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Too bad all the landing craft are going to the Hainan operation--a landing on the Thai coast near Bangkok could be just the thing to assist the southern thrust.
Otherwise, going about as well as could be expected, all considered ...
Otherwise, going about as well as could be expected, all considered ...
Chapter 186, Hickleton Hall, Yorkshire, 5 April 1942
“My dearest wife, you will despair at the state of this, one of our homes. Dust and debris shows the neglect of the troops for the halls of their betters. The Territorials have at least taken care of the entrance lawn, which you will recollect was of particular concern to both myself and Richard when we all dined together at the weekend.
It is an odd notion, that of returning home. Am I really returning home? Does returning to a residence of one’s family constitute such a thing, or am I too influenced by the bourgeois members of the Cabinet into crass Middle-Class whimsy? I am adrift, rudderless, without you my compass on all things.
My visit to Hickleton comes of course before a most peculiar occasion. I implore you not to be unduly concerned.”
Halifax finished the letter to his wife and placed it in the envelope; it would be sealed later. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of respite from the concerns of the State before the next ordeal demanded his attention. He looked quickly at his watch; Monckton was already two minutes late, and Halifax revelled in his Parliamentary Private Secretary’s tardiness. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the heavy, dusty silence. The Prime Minister, by the fortunate combination of the luck of birth and prudent living, owned a number of properties throughout the country. Garrowby, of course, was the family favourite; whenever he could escape a London that increasingly wore them down Lord and Lady Halifax would race up to Yorkshire. But Hickleton Hall enjoyed many advantages: it was larger, grander, and closer to both London and the roads and railways. Doncaster, a large Yorkshire town, was a short distance away and the Hall was (or had been, when Halifax was last here) in good repair. But Garrowby remained the favourite; it was secluded, it had extensive grounds, and, perhaps more importantly, it was in the centre of the best foxhunting in the East Riding. Realising that as a prominient politician and a peer to boot he ought to make a gesture to the war effort, Halifax had glumly donated Hickleton Hall to the War Office for temporary use in support of the struggle. Currently, a division of the Territorial Army used Hickleton Hall as their training HQ, and Halifax hadn’t visited the property since 1940; this was his first invitation since becoming Prime Minister.
A knock at the door signalled the arrival of Walter Monckton, who offered a formal bow. “Apologies for the lateness, My Lord, but they’re only just assembled.”
“No apology needed, Walter,” Halifax said lightly. “I am gwateful for the solitude.” Halifax rose from the dusty desk, wiping the dirt from the cuffs of his jacket. “Shall we take the gardens for a few minutes?”
The Prime Minister and his PPS, his personal Parliamentary aide and close friend, exited through a grimy pair of French doors and walked onto a poorly maintained tennis lawn. Halifax grimaced as he looked at the threadbare tennis net. “Perhaps it was a mistake to weturn,” he stood staring at the tennis net, seemingly in thought. Monckton coughed.
“Quite right, Walter, let us proceed.”
Halifax entered the ballroom, which was as palpably forlorn as the rest of the house. Aside from a dusty dining table the rest of the furniture was covered in white sheets and was stacked in a gloomy corner. The chandeliers that had lit up the annual County Balls were overwhelmed by cobwebs and dirt. The Territorials were evidently using the ballroom as their briefing room, and it was in a room covered by maps of the surrounding area that Halifax took his seat at a table with Eden, Gort, Dowding, Pound, Butler and Beaverbrook.
The ongoing agony over ‘the list’, the composition of the delegation that would travel to Washington had taken weeks to agree and was only just settled. Dowding was the only obvious choice: Ronald Cross was still in the Far East and he therefore had to go. It would have raised eyebrows if Gort, as the senior officer of the Commonwealth militaries, wasn’t taken and he was clearly necessary to ensure that the delegation had ‘clout’. Gort’s attendance had strengthened Eden’s hand: as the Secretary of State for War, and as Minister for Defence Coordination, he had a broad area of responsibility and could ensure that strategic discussions looked at all theatres. Eden’s bid had been unexpectedly assisted by Hankey’s refusal to go; this was not down to an overwhelming desire to remain in England but a realisation that “someone ought to mind the tiller at home”. Eden had then become the only policitian with military responsibility to attend. Hankey would assume control of the war at the stroke of midnight, with Wavell heading the military staffs and Lord Templewood, whose role in fighting the war had been negligible thus far, being Halifax’s personal choice as the ‘acting Prime Minister’. Stanley had refused an invitation before it was even made and would remain to assist Templewood, as would a dispirited General Menzies. Pound’s presence ‘on the list’ had been an afterthought, added only two days ago by a delegation worried that there was no Navy specific representative. The Foreign Secretary was another minister whose mere job title suggested he should go, but Butler too was almost a postscript; he had reportedly refused to go until Halifax had forced him to accompany the delegation. And then there was Beaverbrook.
The sudden request (or demand, Halifax reflected sourly) from Eden to allow Beaverbrook to along with the delegation. Halifax was instantly suspicious: the long history of opposition between the two men was still sore and Halifax was seething at the thought of his being included. But, Eden had argued, and Stanley had agreed, Beaverbrook had grounds for being taken. He had been, until recently, Governor-General of Canada, the Dominion so close to the United States and revelling in its role as a bridge between the US and the Empire. In November he represented the British Empire during the tense, and ultimately fruitless attempts to secure peace between the Unitesd States and Japan. He would also, Stanley had suggested, be a useful representative of the Dominions, whose opinions were crucial as the allies prepared to meet. Halifax had accepted the inclusion of Beaverbrook on a simple justification: with Beaverbrook joining the delegation he would at least be prevented from causing trouble at home.
“Gentlemen, I am gwateful for your joining me here at Hickleton. I thought that we could finalise the agenda for our meeting with Woosevelt and the Amewicans.” Halifax looked up at Walter Monckton. “Walter, have you awwanged for wefweshments?
Monckton looked sheepish. “A NAAFI girl will be along shortly, My Lord.”
Halifax looked heavenward at the thought that he was reliant upon the NAAFI for refreshments in one of his own homes. “Vewy well, update on the war please.”
“Prime Minister,” Pound began, “forces belonging to Admiral Somerville and the CATO convoy have continued to destroy Japanese shipping. In two engagements one Japanese transporter formation and a light cruiser sunk.”
“Thank you, Admiral Pound. Has the er, CATO convoy reached Hong Kong yet?”
Pound cleared his throat. “Shortly, My Lord, shortly. Another day and they’ll arrive at Hong Kong.”
Eden looked interested. “And any serious attempt on the convoy?”
“No, Mr Eden, we are having to attack them.” Pound, seeing the failure of yet another attempt to draw out the Japanese Navy, sat back in his seat, hoping that attention would turn to someone else.
Eden, confident and in command, sat forward indicating that he wished to speak. “In Malaya, My Lord, Major General Mansergh has launched a reconaissance in force across the border into Siam.”
Beaverbrook nodded in agreement. “Taking the fight to the enemy huh?”
Eden smiled, “not yet Max, just testing their defences. Only a handful of casualties, but it helps us to understand the defences of the area.”
“Which are doubtless being reinforced even as we speak,” Butler said with acidic scorn. “No doubt Mansergh’s next military adventure will be another bloody farce.”
Halifax was surprised at Butler’s distaste, but understood that he was deeply resentful at having to meet with the Americans. “Perhaps the Woyal Air Force could support” he said deliberately, hoping to bring Dowding into the debate.
“Not enough aircraft,” Dowding said immediately. “Everything is going to either Hong Kong or Burma.”
Eden, sensing a looming argument, tried to head it off. “The RAF are quite right to focus on Hong Kong and Burma, they remain our key battlefields,” he said crisply.
“How is Genewal Auchinleck doing in Burma?”
“They’ve paused to allow the supply situation to be properly addressed,” Eden said this quickly, and Halifax sensed he was being evasive. Halifax considered pressing him further, Eden was already on his next point. “In discussions with the Americans we have much to put on the table,” Eden said proudly, emphasising his points by jabbing with his pencil.
“Well, perhaps we should turn to that matter now,” Halifax said quickly, trying to regain command of the discussion. “Can you all turn to the agenda er, Walter?”
“Flag Three in your folders, Sirs,” Monckton said with deference to his master. There was a rustling sound as the assembled men flicked to find the draft agenda. They read from a single typed sheet, WM1/12, named for its creator Walter Monckton.
