Chapter 163, London, 20 January 1942
It had been, as he, Winston Churchill, would later write,
“a climacteric of Britain’s future”. He knew, or at least partly suspected, that Halifax was slyly
“dirtying an already cloudy picture” but realised, and had told Eden and Duff Cooper as much over the dinner table, that they had to attempt to meet with him. They had been reluctant; Eden in particular had warned him that Halifax was determined upon avoiding participation in the war. Churchill had raged at the revelation that Eden, a key minister in the Cabinet, had not been informed of the invitation that he had received from the Prime Minister. And now, grumpily adjusting his bow tie, he snatched at his stick and began the short walk to Downing Street.
He was welcomed by Michael Beaumont, Halifax’s Parliamentary Private Secretary, with a hesitant smile. Unlike its usual, busy atmosphere, there was an eerie calm. Churchill’s coat and stick were taken and he was led into the Cabinet Room. There he found Halifax sat in his customary place with a tray of refreshments. The Prime Minister rose from his chair and nodded at his guest.
“Ah, Winston,” Halifax began, “it is agweeable to see you again.”
Churchill growled in reply. “Your note was most insistent m’Lord”. Without invitation he flounced down into the seat next to Halifax. “Well man, what do you want?”
Halifax was ruffled by Churchill’s belligerent tone (as Churchill had intended) and was initially silent. With forced calm he poured himself a cup of tea. He offered to pour a cup for Churchill, who shook his head. Halifax remembered: Winston hated tea.
This doggy’s water is the stuff that gives the Dutch courage, Halifax thought wryly.
“Do you remember, Winston, when we sat awound this table in May nineteen-forty?”
Churchill grunted his assent. Halifax, realising with a sigh that he would get nothing further, stirred his tea.
“It was, I wather think,” Halifax continued, “the last occasion in which you, me and Neville worked together. But time marches on, I suppose,” he said wistfully. He turned awkwardly to look at Churchill. “May I take you to lunch? At the Dorchester?”
Churchill stared suspiciously at Halifax, alarmed by the reference to the long dead Neville Chamberlain. In the 1939 War Cabinet he had been out-voted on so many decisions that had left him feeling frustrated, enraged. “If you wish, Edward, if you wish.”
A few minutes later and the two men, one tall, gaunt and anxious looking and the other shorter, stouter and angrier, strolled together towards their destination, Halifax’s police officer (in plain clothes) following at a discreet distance. Churchill was baffled by Halifax’s behaviour: there was no stuffy Downing Street meeting, surrounded by the Party grandees and the Whips, but instead a cosmopolitan, generous luncheon in one of London’s finest addresses.
The wily bugger is up to something, Churchill thought sourly. He was snapped out of this reflection by the shouts of encouragement to both he and Halifax, wishing both of them well. There were a few shouts for Churchill to return to Government.
“Ah, the people, the people,” he growled. Halifax, looking embarrassed, was silent.
They entered the Dorchester. Halifax acknowledged a greeting from Walter Monckton, who was dining with Geoffrey Dawson, but refused an offer for he and Churchill to join them.
Today I take these fences alone, Halifax thought to himself.
They took seats, in a quiet, almost secluded corner that Churchill would later write as
“perfect for a young baronet seducing a blushing debutante”. Halifax, to Churchill’s private enjoyment, tried to assert himself by ordering the wine. Halifax then looked through the menu.
“I understand,” Halifax said slowly, eyes still focussed on the menu, “that you pwopose to wise up and make a speech in the Commons.” He looked up at Churchill. “Is this cowwect?”
“It is,” Churchill said gruffly. “I intend to speak against you in the debate on the Pacific situation, yes.”
Halifax nodded, as if confirming something to himself. Churchill did not know it from his calm demeanour and disinterested tone but the Prime Minister felt paralysed by fear. He was grateful when a waiter arrived and started to pour the wine; he re-gathered his resolve and composed his thoughts.
“May I ask why?”
Churchill, who had been slouching, drew himself up to his full height. He pointed a finger at Halifax. “To decide once and for all the disputes bedevilling our party!”
“Such a move, as you must know, could twigger a vote of no confidence and pwecipitate a Genewal Election,” Halifax again moved to disguise his terror, sipping nonchalantly on his wine.
“Perhaps, but it must be done, and might end your reign as our leader.”
This was the climax of the conversation, the moment where Halifax’s continued survival as Prime Minister was, to him, seriously in doubt. Halifax, who had made most of his points, had one final card to play, and realised that now was the time to play it.
“Wab and those in the Party loyal to me are still stwong in numbers. You and your fwiends would stwuggle to win a leadership contest. Instead, you would condemn the Conservative Party to civil war, all for the Amewicans.”
