Christopher Priest - The Separation

In the early hours of our last morning at Boca di Inferno Dr Burckhardt unexpectedly walked into our room and we rose to our feet in astonishment. Smilingly he signalled to us to relax. He was looking as tired as everyone else: I knew from the glimpses I had had of the main discussions that he had hardly been away from the conference hall. He was the only one of the principal negotiators who had visited us in our workmanlike domain, with its typewriters and notebooks on every working surface, the dirty glasses, cups and plates scattered everywhere, the piles of discarded papers all over the carpet, the jackets slung across the backs of chairs, the tobacco-heavy air.

Dr Burckhardt made some self-deprecating remark about being curious to see for himself where the real work had been going on: the furnace of the engine-room, as he described it. He said he was pleased to report that the talks between the British and German delegates had reached a conclusion and he thanked us for our dedication and uncomplaining labours. We gave him a polite but enthusiastic round of applause. As it sank in what the conclusion to the conference might actually mean, our applause turned quickly to loud cheering. Dr Burckhardt smiled modestly, nodding around to all of us.

At the end he caught my eye and with an inclination of his head indicated that I should follow him out of the room. I did so, with my hard-working colleagues watching me with noticeable curiosity.

Outside in the corridor, when he had closed the door to the room, Dr Burckhardt shook my hand warmly.

‘[Mr Sawyer, I wish to thank you on behalf of the International Red Cross for your contribution this week.]’

I mumbled something about doing no more than what I had been asked to do, and so on.

‘[Yes, indeed. We are all working for the same thing, but it has been a particularly effective meeting. You should say nothing to your colleagues at the moment, but there will be a second round of talks in a few weeks’ time, when the agreement will be ratified. The date and place have not yet been set, but the conference will take place near the beginning of May. I should add that your personal presence has been especially requested by one of the principals. May we count on you to be available?]’

‘[Yes, of course, Dr Burckhardt.]’

‘[You have a family in Britain, I believe. Would your responsibilities there prevent you from making a second journey on our behalf?]’

‘[No, sir. My wife and I are expecting our first baby. But it is not due until the end of May]’

‘[All our business should be completed by then. Indeed, you’ve helped make it probable that your baby will be born in peacetime. Congratulations, Mr Sawyer!]’

With that cheering news he shook my hand again and wished me well, and that was that. I stood in the corridor, thunderstruck by the idea that peace was not an abstract notion but an achievable reality in my own life. Our baby would be born to a world of peace.

I had not fully realized that before! I felt joy rising in me. Great relief consumed me. I wanted to run and shout, but instead I stood by myself in that corridor, tears in my eyes, realizing that I was privy to the greatest, most important news in the world.

I went back into our office. In a daze I helped my colleagues to finish off the few remaining tasks and then to tidy up the room. A little more than an hour later I was in my bed in my hotel room, so excited I could hardly sleep, despite the exhaustion that was drowning me.

The next day I returned to England in the same white-painted plane, and two days after that I was reunited with Birgit at home in Rainow.

Everyone who was involved in the Lisbon agreement was sworn to secrecy and was provided with a cover story of some kind, to explain our absence. I had been to North Wales, it turned out, training with new rescue equipment received from the USA.

The events of that sunny winter’s week in Cascais are a matter of history, and no secrecy remains. What we drew up and agreed was a protocol for peace, terms which required to be ratified only at the highest levels for the armistice to be binding. Several weeks lay between the first and second peace conferences, a time of intense diplomatic and governmental activity, unwitnessed by anyone outside the inner circles of the two governments and the ruling council of the Red Cross. I certainly had little to do with what went on and was left in a vacuum of uncertainty.

Because I was a party to the drawing up of the agreement, I believed I knew every clause, paragraph and sentence by heart. What I did not know was what the people at the highest levels would make of the deal.

Would Hitler accept it? Would Churchill?

Prime Minister’s Personal Minutes and Telegrams, January-June 1941; from Appendix B of The German War: Volume II - Their Finest Hour (1950) by Winston S. Churchill (Duke of London).

Prime Minister to Secretary of State for Air and Chiefs of the Air Staff

January 17, 1941

Some of the German aircraft shot down on our shores must still be in repairable condition. I have seen enlightening reports on the state of their armour, engines, weapons and so on, after detailed technical examination at Farnborough. Are we able to get any of the aircraft back into a condition in which they might be flown, as for training sessions?

In particular, are we able to get one of their twin-engined Messerschmitt 110s working and flying again? One is needed urgently.

Prime Minister to Home Secretary

February 28, 1941

What sort of facilities do we have ready, should one of the people presently running Germany fall into our hands? We shall of course use the Tower of London as a salutary short-term measure (and let it be known we are doing so, as it would be a popular move in, e.g., the USA) but since we expect the war to be a long haul we must have other provisions to hand. Ordinary criminal prisons would be out of the question, as would for different reasons the PoW detention camps, so we should have as a contingency some other kind of secure accommodation. There must be several country houses, castles, etc., which could be sealed off at short notice without too much trouble or rumours spreading.

Pray let me have a list of suitable sites in due course.

Prime Minister to Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

March 2, 1941

I’m grateful to our security advisers, through your good offices, for the information concerning Germany’s plans for Madagascar. I recollect the idea goes back to Bismarck’s day and has been resurrected from time to time by those who wish only to move the Jewish ‘problem’ to another part of the world.

British policy in this matter should be discussed and settled in Cabinet at the most convenient upcoming meeting, but for the time being may be briefly summarized thus:

As the mandated power for Palestine we have no wish for mass and ultimately destabilizing immigration in that region. Although this is not an option under the Madagascar Plan it is as well to be certain of our own policy on such a related matter.

Madagascar itself is currently under the control of Vichy France and sits athwart our main circum-Africa sea-route for the importation of oil from Persia and Iraq. However, so long as the UK controls the Suez Zone, as we intend to go on doing indefinitely, and so long as there is no effective German presence on the island, we perceive no real threat from Vichy-controlled Madagascar to our supplies.

Any attempt by Germany, as outlined in your memorandum, to set up a puppet state on Madagascar, administered by the SS and populated by disaffected exiles from European Jewry, no doubt under conditions of extreme inhumanity, would be a matter of the utmost seriousness. In such a case we would be obliged to mount prompt and effective military intervention, a duty from which we would not shrink.