a surrender or cessation of hostilities prior to the defeat of Germany being achieved are to be considered false and disregarded.”
“Oh.” The import of the message was clear; the fleet still in the United Kingdom was trapped but the ships abroad were being slipped off the leash. A little bit, anyway. Perhaps it would be better to say the leash was being placed in new hands.
“Exactly, Captain Woollcombe. I propose to contact the Viceroy of India to place this squadron at his disposal and await his orders. If he decides to fight on, then he has a fleet to do it with. If he decides to follow the lead from London, well, then we follow that course. But,
Valiant
has not yet formally joined this squadron. On paper at least, you are still part of Force H based in Gibraltar and will remain so until you report to me. That is why I wished to see you privately before you do so. If you wish, you may not report to me, quoting the current situation and your assignment as a unit of Force H. In that case, since Gibraltar is not a Dominion, you may take
Valiant
home. Your other alternative is to report to me, join the India Squadron and remain with us. In that case, Captain, it might be many years before you see home again.”
Woollcombe didn’t hesitate. “Admiral, Sir. If it means fighting on, I would wish to report to you and to join your squadron as per my existing orders.”
Summerville relaxed slightly. “Good man. It will be most beneficial for us to have a battleship out here. I am having a Captain’s conference in 30 minutes, please join us. It will be a chance for you to meet the other Captains in the fleet.”
Woollcombe saluted and left. Summerville left the wardroom, quietly thanking the steward for the opportunity to have this quiet meeting. An “accidental” meeting in a wardroom where Summerville was a guest was one thing; summoning Woollcombe to his bridge would have been quite another. Once out on a bridge wing, he looked over the expanse of the naval base. Trincomalee was the one reason why the Royal Navy was here in Ceylon. It was the finest naval base this side of Singapore and dominated the Indian Ocean. Over to port was the aircraft carrier
Hermes. Not one of the largest or best-equipped carriers in the world,
Summerville thought,
but better than nothing. At least she means I’ll have some form of air cover if we have to fight.
Then there were two heavy cruisers, the modern 8-inch
Cornwall
and the 7.5-inch gunned
Hawkins.
His third heavy cruiser,
Dorsetshire,
was out on patrol. His light cruisers were all in,
Capetown
and
Colombo
were six-inch gunned veterans of the Great War. They still looked lean, purposeful ships. Their older sisters,
Calypso
and
Caradoc
were more archaic looking and their design showed their age badly. Still, they could take on any of the Japanese light cruisers in a ship-to-ship pounding match. His destroyers weren’t so fortunate. All twelve were old V/W class ships and compared badly with the Japanese destroyers they might have to engage.
Despite the age of the ships, this squadron gave India a navy, a tool it could use. That was more than it had at the moment. The Indian Navy fleet consisted of two sloops and four escort vessels that were barely more than coastal gunboats. If India was going to go it alone, she would need the British ships. The corollary to that was having the ships presented to them on a plate might well make the Indians more likely to stay in. A lot depended on what the Australians intended to do. As if the young officer had been reading his mind, a Sub-Lieutenant arrived on the bridge clasping a message.
“Sir, message from Admiral Crichton in Australia.”
Summerville took the flimsy and read it carefully. It was a simple note, one that stated the Pacific Squadron would be conducting itself in accordance with 03-9839 and would comply with the directions of the Australian Government. That didn’t mean too much by itself; a fast minelayer and four destroyers were hardly crucial elements in the balance of power. What it did show was that others in the Royal Navy were preparing to carry on the fight. Suddenly, Summerville felt a lot less lonely.
“You, what’s your name?”
The Sub-Lieutenant drew himself up. “James Ladone, Sir. Signals.”
Summerville smiled at him. “I bet everybody calls you Jim Lad. How long have you been on
Valiant
?
“Three months, Sir. First posting. Most people call me Jim Lad One. There’s another subbie in Signals, Sir; James Ladde. They call him Jim Lad Two.”
“Sensible. Tale a message for transmission to Admiral Crichton. Message reads. ‘Indian Ocean Squadron submitting ourselves to Indian Government Authority in accordance with 03-9839. Our actions will be determined by their decisions.’ Message ends. Got that?”
“Yes, Sir.” Ladone scuttled off with an enthusiasm that reminded Summerville of a young puppy. If
Valiant
was to be his flagship, he would need a signals staff and Ladone would suit him well as a junior member.
