I know this is an about face in my dislike of Butler, but I think this would be the sort of bare knuckle street brawling, punch throwing diplomatic environment that he could work well in, particularly against these American 'gangsters'.
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With no money, a knife in the back and a strange feeling that you have been had?
No that's Britain post-WW2. Try again.
Or Germany post-WW1, at least it was seen as that at the time.
The Americans and the Brits talking to each other in the White House...absolutely beautiful.
Le Jones, you have done a very good job in portraying FDR. He really was quite the charmer and quite the "I'll say what you want to hear" type.
Hopefully at some point, Halifax will meet the Vice President. I would like to see Halifax's impression of Henry Wallace, a farmer from Iowa who is just one heart beat away from sitting in FDR's seat.
Le Jones, you have done a very good job in portraying FDR. He really was quite the charmer and quite the "I'll say what you want to hear" type.
Hopefully at some point, Halifax will meet the Vice President. I would like to see Halifax's impression of Henry Wallace, a farmer from Iowa who is just one heart beat away from sitting in FDR's seat.
Chapter 189, Off Nauru, 1830 local, 10 Apr 1942
Vice-Admiral Vian heard the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of HMS Queen as he lay on his bunk, fully clothed, weighing up the options. He could feel the rhythmical throb of Queen’s engines as the new warship thumped her way through the rolling seas to the stricken island. Vian closed his eyes, praying that they would be in time. He felt a tightening of his stomach. Unlike so many of the officers onboard, Vian was not a sufferer of seasickness. His pain came from a different source.
HMS Queen thundered through the waves. The Officer of the Watch, a lieutenant in his early twenties, stared at the rolling seas with grim resolve. Next to him an able seaman vomited lavishly. The Pacific was not living up to its name and the rating, looking decidedly unwell, staggered away to be sick in a more convenient place.
“Have someone mop this up,” the Officer of the Watch said to no-one in particular. But he had the Ship, she was his for another seventy-five minutes exactly, when his watch ended and he could clamber down the ladder chain for a hot tea and yet another flick through weeks old copies of the British newspapers. Out the corner of his eye he saw one of the lookouts stiffen: something was up.
“Queen Elizabeth signalling Sir,” the lookout, a leading hand, said clearly. “Fuelling troubles continue, we are reducing speed by two knots.”
“Make a note of it in the log,” the Officer of the Watch said without emotion, even though he knew that the Admiral would be furious. “You’d better let the Admiral and the Captain know. In that order I think.” He turned to the ‘QM’, the Quartermaster, who was struggling to keep Queen on her course. Timing it so that he crossed the bridge at a calm moment, he timed it badly and ended up falling upon the young rating. “Telegraph through to Engines, have them ease off to twenty-two, that’s two-two, knots. We’re already starting to race ahead of her.”
The Officer of the Watch was interrupted by the arrival of the squadron’s commander, Vice Admiral Vian. Vian’s eyes missed nothing: the state of the sea, the reduction in speed, even the streaks of vomit on the starboard portion of the bridge. He knew that he had pushed “the pair of Queens,” his two battleships, one brand-new and the other an elderly warship just emerged from refit, far too hard in the last few days as the “Liaison Fleet” raced to the rescue of the beleaguered Australians at Nauru.
“Any chance of getting the aircraft up?”
“No Sir. The Met boys think it will be possible in a couple of hours, Sir.”
Vian grunted. He was finding the inexperienced crew of HMS Queen a niggling irritant; he missed the quiet, urbane atmosphere of HMS Prince of Wales. HMS Queen Elizabeth, the older of the two vessels, had a similarly fresh Ship’s Company. But her Captain, Bill Tenant, was a natural leader, and had managed the rapid deployment of the squadron from Portsmouth to Singapore, and now to the middle of the Pacific, with ease and a light-hearted management style that made Queen Elizabeth the best ship in the squadron. He looked over to the Great War era warship now.
“Lieutenant, Queen Elizabeth signalling.”
“She is? Oh sorry Sir, so she is. Yeoman, find out what it is and note it in the log.”
Vian was struggling to master his temper when his thoughts were diverted by the Yeoman. “Enemy in sight! Enemy in sight!”
“Hands to Action Stations,” Vian said instantly. Around him, HMS Queen stirred to prepare herself for battle. “Signal to Queen Elizabeth, ‘what do you see’. They should be miles away; Nauru won’t be in sight for another couple of hours.” In his hand, he clutched the last photograph taken by the spotter plane of the island, showing plumes of smoke where the determined defenders grimly clung on until rescue. He had ripped his squadron apart to get there in time to destroy the Japanese attack, and was worried that he would have to deal with an enemy squadron here first; the delay might prove critical.
As the bridge became crowded with The Officer of the Watch turned to Vian. “Admiral Sir, Queen Elizabeth signalling. Enemy transports, Sir, loads of them, on a course away from Nauru.”
“Escorts?” The request was added to another signal being flashed to the other battleship.
“None Sir.”
“I can see the enemy now, Sir,” Queen’s CO, an elderly Captain named Sephton, said quietly. “looks like a troop convoy.”
Vian bit his lip. After his last battle, Shantou, he was concerned that he was leading his squadron into another trap. But he fought this with the confident knowledge that no other officer of the Royal Navy would do anything different from what he was about to do.
“Form up in our battle order,” he said decisively. “Cruisers and destroyers close in. Open fire when you have the range". Vian looked nervously across the horizon. “Any sign of their escorts?”
“None Sir,” Sephton said instantly.
“This is damn peculiar” Vian muttered to no-one in particular. “Send Cumberland and some of the destroyers on course zero-five-zero. They’re to try and block the enemy’s retreat. The rest of the squadron to form up in battle order.”
The squadron formed up as planned, and at 1903 HMS Queen commenced her attack, in concert with HMS Queen Elizabeth. In the heavy seas, and with night closing in, the British struggled to effectively deal with the transports.
“Sort it out,” Vian barked at Sephton, who swiftly retired to lead the fire control himself. “Is Queen Elizabeth firing?”
“She is Sir, she is,” the Officer of the Watch called, peering into the dusk to see their sister ship.
“We’re ready to open fire again, Sir,” the XO of Queen said calmly.
“Wait,” Vian barked, reading what he thought was an improvement in the sea state. “Now!”
Queen shuddered as she fired her second salvo.
“Sir! Smoke at green-three-five,” the Officer of the Watch cried in celebration. “Look, she’s on fire,”
“Message from Cumberland, Sir, some of the Japanese transports have made use of the gloom, they’ve escaped Sir.”
Vian muttered a swear word and returned to the burning ships ahead of him. “Port ten,” he corrected Queen’s course, the sleek warship altering to avoid their burning enemies. Queen Elizabeth did likewise and Vian thought again that Tenant was handling his old warship particularly well.
“Signal to Queen Elizabeth. Sink as many as the bastards as you can. All ships to close on the enemy, we’ve caught them with the pants down. How many hours of daylight?”
“An hour, tops, Sir.”
“And the nearest light cruiser?”
“Edinburgh, Sir.” The Officer of the Watch pointed to a sleek light cruiser that was matching Queen for speed and course.
“I’m going to take her and have a look at the island.”
“But, Sir, the Japanese...”
“Have probably already taken the island Lieutenant, I can grasp that point thank you. But it’s worth a look. Captain? You have the squadron. Sink as much as you can and break off when the light fails. We’ll meet here” he marked with a pencil a point three nautical miles from Nauru. “If the garrison is still there I’ll bring you in, if it’s bad news we’ll shell any Jap positions we see and then retire.”
“Not going after the transports, Sir?”
“Not tonight.” He pointed at the blazing ships before them. “The survivors will take days to reorganise and we can catch up with them if we need to. Slow to five knots, ready the pilot ladder!”
Forty minutes later Edinburgh crept up to the island, where there was little sign of life. A few emtpy crates, bits of clothing, layers of oil on the water marked where the Japanese had landed, but there was little hint as to who had won the engagement.” Edinburgh’s crew were a quiet, efficient bunch and Vian was surprised when one of the sub-lieutenants of the bridge staff shouted out excitedly.
“Sir! Someone’s waving at us. Look’s like a small skiff!”
Vian looked at where the young officer was pointing. Sure enough, two small rowing boats, crammed with men, were drifting aimlessly about half a mile off a small jutting finger of land. As Edinburgh cleared the headland (and had become visisble to them) they had started waving, and Vian could see their mouths opened as they cheered.
“Get them, get them onboard now.”
Edinburgh altered course and within minutes the ragged dozen men scrambled up the cargo netting that Enindburgh’s CO had thrown over the side. As if to remind the Royal Navy that Japan occupied this territory, some artillery fire echoed around the small bay. The Japanese guns were wildly inaccurate but Vian, understanding that they were on notice to quit Nauru, ordered a fast escape to rejoin the rest of the squadron.
