-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Can we please have Neville back? Atlee's a prat and Eden's turning into a potential dictator...
Vann
Vann
Atlee's Not all that Bad!, save him!, Have him Not interfering With foreign policy, Or give Eden a Good dressing down :rofl:, Excellent work, Will the Irish Free State Return Sometime?
The officials at St. James's must be fuming at this incompetent handling of foreign policy.
cthulhu: It will be safe to assume that Atlee will have to stop meddling in foreign affairs, the FO is most likely livid.
Jape: It would seem that the great political game corrupts even those of pure heart.
Vann the Red: I haven't decided yet. There are arguments on both sides.
Sir Monty: It depends when general hostilities break out in Europe. Dealing with an Irish Free State whilst dealing with Hitler's prussian butchers would be quite difficult.
Allenby: Sir Robert will headbut the Prime Minister in the halls of power.
Jape: It would seem that the great political game corrupts even those of pure heart.
Vann the Red: I haven't decided yet. There are arguments on both sides.
Sir Monty: It depends when general hostilities break out in Europe. Dealing with an Irish Free State whilst dealing with Hitler's prussian butchers would be quite difficult.
Allenby: Sir Robert will headbut the Prime Minister in the halls of power.
Smoke wafted beautifully into the air, occasionally a partial ring dissipated into the microcosm of the world. Occupying the faded leather sofas were the One Nation members of the cabinet, huddled together, being lectured by their leader and direction, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in the coalition government. Anthony Eden paced about the room, occasionally drawing breath through the unfiltered tobacco mass of his cigarette. “So you say Harold, but the fact remains, that we are now in a position that is dictating to us, rather than us dictating the position, however in that we have been presented with a unique opportunity to increase our hold over the direction of this government. The Prime Minister is no longer a factor in the foreign affairs of this country. Those are the hard facts. The differences that has been known to exist between myself and Sir Robert will be for the foreseeable future on hold, for the needs of the country and the empire are of a greater nature, and we are of one mind the Prime Minister lacks the suitable experience in order to conduct personal missions on behalf of His Majesties government. Hence, it was in our agreement that the Prime Minister be limited to general policy decisions and should be kept indoors for all intensive purposes. If he goes abroad, he will be escorted either by me, or a delegation from the foreign office. Those are the facts, we cannot ignore them, and to be quite direct about this, this country does not need to be embarrassed against by the actions in front of the American Ambassador. I almost fell sorry for the poor fellow who had to sit through it all. But more important, are the implications of what happened. Our ambassador in Washington has reported that the Americas didn't take to kindly what was said, and that President Landon issued directives for the creation of, what was called 'new naval interests' – whatever the hell that means, but our naval boffins seem to estimate that it will be the beginning of a new age, we gentlemen, are facing the possibility of a new arms race, and I fear, heaven help us, I fear we may not be able to make of it a satisfactory conclusion. We cannot hope to compete with the industrial might of the United States, but alas their president is an idealist, committed to domestic matters, without the stomach for foreign affairs. We must be aware however that the United States is incredibly powerful, and that even if not committed to the world beyond her borders, American ingenuity and prowess should not be forgotten. We must remove the dictatorships before we muddy ourselves in the diplomatic backwater that is the United States.”
The applause were muted, muffled noises emerged in lethargic support. “A sound plan Anthony. I therefor assume that the Palestine white paper is a goer?” Malcolm MacDonald said, slouched back on the sofa, wilting like some forlorn and doomed vegetation. He continued, “Given that you said the Prime Minister cannot fight the plans, it will be simple to get the white paper passed through and implemented?”
Eden addressed him, in a dour manner. His enthusiasm had been exhausted in the previous deliberation. “Yes, we shall. Whether the Prime Minister agrees with it is immaterial. The white paper will go ahead, Palestine shall be transformed from that god awful mandate into a modern state, so that we can bring our troops home, or at least stop having them killed in this pointless exercise. It will be us, not this government that will be remembered for creating peace in the holy land, and ending the bloodshed that has taken place there. Prince Ali has been fully mobilized and is read to be installed at any time. Al-Husayni is waiting in the wings, the Arab Higher Committee is still in operation, but we can expect the Zionists to go absolutely mad about it, and the prevailing security situation will more than likely get worse before it levels off again. However we need to get British troops home, we naturally take all the credit.”
Malcolm MacDonald nodded in acceptance of the scheme. It was after all his brainchild and sacrifices had to be made. His reclined nature gave an informal sense to the discussion, if the future of the Middle East was a mere triviality. However the darkened mood was interrupted by Oliver Stanley. “Anthony, dear Anthony, we must preserve economies in the need for foreign policy objectives. We cannot afford without placing undue pressure on the country, and the First Sea Lord is doing is his nut about it. He submitted recommendations to the Secretary of State for Defence for two new air craft carriers, without either informing the treasury. Care to explain Harold?”
