Chapter 29, Horse Guards, 16 July 1936
The Grenadier Guards were formed up in companies, immaculately dressed and drilled to perfection. The gentle chatter of the waiting crowds sounded, to the Royal party as they rode down the flag lined Mall, not unlike approaching a beach with a gently roaring tide.
The King saluted the Grenadiers’ colours as he rode past, escorted by his three Brothers, dutifully arraigned behind him in order of their importance to the succession. First followed Bertie, Duke of York, the nervy, tightly coiled ‘spare’ after the heir, supported by a doting wife and two seemingly dutiful daughters. The King had always had a complex relationship with Bertie, they had often been clumped together for schooling, training and other ‘firsts’, but the tension between Elizabeth, Bertie’s Duchess, and Mrs Simpson was now unbearable, and the ‘Yorks’ had found themselves excluded from the Belvedere social set. Then there was Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester, the jowly, staid brother, although the King had supported him (albeit passively) during his out of character, slightly operatic love affair with Beryl Markham, but he had now bowed to Palace pressure and had a dull marriage to a safe Scottish heiress. There was no love lost between the King and the ‘unknown soldier’, as he mockingly and openly referred to Gloucester. And then there was Georgie, Duke of Kent; the King regretted the distance that had grown between he and his youngest brother (with Johnnie long dead), they had once been so close. But now, with marriage to the beautiful, if haughty, Princess Marina of Greece, he too had been ‘corrected’ to conform to their mother’s intent. None of the brothers said anything, the spectre of their father’s insistence on strict adherence to ritual still lingering over them.
The King, like many grown still a boy when it came to soldiers and parades, thought back to the notes from the Court briefing and thrilled at the thought that there were over 1400 officers and men on parade, together with two hundred horses. Even the musicians were enough to man a cruiser, over four hundred musicians from ten bands as well a corps of drums, all marching and playing as one. He basked in the little details, particularly loving that there were some 113 words of command given by the Officer in Command of the Parade. The parade route extended from Buckingham Palace along The Mall to Horse Guards Parade, Whitehall and back again. The King walked his charger slowly along the lines of infantry, in ranks of two and looking, to the Kings, like the rows of soldiers that he and Bertie played with at Windsor as boys. Despite his reputation as a feckless playboy, the King performed his role impeccably and with style.
The inspection done, the Guards and Household Cavalry then formed up and marched past him, the officers saluting with their swords and the men turning as one to look at their monarch. Behind him, Georgie’s horse was skittish.
With the ceremony completed, the King turned his horse and began to trot briskly back to Buckingham Palace. All was well. The silver of his horse’s buckles and tack gleamed, magnificently, in the summer sun.
“He’s got a gun!” The voice was desperate, a high pitch cry for help. Edward turned in his saddle, left and right, and saw, ahead and to the right, two police officers wrestling with a man.
“Protect the King,” another voice, authoritative, commanded without emotion, sounding from somewhere amidst the Guards. But they were some distance away, the King felt alone and exposed, his horse, sensing his uncertainty, came to sudden, heavy, stop.
There was a flash, something was thrown onto the Mall just in front of him. The King froze with terror, realising with happy happenstance that they might take this to mean a cool patience to ‘wait out’ events. But he thought back to the flash and with a sour belly realised what it was.
It’s a gun!
The commanding voice returned from nowhere. “Walk
on!” The King squirmed awkwardly in his saddle, and saw the reassuring figure of Sergison-Brooke, the Guards’ commander, sword drawn and effortlessly calm. “Suggest, Sir, we move you on,” he said in a careful blend of command and suggestion. Gently coaxing the King’s horse, the two men trotted on.
“What was that, what was that?” The King realised that he was gabbling and took a deep breath. Sergison-Brooke dropped back, slightly, to allow the King some dignity as he composed himself. The hissed question went unanswered.
They arrived at the Palace in some confusion. Sergison-Brooke took charge, summoning the King’s doctor and ordering the Metropolitan Police to report to him immediately. The King retired to a private room, where Wallis Simpson was waiting for him. Seeing the King, visibly shaken, enter in some confusion, her face, which had worn a scowl, broke into a wide smile.
“David?
David! We’ve just heard! They said that there was an attack!” She was practically screeching.
The King offered an unconvincing and slightly floppy arm in support. There was a burst of activity at the door.
“What is it!” Wallis was incensed and stomped to the door. She, rightly, feared that the ‘officialdom’ was about to take over.
It was one of the Palace doctors, who with the indifference to Wallis that most of the Palace staff now adopted, looked past her and to the King. “Sir, I must conduct an examination.” Sergison-Brooke stood behind, utterly in command. A single nod reminded the King of his duty.
“Yes, yes of course.” He began removing his red tunic in anticipation of an examination.
“D-d-david!” The Dukes of York and Kent, looking like extras from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, ran into the room. The stress of the situation was exacerbating Bertie’s stammer. “Henry’s talking to the Police n-now.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Sergison-Brooke answered for the King, who was hurriedly being examined. Mrs Simpson, out of place, backed into the corner.