“For the Empire, Edward! For right! For freedom from the evils of Imperialist Japan!” As Churchill barked his comments he noticed something new in Halifax’s eyes: fury. The Prime Minister was furious, his prickly temper had snapped.
“In a war where we are not wanted,” Halifax said. “A war that, were we to become involved, would bankwupt this countwy.” He sipped again on his wine; Churchill, watching him like a wary predator, realised that he was stalling. “Winston, you were in Cabinet in the Gweat War, you know the size of our war debts!”
“So you would see us turn into an apologist, collaborator state, in denial of our moral obligations, all because you’re quibbling about the cost?” Halifax moved to speak but Churchill cut across him. “What about the cost to our standing, our prestige! What price the honour of the British Empire?”
“What
pwice the future of the Bwitish Empire!” Halifax yelped the words as his self-control lapsed. He coughed and looked for a way to evade Churchill, even if only for a few minutes. “Perhaps we should order our lunch,” he gestured for a waiter to come as he spoke. Tacitly calling a truce, the two men ordered their lunch.
Halifax was the last to order, as Churchill had guessed that the fussy peer would be. Placing down his menu with great care, Halifax slowly drank from a glass of water and finally, after a painful silence, looked up at Churchill.
“It is appawent to me,” he said carefully, “that we must be careful of not destwoying our fwagile economy with a wuinous war.”
“But it wouldn’t be a ruinous war,” Churchill said, deliberate calm laid over evident anger. “This could stimulate our industries, not strangle them!” He looked squarely at Halifax, leaning over the table towards Halifax. “Is that the sum of your fears? To dispense with our history, our glory, solely based on petty penny-pinching?”
Halifax’s mind was racing. He was struggling to understand where Churchill was heading with this. “No, I have many concerns. But the survival of our Commonwealth, and its twade, is a pwessing one.”
Churchill, who had up until now been very aggressive in tone and bearing, now suddenly beamed like a happy child. “I’m glad we agree on one thing, Edward!”
Halifax raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow, I’m afwaid.”
“If we can agree some sort of economic agreement, we can join the Americans!” He pounded the table with his fist. The trap was sprung.
Halifax too realised that he was cornered. “That’s not pwecisely my point, Winston...”
“Let us speak to the Americans! If we can make an agreement, then we can march together, arm in arm!” He drank heavily from his glass of wine.
“Er, well, Winston,” Halifax’s mind was a whirl of confusion. “Erm, ah,” he struggled to buy time whilst he thought. “Who, er, yes whom, would you send?” An idea was forming, one that, Halifax thought maliciously to himself, was inspired.
“We have many talents in the Party, Edward!”
“Yes,” he smiled silkily. “But do you promise that, as long as I select a wobust member of the Party, ideally fwom you and your supporters, you would be content?” Churchill glowered. Halifax continued. “In which, I would be delighted to send you.”
“Me?”
“You are half-Amewican, you are well-known in the United States, and you are famous for your anti-appeasement whetowic! You are, also, one of the few Bwitish politicians known on the international stage. You are so obviously the logical choice.”
Churchill had trapped Halifax, who had in turn trapped him. Chuckling that they were, despite their obvious differences, so alike in the passion with which they fought for their beliefs, Churchill nodded. He would fight alright, and drag Edward bloody Halifax along with him.
“Very well, but I will expect to be given a free rein, Edward!”
“No, Winston, you will, with Lord Woolton, negotiate as best you can. Any agweement must have Cabinet appwoval, His Majesty would expect no less.”
And you know, deep down, that I will force the Cabinet to decline any arrangement that you make, Halifax thought slyly. The two men shook hands, parting in the manner of gentlemen. Halifax returned to Downing Street alone, happy in the thought that Churchill was soon to be far away causing trouble in Washington.
He’s just as likely to enrage the Americans as to charm them, he thought smugly. It was an empty gesture, but one that had saved him from a Churchill speech to Parliament. He turned the corner into Downing Street, acknowledged the cheers of some passing tourists and nodded in reply to the greeting of the solitary policeman guarding the entrance to his official residence. He chuckled at the knowledge that Hitler, whether he was in Berlin or his mountain residence, was reputed to have a small army of guards and secret policemen protecting him whilst he, Lord Halifax, had one solitary constable keeping a very English watch over his official residence. As Cole wordlessly took his coat and hat Halifax was greeted by Major General Menzies. For once the intelligence chief was not looking his usual correct, well-presented self.
“Forgive the intrusion, Prime Minister, but I have just heard from HMS Suffolk out in the Far East. She reports that Phillipine radio is broadcasting that the Japanese have landed on Mindoro island. I’ve prepared a chart for Your Lordship here.” He gestured to a map on the table.
“What does this signify?”