Harold MacMillan tilted his head to face Oliver in a lazy manner. “No need to worry. It was only an internal proposal. Given your views on the matter, they will be taken into account. Of course your welcome to read the proposal when its presented to you.” MacMillan quipped, causing Oliver to go into a huff.
Eden jumped in quickly. “Please gentlemen, save your excruciating commentary for the Prime Minster.”
*Do you prefer the speech in Italics, bolded, both or none?
I can read it but the mass of italics can be a bit daunting sometimes. Maybe bolded italics or just bold.
Yeah, it looks good as it is.
A naval race between the U.S. and UK will have some benefits. Both navies will be better equiped to deal with their true adversaries...
A naval race between the U.S. and UK will have some benefits. Both navies will be better equiped to deal with their true adversaries...
Must say I prefer bold text but either way is fine to read.
god save the Empire if Landon goes all the way with an arms race
god save the Empire if Landon goes all the way with an arms race
Thanks for the feedback. I think maybe just plain bold for the speech sections, with things that need emphisising in italics. With Palatntio Linotype, I think that Italics gets to be a bit of bore some times.
27th November 1937
The cloudless sky arched from horizon to horizon like the roof of a giant blue cathedral. The outline of the great capitol building in Washington cast shadows on the immaculate lawns that surrounded it. Whilst the brisk autumns breeze wafted serenely through the oaks and elms that lined the streets, behind the fading façade of the British embassy, a clandestine meeting between representatives of the His Majesties government and that of the United States of America was slowly coming to order. A variety of teas were being served in the finest of china cups. Wedged into the soft surrounds of the weathered fabric chairs were three of the top men in the government of the United States; Henry Styles Bridges - Secretary of the Navy, Lester Dickinson - Secretary of War and the highest ranking American on British soil the US Secretary of State Arthur Vandenberg. Opposite the pillars of the American cabinet sat Sir Ronald Lindsay the British Ambassador and the Sir Phillip Sassoon, the Secretary of State for War.
As soon as the tea lady had retreated from the room to return into the hidden depths of the building, Sir Ronald Lindsay, who epitomised the image of Britain – stern, stiff, unwavering and a gentleman. Sir Philip Sassoon was supporting him, and was to be hosting the party later that evening, but for now, as the men stared into each other, the only thought in their minds was pure – politics. Sir Ronald was the first to break the silence that had until now come to permeate the room like a foul stench. “Mr Vandenberg, I think I can honestly say with some firm degree of formality and without beating about the bush to much in order to divert ourselves onto a course which might not be needed in the course of the discussion and talks about the relationship which is enjoyed between our two nations during this important time, I wish to say in the clearest possible terms that it was with great pleasure on behalf of His Majesties government that you were able to attend this private meeting, for the clarification and the redrawing the special circumstances that lie between our two great nations, separated by the fog of the Atlantic Ocean. I wish Mr Vandenberg, that as representatives of our respective nations, that we can reach an agreement whereby in either public or private there is no misunderstanding, and that the prevalence of existing ambiguities is reduced to a level that would be most appreciable to the order of which can be understood in a general sense that would be most beneficial to the government of the United States of America and that of His Majesties government.”
Lester Dickinson the rural lawyer sat wide eyed, whilst Styles Bridges remained utterly unmoved, the sunlight gleaming off his Brylcreemed hair. Yet it was Arthur Vandenberg that managed to utter a few words. “Thank you Mr Ambassador for those kind words, however with all due respect Mr Ambassador, we must be more direct with each other than the manner in which you spoke of.”
Sir Ronald lit up, almost as if struck from heaven. “Of course Mr Vandenberg, your concern is of great importance to me, and I shall let it be said by all and sundry that I shall endeavour to make myself as clear as possible in our meeting here this very moment.” He paused as he brushed his hand along the bottom of his chin. “Yes Mr Vandenberg, I believe you have set the tone for the meeting most properly, and that any understanding that is reached between us be conveyed in the most clear of terms.”
Styles Bridges cocked his eyebrow in surprise. “Mr Ambassador, thank you for those kind words, but let me say now that this meeting must achieve its desired aims – for the benefit of both our nations. I would like to confront you now by saying that the President is most eager to resolve any misunderstanding and protruding issues that have been raised between Britain and the United States. Mr Ambassador, the President will be fully briefed of the end results of this meeting, and he has authorised that no matter how unlikely or unwanted that our two nations can reach an agree to prevent, what men in both of our newspapers have been saying, that an arms race has begun between us, yet we have our different reasons for entering into a new period after the Naval Treaties, which were signed in good faith.”