“Quite an ambitious list Eddie” Beaverbrook muttered. Halifax scowled and nodded at Eden.
“Pway begin Anthony” Halifax said with a forced tone of command. “Items one to four are yours.”
“It’s clear that we need to tie the various strands of our war effort together,” Eden began with his usual air of superiority. “We can achieve item one by agreeing on the spheres of influence in item two.”
“What areas of influence?” Dowding, asking the question, looked deeply suspicious.
“What we have devised,” Gort said quite grandly, “is that we will manage two fronts, Burma/Siam and China, with the Americans running the show in the Phillipines and the islands.”
“Some of those islands,” Butler said sharply, “are Commonwealth possessions”.
“Which is why we are offering a squadron under Vian to liaise with the Americans; item six,” Pound pointed out.
“Which, Admiwal Pound, we will look at pwesently. But, Anthony, there is a pwestige issue here. Bwitain must be seen to be fighting for her Empire, not welying on the Amewicans.”
“I disagree,” Eden muttered with some irritation. “This is not about mere land, we must focus upon where our strengths lie naturally. The Fleet, Army and RAF elements that are fighting the war are doing so from Burma, India, Malaya and Hong Kong.”
He made a good point and many of them now nodded. Monckton, taking notes, read the mood. “Perhaps, Sirs, if we are agreed on our primacy in Burma and Malaya, and the need to rely on the Americans for the Pacific islands, we could move to the other two proposed areas. Are we agreed on the Americans being responsible for the Phillipines and Dutch East Indies?”
“Yes yes,” Beaverbrook said with a scowl, “but why the hell do you want China for us? Roosevelt isn’t just going to let you annex it Edward!”
Halifax stared at Beaverbrook as if he was a particularly disgusting insect. “The point, Max, is that by placing China in our sphere we ensure that the settlement of China is done to our satisfaction. We will wesolve China to maximise the advantage to the Bwitish Empire.”
“And you can wager quite happily that that rascal Roosevelt will be scheming against us anyway,” Butler said conspiratorially. “So we have to try and get every advantage for ourselves that we can.”
Dowding, Gort and Pound were content to allow the politicians to argue over the niceties of the politics of the spheres of influence and so with Butler, Eden and Beaverbrook in disagreement Halifax sensed it was time to move on. “Given that we jumped to item two, was there anything in welation to item one that any of you wished to waise?”
“Siam has to be a British area for disposal,” Butler said quickly. “If you let the Americans get their way over Siam it will enbolden them for China.”
“Forgive me,” Gort said politely, “but what is our approach to Siam?”
All eyes turned to Butler, who picked up a pristine cream sheet of paper. “We have created an initial arrangement for a constitutional rule by the Queen, Rambhai Barni, who will, in turn, be succeeded by her son. We’re moving Prince Ananda from his school in Switzerland to Harrow. Pridi Banomyong is weedling around a bit, and I expect that the Americans will try and name him some sort of President-in-exile. But we’ve made contact with Tiang Sirikhanth in the North of the country, and he will agree to our proposed method of governance.”
“I will waise the matter with Woosevelt,” Halifax said slowly, wondering where the NAAFI girl was with the tea, “and I think that the awwangements for the pacification of Siam wemains an awea of Bwitish stwength. Therefore we will accept any offers fwom Siam that consider these pwoposals.”
“What about the Japs?”
“Well, Max, any peace settlement with Japan would have to include an agweement to weduce their influence in China, and it is considered particularly agweeable that we secure some measure of independence for China and Kowea.”
“So you can move in?”
“So, Max, that we can successfully cwaft a China stwong enough to deter aggwession fwom both Japan and Wussia. India is close to cwacking, you’ve wead the despatches fwom Ironside, and without some certainties as to her external secuwity, her internal secuwity is placed in the most sewious jeopardy.”
Gort frowned. “Would this entail the British Army assuming responsibility for any post-war occupation of these areas?”
Eden nodded. “It would, My Lord. If we are responsible for these areas then the burden of occupation will be ours.”
They all saw the hesitation gripping Halifax. He looked deeply unsure, filled with worries that such a massive undertaking would strain the economy well beyond the duration of the war. But he couldn’t back down, and so nodded sadly. He looked at his map of China. “We would have a joint force with the Americans in Japan itself, natuwally.”
“Naturally,” Beaverbrook said softly.
“Perhaps we could look at the Dutch East Indies,” Monckton said equally softly.
Butler shrugged his shoulders, “we have to be very careful here. Whilst we don’t want the Japs getting their hands on them, we cannot forge an alliance with the Dutch. We would committing ourselves to a war against Germany!”
“But we are at least agreed that we should stop the Japs from seizing them,” Eden said pointedly. “We have to help the Dutch.”
“King and Smuts would split the Commonwealth rather than suffer another war with the Krauts” Beaverbrook said chuckling, “Australia and New Zealand as well.”
“No one,” Halifax barked “is advocating a wecommencement of hostilities with the Germans. Wab, perhaps a local alliance, to allow the continuation of the Dutch East Indies?” He looked pleadingly at his Foreign Secretary.
“It will still be viewed as aggression” he raised a hand to Eden to halt an interruption “even if it is an indirect aggression. Perhaps we should keep quiet on the Dutch East Indies?”
“Our ships are pretty much acting in their protection in any event,” Pound said. “If we block a Japanese squadron sailing towards Malaya it has the added effect of protecting bloody Java. I fail to see why you bloody politicians want to complicate things even further. Just letting us sail in the South China Sea is help enough.”
Eden and Gort laughed whilst Dowding rolled his eyes. Halifax liked the sly, practical suggestion made by his First Sea Lord. “Perhaps we will wait for an Amewican suggestion on this issue,” he said in half-desperation.
Butler shook his head. “But you know what it will be. Teary-eyed democratic waffle wrapped up in their flag and with a marching band in support. You cannot go along with this nonsense!”
“I pwesume we are no closer to a wesolution of our issues with the Chinese Government?” Halifax said this to both Butler and Eden.
“The Americans are continuing to support Chiang Kai-shek, and there is a rumour that he’ll be at the conference.”
“I pway not, for you would still pwefer General Wei Lihuang, would you not, Anthony?”
“I would, My Lord, if only because his armies are the best support we have in Western China.”
“Who do we have out there?”
“General Adrian Carton De Wiart, he’s leading the British mission to Wei Lihuang’s headquarters.”
Halifax chewed on his lower lip. “Have him smuggle out a wesponsible officer of Wei Lihuang’s staff to join us in Washington. He can bwief Woosevelt favouwably on the Genewal.” He nodded at his suggestion.
“Will they really meddle in China?” Eden, who had dedicated his recent nights to reading up on the desperate American defence of the Phillipines, wasn’t convinced.
Butler snorted derisively. “Of course they bloody well will.”
Halifax looked concerned. “So what do we have that will convince them China is a matter for us?”
“Longbow,” Eden said quietly. “Longbow demonstrates our resolve to work with the Chinese.”
Beaverbrook had been quietly taking notes. “So what you’re saying is that the British contribution to the war is Auchinleck in Burma, the attack on Hainan and the Navy?”
“The Liaison Fleet,” Monckton corrected him, “is indeed a contribution. First Sea Lord?”
“’more of a squadron than a fleet,” Pound coughed, “but a capable one. Two battleships, Queen and Queen Elizabeth, supporting cruisers and destroyers, under Vian, and they’ve got no demands upon them from the South China Sea. They can roam the Pacific and help out where required.”
“And,” Eden interjected, “defend Commonwealth territory.”
Butler looked unimpressed. “It’s not much of an armada is it? How will the Americans view our efforts?”
“I wemain confused,” Halifax murmured sadly, “as to how the Amewicans view anything.” In desperation, he turned to Beaverbrook. “Max, you’ve met them, you’ve negotiated with them, how will Woosevelt cawwy himself in the negotiations?”
Beaverbrook, sensing that for all his disliking of Halifax an opportunity for self-advancement was at hand, scratched nonchalantly at his nose and looked at them all. “Roosevelt is a lawyer, a clever career politician. He likes to manipulate, to twist people to his views. He’ll want to know that he can ‘handle’ you.”
Halifax looked horrified, not understanding Beaverbrook’s meaning. “Handle me?”
“Yeah, you know Edward, to deal with you, with you going along with his views.”