There was a further knock at the door and Stanley Baldwin, resplendent in morning dress, closely followed by a man in the dress uniform of a Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police, walked into the now crowded room. The King chuckled hoarsely, the comedy of the situation not lost upon him.
“Ah! Mr Baldwin, I wondered who else we’d get to squeeze into this room.”
Baldwin was in no mood for jocularity and, ignoring the King, looked at the Doctor. “Well?” Seeing the Doctor look uncertain, Baldwin’s cheeks burned with irritation. “His Majesty’s health is a matter of state,” he said insistently. In another corner, the Duke of York nodded, as did Sergison-Brooke.
“Slightly raised heart and respiration rate, entirely consistent with a shock, no sign of physical trauma. His Majesty is in satisfactory health,” the Doctor said quickly.
“Good. This is Chief Inspector Darkins of the Metropolitan Police, Sir. He says, well, man, say it yourself.” The King was amazed at Baldwin’s loss of composure.
Darkins, far from the cockney that the King was expecting, actually had a Glaswegian burr. “It was one man, he is in custody now. My lads have conducted an initial interview at the scene. His name is McMahon. He has said that he was protesting the failure of authorities such as the Home Secretary to respond to McMahon's reports of a plot to kill you.” The Duke of York frowned at Darkins’ failure to say ‘Your Majesty’. “He also claimed to have been working with the Security Service.”
“Was he?” Baldwin, Darkins and Sergison-Brooke exchanged knowing looks, and all looked at Mrs Simpson while trying hard not to look at Mrs Simpson. The King, finally, took the point. “Er, darling, perhaps…”
With the passion of a Greek fury, Mrs Wallis Simpson marched, magnificently haughtily, out of the room. The disdain and contempt shown for the Royal brothers was obvious.
Darkins pointedly waited until the door was closed. “No Sir, he was not. He was very passionate, however, about ‘dark forces’ corrupting your reign.” Darkins turned to leave.
“Bow,” the Duke of York hissed. Darkins complied and retreated.
“Sir,” Baldwin, never one to waste an opportunity, began. “Perhaps this is time to discuss Mrs Si…”
“No Baldwin! Well, possibly. But I need to rest, I could have been shot.” Clutching his tunic, the King almost ran from the room, presumably in search of Mrs Simpson. But instinct stopped him, and he spun on his heels, and addressed his brothers and his Prime Minister. “This man was right about one thing, there are dark forces trying to bring down this reign. I could have died today, and I wouldn’t have achieved anything." The Duke of Kent, wanting to help his brother, surged forward, but a raised hand from York stopped him.
“Sir,” Baldwin began tiredly.
“No, Baldwin, no. Get Dickie up here, he’s mincing around somewhere on parade,” the King said caustically. “We do this, now. I want the divorce expedited, I want your formal position on my intent, I want this done, now!” Finally succumbing, the King strode from the room.
“Dammed bad business,” Sergison-Brooke muttered, “’dark forces’ n’all. What rot.”
“I,” Baldwin said with an intrigued air, “am not so certain.” With a pointed look at the Duke of York, he inclined his head and retreated.
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GAME NOTES
The notion of King Edward being nearly assassinated is entirely true, and coming so close to the faff over Mrs Simpson was too good a story writing opportunity to miss.
Entirely as depicted, on 16 July 1936, as Edward VIII rode back to the Palace, following the Colour ceremony, McMahon, who made all sorts of wild claims (never substantiated, by the way, and I agree that he was probably just unhinged) produced a revolver. He was swiftly identified (but not that swiftly, he probably, if inclined, could have fired a round or two) and was cornered and subdued by bystanders and members of the Metropolitan Police. After a brief struggle, the unfired revolver as thrown during the affray and fell near the King's horse as it continued back to the Palace. McMahon was then subject to a Public Order charge and was subsequently sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment and hard labour in a court appearance two months later.
Major-General Sergison-Brooke was real, a decorated officer from the Grenadiers who had seen action in the Boer and Great Wars (rising to the temporary command of a brigade by 1917). Here seen as GOC London District, in the real world he retired in 1939 before being recalled to active service (and London District). From what I have read, he was as commanding and decisive as we have seen here. Darkins, is, hopefully, familiar to readers of
KFM as the sharp detective. He is, based on a colleague of mine (from a decade ago) entirely fictional.
Now in the real 1936, the incident passed and Edward passed quietly to a couple of safe overseas engagements and the infamous Mediterranean cruise. Here, with a nervy, skittish Edward already unsettled over the response to the Simpson marriage, I would anticipate a stronger reaction…
And, continuing a rare burst of efficiency...
Incidentally, I do have to wonder how such a thing would affect the line of succession in practical terms -- I know that Parliament is the ultimate arbiter of who actually is eligible for the throne, but how would they (and the British public) react to such a proposal? I guess that will be a matter for future updates, of course...