In the CO’s cabin, temporarily taken over by Vian, two Australian officers, both looking the worse for wear after the terrible struggle and a hot day on an inadequate boat being tossed around by the wild seas, discussed the fall of Nauru.
“It was awful Sir,” the senior officer, a captain in the Australian Army, said quietly. “They overran the airstrip, and the HQ. The General was captured yesterday but refused to surrender.”
“When did you surrender?”
“We didn’t” the younger man, a lieutenant, muttered. “One of our corporals spotted the boats a few days ago and when the Japs cut the last brigade in two we made for the beach.”
“I see,” Vian looked into the officers’ eyes, and saw, despite everything, pride and determination. They looked a sight, with their torn clothes and unkempt faces, but they stood crisply to attention. Vian tutted to himself. “I am just so bloody sorry that we couldn’t get here in time.” He looked at some maps brought by the officers, showing the gradual encirclement and destruction of the plucky garrison. “Write it all up, every bit of the Nauru story. Every Government minister will want a copy of it soon.”
[Game Effect]
Vian is just too late (and yes, this all actually happened in the game) arriving half a day after the surrender. 4 Jap TPs are sunk in a dusk engagement with the retreating IJN amphibious force.
I am sorry if this update has a slightly slapdash feel to it – I didn’t want to dwell on the battle for the transports as it was so one-sided. A British admiral would have probably remained on Queen rather than taking a cruiser to the island but as Vian was so independent I had him charging off to see the fate of Nauru for himself.
And Nauru has fallen. No glorious victory but a desperate defeat that could have massive political ramificiations in the Commonwealth.
Arilou: Glad you enjoyed it! They really were of different eras, and in OTL failed to really get on with one another.
El Pip: Well, Pretty much everything Roosevelt has said was based on his real conversations with Churchill, where he made some pretty shocking statements even before the alliance was sealed (1941!). The big difference here is that the British don’t need the Americans the way they did OTL, but to be honest the Americans are confident enough that they can do this, so aren’t going to be worried about the British delegation’s feelings.
Trekaddict: Probably. FDR has complete confidence in his own abilities.
Zhuge Liang: There is certainly an element of that – FDR is already way ahead of Halifax in focus.
Trekaddict: I’ve deliberately had the Americans say the kind of stuff that they did in ’41 and early ’42.
Kurt_Steiner: It’s too late for all that. The best they can do is argue their way out of the madder clauses.
El Pip:
Trekaddict:
Zhuge Liang: Given his status as a PM and a peer, it will be Eden/Butler who have to defend this in the Commons. If too much is given away the Tories will detonate and the delegation is too obstinate with the Americans Labour will accuse them of jeopardising lives etc.
DonnieBaseball: Good advice – nail him to a point and don’t let him wriggle out of it!
Carlstadt Boy: Certainly Butler’s attitudes are for once useful!
El Pip:
Zhuge Liang: Excellent point.
Sir Humphrey: Well, so far so good for that. But that was only the first meeting!
Arilou:
El Pip:
Trekaddict:
Nathan Madien: Well reminded, I will try and put him in the next update.
Vice-Admiral Vian heard the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of HMS Queen as he lay on his bunk, fully clothed, weighing up the options. He could feel the rhythmical throb of Queen’s engines as the new warship thumped her way through the rolling seas to the stricken island. Vian closed his eyes, praying that they would be in time. He felt a tightening of his stomach. Unlike so many of the officers onboard, Vian was not a sufferer of seasickness. His pain came from a different source.
HMS Queen thundered through the waves. The Officer of the Watch, a lieutenant in his early twenties, stared at the rolling seas with grim resolve. Next to him an able seaman vomited lavishly. The Pacific was not living up to its name and the rating, looking decidedly unwell, staggered away to be sick in a more convenient place.
“Have someone mop this up,” the Officer of the Watch said to no-one in particular. But he had the Ship, she was his for another seventy-five minutes exactly, when his watch ended and he could clamber down the ladder chain for a hot tea and yet another flick through weeks old copies of the British newspapers. Out the corner of his eye he saw one of the lookouts stiffen: something was up.
“Queen Elizabeth signalling Sir,” the lookout, a leading hand, said clearly. “Fuelling troubles continue, we are reducing speed by two knots.”
“Make a note of it in the log,” the Officer of the Watch said without emotion, even though he knew that the Admiral would be furious. “You’d better let the Admiral and the Captain know. In that order I think.” He turned to the ‘QM’, the Quartermaster, who was struggling to keep Queen on her course. Timing it so that he crossed the bridge at a calm moment, he timed it badly and ended up falling upon the young rating. “Telegraph through to Engines, have them ease off to twenty-two, that’s two-two, knots. We’re already starting to race ahead of her.”
The Officer of the Watch was interrupted by the arrival of the squadron’s commander, Vice Admiral Vian. Vian’s eyes missed nothing: the state of the sea, the reduction in speed, even the streaks of vomit on the starboard portion of the bridge. He knew that he had pushed “the pair of Queens,” his two battleships, one brand-new and the other an elderly warship just emerged from refit, far too hard in the last few days as the “Liaison Fleet” raced to the rescue of the beleaguered Australians at Nauru.
“Any chance of getting the aircraft up?”
“No Sir. The Met boys think it will be possible in a couple of hours, Sir.”
Vian grunted. He was finding the inexperienced crew of HMS Queen a niggling irritant; he missed the quiet, urbane atmosphere of HMS Prince of Wales. HMS Queen Elizabeth, the older of the two vessels, had a similarly fresh Ship’s Company. But her Captain, Bill Tenant, was a natural leader, and had managed the rapid deployment of the squadron from Portsmouth to Singapore, and now to the middle of the Pacific, with ease and a light-hearted management style that made Queen Elizabeth the best ship in the squadron. He looked over to the Great War era warship now.
“Lieutenant, Queen Elizabeth signalling.”
“She is? Oh sorry Sir, so she is. Yeoman, find out what it is and note it in the log.”
Vian was struggling to master his temper when his thoughts were diverted by the Yeoman. “Enemy in sight! Enemy in sight!”
“Hands to Action Stations,” Vian said instantly. Around him, HMS Queen stirred to prepare herself for battle. “Signal to Queen Elizabeth, ‘what do you see’. They should be miles away; Nauru won’t be in sight for another couple of hours.” In his hand, he clutched the last photograph taken by the spotter plane of the island, showing plumes of smoke where the determined defenders grimly clung on until rescue. He had ripped his squadron apart to get there in time to destroy the Japanese attack, and was worried that he would have to deal with an enemy squadron here first; the delay might prove critical.
As the bridge became crowded with The Officer of the Watch turned to Vian. “Admiral Sir, Queen Elizabeth signalling. Enemy transports, Sir, loads of them, on a course away from Nauru.”
“Escorts?” The request was added to another signal being flashed to the other battleship.
“None Sir.”
“I can see the enemy now, Sir,” Queen’s CO, an elderly Captain named Sephton, said quietly. “looks like a troop convoy.”
Vian bit his lip. After his last battle, Shantou, he was concerned that he was leading his squadron into another trap. But he fought this with the confident knowledge that no other officer of the Royal Navy would do anything different from what he was about to do.
“Form up in our battle order,” he said decisively. “Cruisers and destroyers close in. Open fire when you have the range". Vian looked nervously across the horizon. “Any sign of their escorts?”
“None Sir,” Sephton said instantly.
“This is damn peculiar” Vian muttered to no-one in particular. “Send Cumberland and some of the destroyers on course zero-five-zero. They’re to try and block the enemy’s retreat. The rest of the squadron to form up in battle order.”
The squadron formed up as planned, and at 1903 HMS Queen commenced her attack, in concert with HMS Queen Elizabeth. In the heavy seas, and with night closing in, the British struggled to effectively deal with the transports.
“Sort it out,” Vian barked at Sephton, who swiftly retired to lead the fire control himself. “Is Queen Elizabeth firing?”
“She is Sir, she is,” the Officer of the Watch called, peering into the dusk to see their sister ship.
“We’re ready to open fire again, Sir,” the XO of Queen said calmly.
“Wait,” Vian barked, reading what he thought was an improvement in the sea state. “Now!”
Queen shuddered as she fired her second salvo.
“Sir! Smoke at green-three-five,” the Officer of the Watch cried in celebration. “Look, she’s on fire,”
“Message from Cumberland, Sir, some of the Japanese transports have made use of the gloom, they’ve escaped Sir.”
Vian muttered a swear word and returned to the burning ships ahead of him. “Port ten,” he corrected Queen’s course, the sleek warship altering to avoid their burning enemies. Queen Elizabeth did likewise and Vian thought again that Tenant was handling his old warship particularly well.
“Signal to Queen Elizabeth. Sink as many as the bastards as you can. All ships to close on the enemy, we’ve caught them with the pants down. How many hours of daylight?”
“An hour, tops, Sir.”
“And the nearest light cruiser?”
“Edinburgh, Sir.” The Officer of the Watch pointed to a sleek light cruiser that was matching Queen for speed and course.
“I’m going to take her and have a look at the island.”
“But, Sir, the Japanese...”
“Have probably already taken the island Lieutenant, I can grasp that point thank you. But it’s worth a look. Captain? You have the squadron. Sink as much as you can and break off when the light fails. We’ll meet here” he marked with a pencil a point three nautical miles from Nauru. “If the garrison is still there I’ll bring you in, if it’s bad news we’ll shell any Jap positions we see and then retire.”
“Not going after the transports, Sir?”
“Not tonight.” He pointed at the blazing ships before them. “The survivors will take days to reorganise and we can catch up with them if we need to. Slow to five knots, ready the pilot ladder!”
Forty minutes later Edinburgh crept up to the island, where there was little sign of life. A few emtpy crates, bits of clothing, layers of oil on the water marked where the Japanese had landed, but there was little hint as to who had won the engagement.” Edinburgh’s crew were a quiet, efficient bunch and Vian was surprised when one of the sub-lieutenants of the bridge staff shouted out excitedly.
“Sir! Someone’s waving at us. Look’s like a small skiff!”
Vian looked at where the young officer was pointing. Sure enough, two small rowing boats, crammed with men, were drifting aimlessly about half a mile off a small jutting finger of land. As Edinburgh cleared the headland (and had become visisble to them) they had started waving, and Vian could see their mouths opened as they cheered.
“Get them, get them onboard now.”
Edinburgh altered course and within minutes the ragged dozen men scrambled up the cargo netting that Enindburgh’s CO had thrown over the side. As if to remind the Royal Navy that Japan occupied this territory, some artillery fire echoed around the small bay. The Japanese guns were wildly inaccurate but Vian, understanding that they were on notice to quit Nauru, ordered a fast escape to rejoin the rest of the squadron.
In the CO’s cabin, temporarily taken over by Vian, two Australian officers, both looking the worse for wear after the terrible struggle and a hot day on an inadequate boat being tossed around by the wild seas, discussed the fall of Nauru.
“It was awful Sir,” the senior officer, a captain in the Australian Army, said quietly. “They overran the airstrip, and the HQ. The General was captured yesterday but refused to surrender.”
“When did you surrender?”
“We didn’t” the younger man, a lieutenant, muttered. “One of our corporals spotted the boats a few days ago and when the Japs cut the last brigade in two we made for the beach.”
“I see,” Vian looked into the officers’ eyes, and saw, despite everything, pride and determination. They looked a sight, with their torn clothes and unkempt faces, but they stood crisply to attention. Vian tutted to himself. “I am just so bloody sorry that we couldn’t get here in time.” He looked at some maps brought by the officers, showing the gradual encirclement and destruction of the plucky garrison. “Write it all up, every bit of the Nauru story. Every Government minister will want a copy of it soon.”
[Game Effect]
Vian is just too late (and yes, this all actually happened in the game) arriving half a day after the surrender. 4 Jap TPs are sunk in a dusk engagement with the retreating IJN amphibious force.
I am sorry if this update has a slightly slapdash feel to it – I didn’t want to dwell on the battle for the transports as it was so one-sided. A British admiral would have probably remained on Queen rather than taking a cruiser to the island but as Vian was so independent I had him charging off to see the fate of Nauru for himself.
And Nauru has fallen. No glorious victory but a desperate defeat that could have massive political ramificiations in the Commonwealth.
Arilou: Glad you enjoyed it! They really were of different eras, and in OTL failed to really get on with one another.
El Pip: Well, Pretty much everything Roosevelt has said was based on his real conversations with Churchill, where he made some pretty shocking statements even before the alliance was sealed (1941!). The big difference here is that the British don’t need the Americans the way they did OTL, but to be honest the Americans are confident enough that they can do this, so aren’t going to be worried about the British delegation’s feelings.
Trekaddict: Probably. FDR has complete confidence in his own abilities.
Zhuge Liang: There is certainly an element of that – FDR is already way ahead of Halifax in focus.
Trekaddict: I’ve deliberately had the Americans say the kind of stuff that they did in ’41 and early ’42.
Kurt_Steiner: It’s too late for all that. The best they can do is argue their way out of the madder clauses.
El Pip:
Trekaddict:
Zhuge Liang: Given his status as a PM and a peer, it will be Eden/Butler who have to defend this in the Commons. If too much is given away the Tories will detonate and the delegation is too obstinate with the Americans Labour will accuse them of jeopardising lives etc.
DonnieBaseball: Good advice – nail him to a point and don’t let him wriggle out of it!
Carlstadt Boy: Certainly Butler’s attitudes are for once useful!
El Pip:
Zhuge Liang: Excellent point.
Sir Humphrey: Well, so far so good for that. But that was only the first meeting!
Arilou:
El Pip:
Trekaddict:
Nathan Madien: Well reminded, I will try and put him in the next update.
Damned close but not close enough, though I do wonder about the political ramifications. I mean Vian pushed his ships so hard he almost broke the QE so what more was the Royal Navy meant to do?
Of course if it turns out the intelligence failure was an entirely British mistake then that is different, but I would have thought in the Pacific it would be a joint affair, if only because Australia is so much closer and has the resources to hand.
Interesting to see how it works out as all the facts emerge.
Of course if it turns out the intelligence failure was an entirely British mistake then that is different, but I would have thought in the Pacific it would be a joint affair, if only because Australia is so much closer and has the resources to hand.
Interesting to see how it works out as all the facts emerge.
Isn't it wonderful to have someone to blame when you lose a battle.
Us Brits just have to suck it up and move on
Us Brits just have to suck it up and move on
The politics and strategic implications will be interesting--will Australia & NZ scream for reinforcement of the northern approaches, pulling resources away from the mainland offensives? If nothing else I'm sure we'll see an increased RN/RAF presence in the area. Hopefully this causes some pulling together rather than tearing apart ...
Strategical failure.
Quite common.
Bloody murderers!
4 TPs is not much, but better than nothing.
Quite common.
Bloody murderers!
4 TPs is not much, but better than nothing.
Ooohhhh so damn close. Tormenting to say the least. I have a feeling the squadron commander will be on top of his men for the remainder of the cruise to remind them that they're at war!
Nauru has fallen. Let's see how long the AI deems it worthy to keep forces on the island.
It is mostly out of curiosity. If you can't, that's okay.
It is mostly out of curiosity. If you can't, that's okay.
Well game mechanics non-withstanding this was always the likely result. The fallout should be interesting at least- I do hope Vian isn't made a scapegoat but if there's a big enough outrage I can see people trying to shift the blame onto him.
No that's Britain post-WW2. Try again.
I'm right now doing some research on the Opium wars, I'm not quite in the mood for any more british hippocriscy
Or spelling it seems. Beside you being Anglo-phobic is like the sun rising in the East; not exactly shocking news.I'm right now doing some research on the Opium wars, I'm not quite in the mood for any more british hippocriscy
Chapter 190, Washington, 13 April 1942
It was another lovely morning, and despite the earliness of the hour the British Embassy, like most official buildings in this busy city, was already active. The key British politicians in Washington had gathered for a breakfast meeting before they departed for a fresh round of discussions. It was Thursday morning, and Halifax had set his subordinates a limit one more week of negotiations before they returned home. Eden, Butler, Beaverbrook, Woolton, Churchill Monckton sat clustered around Halifax’s breakfast table. The Prime Minister was in poor humour. After a gruelling few days it was becoming abundantly clear that the Americans’ scepticism for the British Empire was actually a downright hostility. Roosevelt had lectured Halifax, the former Viceroy of India, on the evils of Britain’s rule over the subcontinent and Halifax had taken it very badly. He accepted that the President, a clever operator, was only reflecting the mood of ordinary Americans. But that in itself hadn’t cheered him; for Halifax was all too aware that his own brief exposure to the American public had been a disaster.
“More here about the hot dog disaster,” Beaverbrook said miserably. “More pictures of on the seat at the baseball game. And some anti-imperial editorials,” he said with a flourish of the offending newspaper.
Eden was playing ‘mum’, and was pouring tea for some of the others. “You’ll have to do something about it.”
Butler was lavishly spreading marmalade over his toast. “Sumner Welles,” he said in a gossipy tone. “We shore up Welles. He’s more open than bloody Hull, he knows Your Lordship from his visit to London in the last war, he’s our man.”
Halifax, looking tired, sighed and looked at Beaverbrook. “What do the papers actually say?”
“Lord Halifax commented that baseball was ‘a bit like cricket, except that we don’t question the umpire’s decision so much’. Oh, Edward,” Beaverbrook said sadly. “Here we go. A bit about the hot dog: ‘although good King George had eaten his hot dog in 1939, this democratic American food was clearly not good enough for the exalted Viscount Halifax'”. Beaverbrook looked over at Halifax, who looked defiantly unconcerned.
“Was that it?”
“No, Edward, another comment further on. Ah, here it is: ‘one thing we’re not fighting for is the British Empire. Sorry, but we must tell you now’. Jeeez”, Beaverbrook said with a whistle.
“Roosevelt listens to public opinion,” Eden warned. “This will strengthen his hand and he will use it against us.”
Churchill, who, despite his hatred of early mornings was happily ploughing through a white wine and caviar breakfast, and looked quite Bohemian amongst the sombre men gathered around him, threw down his napkin. “The Cabinet,” he growled.
Halifax had so far treated Churchill with icy indifference. “Pway, Winston, what about the Cabinet?” As ever Halifax’s rich, Victorian voice, pronounced it ‘cabinette’.
“Tell ‘em you’re having trouble with the hardliners in the Cabinet,” Churchill said with a flourished salute with his wine glass.
“More like the Party,” Eden said with a smile, which Beaverbrook amplified with a grin of his own. “Tell Roosevelt the Conservative Party will tear itself apart over any free trade proposals at this time.”
Butler, the outsider amongst the hawks Churchill, Eden and Beaverbrook, actually found himself nodding. “If the Government falls Labour will ditch Attlee and put one of the opponents of the war in.”
“Unlikely,” Halifax said with some certainty, “Attlee is their best political opewator.”
“Does Roosevelt know that? Tell him better the Conservative you know than the Labourite you don’t.” Beaverbrook nodded. “Edward, you have to defend the God-dammed Empire.”
“But we’re at an impasse,” Halifax said helplessly. “No pwogwess made.”
Woolton, who had so far avoided contributing, sipped on a coffee (he had picked up the habit from numerous meetings with Americans) and coughed politely to gain attention. “Pardon me, Prime Minister, but if we give formal acceptance of items one and two of Hopkins’ document and agree to an ambassadorial committees on post-war arrangements for China, Siam, Korea, the Dutch East Indies and Indochina. They deliver a report in a few months’ time and we go from there.”
Monckton was taking notes. “And presumably, the remaining matters be deferred until we have Cabinet, Parliamentary and then Dominion endorsement.”
Beaverbrook feigned a punch at Monckton’s lawyer’s obfuscation. “Hell, throw the King in, he’ll have an opinion.”
Eden laughed at Beaverbrook’s comments. “And Winston, if you were seen to denounce the Americans’ hypocrisy. Something about the Philippines and how the Americans still control them sort of thing.”
Halifax looked pleadingly at Churchill. “Would you do that, Winston, twuly?”
Churchill laughed. “I shall officially make it bloody impossible for you M’Lord. I shall wrap my objections in a glorious banner of protest and squeal like an affronted ha’penny tart. And then that bloody man will have to listen to you.”
They all chuckled, they could still prosper.
Rear-Admiral Harwood arrived at the US War Department in full dress uniform: he had an official engagement onboard HMS Barham later that afternoon and wouldn’t have time to change. “Hap” Arnold, the Lieutenant-General leading the United States Army Air Force, whistled at the head of the British military mission.
“Whoa, like your duds,” Arnold said with a laugh. Gort and Pound joined in the laughter whilst Admiral King, the Commander in Chief of the US Fleet and newly appointed as Chief of Naval Operations, looked with contempt at the Englishman’s nineteenth century formal wear. Harwood caught the glance and impishly replied with an elaborate bow. But in his mind, Harwood was well aware of the problems of the combined Chiefs of Staffs. And it centred around the leader, Gort, and the manager, Marshall.
Some bizarre informal alliances had formed over the few days’ worth of meetings. Gort and Arnold had ‘hit it off’ instantly and were the more jocular element of the meetings. Gort had impressed with his energy and leadership and the altruistic nature of his views. His shortcomings, particularly his maddening obsession with minor details, had so far only been hinted at and Harwood was relieved that where detail was needed Gort had performed incredibly well: a case in point was his superlative explanation for Auchinleck’s supply difficulties. The other alliance was Marshall and Dowding. Though Harwood sensed that the American General, very much a military gentleman like Robert E Lee or even Washington, was dismissive of Dowding’s rather austere nature and unorthodox religious views they were both the driving intellects of their respective staffs and had formed agreements on a number of points.
On single-service axes, Gort and Marshall struggled to form a mutually respective relationship. Gort had been overheard to refer to Marshall as a “gloomy staff-wallah” whilst Marshall saw much of the worst of the British in the aristocratic Gort. The nature of the British and American land campaigns were substantially different. The British were fighting what to the Americans was “an old-school colonial advance” using native (in this case Indian) troops and promoting local insurrections to advance into China. The Americans were fighting lots of small battles over a huge area: from MacArthur’s desperate defence in the Philippines to the scattered island campaigns the Americans felt that their experiences were substantially different from their new Allies’.
Arnold and Dowding agreed on the need to provide increased aircraft, and despite Dowding’s initial misgivings both had pledged to increase the number of long-range bombers with a view to launching a campaign against Japanese industy. Arnold and Dowding were pleasant enough to one another, but Harwood sensed that Arnold found Dowding a tad aloof, perhaps just not engaging enough. He would have a word with Dowding to try and get the Chief of the (British) Air Staff to unwind a little.
Pound and King had failed completely. The salty old British First Sea Lord and the acidic, nationalistic American clearly struggled to maintain even a polite working relationship. Pound, after some bluff attempts to work with his counterpart, had settled into a confused quiet. King had resentfully scorned the idea of a “Liaison Fleet” and had thrown up a barrage of argument against its being able to work with the massive American fleets.
He tried again now, and Harwood found himself willing the old admiral on.
“Nauru showed that our damned islands are vulnerable. The Liaison Fleet stays!”
“But...” Marshal tried to calm the British Admiral.
“I’ve got more to say. Carrier aircraft from Illustrious, Invincible, and Ark Royal have found the main Japanese battlefleet: the one that bruised us off Shantou and which fought your fleet off the Philippines.”
King was unimpressed. “Did they manage to sink anything?”
“A whole raft of transports, and a light cruiser,” the old admiral croaked.
King looked bored. “Is that all?”
Pound then relaxed back, letting King’s comment flow over him and Dowding came to the fore. “I can confirm that the RAF launched a follow-up attack, led by the Hudsons and Blenheims out of Malaya.”
“I can therefore confirm” Dowding said in his austere, clipped voice, “that the our aircraft have inflicted the losses indicated at flag twelve of your folders”.
A flicker of a smile passed over King. Arnold, noting the heavy (but acceptable) losses to aircraft and crews, was more candid with his smile. “A success.”
“I must state that I will commit not one more aircraft to such heavy raids” Dowding said in a voice that brokered no dissent (from the British, anyway). King scowled.
“The one thing we’re relying on the British to do is to watch for Japanese ships coming out from the South China Sea.”
“Which makes the capture of Hainan all the more important,” Pound said gruffly. “Take the island, capture the port,” his voice trailed off. He looked and sounded exhausted.
“What do you think, Mr Eden?” Marshall was taking careful notes.
Eden made what could only be described as an almost ‘gagging’ expression, as if tasting something foul. “Ah, if we keep to a workable plan it could be carried out.”
Marshall nodded. “Field Marshal Gort, how many divisions will be committed to Longbow?”
“Three divisions from Fourth Army in the initial wave, the objective to seize and hold the island.”
King, rising to his theme of challenging the British, made a look of distaste. “Not much of a grand landing, Field Marshal. You said you would be able to exploit any success.”
Gort, seeing the British Army slighted, stood up. “We have the whole of Fourth Army to offer to the campaign, if required,” he said quickly, sounding hurt.
Marshall, missing nothing, ended King’s baiting. “Perhaps you could update us on the Burma campaign?”
“Most of the action is in the South. General Anderson and Twelve Corps are striking along the coast, deep into Siam.”
Marshall looked at the maps. “Secretary Stimson, I’m not sure what you think, but Anderson looks isolated. Who are those troops?”
“Burmese,” Gort replied quickly. “We’re giving them the Nepalese and Bhutanese as reinforcement.”
“And in Malaya,” Dowding interrupted, “we’re building up both the infantry divisions and the RAF.”
The Americans listened to Dowding without much comment. There were some muted comments about Longbow, where Pound confirmed that there would be no requirement for US ships or troops, and then Gort rose again to conclude the British presentation.
“So, as we have seen throughout our conversations this week, the British focus is to fight through China and Siam and to clear the Asian mainland of all Japanese troops. In the next few months we will focus on Siam,Yunnan and Hainan, all supported by air and sea forces. The islands, in particular the Philippines, we leave to you.”
Stimson, so far quiet, inclined his head and rose. “Gentlemen, American strategy is to fight west from the Hawaiian islands, clearing the Japanese from their chain of islands. The priority has to be the Philippines.”
King tapped at the sheet of paper in front of him. “Units of the Japanese Third Fleet sortied from Formosa early on the morning of March thirtieth. Their missions seemed to be to effect a landing at Aparri in the north of Luzon and another at Vigan.”
“Where are they currently?” That was Eden, ever alert. Dowding was already scribbling something in his notebook.
“Mindoro” Arnold said after seeing that King was doing his best to ignore the British allies.
King closed his eyes and continued. “For the accomplishment of these objectives, the convoy had been divided into three task forces: one for each landing and a third, which included cruisers, to provide general support as required. Alerted by the approach of these forces.”
King then turned to Arnold, who picked up the story. “The enemy was clearly determined to oppose the enemy landings as best it could with heavy bombers supported by a strong pursuit escort. Accordingly, five B-Seventeens and fighters of the Seventeenth and Thirty-Fourth Pursuit Squadrons were prepared for an early mission. At oh-six hundred our bombers, led by a Major Combs took off from Clark Field and, before reaching the target area in the neighbourhood of Vigan, were joined by their escorts.”
Dowding looked at Arnold with interest. “What were they armed with?”
“One hundred pound demolition bombs. They chose a number of transports already engaged in unloading troops and supplies. Bomb runs were carried out by four bombers from an altitude of twelve thousand feet.” Arnold looked up from his reading; it had been a comprehensive briefing designed, Eden guessed, to impress the British. It worked. Dowding looked up from his notebook.
“The Australians have offered two squadrons of fighters to assist the defence of the islands,” he said in his dry voice.
Arnold nodded with a smile, but King raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Dowding looked momentarily exasperated. “Look, Admiral, I am not interested in how the Philippines are defended. But defended they will be. If the Philippines fall then the defence of a Dominion of the British Empire will be seriously compromised.”
Gort sat bolt upright, concerned that Dowding was going to go too far. But he noticed that Arnold, in whose province air matters lay, had neither accepted not declined the offer. “General Arnold?”
“I could use them in the South, Air Chief Marshal. At the moment everything I’ve got is based at Clark Field.”
“I shall confirm it with the Australians this evening.”
Marshall pursed his lips. “Would these aircraft be under British or American command?”
Gort looked helplessly at Eden, who smiled benignly. “Of course, American, as the Philippines is undoubtedly an area of American command.”
“Is it,” Dowding muttered quietly, but audibly. King made an inaudible reply.
“Are you suggesting that they are British?” Marshall, ever the military gentleman, still managed to inject the question with a hint of irony.
“My point is that we have still not defined the areas of control. As our alliance grows we will doubtless see many examples of this kind of combined operating. We need clearly defined command areas.”
Stimson scratched at an eyebrow. “Do you have any proposals?”
Gort raised put on his spectacles. “We have two commands: India/Burma Command, under Auchinleck, which would include Siam, and Malaya Command, which would include Operation Longbow.”
Stimson looked at Eden. “And for the Americans?”
“Philippines, and another for the Central Pacific.”
Marshall considered the proposal. “Too small. Most of those are the existing commands.”
Dowding privately agreed, but could see Gort struggling. “What would you like to see?”
“India/China,” Marshall said, “Central Pacific, and Hawaii”.
“I agree to the first one, Field Marshal,” Dowding said to Gort, “as it gives Auchinleck strategic control of everything he needs.”
Pound shrugged. “’couldn’t care less about the Hawaii one. Who would command Central Pacific?”
King glared at him. “An American. MacArthur, in the Philippines.”
Gort, the man obsessed of detail, looked concern. “This would include the Australians in New Guinea, presumably?”
Marshall nodded. “That is logical.”
Gort pulled off his spectacles and rubbed tired eyes. “Under American command?” Marshall nodded again.
Eden winced. “Then we cannot agree on the commands yet. We must put the proposal to the Australians.”
Marshall, still trying to steer the meeting to some sort of structure, accepted the adjournment. “Are you in a position to talk about a central command?”
Eden smiled. “Actually, we think it’s premature. When you’re closer to Japan, and when we have gone into China, there will be a common purpose. What we propose to do is to send Rear-Admiral Harwood and an American officer to the theatre to begin investigating potential locations for the central command.”
Stimson looked around at his officers and nodded. “Sounds practical.”
As a result of the military meetings dragging on Eden and Stimson were late for the meeting between Halifax, Roosevelt, Butler, Sumner Welles (standing in for the apparently ill Hull), the ever present Hopkins and a glum looking Woolton. Halifax was ponderously reading from his notes.
“...and you are saying, Mr Pwesident, that you would therefore pwefer not involve the allies in the Wussia-German conflict?”
Roosevelt smiled his charming smile. “Well, Edward, you tried last year and it didn’t work,” Roosevelt realised the barb to his comment, and so maintained his smile. “I’m just skittish about juumping in right now.”
“So you don’t want to do anything?” Butler asked this with raised eyebrows.
“Let’s just wait and see. Worry about the crossroads when we get to it.” The President nodded at his comment, Hopkins smiling at Eden and Stimson.
Halifax had an odd look in his eye; Butler was concerned. “Is your appwoach, therefore, ‘leave well alone’?”
“Until we see a decisive victor, I don’t see why not Edward.”
“If I may, Mr President, I would like to cweate a policy of containment. Bwitain alweady guarantees Gweek independence, can I wead your statements as an indication that the United States would not be angered by Bwitain seeking further bilatewal welationships?”
Hopkins immediately frowned, trying to see the trap. Sumner Welles was more relaxed and shrugged his shoulders.
“What are trying to create, Edward?”
“Well, I would like to see stwong support for Turkey, Persia and Awabia.”
Hopkins smiled, a worryingly tight smile. “Obviously we’d like to see the details of any agreements.”
Butler threw his hands up in mock despair. “But you’ve just said that you don’t care!”
“Indeed, but as we are allied...”
“...I will give you a diplomatic note if any awwangements are concluded,” Halifax said quickly, beating Butler to it. The Foreign Secretary looked at the Prime Minister as if he was mad. Butler noted that the distant look in Halifax’s eyes had returned.
Roosevelt was all smiles, pleased that they were working together again. He turned to look at Eden and Stimson. “Well, you boys were late! Playing with the army?”
Eden bristled at the levity. “Mr President, we have finalised our 1942 strategy,” he said as he handed out the minutes from the meeting, already typed up by British and American officers.
They read through the minutes in silence. The sticking point seemed to be the proposed commands. Hopkins looked over to Eden.
“This says India/China. Does that mean that China would be under British control?"
“We are saying that as the vast majority of supplies and troops fighting in and around China are British that the command structure should reflect that.”
“But are you saying that China is British only?”
Eden maintained his cool demeanour. “Oh no, but as we’re a lot closer to China than you we just felt that it would naturally be a British led operation.” Butler, astonishingly, was nodding his full agreement with his closest political rival.
Hopkins coughed, a dreadful racking cough. “Anthony, as you know, we are pledged to support General Chiang Kai-Shek, whilst I know that you Britishers prefer a General Wei Lihuang. How do we deal with that?”
Halifax frowned. “We pwefer Genewal Wei Lihuang.” Butler nodded, and all of the gathered politicians sensed an impasse.
Roosevelt pounced. “Edward, you know what these rebels are like. One day it’s General so and so, then it’s his deputy, and so it goes. Let’s put a pledge into the Anglo-American Accord that we support all Chinese who fight the Japanese.”
“But the leadership issue is vital!” Butler spluttered the words.
“Yes Rab, it is, but we delay declaring a leader until we absolutely have to. All that matters is that China is cleared of the Japanese.”
Halifax knew that the British were out-manouevred and he knew it. He and Eden exhanged frustrated glances and Halifax vowed to do all that he could to push the candidacy of ‘their man’. “I note, Mr Pwesident, that the staffs are agweed that Amewica is pledged to pwovide equipment and advisors to the Chinese Army?”
“We do, Edward.”
“Pwesumably the advisors will liaise with the Bwitish Armies as they advance thwough China?”
Roosevelt sighed, tired. “I guess they will. Shall we take a break?”
[Game Effect] – I am sorry for huge update, I just wanted to cram it all in and then get on with the story.
The main part of this update is the military staff talks, the first ones, between the two allies. They are a muddle, but with some things decided. The differing views of military commands reflects poor staffwork on both sides – the British haven’t been at war for years and the Americans already have definite ideas as to how they will conduct the war. Both sides clearly want to maintain control over ‘their’ forces, though in time relations will improve.