“I recommend that you promise nothing in the private meetings,” Butler said quickly, earning nods from the other politicians. “If he’s as slippery as Max has said he is...”
“The Pwesident is unused to dealing with Pwime Ministers,” Halifax said with heavy resignation. “I shall converse with him as I did with the other statesmen. Gentlemen,” he said with certainty, “I shall wesolve to meet with him as a gentleman.”
Beaverbrook grinned at the Prime Minister. “That means you’re in trouble,” he chuckled, “that means that you’ll be in a world of trouble.”
[Game Effect] - A massive update for a fairly massive topic, the forthcoming meeting between the British and the allies.
The Agenda, poorly structured, reflects Monckton and Halifax’s inexperience at large scale strategic talks: both belong to more focussed, single-issue (or at least limited issue) diplomacy and Butler is completely ‘out of his depth’. I suspect that there will be some agreement on areas of operation and the joint approach to the war in Russia (probably ‘leave well alone’) but they are peripheral issues that ignore key potential disputes: China, the DEI and Siam, all of which the British want to see reformed as pliant buffer states and which the US will probably attempt to ‘democratise’. I can see real disagreement here, probably akin to the Anglo-American bickering over France OTL.
There is a key figure missing, namely Sir Alec Cadogan, head civil servant in the Foreign Office. Again, this reflects the confusion on the part of Halifax and his team as to the aim of the meetings: is it to agree broad strategy and political intent, or it there a more functional aspect, dealing with joint command (where desirable), specific areas, and future meetings? This is where a top civil servant would excel, keeing the meeting ‘on track’ and making sure that the minutes were kept accurately and were distributed prior to the next meeting. The old tale of the clever British out-staffing the Americans with careful preparation just doesn’t happen here: the British have been fairly quiet diplomatically as the focus has been on keeping Europe quiet and the Dominions loyal. The British, I think, play down their own hand: Auchinleck’s campaign in the mountains of Burma and China may be a bloody, plodding slog but it has tied down huge swathes of the Japanese Army who are now open to attack by the Chinese. The Royal Navy is making the South China Sea a dangerous region for the IJN and has probably saved MacArthur thanks to their sinking of a lot of the IJN’s TP fleet. And so they bank on Longbow, a dangerous amphibious assault to keep China firmly in the Commonwealth orbit, to focus the Japanese on China and not the Phillipines/Pacific islands, and to reassure the Americans that the British are capable of daring large scale attacks.
In the wider war, the CATO convoys continue to trudge towards their destination as Somerville continues to pick off TPs and CLs/DDs of the IJN. In Malaya Mansergh probes the Siamese frontier, very much a skirmish designed to test the resolve of the enemy. With the Auk pausing most of his thrusts to replenish supplies and with Longbow still a month off its quietened down – a very very bad sign in AARland!
Hickleton Hall was indeed a Halifax residence, but was seemingly rarely used as it was close to the much-loved Garrowby. As befits a Viscount with Victorian tastes, the Prime Minister will spend his last night in England before the crossing in one of his own houses.
El Pip: In time XII Corps probably will be suppplied from the sea. At present XII is plentifully supplied from Calcutta and Rangoon. The IJN hasn’t passed through the Singapore Straits yet.
Trekaddict: I don’t think we’re quite at that stage of organisation yet, but in time the British will get it together.
Kurt_Steiner: I think a serious migraine would result!
Enewald: An update on the ‘locals’ soon.
Zhuge Liang: Good point, but as you say of little consolation to your average Tommy trying to get ammo up to the front.
Nathan Madien: Percival was a first class staff officer, and indeed his elevation to GOC Malaya was partly due to his staff skills (and the fact he had knowledge of the area). But he’s out of theatre and off for home to brief them on the needs of the Army: again something else he was good at.
Atlantic Friend: We do, we do! I may PM you with a France update idea I have.
DonnieBaseball: And this is the problem with these ‘pet projects’, they absorb resources that could be used elsewhere. Siam looks set to be little-regarded theatre of the war.
“My dearest wife, you will despair at the state of this, one of our homes. Dust and debris shows the neglect of the troops for the halls of their betters. The Territorials have at least taken care of the entrance lawn, which you will recollect was of particular concern to both myself and Richard when we all dined together at the weekend.
It is an odd notion, that of returning home. Am I really returning home? Does returning to a residence of one’s family constitute such a thing, or am I too influenced by the bourgeois members of the Cabinet into crass Middle-Class whimsy? I am adrift, rudderless, without you my compass on all things.
My visit to Hickleton comes of course before a most peculiar occasion. I implore you not to be unduly concerned.”
Halifax finished the letter to his wife and placed it in the envelope; it would be sealed later. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of respite from the concerns of the State before the next ordeal demanded his attention. He looked quickly at his watch; Monckton was already two minutes late, and Halifax revelled in his Parliamentary Private Secretary’s tardiness. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the heavy, dusty silence. The Prime Minister, by the fortunate combination of the luck of birth and prudent living, owned a number of properties throughout the country. Garrowby, of course, was the family favourite; whenever he could escape a London that increasingly wore them down Lord and Lady Halifax would race up to Yorkshire. But Hickleton Hall enjoyed many advantages: it was larger, grander, and closer to both London and the roads and railways. Doncaster, a large Yorkshire town, was a short distance away and the Hall was (or had been, when Halifax was last here) in good repair. But Garrowby remained the favourite; it was secluded, it had extensive grounds, and, perhaps more importantly, it was in the centre of the best foxhunting in the East Riding. Realising that as a prominient politician and a peer to boot he ought to make a gesture to the war effort, Halifax had glumly donated Hickleton Hall to the War Office for temporary use in support of the struggle. Currently, a division of the Territorial Army used Hickleton Hall as their training HQ, and Halifax hadn’t visited the property since 1940; this was his first invitation since becoming Prime Minister.
A knock at the door signalled the arrival of Walter Monckton, who offered a formal bow. “Apologies for the lateness, My Lord, but they’re only just assembled.”
“No apology needed, Walter,” Halifax said lightly. “I am gwateful for the solitude.” Halifax rose from the dusty desk, wiping the dirt from the cuffs of his jacket. “Shall we take the gardens for a few minutes?”
The Prime Minister and his PPS, his personal Parliamentary aide and close friend, exited through a grimy pair of French doors and walked onto a poorly maintained tennis lawn. Halifax grimaced as he looked at the threadbare tennis net. “Perhaps it was a mistake to weturn,” he stood staring at the tennis net, seemingly in thought. Monckton coughed.
“Quite right, Walter, let us proceed.”
Halifax entered the ballroom, which was as palpably forlorn as the rest of the house. Aside from a dusty dining table the rest of the furniture was covered in white sheets and was stacked in a gloomy corner. The chandeliers that had lit up the annual County Balls were overwhelmed by cobwebs and dirt. The Territorials were evidently using the ballroom as their briefing room, and it was in a room covered by maps of the surrounding area that Halifax took his seat at a table with Eden, Gort, Dowding, Pound, Butler and Beaverbrook.
The ongoing agony over ‘the list’, the composition of the delegation that would travel to Washington had taken weeks to agree and was only just settled. Dowding was the only obvious choice: Ronald Cross was still in the Far East and he therefore had to go. It would have raised eyebrows if Gort, as the senior officer of the Commonwealth militaries, wasn’t taken and he was clearly necessary to ensure that the delegation had ‘clout’. Gort’s attendance had strengthened Eden’s hand: as the Secretary of State for War, and as Minister for Defence Coordination, he had a broad area of responsibility and could ensure that strategic discussions looked at all theatres. Eden’s bid had been unexpectedly assisted by Hankey’s refusal to go; this was not down to an overwhelming desire to remain in England but a realisation that “someone ought to mind the tiller at home”. Eden had then become the only policitian with military responsibility to attend. Hankey would assume control of the war at the stroke of midnight, with Wavell heading the military staffs and Lord Templewood, whose role in fighting the war had been negligible thus far, being Halifax’s personal choice as the ‘acting Prime Minister’. Stanley had refused an invitation before it was even made and would remain to assist Templewood, as would a dispirited General Menzies. Pound’s presence ‘on the list’ had been an afterthought, added only two days ago by a delegation worried that there was no Navy specific representative. The Foreign Secretary was another minister whose mere job title suggested he should go, but Butler too was almost a postscript; he had reportedly refused to go until Halifax had forced him to accompany the delegation. And then there was Beaverbrook.
The sudden request (or demand, Halifax reflected sourly) from Eden to allow Beaverbrook to along with the delegation. Halifax was instantly suspicious: the long history of opposition between the two men was still sore and Halifax was seething at the thought of his being included. But, Eden had argued, and Stanley had agreed, Beaverbrook had grounds for being taken. He had been, until recently, Governor-General of Canada, the Dominion so close to the United States and revelling in its role as a bridge between the US and the Empire. In November he represented the British Empire during the tense, and ultimately fruitless attempts to secure peace between the Unitesd States and Japan. He would also, Stanley had suggested, be a useful representative of the Dominions, whose opinions were crucial as the allies prepared to meet. Halifax had accepted the inclusion of Beaverbrook on a simple justification: with Beaverbrook joining the delegation he would at least be prevented from causing trouble at home.
“Gentlemen, I am gwateful for your joining me here at Hickleton. I thought that we could finalise the agenda for our meeting with Woosevelt and the Amewicans.” Halifax looked up at Walter Monckton. “Walter, have you awwanged for wefweshments?
Monckton looked sheepish. “A NAAFI girl will be along shortly, My Lord.”
Halifax looked heavenward at the thought that he was reliant upon the NAAFI for refreshments in one of his own homes. “Vewy well, update on the war please.”
“Prime Minister,” Pound began, “forces belonging to Admiral Somerville and the CATO convoy have continued to destroy Japanese shipping. In two engagements one Japanese transporter formation and a light cruiser sunk.”
“Thank you, Admiral Pound. Has the er, CATO convoy reached Hong Kong yet?”
Pound cleared his throat. “Shortly, My Lord, shortly. Another day and they’ll arrive at Hong Kong.”
Eden looked interested. “And any serious attempt on the convoy?”
“No, Mr Eden, we are having to attack them.” Pound, seeing the failure of yet another attempt to draw out the Japanese Navy, sat back in his seat, hoping that attention would turn to someone else.
Eden, confident and in command, sat forward indicating that he wished to speak. “In Malaya, My Lord, Major General Mansergh has launched a reconaissance in force across the border into Siam.”
Beaverbrook nodded in agreement. “Taking the fight to the enemy huh?”
Eden smiled, “not yet Max, just testing their defences. Only a handful of casualties, but it helps us to understand the defences of the area.”
“Which are doubtless being reinforced even as we speak,” Butler said with acidic scorn. “No doubt Mansergh’s next military adventure will be another bloody farce.”
Halifax was surprised at Butler’s distaste, but understood that he was deeply resentful at having to meet with the Americans. “Perhaps the Woyal Air Force could support” he said deliberately, hoping to bring Dowding into the debate.
“Not enough aircraft,” Dowding said immediately. “Everything is going to either Hong Kong or Burma.”
Eden, sensing a looming argument, tried to head it off. “The RAF are quite right to focus on Hong Kong and Burma, they remain our key battlefields,” he said crisply.
“How is Genewal Auchinleck doing in Burma?”
“They’ve paused to allow the supply situation to be properly addressed,” Eden said this quickly, and Halifax sensed he was being evasive. Halifax considered pressing him further, Eden was already on his next point. “In discussions with the Americans we have much to put on the table,” Eden said proudly, emphasising his points by jabbing with his pencil.
“Well, perhaps we should turn to that matter now,” Halifax said quickly, trying to regain command of the discussion. “Can you all turn to the agenda er, Walter?”
“Flag Three in your folders, Sirs,” Monckton said with deference to his master. There was a rustling sound as the assembled men flicked to find the draft agenda. They read from a single typed sheet, WM1/12, named for its creator Walter Monckton.
“Quite an ambitious list Eddie” Beaverbrook muttered. Halifax scowled and nodded at Eden.
“Pway begin Anthony” Halifax said with a forced tone of command. “Items one to four are yours.”
“It’s clear that we need to tie the various strands of our war effort together,” Eden began with his usual air of superiority. “We can achieve item one by agreeing on the spheres of influence in item two.”
“What areas of influence?” Dowding, asking the question, looked deeply suspicious.
“What we have devised,” Gort said quite grandly, “is that we will manage two fronts, Burma/Siam and China, with the Americans running the show in the Phillipines and the islands.”
“Some of those islands,” Butler said sharply, “are Commonwealth possessions”.
“Which is why we are offering a squadron under Vian to liaise with the Americans; item six,” Pound pointed out.
“Which, Admiwal Pound, we will look at pwesently. But, Anthony, there is a pwestige issue here. Bwitain must be seen to be fighting for her Empire, not welying on the Amewicans.”
“I disagree,” Eden muttered with some irritation. “This is not about mere land, we must focus upon where our strengths lie naturally. The Fleet, Army and RAF elements that are fighting the war are doing so from Burma, India, Malaya and Hong Kong.”
He made a good point and many of them now nodded. Monckton, taking notes, read the mood. “Perhaps, Sirs, if we are agreed on our primacy in Burma and Malaya, and the need to rely on the Americans for the Pacific islands, we could move to the other two proposed areas. Are we agreed on the Americans being responsible for the Phillipines and Dutch East Indies?”
“Yes yes,” Beaverbrook said with a scowl, “but why the hell do you want China for us? Roosevelt isn’t just going to let you annex it Edward!”
Halifax stared at Beaverbrook as if he was a particularly disgusting insect. “The point, Max, is that by placing China in our sphere we ensure that the settlement of China is done to our satisfaction. We will wesolve China to maximise the advantage to the Bwitish Empire.”
“And you can wager quite happily that that rascal Roosevelt will be scheming against us anyway,” Butler said conspiratorially. “So we have to try and get every advantage for ourselves that we can.”
Dowding, Gort and Pound were content to allow the politicians to argue over the niceties of the politics of the spheres of influence and so with Butler, Eden and Beaverbrook in disagreement Halifax sensed it was time to move on. “Given that we jumped to item two, was there anything in welation to item one that any of you wished to waise?”
“Siam has to be a British area for disposal,” Butler said quickly. “If you let the Americans get their way over Siam it will enbolden them for China.”
“Forgive me,” Gort said politely, “but what is our approach to Siam?”
All eyes turned to Butler, who picked up a pristine cream sheet of paper. “We have created an initial arrangement for a constitutional rule by the Queen, Rambhai Barni, who will, in turn, be succeeded by her son. We’re moving Prince Ananda from his school in Switzerland to Harrow. Pridi Banomyong is weedling around a bit, and I expect that the Americans will try and name him some sort of President-in-exile. But we’ve made contact with Tiang Sirikhanth in the North of the country, and he will agree to our proposed method of governance.”
“I will waise the matter with Woosevelt,” Halifax said slowly, wondering where the NAAFI girl was with the tea, “and I think that the awwangements for the pacification of Siam wemains an awea of Bwitish stwength. Therefore we will accept any offers fwom Siam that consider these pwoposals.”
“What about the Japs?”
“Well, Max, any peace settlement with Japan would have to include an agweement to weduce their influence in China, and it is considered particularly agweeable that we secure some measure of independence for China and Kowea.”
“So you can move in?”
“So, Max, that we can successfully cwaft a China stwong enough to deter aggwession fwom both Japan and Wussia. India is close to cwacking, you’ve wead the despatches fwom Ironside, and without some certainties as to her external secuwity, her internal secuwity is placed in the most sewious jeopardy.”
Gort frowned. “Would this entail the British Army assuming responsibility for any post-war occupation of these areas?”
Eden nodded. “It would, My Lord. If we are responsible for these areas then the burden of occupation will be ours.”
They all saw the hesitation gripping Halifax. He looked deeply unsure, filled with worries that such a massive undertaking would strain the economy well beyond the duration of the war. But he couldn’t back down, and so nodded sadly. He looked at his map of China. “We would have a joint force with the Americans in Japan itself, natuwally.”
“Naturally,” Beaverbrook said softly.
“Perhaps we could look at the Dutch East Indies,” Monckton said equally softly.
Butler shrugged his shoulders, “we have to be very careful here. Whilst we don’t want the Japs getting their hands on them, we cannot forge an alliance with the Dutch. We would committing ourselves to a war against Germany!”
“But we are at least agreed that we should stop the Japs from seizing them,” Eden said pointedly. “We have to help the Dutch.”