Well…
The line of succession is currently Edward, Bertie, Elizabeth, Margaret Rose, Henry (Duke of Gloucester – the boring one), George (Duke of Kent – the bohemian one), Edward (Kent’s infant son), Princess Mary.
So assuming that Wallis and Eddy don’t crack on the Barry White, get the vino flowing and knock out an heir (and Wallis is now 40, Edward 42, so that is some pretty odds defying procreation), the line of succession would be unchanged. This is the gamble for the Cabinet and Civil Service; do they tolerate the marriage, knowing (allegedly) that Edward is infertile and Wallis barren? Clearly there are a stack of other factors, but the succession point is an interesting one!
The Queen Mother - Queen Mary - is not really someone one would think of being precisely up to this sort of conversation. She has always possessed this sort of implacable aura, but it is an aura. I think it shows here, with both her children very conscious of it - but if not precisely being outwitted by her son she is nevertheless constrained. I think she bears a great deal of watching relating to the Yorks.
The King did manage to keep it together. It is an important thing to note.
The whole thing is a mess, to be sure, but was not the relationship ending catastrophe that it could have been.
If we're just talking about the City, it's only gone up in strength over the last century. Pretty much owns most governments to ransom, rules English law with an iron fist and is only challenged as financial capital because the americans HAVE to have their own stock exchange, and damn the time zones.
Le Jones said, half-jokingly, worried about how much TBC knew about the 'stuff' folder on his desktop.
The problem is that my ‘stuff’ folder is depressingly dull. On the London point, I meant the power of an Establishment able, if it only knew it, to corral the resources of the Empire and harness the trading cartel that is the Commonwealth.
The one plus of Queen Mary misfiring this early is that no-one in government will have any hopes of her 'saving the day' and the sooner this is brought to a head the better for everyone.
You’re right, old chum, the Queen Mother’s failure means that Baldwin and the Cabinet won’t go near her, again, unless it is absolutely essential. And if it is absolutely essential, the show’s already off…
Ah, so the Marian plan did not exactly come off. David in a rare (if uncertain) defiant mood, and something like resolution on a left-handed marriage. Excellent, all fitting into place. Now just to sit back and watch as the wheels come off and the stately carriage goes crashing into the Thames.
A beautifully written summary of the last couple of Royal-focussed chapters! The contrast with your exceptional AAR is more hilarious by the update…
Once the American has her feet under the table as consort I can see her trying to slowly but surely expand the "role." Appeasement does not have a good time in the mid twentieth century...
And that is an excellent point; there is limited legal provision for the morganatic marriage and everyone is terrified that Wallis will, a few months in, push Edward to making her Queen (a very similar argument occasionally rages about the Duchess of Cornwall. Regardless of whatever Charles says that we’re to call her, she’s Queen). If the Cabinet was willing could Edward ‘cuff it’? Well, an Act of Parliament would be neater, but it risks open Parliamentary warfare.
So we have the first game POD vs OTL. like some others (and having played HOI4 only a little, never as Britain) I’ll be curious to see where else David will take this and how much prerogative he tries to exercise.
More coming up, TBH we have two game months of chaos to survive, and a lot of updates to portray them...
I wonder what this option actually does in-game, since I never tried it or watched anyone do it themselves.
Well if you insist on royal marriage, the dominions leave and the goverment collapses. If you compromise, you take a stability hit and non-aligned support increases (aka monarchism in the uk) but everything stays mostly the same. The king and his goverment just kinda awkwardly stare at each other till the next election...
Not sure what happens to focus tree if you do...if the option to make him absolute monarch is still there.
I'll answer these together - the initial events let you run on (royal or morganatic marriages) until the 'Government resigns' event kicks in (we're a long way from that), and each event (you may recall they are things such as 'Parliament opposes marriage' or 'King makes broacast') brings with it a PP or stability hit / benefit.
It recently struck me that, though this AAR might not go that direction, that the decision tree for the abdication and afterwards offers some interesting pondering on the character of Lloyd George and Churchill. Would they, push come to shove, support the monarch over the country? Would they choose saving the empire over Liberal democracy? Would the player, come to that, given that it is by far the easiest way to pursue reunification in hoi4. The other method, which admittedly can be done afterwards, is imperial federation and takes a lot longer and is more complex with no garunteeing of sucess.
Even if your headcanon is that the kings party assumed tempoary control with Edward at the helm, militarily brought the dominions and ireland back into the fold before declaring imperial federation and restoring Liberal democracy and Parliament...would it be worth it? What would the OTL figures think and do given the option? What would you do, knowing that if you did it, it would work (in that the empire unfies and you can then easily federilse through focuses)?
I will explore this, as the dilemma now facing us (particularly with the next update) is at what point will somebody, anybody, say that 'enough is enough'.
If he could do that then he wouldn't be with a serial cheat and abuser like Wallis!