Of the British, Pound is already showing the worrying signs of decline that dogged his OTL performance and Gort struggles. Dowding is the star, if a curt one, and is the key to understanding Britain’s ability to run the war. Of the Americans Arnold seems capable enough, Marshall is a determined gentleman, whilst King, and I apologise to Americans here, is, simply, an arse. Everything I read about him indicates his complete unsuitability to deal with allies. I do not deny his brain, or his ability, and here his acidity does needle the British into revealing more than they would like to, but essentially he is awful.
The only war bits are an attack by the RN and RAF on Hainan (aside from the listed losses the RAF ‘kills’ the RN managed to sink a CL and a TP) and the American’s defence of the Philippines. The US AI was dreadful and I’m making up a lot of it, but there was a large amphib attack on the Philippines that the USAAF wrecked, sinking 2 TP (how many bloody TPs are they building?). Arnold’s update is based on a real report, though from Dec’41 not Apr’42.
If the staff talks are struggling in part, Halifax’s introduction to America is positively stillborn. The bit at the beginning about his disastrous trip to a baseball game is true: in the OTL one of his first events as Ambassador was to go to a game, where he left is hot dog uneaten on the seat and earned the scorn of the American media. As an Imperialist, and a Viscount, he was always going to struggle, but here, lacking his wife’s calm advice, he is failing to make a positive impact on the new ally. And so the British delegation, knowing that FDR is supreme at reading the public mood, fall back on another line of defence: claiming they need Cabinet approval. Churchill did the same on occasion so it seemed faintly apt for Halifax to rely on it. Churchill, still stuck in Washington, is unleashed to denounce some of the more vulnerable parts of American policy with the freedom of an outcast (even one partly rehabilitated).
Politically, as we saw in the third part, there is much agreement; the sticking point seems to be China. The British want to be able to prop up ‘their man’ without interference from American officers sent to help the Chinese Army. The disagreements over which Chinese warlord to support have only been put off, not resolved.
A slightly odd note from Halifax on Russia-Germany and the Middle-East. More on that later.
El Pip: The storm of Nauru is about to break...
Kurt_Steiner: More than one person, I’m afraid.
Derek Pullem: Good point, Sir.
DonnieBaseball: That’s a good point, and the British would be bound to listen to any request seriously.
Enewald: It was a night battle, so I was fairly pleased with 4 TPs.
Maximus323: Vian will push his men very very hard.
Nathan Madien: I am still trying to craft it.
Zhuge Liang: I think that Vian will be ok – after all the failure wasn’t his fault. I think that the fall-out will land somewhere else.
Arilou: Marvellous!
KaiserMuffin:
El Pip:
It was another lovely morning, and despite the earliness of the hour the British Embassy, like most official buildings in this busy city, was already active. The key British politicians in Washington had gathered for a breakfast meeting before they departed for a fresh round of discussions. It was Thursday morning, and Halifax had set his subordinates a limit one more week of negotiations before they returned home. Eden, Butler, Beaverbrook, Woolton, Churchill Monckton sat clustered around Halifax’s breakfast table. The Prime Minister was in poor humour. After a gruelling few days it was becoming abundantly clear that the Americans’ scepticism for the British Empire was actually a downright hostility. Roosevelt had lectured Halifax, the former Viceroy of India, on the evils of Britain’s rule over the subcontinent and Halifax had taken it very badly. He accepted that the President, a clever operator, was only reflecting the mood of ordinary Americans. But that in itself hadn’t cheered him; for Halifax was all too aware that his own brief exposure to the American public had been a disaster.
“More here about the hot dog disaster,” Beaverbrook said miserably. “More pictures of on the seat at the baseball game. And some anti-imperial editorials,” he said with a flourish of the offending newspaper.
Eden was playing ‘mum’, and was pouring tea for some of the others. “You’ll have to do something about it.”
Butler was lavishly spreading marmalade over his toast. “Sumner Welles,” he said in a gossipy tone. “We shore up Welles. He’s more open than bloody Hull, he knows Your Lordship from his visit to London in the last war, he’s our man.”
Halifax, looking tired, sighed and looked at Beaverbrook. “What do the papers actually say?”
“Lord Halifax commented that baseball was ‘a bit like cricket, except that we don’t question the umpire’s decision so much’. Oh, Edward,” Beaverbrook said sadly. “Here we go. A bit about the hot dog: ‘although good King George had eaten his hot dog in 1939, this democratic American food was clearly not good enough for the exalted Viscount Halifax'”. Beaverbrook looked over at Halifax, who looked defiantly unconcerned.
“Was that it?”
“No, Edward, another comment further on. Ah, here it is: ‘one thing we’re not fighting for is the British Empire. Sorry, but we must tell you now’. Jeeez”, Beaverbrook said with a whistle.
“Roosevelt listens to public opinion,” Eden warned. “This will strengthen his hand and he will use it against us.”
Churchill, who, despite his hatred of early mornings was happily ploughing through a white wine and caviar breakfast, and looked quite Bohemian amongst the sombre men gathered around him, threw down his napkin. “The Cabinet,” he growled.
Halifax had so far treated Churchill with icy indifference. “Pway, Winston, what about the Cabinet?” As ever Halifax’s rich, Victorian voice, pronounced it ‘cabinette’.
“Tell ‘em you’re having trouble with the hardliners in the Cabinet,” Churchill said with a flourished salute with his wine glass.
“More like the Party,” Eden said with a smile, which Beaverbrook amplified with a grin of his own. “Tell Roosevelt the Conservative Party will tear itself apart over any free trade proposals at this time.”
Butler, the outsider amongst the hawks Churchill, Eden and Beaverbrook, actually found himself nodding. “If the Government falls Labour will ditch Attlee and put one of the opponents of the war in.”
“Unlikely,” Halifax said with some certainty, “Attlee is their best political opewator.”
“Does Roosevelt know that? Tell him better the Conservative you know than the Labourite you don’t.” Beaverbrook nodded. “Edward, you have to defend the God-dammed Empire.”
“But we’re at an impasse,” Halifax said helplessly. “No pwogwess made.”
Woolton, who had so far avoided contributing, sipped on a coffee (he had picked up the habit from numerous meetings with Americans) and coughed politely to gain attention. “Pardon me, Prime Minister, but if we give formal acceptance of items one and two of Hopkins’ document and agree to an ambassadorial committees on post-war arrangements for China, Siam, Korea, the Dutch East Indies and Indochina. They deliver a report in a few months’ time and we go from there.”
Monckton was taking notes. “And presumably, the remaining matters be deferred until we have Cabinet, Parliamentary and then Dominion endorsement.”
Beaverbrook feigned a punch at Monckton’s lawyer’s obfuscation. “Hell, throw the King in, he’ll have an opinion.”
Eden laughed at Beaverbrook’s comments. “And Winston, if you were seen to denounce the Americans’ hypocrisy. Something about the Philippines and how the Americans still control them sort of thing.”
Halifax looked pleadingly at Churchill. “Would you do that, Winston, twuly?”
Churchill laughed. “I shall officially make it bloody impossible for you M’Lord. I shall wrap my objections in a glorious banner of protest and squeal like an affronted ha’penny tart. And then that bloody man will have to listen to you.”
They all chuckled, they could still prosper.
Rear-Admiral Harwood arrived at the US War Department in full dress uniform: he had an official engagement onboard HMS Barham later that afternoon and wouldn’t have time to change. “Hap” Arnold, the Lieutenant-General leading the United States Army Air Force, whistled at the head of the British military mission.
“Whoa, like your duds,” Arnold said with a laugh. Gort and Pound joined in the laughter whilst Admiral King, the Commander in Chief of the US Fleet and newly appointed as Chief of Naval Operations, looked with contempt at the Englishman’s nineteenth century formal wear. Harwood caught the glance and impishly replied with an elaborate bow. But in his mind, Harwood was well aware of the problems of the combined Chiefs of Staffs. And it centred around the leader, Gort, and the manager, Marshall.
Some bizarre informal alliances had formed over the few days’ worth of meetings. Gort and Arnold had ‘hit it off’ instantly and were the more jocular element of the meetings. Gort had impressed with his energy and leadership and the altruistic nature of his views. His shortcomings, particularly his maddening obsession with minor details, had so far only been hinted at and Harwood was relieved that where detail was needed Gort had performed incredibly well: a case in point was his superlative explanation for Auchinleck’s supply difficulties. The other alliance was Marshall and Dowding. Though Harwood sensed that the American General, very much a military gentleman like Robert E Lee or even Washington, was dismissive of Dowding’s rather austere nature and unorthodox religious views they were both the driving intellects of their respective staffs and had formed agreements on a number of points.