“King and Smuts would split the Commonwealth rather than suffer another war with the Krauts” Beaverbrook said chuckling, “Australia and New Zealand as well.”
“No one,” Halifax barked “is advocating a wecommencement of hostilities with the Germans. Wab, perhaps a local alliance, to allow the continuation of the Dutch East Indies?” He looked pleadingly at his Foreign Secretary.
“It will still be viewed as aggression” he raised a hand to Eden to halt an interruption “even if it is an indirect aggression. Perhaps we should keep quiet on the Dutch East Indies?”
“Our ships are pretty much acting in their protection in any event,” Pound said. “If we block a Japanese squadron sailing towards Malaya it has the added effect of protecting bloody Java. I fail to see why you bloody politicians want to complicate things even further. Just letting us sail in the South China Sea is help enough.”
Eden and Gort laughed whilst Dowding rolled his eyes. Halifax liked the sly, practical suggestion made by his First Sea Lord. “Perhaps we will wait for an Amewican suggestion on this issue,” he said in half-desperation.
Butler shook his head. “But you know what it will be. Teary-eyed democratic waffle wrapped up in their flag and with a marching band in support. You cannot go along with this nonsense!”
“I pwesume we are no closer to a wesolution of our issues with the Chinese Government?” Halifax said this to both Butler and Eden.
“The Americans are continuing to support Chiang Kai-shek, and there is a rumour that he’ll be at the conference.”
“I pway not, for you would still pwefer General Wei Lihuang, would you not, Anthony?”
“I would, My Lord, if only because his armies are the best support we have in Western China.”
“Who do we have out there?”
“General Adrian Carton De Wiart, he’s leading the British mission to Wei Lihuang’s headquarters.”
Halifax chewed on his lower lip. “Have him smuggle out a wesponsible officer of Wei Lihuang’s staff to join us in Washington. He can bwief Woosevelt favouwably on the Genewal.” He nodded at his suggestion.
“Will they really meddle in China?” Eden, who had dedicated his recent nights to reading up on the desperate American defence of the Phillipines, wasn’t convinced.
Butler snorted derisively. “Of course they bloody well will.”
Halifax looked concerned. “So what do we have that will convince them China is a matter for us?”
“Longbow,” Eden said quietly. “Longbow demonstrates our resolve to work with the Chinese.”
Beaverbrook had been quietly taking notes. “So what you’re saying is that the British contribution to the war is Auchinleck in Burma, the attack on Hainan and the Navy?”
“The Liaison Fleet,” Monckton corrected him, “is indeed a contribution. First Sea Lord?”
“’more of a squadron than a fleet,” Pound coughed, “but a capable one. Two battleships, Queen and Queen Elizabeth, supporting cruisers and destroyers, under Vian, and they’ve got no demands upon them from the South China Sea. They can roam the Pacific and help out where required.”
“And,” Eden interjected, “defend Commonwealth territory.”
Butler looked unimpressed. “It’s not much of an armada is it? How will the Americans view our efforts?”
“I wemain confused,” Halifax murmured sadly, “as to how the Amewicans view anything.” In desperation, he turned to Beaverbrook. “Max, you’ve met them, you’ve negotiated with them, how will Woosevelt cawwy himself in the negotiations?”
Beaverbrook, sensing that for all his disliking of Halifax an opportunity for self-advancement was at hand, scratched nonchalantly at his nose and looked at them all. “Roosevelt is a lawyer, a clever career politician. He likes to manipulate, to twist people to his views. He’ll want to know that he can ‘handle’ you.”
Halifax looked horrified, not understanding Beaverbrook’s meaning. “Handle me?”
“Yeah, you know Edward, to deal with you, with you going along with his views.”
“I recommend that you promise nothing in the private meetings,” Butler said quickly, earning nods from the other politicians. “If he’s as slippery as Max has said he is...”
“The Pwesident is unused to dealing with Pwime Ministers,” Halifax said with heavy resignation. “I shall converse with him as I did with the other statesmen. Gentlemen,” he said with certainty, “I shall wesolve to meet with him as a gentleman.”
Beaverbrook grinned at the Prime Minister. “That means you’re in trouble,” he chuckled, “that means that you’ll be in a world of trouble.”
[Game Effect] - A massive update for a fairly massive topic, the forthcoming meeting between the British and the allies.
The Agenda, poorly structured, reflects Monckton and Halifax’s inexperience at large scale strategic talks: both belong to more focussed, single-issue (or at least limited issue) diplomacy and Butler is completely ‘out of his depth’. I suspect that there will be some agreement on areas of operation and the joint approach to the war in Russia (probably ‘leave well alone’) but they are peripheral issues that ignore key potential disputes: China, the DEI and Siam, all of which the British want to see reformed as pliant buffer states and which the US will probably attempt to ‘democratise’. I can see real disagreement here, probably akin to the Anglo-American bickering over France OTL.
There is a key figure missing, namely Sir Alec Cadogan, head civil servant in the Foreign Office. Again, this reflects the confusion on the part of Halifax and his team as to the aim of the meetings: is it to agree broad strategy and political intent, or it there a more functional aspect, dealing with joint command (where desirable), specific areas, and future meetings? This is where a top civil servant would excel, keeing the meeting ‘on track’ and making sure that the minutes were kept accurately and were distributed prior to the next meeting. The old tale of the clever British out-staffing the Americans with careful preparation just doesn’t happen here: the British have been fairly quiet diplomatically as the focus has been on keeping Europe quiet and the Dominions loyal. The British, I think, play down their own hand: Auchinleck’s campaign in the mountains of Burma and China may be a bloody, plodding slog but it has tied down huge swathes of the Japanese Army who are now open to attack by the Chinese. The Royal Navy is making the South China Sea a dangerous region for the IJN and has probably saved MacArthur thanks to their sinking of a lot of the IJN’s TP fleet. And so they bank on Longbow, a dangerous amphibious assault to keep China firmly in the Commonwealth orbit, to focus the Japanese on China and not the Phillipines/Pacific islands, and to reassure the Americans that the British are capable of daring large scale attacks.
In the wider war, the CATO convoys continue to trudge towards their destination as Somerville continues to pick off TPs and CLs/DDs of the IJN. In Malaya Mansergh probes the Siamese frontier, very much a skirmish designed to test the resolve of the enemy. With the Auk pausing most of his thrusts to replenish supplies and with Longbow still a month off its quietened down – a very very bad sign in AARland!
Hickleton Hall was indeed a Halifax residence, but was seemingly rarely used as it was close to the much-loved Garrowby. As befits a Viscount with Victorian tastes, the Prime Minister will spend his last night in England before the crossing in one of his own houses.
El Pip: In time XII Corps probably will be suppplied from the sea. At present XII is plentifully supplied from Calcutta and Rangoon. The IJN hasn’t passed through the Singapore Straits yet.
Trekaddict: I don’t think we’re quite at that stage of organisation yet, but in time the British will get it together.
Kurt_Steiner: I think a serious migraine would result!
Enewald: An update on the ‘locals’ soon.
Zhuge Liang: Good point, but as you say of little consolation to your average Tommy trying to get ammo up to the front.
Nathan Madien: Percival was a first class staff officer, and indeed his elevation to GOC Malaya was partly due to his staff skills (and the fact he had knowledge of the area). But he’s out of theatre and off for home to brief them on the needs of the Army: again something else he was good at.
Atlantic Friend: We do, we do! I may PM you with a France update idea I have.
DonnieBaseball: And this is the problem with these ‘pet projects’, they absorb resources that could be used elsewhere. Siam looks set to be little-regarded theatre of the war.
If British boots are on on the ground in China and Siam and we do not see Britain as a US dependency in financial terms at war's end, Britain may well be able to shape the Far East to its liking to a great extent.
Glad to see Eden shoot down the idea of a greater commitment to the Pacific--I think Malaya, Hainan, Siam, and Burma is plenty for a country not on a total war footing to take on.
Glad to see Eden shoot down the idea of a greater commitment to the Pacific--I think Malaya, Hainan, Siam, and Burma is plenty for a country not on a total war footing to take on.
Good lord.... Halifax will end up attempting to sell Canada to the Yanks by accident.
Btw, a PM is coming in for you, r.e. the order of succession.
Btw, a PM is coming in for you, r.e. the order of succession.