“Well, My Lord, it is obviously the first step of their assault upon the Phillipines. An American General called Macarthur is in command of the combined US and Phillipine forces. But if the Japanese land in strength then I suspect that the Americans could struggle.”
“Does this impact upon us?”
“It does, Prime Minister. Control of the Phillipines would give the Japanese perfect bases from which to launch attacks on British possessions in the area. Brunei and Malaysia are particularly vulnerable.”
“Vewy well, I shall think about my weaction. Anything else, Sir Stewart?”
“One thing, My Lord. Your Lordship requested an update on the war in the Russia?”
Halifax frowned. “Did I?”
“You did, Sir. Two items of interest. Firstly, the Russians
are defending Moscow. The citizens of the city appear to have been conscripted into defending their homes, and the Germans are meeting very tough opposition. They appear to be moving East, to be encircling the city. This is the front as of yesterday. I’ve marked Moscow with an arrow, My Lord.”
“In addition, the Italians are beginning to make their presence felt. Your Lordship will see from the summary of this month’s shipping losses that Italian aircraft flying from German-controlled airbases have claimed a number of significant hits.”
[Game Effect] – Churchill and Halifax, and the latest in the Russian and Pacific theatres.
Ok, ‘fessing time, a bit of a liberty taken here. I think that Halifax would try and send Churchill off somewhere – anywhere rather than London! Would he send him to meet the Americans? Possibly, though it’s ‘borderline’ whether such a risky move would appeal to the deeply cautious Lord H. Perhaps this is a punt too far from me, perhaps.
But yet, and here’s the rub, it is a clever move – it shuts the hawks up by sending their most prominent public figure (perhaps an honour shared with Eden) to a capital that our gallant PM is wary of. If Churchill comes home empty handed then Halifax has won this battle (if not the war!) with the hawks – unless they disown Winston then they have to back down. If he comes away with a generous offer, made in exchange for British help, then Halifax has the comfort that Butler, Maxwell-Fyfe, Cross, and possibly Hankey will be reluctant: only Eden, and perhaps an increasingly hawkish Oliver Stanley, would fight to honour the deal. The key issue here, and perhaps the dogdiest presumption in this update, is whether Churchill would accept. In my defence he was a far more complicated character than the “never surrender” character made out in popular mythology – he was a clever politician and might see for himself a chance to make a difference.
Trekaddict: But they’re not, that’s the point. Halifax is desperately trying to keep them out of hostilities.
Kurt_Steiner:
Trekaddict: Not yet, too soon dear boy.
Enewald: The Foreign Office is, to quote a modern phrase, “in a tizzy” over the whole thing.
Dashstar1972: Welcome to the madhouse! I’ve tried to keep this even-handed, but occasionally my frustration at what is after all a game (and a very placid one with Halifax in charge!) spills over. I agree that Halifax is not being cowardly, I see it more as a strategic choice (let the Americans and Japs tire each other out before looking at intervention). Jumping in for purely opportunistic motives is equally daft – it reeks of Mussolini’s “seat at the peace conference” argument. But I think that to stay out is potentially short-sighted.
Kurt_Steiner:
Prijezda_Asen: The Americans, to my view, were in a very tangled position. They obviously saw the wisdom of assisting the “goodies”, and bent the rules as neutrality as much as they could. But the US obviously had its national interest at heart – and sought to emerge from the war as strong as it could. As an Englishman I can curse FDR for his unsympathetic postwar plans, but I completely understand why he did it.
Dashstar1972: I think that with this war being very limited (Pacific, one enemy), the Empire could just about manage it without “selling the family silver”. But Halifax’s view that the fragile economic recovery has to come first is probably the most sensible opinion he has ever formed.
Nathan_Madien: I’m agonising over Macarthur – writing an update about him is a minefield. Edward VIII was easier for heaven’s sakes!
DonnieBaseball: Halifax would certainly not offer Churchill a cabinet position – he’s having enough trouble with Eden! I think that the goodwill trip to Washington is the best that he could hope for.
Sir Humphrey: And that position is evidently not vacant!
Arilou: And that may be part of his reason for accepting the mission to Washington. Eden is the best hope of the hawks, and there seems to be a deliberate approach on the part of the hawks to keep him as safe as possible.
El Pip: Good Lord! El Pip supports the PM! You’re right, but with the US would be wise to a slippery Britain joining in long after she was really needed (ie now – the USN is a shambles at the minute and Burma is the most obvious front for offensive action).
Trekaddict: That’s the ticket! I’ll make a Halifax voter of you yet!
MITSGS John: I seriously doubt whether the Empire could win the peace from outside. And that is a key worry of Eden, Winston, Duff-Cooper and all the other nutters who support them.
Nathan Madien:
El Pip: