Stuart Slade: A Mighty Endeavor

“It is lucky that Sir Richard stormed out after all. Had he heard you say that, he would now be dead on the floor from apoplexy and poor old HH here would have weeks of paperwork to do.” Linlithgow looked around the room.

“In that event, I would feel it my duty to offer him every assistance within my power. But, your Excellency, my point remains; Congress can be persuaded to stay in the war.”

“You believe that’s essential, don’t you?” Linlithgow’s voice had a note of sympathy within it. He was well aware that Sir Martyn’s wife was Jewish. Indeed, that was one factor that had influenced him in placing his trust with the man. Somebody who had the strength of character to do what he felt was right despite the possible effects on his career and the unspoken but very real social objections to the marriage also had the strength to do his work well.

“I do, Your Excellency. There are some things that are such incarnate evil that any decent man should stand against them regardless of the price the act must demand. I believe that Prime Minister Churchill understood that.”

The Marquess of Linlithgow nodded. “And so does the Viceroy of India.”

“Is there no sign of Mister Churchill?”

Sir Edward Bridges needlessly consulted the reports he had received and shook his head. “We traced him as far as Oxford and then kept all the roads out of Oxford under surveillance, but I fear Winston was not detected by any of the patrols. I can only presume that he is still in Oxford.”

“That would be uncharacteristic of the man. He was always one for action, no matter how ill-advised. He will be on the move. With his affection for the French, he will choose to go there. Are all the roads south from Oxford under surveillance?”

“They are, Prime Minister. But, how completely that surveillance has been maintained is another matter entirely. We British do not have an overweening police force. We do not even see the need to arm our police. As an orderly people used to the rule of law, we do not have the need for either large numbers of police or to have them armed. In this case, to maintain surveillance of all the thoroughfares, ranging from the trunk roads to farm lanes, is beyond them. And then there are the trains, of course.”

Halifax drummed his fingers impatiently. “It is apparent, I think, that a small, well-trained police force as we have now is an estimable thing indeed. But the times have changed and many pairs of eyes will be needed on our streets. We must be ready to reinforce our existing police force with an auxiliary police unit, one whose loyalty can be absolutely guaranteed.”

“I do not think the British people will take kindly to the return of the black-and-tans, Prime Minister.”

Halifax looked shocked. “Sir Edward, I mean no such thing. Placing a paramilitary force on the streets would be an outrage. I simply mean recruiting well-meaning citizens to assist our existing police force and provide a presence where otherwise limited numbers would preclude the police from doing so themselves. I wish the Home Office to see to the formation of such a unit immediately.”

And to hell with the Cabinet or any form of consultation , thought Bridges. If this isn’t going to turn into a paramilitary force on the streets, then nothing will. He had a decision to make, one that had kept him awake almost all the previous night. There were a considerable number of very senior civil servants abroad at the moment, including a large party in Canada and the United States. They had been discussing arms purchases and other war material acquisition programs with American businessmen, all with the aim of ensuring American industrial support for the faltering British war machine. There were already discrete warnings that none of those men would be returning to Britain. Indeed, the words ‘Government in Exile’ had also been whispered. All they needed was a figurehead and support from the Dominions and the threat could become real.

Was it a threat? Bridges had to ask himself that question. If it is, should I be part of it? Should I drop my position here, the authority I have and the influence I have built in exchange for a life of exile? He thought of his house, his gardens and his beloved fishpond. Should I abandon those with a strong possibility of never seeing them again? There was another problem, or, rather, another aspect to the choice. He was well aware of Lord Halifax’s limitations. The man was an appeaser, a temporizer, a man who tended to agree with whoever he was speaking to. Bridges had a strong feeling that Butler, now Foreign Secretary in Halifax’s place, had been a much stronger driving force behind the coup than he admitted.

Bridges stopped himself sharply. Coups didn’t happen in Great Britain; they were the preserve of small, far-off countries that mattered little in the scheme of things. But how else would one describe what had happened the day before? Bridges guessed that if he threw in his lot with those who had decided to refuse the call home, Halifax would be surrounded by those whose beliefs had caused this situation. Do I, Bridges, not owe it to the country to remain here, to keep the country running smoothly and to avoid the excesses that would otherwise surely take place?

“Well, Sir Edward?” Halifax sounded annoyed.

Bridges shook himself free from his mental debate and postponed it for another time. “An excellent idea, Prime Minister. I will set the necessary wheels in motion. Now, Prime Minister, there is the problem of the Dominions. They still have had no official word of what has happened here. We need to brief them on what has happened and why and we need to ask them to follow our lead in accepting the terms of the Armistice. We need to give the impression at least that we are consulting with them on this matter.”

“There is nothing to consult about and nothing to discuss. The terms of the Armistice are binding upon them as much as they are upon us here. They will obey them.” Lord Halifax crossed his arms, right hand over his withered left arm. It was an intimidating pose from a Prime Minister. In common with any civil servant, Bridges was skilled at reading body language. Halifax was signalling that his mind was closed to any argument.

Nevertheless, Bridges felt honor bound to give it one more try.

“Prime Minister, this may be true with regard to the colonies that are ruled directly from London. But with the Dominions, we are dealing with essentially independent states that are self-governed. They declared war on Germany on their own account and they will make peace on their own account. We must go through the motions of discussing the situation with them. We must explain ourselves and convince them that ours is the route to follow. A blunt order from us is by far the least effective means of gaining their compliance. Our relations with them have a certain level of choreography. We ask them and they oblige. We make a discrete suggestion and they, after some thought, agree. If, by chance we must step on their toes we beg pardon and they smile and dismiss it as being of no consequence. But sadly when we give direct orders they tell us to go boil our heads. If you wish to count upon Imperial support for the actions you have taken, then I strongly urge you allow the Colonial and Dominion Offices to reopen communications and that we consult with them.”

“We shall indeed do that, Sir Edward. The Colonial and Dominion Offices will communicate the terms of the Armistice with Germany that we have signed and they will be informed that these terms are binding upon them also. The matter is settled; there is no need for additional consultation. We will hold them responsible for completing their part in the terms we have found acceptable. There is no need for weakness in this matter.”