Sir Ronald was about to speak, but Sir Philip Sassoon spoke first, in an articulate fashion. “Mr Vandenberg, let me be blunt. Some may view this as nothing but two nations along side each other heading towards to different goals on the international stage. If I sound like a lecturer, please stop me.” The Americans looked on, unmoved – bored, but unmoved. “Gentlemen, our countries are not, nor should they try and compete with each other, however we both have different goals that need to be addressed in a satisfactory manner. Your gentlemen is Japan, the Pacific is your back garden, and we – that is His Majesties government have a wide variety of concerns across the face of the globe, in a sense, very much more than the Pacific is our concern, from the North Sea to the Indian Ocean gentlemen, we are much more involved in this world. There is also the matter of Germany and Herr Hitler, who for all intensive purposes shows a every characteristic of a fanatic. We understand that your concern is our concern, however with Japan having backed down in China and your oil flowing unhindered to Japanese industry, your needs of maintaining or expanding large naval forces to combat a threat that has been significantly reduced? In any case the answer is still the same, and I do sympathise with you that should the time come, we must be ready to replace words with action – even if we try our utmost to do so. I understand that the President of the United States has wished to see a satisfactory agreement reached between our two nations. I must therefore ask, before we continue, what the conditions and the parameters be in order to formulate a discussion.”
Just as Sir Philip Sassoon has finished speaking, Styles Bridges placed his hand inside his waistcoat and pulled a folded piece of paper. “If I may gentlemen, the President feels that an agreement needs to be reached, that needs to accomplish a number of goals. The first, is that it is in neither of our countries interests for the other nation to let the size of its power projection be demoralised as it were to such a level that would compromise our respective national security. Mr Ambassador, the President has started down the road of a two ocean navy. Much like your situation, he believes that these massive public works will reduce unemployment, and it so happens that battleships and aircraft carriers have caught his attention – even if it not exactly the be-” Styles Bridges was politely – yet sternly elbowed by Arthur Vandenberg in such a discrete manner that it escaped the astute attentions of the British ambassador. Styles Bridges continued on, subtly checking his injured pride. “In not so many words Mr Ambassador, the President has issued an executive order that will start the construction of this two ocean navy, that will see new battleship and aircraft carrier tonnage being laid down. Now Mr Ambassador, I cannot speak for the view of the State Department, but the Department of the Navy is gearing up for major new construction. I think its important to say that we should not be considered competitors in some form of race. You have nothing to fear from us, we have nothing to fear of the British. Our interests are mutual, if not entirely the same, however Mr Ambassador, if we continue, we must not be seen to be competing, it is not in our interests to do so. You have the inalienable right to contain the European dictators, we must contain Japan and her expansionist and warlike tendencies.”
Sir Ronald drank some tea, look directly into the eyes Arthur Vandenberg, sensing a certain unease or even uncertainty. “His Majesties government understands your position and views. However, I wish to be able to report to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs that the building up of the naval forces of the United States is more a response than a reaction to Japan and other events, and that as two great democracies we can reach an understanding.”
Vandenberg seemed to grasp the nettle, sensing a new found optimism in his stride. “Mr Ambassador, the President has said that he is willing to reach an understanding with the British government. However thinks it is prudent that no formal agreement be promulgated, he feels that our governments can trust one another not to do anything that might compromise relations.”
Sir Ronald had been somewhat expectant of the response. “Mr Vandenberg, between you and me, the Prime Minister will be kept indoors. It is in neither of our nations interests to see a repeat of what happened at your embassy in London a few weeks ago. At any rate Mr Vandenberg, today's opposition is tomorrow's government, so we may be able to foster closer cooperation, even if the public and the press are not entirely aware of it. Believe Mr Vandenberg, I do understand your President's views on international affairs, but these meetings, and this one in particular have proved to be of great reassurance. I hope you will enjoy yourself at the dinner tonight.”
Sir Ronald and Sir Philip hid their disappointment well. Anthony Eden would be pleased, but not overly happy. At the meeting, they all knew that it was with deep irony that these vast weapons of war would be serving to create employment and jobs. Yet all the men knew, somewhere in what little humanity was left in them that one day the weapons would be used.
You sprinkle your updates with such intricate diplomatic language that it is sometimes difficult to tell what these devious characters have actually agreed to.
Vann the Red: Well I'm sure someone will open their mouth and it eventually get to him.
Allenby: Diplomacy is often like that.
Allenby: Diplomacy is often like that.
4th December 1937
Around the nation, people were growing weary. The Atlee Labour government had done nothing but talk and deliver nothing what so ever. As Eden had planned and hoped for, the internal pressures of the Labour party upon Atlee were rising, soon the level of boiling. Criticism – at least internally from the left of the party was critical of the his leadership. As the junior partners in the coalition, or “we were rather the heirs apparent to the ramshackle operation that was the Labour government” as Eden would say of Atlee to Harold MacMillan; the country was tiring of failed promises and indecision. Atlee was under tremendous pressure from the country and his party, and soon it was likely to break into the open.
Beyond the greater expectations as Atlee has said upon entering Downing Street of a “A new dawn, and a new Labour government, for a New Britain” but little had been achieved. Committees were hampering legislation and Anthony Eden was preparing what he hoped would the fine blow to Atlee and his government. Oliver Stanley was happened to spot Eden on the way to Thames House, one of the many offices of Director Kell, of MI5. He took a hold of Anthony Eden's arm, and in what was an almost secretive manner spoke, “Have you heard from Washington? One of their senate or house committees or some such silly named thing has just approved massive new spending, and their shipyards are already preparing. Looks like the Foreign Office didn't get what it was hoping for.”
Eden seemed to be pondering what to say for a moment. There was an awkward pause. “Dear Oliver. Sometimes we cannot hope to achieve everything we set out to do. The Americans pose no threat to us in the slightest. Its the Japanese that should be worrying, no doubt they will respond likewise. Our intelligence people have come to the conclusion that the Americans will rather unwillingly begin laying down new tonnage, particularly in aircraft carriers. The Japanese will likely do their absolute nut and start on their own machinations.” Eden seemed to be urging him towards a point, through less than subtle body language. “Yes well Anthony, getting straight to the point, I wonder whether it would be prudent if we, that is the nation were to keep a measure of face in this issue and not allow to large a gulf to develop in the total tonnage of the Royal Navy and that of the United States.”
Eden seemed to be less satisfied than ever. “Your trouble Oliver, is that you never come to the point. Are you suggesting that this country lay down more tonnage in aircraft carriers? How many?”
Stanley seemed disheartened that Eden was being short with him. Within him, it was more disappointment than anger. “Three at least. In order to keep pace.”
Eden placed his hand on Oliver Stanley's shoulder, as if trying to comfort him, like a father to a son. “You can have one, and one only for the meantime. The shipyards are bursting to capacity, not to mention the financial impact of this rearmament. I know that as do you, all to well. We mustn't go mad and completely overboard with things. As for the developments with our Labour friends, that will resolve itself sooner rather than later, indeed it is the reason for my next meeting. But I must rush Oliver, pass my regards to your wife.”
Oliver Stanley watched as Eden hurriedly departed. The journey to Thames House was of little excitement to him. He and Director Kell were of the same mind, and as the car lurched slowly to a halt on its warn out suspension, the unremarkable façade of the offices of MI5 seemed to emanate a new sense of unease. Whisked through the deteriorating corridors, dodging pass obstacles of piles of papers and unused office furniture. Upon entering the office of Director Kell, it was Eden that spoke first. “Ah Director Kell. Always a pleasure to see you.”
The Director grunted, but returned the handshake. “How is the Foreign Office these days? Spoken to Quex of late?”
Eden took the seat, the well worn leather providing a soft landing spot. “Foreign Office is sailing just fine. Quex is preparing a report on Herr Hitler for us. You know, run of the mill stuff. Anyway, I'm sure we both know what this meeting is about. So getting straight to things. When will it be ready?”
Director Kell appeared at ease – yet paused as the tea lady entered with two hot cups of tea, the steam wafting in a gentile fashion towards the ceiling. “It can be in tomorrows morning papers, should you require it to be so. Does the Prime Minister know?”
Eden seemed incensed at the suggestion. “Of course that fool doesn't know. At at any rate he won't be Prime Minister for much longer. The sooner he is relegated to the footnotes of the history books the better. The man has clearly become corrupted by power.”
Director Kell was not known for his sense of humour, indeed he was unknown beyond the realms of the upper most echelons of government. “Thank god I never decided to enter into politics Foreign Secretary.” He purred in a uncomfortable manner. “Indeed, after this, you will owe me. Don't think it would be wise to try and renege on our little agreements.”
Eden appeared to relax somewhat, throwing an air of clam collectivity upon his face. “You have nothing to fear from me Director. We are in a beneficial relationship, I only hope that in the future we can be of great service to each other, we both owe one another a great deal Director, and I can say to you that neither of of shall forget what has happened.”