On single-service axes, Gort and Marshall struggled to form a mutually respective relationship. Gort had been overheard to refer to Marshall as a “gloomy staff-wallah” whilst Marshall saw much of the worst of the British in the aristocratic Gort. The nature of the British and American land campaigns were substantially different. The British were fighting what to the Americans was “an old-school colonial advance” using native (in this case Indian) troops and promoting local insurrections to advance into China. The Americans were fighting lots of small battles over a huge area: from MacArthur’s desperate defence in the Philippines to the scattered island campaigns the Americans felt that their experiences were substantially different from their new Allies’.
Arnold and Dowding agreed on the need to provide increased aircraft, and despite Dowding’s initial misgivings both had pledged to increase the number of long-range bombers with a view to launching a campaign against Japanese industy. Arnold and Dowding were pleasant enough to one another, but Harwood sensed that Arnold found Dowding a tad aloof, perhaps just not engaging enough. He would have a word with Dowding to try and get the Chief of the (British) Air Staff to unwind a little.
Pound and King had failed completely. The salty old British First Sea Lord and the acidic, nationalistic American clearly struggled to maintain even a polite working relationship. Pound, after some bluff attempts to work with his counterpart, had settled into a confused quiet. King had resentfully scorned the idea of a “Liaison Fleet” and had thrown up a barrage of argument against its being able to work with the massive American fleets.
He tried again now, and Harwood found himself willing the old admiral on.
“Nauru showed that our damned islands are vulnerable. The Liaison Fleet stays!”
“But...” Marshal tried to calm the British Admiral.
“I’ve got more to say. Carrier aircraft from Illustrious, Invincible, and Ark Royal have found the main Japanese battlefleet: the one that bruised us off Shantou and which fought your fleet off the Philippines.”
King was unimpressed. “Did they manage to sink anything?”
“A whole raft of transports, and a light cruiser,” the old admiral croaked.
King looked bored. “Is that all?”
Pound then relaxed back, letting King’s comment flow over him and Dowding came to the fore. “I can confirm that the RAF launched a follow-up attack, led by the Hudsons and Blenheims out of Malaya.”
“I can therefore confirm” Dowding said in his austere, clipped voice, “that the our aircraft have inflicted the losses indicated at flag twelve of your folders”.
A flicker of a smile passed over King. Arnold, noting the heavy (but acceptable) losses to aircraft and crews, was more candid with his smile. “A success.”
“I must state that I will commit not one more aircraft to such heavy raids” Dowding said in a voice that brokered no dissent (from the British, anyway). King scowled.
“The one thing we’re relying on the British to do is to watch for Japanese ships coming out from the South China Sea.”
“Which makes the capture of Hainan all the more important,” Pound said gruffly. “Take the island, capture the port,” his voice trailed off. He looked and sounded exhausted.
“What do you think, Mr Eden?” Marshall was taking careful notes.
Eden made what could only be described as an almost ‘gagging’ expression, as if tasting something foul. “Ah, if we keep to a workable plan it could be carried out.”
Marshall nodded. “Field Marshal Gort, how many divisions will be committed to Longbow?”
“Three divisions from Fourth Army in the initial wave, the objective to seize and hold the island.”
King, rising to his theme of challenging the British, made a look of distaste. “Not much of a grand landing, Field Marshal. You said you would be able to exploit any success.”
Gort, seeing the British Army slighted, stood up. “We have the whole of Fourth Army to offer to the campaign, if required,” he said quickly, sounding hurt.
Marshall, missing nothing, ended King’s baiting. “Perhaps you could update us on the Burma campaign?”
“Most of the action is in the South. General Anderson and Twelve Corps are striking along the coast, deep into Siam.”
Marshall looked at the maps. “Secretary Stimson, I’m not sure what you think, but Anderson looks isolated. Who are those troops?”
“Burmese,” Gort replied quickly. “We’re giving them the Nepalese and Bhutanese as reinforcement.”
“And in Malaya,” Dowding interrupted, “we’re building up both the infantry divisions and the RAF.”
The Americans listened to Dowding without much comment. There were some muted comments about Longbow, where Pound confirmed that there would be no requirement for US ships or troops, and then Gort rose again to conclude the British presentation.
“So, as we have seen throughout our conversations this week, the British focus is to fight through China and Siam and to clear the Asian mainland of all Japanese troops. In the next few months we will focus on Siam,Yunnan and Hainan, all supported by air and sea forces. The islands, in particular the Philippines, we leave to you.”
Stimson, so far quiet, inclined his head and rose. “Gentlemen, American strategy is to fight west from the Hawaiian islands, clearing the Japanese from their chain of islands. The priority has to be the Philippines.”
King tapped at the sheet of paper in front of him. “Units of the Japanese Third Fleet sortied from Formosa early on the morning of March thirtieth. Their missions seemed to be to effect a landing at Aparri in the north of Luzon and another at Vigan.”
“Where are they currently?” That was Eden, ever alert. Dowding was already scribbling something in his notebook.
“Mindoro” Arnold said after seeing that King was doing his best to ignore the British allies.
King closed his eyes and continued. “For the accomplishment of these objectives, the convoy had been divided into three task forces: one for each landing and a third, which included cruisers, to provide general support as required. Alerted by the approach of these forces.”
King then turned to Arnold, who picked up the story. “The enemy was clearly determined to oppose the enemy landings as best it could with heavy bombers supported by a strong pursuit escort. Accordingly, five B-Seventeens and fighters of the Seventeenth and Thirty-Fourth Pursuit Squadrons were prepared for an early mission. At oh-six hundred our bombers, led by a Major Combs took off from Clark Field and, before reaching the target area in the neighbourhood of Vigan, were joined by their escorts.”
Dowding looked at Arnold with interest. “What were they armed with?”
“One hundred pound demolition bombs. They chose a number of transports already engaged in unloading troops and supplies. Bomb runs were carried out by four bombers from an altitude of twelve thousand feet.” Arnold looked up from his reading; it had been a comprehensive briefing designed, Eden guessed, to impress the British. It worked. Dowding looked up from his notebook.
“The Australians have offered two squadrons of fighters to assist the defence of the islands,” he said in his dry voice.
Arnold nodded with a smile, but King raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Dowding looked momentarily exasperated. “Look, Admiral, I am not interested in how the Philippines are defended. But defended they will be. If the Philippines fall then the defence of a Dominion of the British Empire will be seriously compromised.”
Gort sat bolt upright, concerned that Dowding was going to go too far. But he noticed that Arnold, in whose province air matters lay, had neither accepted not declined the offer. “General Arnold?”
“I could use them in the South, Air Chief Marshal. At the moment everything I’ve got is based at Clark Field.”
“I shall confirm it with the Australians this evening.”
Marshall pursed his lips. “Would these aircraft be under British or American command?”
Gort looked helplessly at Eden, who smiled benignly. “Of course, American, as the Philippines is undoubtedly an area of American command.”
“Is it,” Dowding muttered quietly, but audibly. King made an inaudible reply.
“Are you suggesting that they are British?” Marshall, ever the military gentleman, still managed to inject the question with a hint of irony.
“My point is that we have still not defined the areas of control. As our alliance grows we will doubtless see many examples of this kind of combined operating. We need clearly defined command areas.”
Stimson scratched at an eyebrow. “Do you have any proposals?”
Gort raised put on his spectacles. “We have two commands: India/Burma Command, under Auchinleck, which would include Siam, and Malaya Command, which would include Operation Longbow.”
Stimson looked at Eden. “And for the Americans?”
“Philippines, and another for the Central Pacific.”
Marshall considered the proposal. “Too small. Most of those are the existing commands.”
Dowding privately agreed, but could see Gort struggling. “What would you like to see?”
“India/China,” Marshall said, “Central Pacific, and Hawaii”.
“I agree to the first one, Field Marshal,” Dowding said to Gort, “as it gives Auchinleck strategic control of everything he needs.”
Pound shrugged. “’couldn’t care less about the Hawaii one. Who would command Central Pacific?”
King glared at him. “An American. MacArthur, in the Philippines.”
Gort, the man obsessed of detail, looked concern. “This would include the Australians in New Guinea, presumably?”
Marshall nodded. “That is logical.”
Gort pulled off his spectacles and rubbed tired eyes. “Under American command?” Marshall nodded again.
Eden winced. “Then we cannot agree on the commands yet. We must put the proposal to the Australians.”
Marshall, still trying to steer the meeting to some sort of structure, accepted the adjournment. “Are you in a position to talk about a central command?”
Eden smiled. “Actually, we think it’s premature. When you’re closer to Japan, and when we have gone into China, there will be a common purpose. What we propose to do is to send Rear-Admiral Harwood and an American officer to the theatre to begin investigating potential locations for the central command.”