"Two battleships, Queen and Queen Elizabeth"
I do hope that's just a mistype, sending out the actual HMS Queen would probably be a mistake. I'm not sure a long since scrapped pre-dreadnought would be much good in the Pacific, or indeed anywhere else!
Damned shame Hankey couldn't make it, he would have been just the man for the job. Also is it me or does Beaverbrook appear to actually be on the other side? He comes across as being almost actively against Britain getting anything out of this war, honestly Butler appears to be more useful, Butler for Christ's sake!
This is not looking like it will end well, as good as Woolie is I think it's hoping too much that he can salvage something from this.
I do hope that's just a mistype, sending out the actual HMS Queen would probably be a mistake. I'm not sure a long since scrapped pre-dreadnought would be much good in the Pacific, or indeed anywhere else!
Damned shame Hankey couldn't make it, he would have been just the man for the job. Also is it me or does Beaverbrook appear to actually be on the other side? He comes across as being almost actively against Britain getting anything out of this war, honestly Butler appears to be more useful, Butler for Christ's sake!
This is not looking like it will end well, as good as Woolie is I think it's hoping too much that he can salvage something from this.
Well the war against Japan seems to be going relatively well but you seem to be setting things up for a messy post-war settlement. China is probably going to be particularly bad as the British don't seem at all ready for what they're getting into and the Americans for some reason think reinstalling Chiang's regime is a good idea so I can't see how this could end well.
I love how Halifax's meeting with FDR is shaping up. I am sorry I wasn't of much help, Le Jones.
Out of everything, China is what I am paying the most attention to. How the next seventy years will play out depend on what happens to China. A good portion of American history from the 1940s to today is shaped, in part, by China. What the British and Americans do now about China will set the stage for future developments. China might not fall to the Communists in this timeline; but like Zhuge Liang said, the alternative might not be that pretty either.
Out of everything, China is what I am paying the most attention to. How the next seventy years will play out depend on what happens to China. A good portion of American history from the 1940s to today is shaped, in part, by China. What the British and Americans do now about China will set the stage for future developments. China might not fall to the Communists in this timeline; but like Zhuge Liang said, the alternative might not be that pretty either.
So many face-palm moments...
I wonder what Roosevelt will say and get away with in the coming weeks!
I wonder what Roosevelt will say and get away with in the coming weeks!
I'm beginning to see
A) that the London-Washington axis will be as odd as OTL Western/USSR alliance.
B) post-WW2 China divided in several areas of influence, like OTL Germany.
A mess, indeed.
And there is still the meeting with FDR. A headache incoming!
A) that the London-Washington axis will be as odd as OTL Western/USSR alliance.
B) post-WW2 China divided in several areas of influence, like OTL Germany.
A mess, indeed.
And there is still the meeting with FDR. A headache incoming!
Unless, of course, FDR suddenly drops dead and Halifax has to meet with President Henry Wallace instead.
Halifax could wax lyrical about fox hunting whilst Wallace discusses new breeds of corn and the latest advice from his guru, like two old country hens clucking.
British (and allied) soldiers are fighting and dying daily in terrible conditions in the jungles of the Far East, and Halifax can frankly barely be bothered with the war, and is instead preoccupied with the condition of his stately home, and that the riff-raff soldiers have not shown sufficient respect for the property of their social betters?
I've been able to maintain some detachment so far, but this really struck a nerve. What an arse. I hope FDR eats him alive. He deserves it.
I've been able to maintain some detachment so far, but this really struck a nerve. What an arse. I hope FDR eats him alive. He deserves it.
This post reminds me of George Washington. When he wasn't fighting the British and trying to keep his army together, he was busy directing the day-to-day management of his Mount Vernon estate from his HQ. I mean, he could spend the day killing Brits and spend the night deciding what color curtains he should have at home.
You should have allied in the first place with the Japs to hinder the advance of this revolutionary idea of national states and democracies.
Yanks shall still shatter the Empire.
I am sure of it.
Yanks shall still shatter the Empire.
I am sure of it.
Chapter 187, Nauru, 1300 local time, 8 April 1942
“C’mon then, let’s eat,” Major General Kenneth Eather muttered to his staff as he sat down to lunch.
The garrison of Nauru was predominantly, indeed almost entirely, Australian. A ragtag collection of Australian infantry and marines formed the defences of this tiny outpost of Empire, a small island just 21 square kilometres in size but in a strategic location. The Australians had ten thousand men with which to defend the island, and had arrived in trepidation as to the Japanese threat. But, months later, a languid, sleepy atmosphere hung over the garrison; the war was seen as far off, a matter for the British and Indians in Burma and Malaya. The news from Hong Kong had been listened to with interest, every scratchy report over the wireless received with intense concentration. Eather, enjoying a lunch of bully beef from the garrison cooks grimaced at the greasy pink meat.
“When is the next supply ship expected?” He asked this whilst chewing, spitting out a particularly inedible chunk of food.
“The Poms have promised that they’ll send a ship within the week,” a young Captain said earnestly. “We’ve also asked for more ammunition.”
Eather nodded, pleased. He worried that the Commonwealth was prioritising the war on mainland Asia over the scattered chain of islands protecting Australia and New Zealand. Eather yearned for a fighting command, a chance to lead his division against the Japanese. He had tried to enforce his iron will upon the island, ‘clamping down’ hard upon the growing hints of lax discipline. Eather’s nickname of “28”, for the usual number of days’ sentence he gave out to ‘defaulters’, was becoming well-earned.
“Anything from Intel?”
“Nothing Sir, there’s a Jap squadron at sea, but they’re heading for New Guinea.”
“Have we told Port Moresby?”
“We have Sir, a British squadron under an Admiral Vian is on the prowl for them”.
Eather didn’t reply but swatted against a fly that was showing an interest in his lunch. Tossing the contents of his tin plate into the nearby vegetation, he rose, straightened his shirt and went for a walk along the beach. He shouted at a corporal who failed to present arms in anything approaching a military manner and congratulated a team of engineers who had cleared a swate of dense vegetation to offer a machine gun position better fire cover of one of the wider beaches. He wandered into one of the medical huts, and approved of the measures taken to make the sick as comfortable as possible. He felt as satisfied as he could be.
“Sir!” One of his staff, normally charged with nothing more onerous than correspondence, and so normally enjoying a quiet afternoon, ran towards him, skidding to a halt and offering a crisp salute. “The Japs Sir! They’re here!”
He looked with intensity at the staff officer. “Lieutenant, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Japanese ships sighted Sir. North of us, the other side of the island. Loads of them!”
Vian doesn’t have to go bloody well looking for them, they’re here. He could see the nearby troops looking up with interest. Already the news was sweeping through the island, and the sentry posts were starting to ring their bells. He knew that he would not panic. “Alright, get me a truck, I’ll go and have a look. And Lieutenant?”
“Sir?”
“You’re an officer, try to bloody act like one. No running around. Set an example.”
By the time Eather crossed the island the first boats were already approaching from the bigger Japanese transport ships. A sporadic mortar fire tried to halt them but it usually fell wide of the boats or bounced harmlessly further out to sea. Eather turned to the Lieutenant Colonel commanding this beach’s defences. “You know what to do?”
“I’ll give it my best,” he said through gritted teeth.
The first boats sand and hordes of enemy troops surged ashore. As soon as they could the Australian machine guns poured a terrible, sweeping fire over the beach, snatching back the young Japanese conscripts as they struggled out of their boats. Eather watched approvingly as the Australian machine guns felled invader after invader. But the attackers were many in number and by sheer weight of men managed to inch their way up the wide, sweeping beach of the island.
The first enemy shots were snapping wildly at the trees around Eather’s position, at a clump of jungle in the centre of terrain inland from the beach. He cursed himself for not insisting that the guns worked against each boat in turn, to ensure that the attacked stalled. He could sense that if the Japanese were not stopped at the beaches then they would burst through his thin lines and overwhelm the island. He turned to the Lieutenant Colonel.
“What are you planning?
“Counter attack Sir, sweep them off the beach. But I’ll need reinforcing!”
“You will be”, Eather turned to return to his Headquarters, to ensure that the battle for the island would be coordinated. He watched as the first infantry sections began a spirited counter attack, the men surging down onto the beach and firing wildly at every enemy soldier they could.
“Back to Headquarters, now!”
The headquarters, in contrast to the relaxed cheer of the lunch only a few hours ago (after the desperate struggle at the beach it felt like months), was now a scene of disorder, even chaos.