The meeting was soon over, a firm handshake confirming on what had been agreed between the two men. Eden retreated from the office, to the fading luxuries of the Foreign Office, and as he was jolted around on the rear seat of the ministerial car, he could not help think that an abyss had been reached, and by a substantial margin passed over. The meeting with the Prime Minister had been delayed until the late evening and seeing little point in mulling around the Foreign Office, so Eden left for his London home. “Do you think I went to far darling?” He mulled over a cup of East African coffee. “Like Machiavelli, the ends justifies the means. Britain can no longer continue like this.”
Beatrice seemed bored with her husbands thoughts. “Whatever you say dear. Whatever you think needs to be done. You have my total commitment. Have we become committed to a course now?”
“When I am Prime Minister darling, I will be there for my sins, I could not have done it without you. When I am Prime Minister, you shall be there at my side, and Britain shall become great again. The dictators will be brushed aside, this country and its empire will once again stand proud on the world stage, the British people will stand strong, come what may. Have I become a political monster?”
Beatrice was showing little interest, indeed her lack of enthusiasm was prevailing, yet she dredged some support from within her body. “What you do, I will support you. Whatever that may be.”
“That's not what I asked darling.”
She threw her arms around him, in a partial hug. “You do what you do for the good of the nation. The nation must come first dear, the survival of us depends on it.” She paused and kissed him on his cheek. “I am always here for you.”
Sir Stafford Cripps was squirming in his chair in the Prime Minister's office. Atlee had a concerned look on his face. Rather than anger or disappointment, but concern nonetheless. “Prime Minister, it is simply not true!” The lanky Cripps said in his refined tongue. Cripps then paused, sensing the gravity of the situation. “What will you do with me?”
Atlee clasped his hand together gently on the desk, with a determined look upon his face. “We'll find something Stafford. We shall find something. The public will demand it so, even if the rumours are untrue and you weren't speaking with the Communists. My hands are tied, and for the good of the country Stafford. You'll have to give up the Board of Trade for some time. We'll bring you back in as soon as humanly possible.”
Event
“Minister Resigns”
~> Sir Stafford Cripps resigns from the cabinet.
+.5 Dissent “The Nation is Worried”
The moon hung in the sky like a giant magic silver lantern, casting an uneasy silver across the nigh sky, yet the Prime Ministers private office was bathed in light orange and yellow light. Eden sat astride on the lounge chair, Atlee like a king behind his desk. “So Anthony, what do you make of today's events?”
Eden seemed relaxed, even a little mellow. “A dreadful business. However Clem, it is of little interest who gets the board of trade. I must confess that is not the real reason why I cam hear tonight. I'm going to be blunt about this to you. MI5 has been compromised. By the Russians, and to a lesser extent elements that share sympathies with the IRA. Further to these outrages, that Director Kell has been less than satisfactory in his handling of this that its embarrassing. I have here a proposal that would see him removed from his duty in a suitably quite fashion and the most important of duties transferred to a newly created Security Directorate that would sideline that decrepit organisation to less important duties. If you wish Clem, we can have a someone who we can trust placed as its head. Someone we can trust.”
Atlee pondered for a moment. He pulled his fingers apart from their tight grasp of each other, and stretched them out across the surface of the desk. “Very well Anthony. You have been of great help to me over this issue.” Atlee could not help but ponder. Why had Eden come across so strong. What had Director Kell done that was so wrong. What had Anthony Eden to gain from the removal of Director Kell? “Anthony, thank you. However I cannot but ask why, this seems outside of your area.”
Brigadier A.W.A. Harker would head up the new Security Directorate -
a long time college of Kell, he was eager for promotion.
Eden appear to gloat somewhat. “I only wish to serve you Clem, in the best way I can.” He paused for a moment to think. “I'm sorry Clem. I can only do my utmost for you and this country. I think I shall retire for the evening now.”
Eden had returned to his home and his wife, both of which sat awaiting his return. He relaxed in an arm chair, the wireless playing faint music, almost beyond being heard. “I fear darling, that as they say power corrupts. I fear that soon we shall once again be inside Number Ten, and for than a fleeting moment.” Beatrice's eyes lit up at the thought. “Soon my dear Beatrice, soon we shall in Number Ten.”
Interesting updates, Humphrey. I hope Eden is right, but somehow I think we haven't seen the last of Chamberlian in number ten...
Ah, Eden shall be brought low by his machinations leaving Our Dear Neville to swoop in and save the day and the nation...
Vann
Vann