Stimson looked around at his officers and nodded. “Sounds practical.”
As a result of the military meetings dragging on Eden and Stimson were late for the meeting between Halifax, Roosevelt, Butler, Sumner Welles (standing in for the apparently ill Hull), the ever present Hopkins and a glum looking Woolton. Halifax was ponderously reading from his notes.
“...and you are saying, Mr Pwesident, that you would therefore pwefer not involve the allies in the Wussia-German conflict?”
Roosevelt smiled his charming smile. “Well, Edward, you tried last year and it didn’t work,” Roosevelt realised the barb to his comment, and so maintained his smile. “I’m just skittish about juumping in right now.”
“So you don’t want to do anything?” Butler asked this with raised eyebrows.
“Let’s just wait and see. Worry about the crossroads when we get to it.” The President nodded at his comment, Hopkins smiling at Eden and Stimson.
Halifax had an odd look in his eye; Butler was concerned. “Is your appwoach, therefore, ‘leave well alone’?”
“Until we see a decisive victor, I don’t see why not Edward.”
“If I may, Mr President, I would like to cweate a policy of containment. Bwitain alweady guarantees Gweek independence, can I wead your statements as an indication that the United States would not be angered by Bwitain seeking further bilatewal welationships?”
Hopkins immediately frowned, trying to see the trap. Sumner Welles was more relaxed and shrugged his shoulders.
“What are trying to create, Edward?”
“Well, I would like to see stwong support for Turkey, Persia and Awabia.”
Hopkins smiled, a worryingly tight smile. “Obviously we’d like to see the details of any agreements.”
Butler threw his hands up in mock despair. “But you’ve just said that you don’t care!”
“Indeed, but as we are allied...”
“...I will give you a diplomatic note if any awwangements are concluded,” Halifax said quickly, beating Butler to it. The Foreign Secretary looked at the Prime Minister as if he was mad. Butler noted that the distant look in Halifax’s eyes had returned.
Roosevelt was all smiles, pleased that they were working together again. He turned to look at Eden and Stimson. “Well, you boys were late! Playing with the army?”
Eden bristled at the levity. “Mr President, we have finalised our 1942 strategy,” he said as he handed out the minutes from the meeting, already typed up by British and American officers.
They read through the minutes in silence. The sticking point seemed to be the proposed commands. Hopkins looked over to Eden.
“This says India/China. Does that mean that China would be under British control?"
“We are saying that as the vast majority of supplies and troops fighting in and around China are British that the command structure should reflect that.”
“But are you saying that China is British only?”
Eden maintained his cool demeanour. “Oh no, but as we’re a lot closer to China than you we just felt that it would naturally be a British led operation.” Butler, astonishingly, was nodding his full agreement with his closest political rival.
Hopkins coughed, a dreadful racking cough. “Anthony, as you know, we are pledged to support General Chiang Kai-Shek, whilst I know that you Britishers prefer a General Wei Lihuang. How do we deal with that?”
Halifax frowned. “We pwefer Genewal Wei Lihuang.” Butler nodded, and all of the gathered politicians sensed an impasse.
Roosevelt pounced. “Edward, you know what these rebels are like. One day it’s General so and so, then it’s his deputy, and so it goes. Let’s put a pledge into the Anglo-American Accord that we support all Chinese who fight the Japanese.”
“But the leadership issue is vital!” Butler spluttered the words.
“Yes Rab, it is, but we delay declaring a leader until we absolutely have to. All that matters is that China is cleared of the Japanese.”
Halifax knew that the British were out-manouevred and he knew it. He and Eden exhanged frustrated glances and Halifax vowed to do all that he could to push the candidacy of ‘their man’. “I note, Mr Pwesident, that the staffs are agweed that Amewica is pledged to pwovide equipment and advisors to the Chinese Army?”
“We do, Edward.”
“Pwesumably the advisors will liaise with the Bwitish Armies as they advance thwough China?”
Roosevelt sighed, tired. “I guess they will. Shall we take a break?”
[Game Effect] – I am sorry for huge update, I just wanted to cram it all in and then get on with the story.
The main part of this update is the military staff talks, the first ones, between the two allies. They are a muddle, but with some things decided. The differing views of military commands reflects poor staffwork on both sides – the British haven’t been at war for years and the Americans already have definite ideas as to how they will conduct the war. Both sides clearly want to maintain control over ‘their’ forces, though in time relations will improve.
Of the British, Pound is already showing the worrying signs of decline that dogged his OTL performance and Gort struggles. Dowding is the star, if a curt one, and is the key to understanding Britain’s ability to run the war. Of the Americans Arnold seems capable enough, Marshall is a determined gentleman, whilst King, and I apologise to Americans here, is, simply, an arse. Everything I read about him indicates his complete unsuitability to deal with allies. I do not deny his brain, or his ability, and here his acidity does needle the British into revealing more than they would like to, but essentially he is awful.
The only war bits are an attack by the RN and RAF on Hainan (aside from the listed losses the RAF ‘kills’ the RN managed to sink a CL and a TP) and the American’s defence of the Philippines. The US AI was dreadful and I’m making up a lot of it, but there was a large amphib attack on the Philippines that the USAAF wrecked, sinking 2 TP (how many bloody TPs are they building?). Arnold’s update is based on a real report, though from Dec’41 not Apr’42.
If the staff talks are struggling in part, Halifax’s introduction to America is positively stillborn. The bit at the beginning about his disastrous trip to a baseball game is true: in the OTL one of his first events as Ambassador was to go to a game, where he left is hot dog uneaten on the seat and earned the scorn of the American media. As an Imperialist, and a Viscount, he was always going to struggle, but here, lacking his wife’s calm advice, he is failing to make a positive impact on the new ally. And so the British delegation, knowing that FDR is supreme at reading the public mood, fall back on another line of defence: claiming they need Cabinet approval. Churchill did the same on occasion so it seemed faintly apt for Halifax to rely on it. Churchill, still stuck in Washington, is unleashed to denounce some of the more vulnerable parts of American policy with the freedom of an outcast (even one partly rehabilitated).
Politically, as we saw in the third part, there is much agreement; the sticking point seems to be China. The British want to be able to prop up ‘their man’ without interference from American officers sent to help the Chinese Army. The disagreements over which Chinese warlord to support have only been put off, not resolved.
A slightly odd note from Halifax on Russia-Germany and the Middle-East. More on that later.
El Pip: The storm of Nauru is about to break...
Kurt_Steiner: More than one person, I’m afraid.
Derek Pullem: Good point, Sir.
DonnieBaseball: That’s a good point, and the British would be bound to listen to any request seriously.
Enewald: It was a night battle, so I was fairly pleased with 4 TPs.
Maximus323: Vian will push his men very very hard.
Nathan Madien: I am still trying to craft it.
Zhuge Liang: I think that Vian will be ok – after all the failure wasn’t his fault. I think that the fall-out will land somewhere else.
Arilou: Marvellous!
KaiserMuffin:
El Pip:
Well well well.
Yamamoto sunk?
Americans can mask their imperialism better with their so hypocrite democracy.
Philippines, Hawaii, Panama, Puerto Rico...
You could fight the Japs alone.
The Empire has so far stood alone invincible, why should you now have to cooperate with those pesky yanks.
Yamamoto sunk?
Americans can mask their imperialism better with their so hypocrite democracy.
Philippines, Hawaii, Panama, Puerto Rico...
You could fight the Japs alone.
The Empire has so far stood alone invincible, why should you now have to cooperate with those pesky yanks.
Very informative update. Its nice to see some cooperation between the allies, but I am not sure if putting Australians under MacArthur is something I want to see, he didnt treat them very well in OTL.
One thing came to my mind - how will the peace be made? Will Americans insist on unconditional surrender and how will British react to that? Halifax doesnt seem like the kind of man that would demand something like that. Also, I notice Japan isnt in anyones theater, I wonder how will eventual invasion be dealt with. Ofcourse, if it any, British would probably settle for blockade of Japan to force them to peace table.
P.S. I am really looking forward to update regarding Churchills actions.
P.P.S. About Pound - is there any chance of his replacement? Who is the probable candidate, Cunningham like OTL or someone else? Where is Cunningham anyway, I dont remember him in command anywhere.
One thing came to my mind - how will the peace be made? Will Americans insist on unconditional surrender and how will British react to that? Halifax doesnt seem like the kind of man that would demand something like that. Also, I notice Japan isnt in anyones theater, I wonder how will eventual invasion be dealt with. Ofcourse, if it any, British would probably settle for blockade of Japan to force them to peace table.
P.S. I am really looking forward to update regarding Churchills actions.
P.P.S. About Pound - is there any chance of his replacement? Who is the probable candidate, Cunningham like OTL or someone else? Where is Cunningham anyway, I dont remember him in command anywhere.
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