“Alright!” Eather banged on a table, silencing the staff officers. “Our men are doing their best on the beaches. But the Japs are swarming over us like cockroaches. What’s it looking like?”
“Landings on two beaches to the North, with a third landing just getting started to the Western beaches.”
“Can we hold them?”
“Colonel Ellis thinks that we can, given enough support troops.”
“Anything spare going?” Eather wanted the landings contained at the beaches.
“Some mortars from the Marines, Sir. But...”
“But nothing. Send ‘em.” As the officer ran off to carry out the order Eather turned to another officer, a crisply dressed Australian Army major. “Ammunition state?”
“Enough for a few days’ fighting, Sir.”
“Good. Hopefully the Brits will get to us before then. Anything heard?”
“Vian’s on his way, but his squadron is four to five days’ away.”
“That’s the challenge. Hold on ‘till then.” The original officer returned. “Are those mortars ready?”
“They are Sir.”
“Good,” Eather said curtly. “I’ll take ‘em there myself.”
Near Orro, and closer to his headquarters and the airstrip, Eather paused on a slight rise to overlook the beaches. Ominously, of his defending battalion there was no sight; but the beach was awash with Japanese infantrymen, scrambling ashore.
A wave of machine gun fire rattled along the beach. The Japanese, expecting no resistance, were mown down in their close ranks, the more alert Japanese throwing themselves to the ground and firing back at the well-covered Australian defences. A deep, throbbing wave of explosions thudded on the beach; Eather turned to peer into the undergrowth. The mortars, reinforced by a weak company of marines, were adding their support to the battalion.
“Sir,” Colonel Ellis, commanding the defences at Orro, said curtly. Eather noticed that Ellis face was streaked with dirt and sweat, his uniform similarly grimy. This man has led from the front, Eather thought to himself. Ellis, as plain speaking and curt as Eather himself, didn’t stand on ceremony.
“Without further help I’ll only be able to hold overnight,” he said brusquely, turning to watch the hardworking marines frantically reloading their mortars.
“You’ll get some guns tomorrow morning,” Eather said with fervour. The Japanese, recovering from their initial stunning setback, were now cleverly inching their way up the beach. Making use of the dips and tufts of grass, they were slowly pushing forward on the flanks of the Orro beach.
Eather respected Ellis, a tough Army colonel. “Do you see what I see?”
“Yep,” was the limited reply. “I’ve got a couple of platoons ready to plug any breaks.”
“’till daybreak?”
“’till daybreak General,” Ellis confirmed with a nod.
Eather trudged back to his truck, to prepare for the short drive back to his staff. He looked at his watch, it was 1630, a busy three hours since the attacks begun. He had toured the front, had seen his ad-hoc collection of marines and infantrymen clinging on to their beaches, had seen the enthusiastic way in which officers like Ellis had risen to this shocking jolt from the sleepy island garrison routine, and knew that his place was now in headquarters. His initial troops were deployed, his dispositions made, and his command able to hold them, at least for another night and day. Looking at the maps pinned up in his HQ, he knew that somewhere, in that vast blue expanse of ocean, a small squadron steamed to his rescue. Would the Poms get to him in time?
[Game Effect] – The heroic defence of Nauru to a massive Japanese amphibious assault.
This was always going to be a key part of the KFM story. It is gold dust to a writer: I put the Australians on Nauru and the Japs throw everything at it. I also have the oft-mentioned “Liaison Squadron” under Vice-Admiral Vian, which I immediately ordered to come to the rescue, and so I leave you with a cliff-hanger.
Eather was every bit as stubborn and determined, and as stern a disciplinarian, as I have portrayed. Like a lot of his countrymen, he was a very capable soldier and will cling on to the bitter end. I’ve tried to give a flavour of the nightmare faced by the Divisional GOC in this kind of ‘back to the wall’ engagement, without boring you all with the endless dialogue that I tend to write. The heroic defence, of one disorganised division fending off multiple amphibious assaults, will have limited immediate military implications, though I suspect that the morale and political impact could be enormous. Sir Humphrey, and other Aussies, will I hope not be angry at any mistakes/misportrayals of their excellent troops.
DonnieBaseball: The British are certainly in a better position than they were in reality, but FDR will no doubt have his own plans on the postwar world.
Trekaddict: The first meeting coming up. Good luck with your succession piece.
El Pip: Er no, HMS Queen is actually HMS Anson/Howe in our world. In 1940, Hankey took the decision to end the KG5s after the fourth battleship (so it goes HMS King George V, HMS Prince of Wales, HMS Duke of York, HMS Queen) and commit to the Admiral class SHBBs. HMS Queen was chosen as a rough tribute to the current Queen.
Zhuge Liang: For China in this story, think of the OTL France arguing, the China arguing, and every other Anglo-American dispute. This is going to be big.
Nathan Madien: Given the lack of a European focus, China, Japan, Korea, Siam, the DEI will be the diplomatic battlegrounds.
TheExecuter: Believe me, it gets worse...
Kurt_Steiner: The truth, as discussed, is that the British don’t need the Americans anything near as much as they did OTL. There is just not the financial crisis in Britain (which is still not really on a war footing) that there was in the real 1942.
Nathan Madien: That would confuse Halifax beyond comprehension.
Sir Humphrey: He would enjoy that, avoiding any talk of China, of massed fleets and zones of control.
Tigey: You make a good point, and this is where Halifax fails as a leader: he sees no problem with maintaining Edwardian (perhaps Victorian) values in the face of 20th century horrors. It was this reluctance to engage with people that saw him do poorly (initially) as Ambassador to the US.
Nathan Madien: There is an element of that aristocratic detachment in Halifax, certainly. But Washington was capable, and (perhaps) lucky, where Halifax is less impressive.
Enewald: After meeting with FDR Halifax might agree!
KaiserMuffin: That would be a gift for Halifax to take home with him!
Nathan Madien: You should be afraid!
“C’mon then, let’s eat,” Major General Kenneth Eather muttered to his staff as he sat down to lunch.
The garrison of Nauru was predominantly, indeed almost entirely, Australian. A ragtag collection of Australian infantry and marines formed the defences of this tiny outpost of Empire, a small island just 21 square kilometres in size but in a strategic location. The Australians had ten thousand men with which to defend the island, and had arrived in trepidation as to the Japanese threat. But, months later, a languid, sleepy atmosphere hung over the garrison; the war was seen as far off, a matter for the British and Indians in Burma and Malaya. The news from Hong Kong had been listened to with interest, every scratchy report over the wireless received with intense concentration. Eather, enjoying a lunch of bully beef from the garrison cooks grimaced at the greasy pink meat.
“When is the next supply ship expected?” He asked this whilst chewing, spitting out a particularly inedible chunk of food.
“The Poms have promised that they’ll send a ship within the week,” a young Captain said earnestly. “We’ve also asked for more ammunition.”
Eather nodded, pleased. He worried that the Commonwealth was prioritising the war on mainland Asia over the scattered chain of islands protecting Australia and New Zealand. Eather yearned for a fighting command, a chance to lead his division against the Japanese. He had tried to enforce his iron will upon the island, ‘clamping down’ hard upon the growing hints of lax discipline. Eather’s nickname of “28”, for the usual number of days’ sentence he gave out to ‘defaulters’, was becoming well-earned.
“Anything from Intel?”
“Nothing Sir, there’s a Jap squadron at sea, but they’re heading for New Guinea.”
“Have we told Port Moresby?”
“We have Sir, a British squadron under an Admiral Vian is on the prowl for them”.
Eather didn’t reply but swatted against a fly that was showing an interest in his lunch. Tossing the contents of his tin plate into the nearby vegetation, he rose, straightened his shirt and went for a walk along the beach. He shouted at a corporal who failed to present arms in anything approaching a military manner and congratulated a team of engineers who had cleared a swate of dense vegetation to offer a machine gun position better fire cover of one of the wider beaches. He wandered into one of the medical huts, and approved of the measures taken to make the sick as comfortable as possible. He felt as satisfied as he could be.
“Sir!” One of his staff, normally charged with nothing more onerous than correspondence, and so normally enjoying a quiet afternoon, ran towards him, skidding to a halt and offering a crisp salute. “The Japs Sir! They’re here!”
He looked with intensity at the staff officer. “Lieutenant, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Japanese ships sighted Sir. North of us, the other side of the island. Loads of them!”
Vian doesn’t have to go bloody well looking for them, they’re here. He could see the nearby troops looking up with interest. Already the news was sweeping through the island, and the sentry posts were starting to ring their bells. He knew that he would not panic. “Alright, get me a truck, I’ll go and have a look. And Lieutenant?”
“Sir?”
“You’re an officer, try to bloody act like one. No running around. Set an example.”
By the time Eather crossed the island the first boats were already approaching from the bigger Japanese transport ships. A sporadic mortar fire tried to halt them but it usually fell wide of the boats or bounced harmlessly further out to sea. Eather turned to the Lieutenant Colonel commanding this beach’s defences. “You know what to do?”
“I’ll give it my best,” he said through gritted teeth.
The first boats sand and hordes of enemy troops surged ashore. As soon as they could the Australian machine guns poured a terrible, sweeping fire over the beach, snatching back the young Japanese conscripts as they struggled out of their boats. Eather watched approvingly as the Australian machine guns felled invader after invader. But the attackers were many in number and by sheer weight of men managed to inch their way up the wide, sweeping beach of the island.
The first enemy shots were snapping wildly at the trees around Eather’s position, at a clump of jungle in the centre of terrain inland from the beach. He cursed himself for not insisting that the guns worked against each boat in turn, to ensure that the attacked stalled. He could sense that if the Japanese were not stopped at the beaches then they would burst through his thin lines and overwhelm the island. He turned to the Lieutenant Colonel.
“What are you planning?
“Counter attack Sir, sweep them off the beach. But I’ll need reinforcing!”
“You will be”, Eather turned to return to his Headquarters, to ensure that the battle for the island would be coordinated. He watched as the first infantry sections began a spirited counter attack, the men surging down onto the beach and firing wildly at every enemy soldier they could.
“Back to Headquarters, now!”
The headquarters, in contrast to the relaxed cheer of the lunch only a few hours ago (after the desperate struggle at the beach it felt like months), was now a scene of disorder, even chaos.
“Alright!” Eather banged on a table, silencing the staff officers. “Our men are doing their best on the beaches. But the Japs are swarming over us like cockroaches. What’s it looking like?”
“Landings on two beaches to the North, with a third landing just getting started to the Western beaches.”
“Can we hold them?”
“Colonel Ellis thinks that we can, given enough support troops.”
“Anything spare going?” Eather wanted the landings contained at the beaches.
“Some mortars from the Marines, Sir. But...”
“But nothing. Send ‘em.” As the officer ran off to carry out the order Eather turned to another officer, a crisply dressed Australian Army major. “Ammunition state?”
“Enough for a few days’ fighting, Sir.”
“Good. Hopefully the Brits will get to us before then. Anything heard?”
“Vian’s on his way, but his squadron is four to five days’ away.”
“That’s the challenge. Hold on ‘till then.” The original officer returned. “Are those mortars ready?”
“They are Sir.”
“Good,” Eather said curtly. “I’ll take ‘em there myself.”
Near Orro, and closer to his headquarters and the airstrip, Eather paused on a slight rise to overlook the beaches. Ominously, of his defending battalion there was no sight; but the beach was awash with Japanese infantrymen, scrambling ashore.
A wave of machine gun fire rattled along the beach. The Japanese, expecting no resistance, were mown down in their close ranks, the more alert Japanese throwing themselves to the ground and firing back at the well-covered Australian defences. A deep, throbbing wave of explosions thudded on the beach; Eather turned to peer into the undergrowth. The mortars, reinforced by a weak company of marines, were adding their support to the battalion.
“Sir,” Colonel Ellis, commanding the defences at Orro, said curtly. Eather noticed that Ellis face was streaked with dirt and sweat, his uniform similarly grimy. This man has led from the front, Eather thought to himself. Ellis, as plain speaking and curt as Eather himself, didn’t stand on ceremony.
“Without further help I’ll only be able to hold overnight,” he said brusquely, turning to watch the hardworking marines frantically reloading their mortars.
“You’ll get some guns tomorrow morning,” Eather said with fervour. The Japanese, recovering from their initial stunning setback, were now cleverly inching their way up the beach. Making use of the dips and tufts of grass, they were slowly pushing forward on the flanks of the Orro beach.
Eather respected Ellis, a tough Army colonel. “Do you see what I see?”
“Yep,” was the limited reply. “I’ve got a couple of platoons ready to plug any breaks.”
“’till daybreak?”
“’till daybreak General,” Ellis confirmed with a nod.
Eather trudged back to his truck, to prepare for the short drive back to his staff. He looked at his watch, it was 1630, a busy three hours since the attacks begun. He had toured the front, had seen his ad-hoc collection of marines and infantrymen clinging on to their beaches, had seen the enthusiastic way in which officers like Ellis had risen to this shocking jolt from the sleepy island garrison routine, and knew that his place was now in headquarters. His initial troops were deployed, his dispositions made, and his command able to hold them, at least for another night and day. Looking at the maps pinned up in his HQ, he knew that somewhere, in that vast blue expanse of ocean, a small squadron steamed to his rescue. Would the Poms get to him in time?
[Game Effect] – The heroic defence of Nauru to a massive Japanese amphibious assault.
This was always going to be a key part of the KFM story. It is gold dust to a writer: I put the Australians on Nauru and the Japs throw everything at it. I also have the oft-mentioned “Liaison Squadron” under Vice-Admiral Vian, which I immediately ordered to come to the rescue, and so I leave you with a cliff-hanger.
Eather was every bit as stubborn and determined, and as stern a disciplinarian, as I have portrayed. Like a lot of his countrymen, he was a very capable soldier and will cling on to the bitter end. I’ve tried to give a flavour of the nightmare faced by the Divisional GOC in this kind of ‘back to the wall’ engagement, without boring you all with the endless dialogue that I tend to write. The heroic defence, of one disorganised division fending off multiple amphibious assaults, will have limited immediate military implications, though I suspect that the morale and political impact could be enormous. Sir Humphrey, and other Aussies, will I hope not be angry at any mistakes/misportrayals of their excellent troops.
DonnieBaseball: The British are certainly in a better position than they were in reality, but FDR will no doubt have his own plans on the postwar world.
Trekaddict: The first meeting coming up. Good luck with your succession piece.
El Pip: Er no, HMS Queen is actually HMS Anson/Howe in our world. In 1940, Hankey took the decision to end the KG5s after the fourth battleship (so it goes HMS King George V, HMS Prince of Wales, HMS Duke of York, HMS Queen) and commit to the Admiral class SHBBs. HMS Queen was chosen as a rough tribute to the current Queen.
Zhuge Liang: For China in this story, think of the OTL France arguing, the China arguing, and every other Anglo-American dispute. This is going to be big.
Nathan Madien: Given the lack of a European focus, China, Japan, Korea, Siam, the DEI will be the diplomatic battlegrounds.
TheExecuter: Believe me, it gets worse...
Kurt_Steiner: The truth, as discussed, is that the British don’t need the Americans anything near as much as they did OTL. There is just not the financial crisis in Britain (which is still not really on a war footing) that there was in the real 1942.
Nathan Madien: That would confuse Halifax beyond comprehension.
Sir Humphrey: He would enjoy that, avoiding any talk of China, of massed fleets and zones of control.
Tigey: You make a good point, and this is where Halifax fails as a leader: he sees no problem with maintaining Edwardian (perhaps Victorian) values in the face of 20th century horrors. It was this reluctance to engage with people that saw him do poorly (initially) as Ambassador to the US.
Nathan Madien: There is an element of that aristocratic detachment in Halifax, certainly. But Washington was capable, and (perhaps) lucky, where Halifax is less impressive.
Enewald: After meeting with FDR Halifax might agree!
KaiserMuffin: That would be a gift for Halifax to take home with him!
Nathan Madien: You should be afraid!
Nauru means in Finnish 'laugh', the noun of the verb 'nauraa'.
I was really laughing while reading that.
I was really laughing while reading that.
If its a victory (a very slim chance) it will be of historic proportions and will be celebrated for centuries to come in Australia. Come on my sons, victory awaits you.
You could use the Phosphate Mines as a last desperate line of defence. The last redoubt could be in the British Phosphate Commissioner's office.
You could use the Phosphate Mines as a last desperate line of defence. The last redoubt could be in the British Phosphate Commissioner's office.