Chapter 55, Jerusalem, 4 October 1936
“Palestine,” Corporal Mukungurutse said with a working man’s brittle pride, “is not to my liking.” He threw a dour look at Belsay, rightly blaming the Major for his predicament. Belsay, happy that not a single person in the British Army would rescue the Corporal, offered an entirely false smile of fake sympathy, backed up with a helpless shrug.
The General had been mildly surprised at his Military Assistant’s insistence that he be allowed to divert to Cairo en route to Jerusalem to scoop up Mukungurutse, but had issued the necessary permissions anyway. It had, as predicted, proven a masterstroke. His network of contacts (mostly, Belsay thought gleefully, of the illegal variety) was still developing but Dill had wanted for nothing since their arrival. And then there was the gossip; perhaps it was the incongruity of Mukungurutse, a podgy, slovenly Rhodesian, collecting intelligence, but a few of his ‘tip offs,’ gained at the relatively low expense of some army boots and webbing (but no ammunition – Mukungurutse wasn’t stupid) had, to the consternation of the brass hats and red tabs, delivered real results. It had been an exhilarating if erratic beginning.
“Ah, Des,” Belsay said, aping the General and his nickname for Mukungurutse, “Des, Des Des.” He shook his head like a parent to a child. “You were wasted at the Quartermaster’s in Cairo.”
“I was,” Mukungurutse said sourly, “safe in Cairo.”
“If I ever get a battalion,” Belsay said with a wink, “I’m taking you with me. “You’d like Durham and Sunderland.”
“If, Sir,” Mukungurutse said with insincere respect, shaken by the thought of an English winter, “you get a battalion, I’m rejoining the KAR.”
Belsay laughed as the new ADC, a humourless subaltern from the KOSBs, stood awkwardly in the doorway to this, Mukungurutse’s pantry, his fiefdom. “Telegram for the General, Sir,” he said stiffly.
Sighing, and no longer bothering to make small talk with the Lieutenant, Belsay wordlessly took the telegram. Whistling in surprise as he scanned it, he walked briskly to the General’s study.
Belsay walked straight into Dill’s office; his time with the General in Whitehall had forged a clear working relationship and while the General was catching up on ‘routine correspondence’ Belsay was allowed to walk straight in and interrupt him. He stood four paces in front of the General’s desk, waiting for him to look up from the maps and reports spread out before him.
Dill looked up expectantly. “The Durhams have reclaimed you?” Belsay smiled, as that was the first joke that had been made for a couple of days. He was astounded when the General made a second jest. “No, no, you’ve been appointed to the Cabinet.”
“Not far off, Sir,” Belsay said formally, knowing that Dill would be pleased that despite the humour the correct ‘marks of respect’ had been made. “Duff-Cooper has relented. You’re getting the troops.”
“Oh,” Dill said, evidently surprised. “What does that mean?”
“Essentially,” Belsay said, enjoying the air of pomp and intrigue, “most of the troops immediately available in Great Britain.” Dill’s eyes widened in astonishment as Belsay ploughed on. “It looks as though the Government has tipped out most of Aldershi-“ he stopped himself from using the other ranks’ nickname for the garrison town, though the ghost of a smile on Dill’s face showed that he had understood, “
Aldershot to send to us. And a few odds and sods from other garrisons.” Belsay winced, suspecting that the General would not approve of the levity.
“Could you elaborate?”
“It’s mainly stuff restructuring after service overseas or undergoing training Sir, along with the RUR…”
“They’re about to go back to Ulster.”
“Evidently no more, Sir. First Battalion the Argylls and Sutherlands…”
“Hampshire?”
“Tidworth, Sir, although I imagine they’re all on leave. They were the escort to the Duke of York in the Highland Games.”
“Poor chaps,” Dill said quietly. But any emotion was swiftly banished as he focussed again on Belsay.
“Yes Sir. And the deployment of the Sixteenth and Fifth Queen’s Royal Lancers has been switched. They’re coming to us rather than India.” Belsay whistled as he kept reading. “And the Seventeenth Twenty First Lancers. They’re going to be brigaded together into a light cavalry brigade. Could be useful,” Belsay said, venturing an opinion, “for the border.”
“Armoured cars?”
Belsay frowned. “It doesn’t say, Sir, but I will check.”
“Get,” Dill steepled his hands, a habit that was professorial to Belsay, “Colonel Rose to do it. You have enough to get on with.”
Belsay smiled; Dill was an odd one, neither gushingly ‘pally’ with his staff or dismissively imperious. Belsay, after months of wrestling with this, realised that he admired the General for his calm attitude and quietly incisive brain. But he neither led or commanded, he just, to Belsay, managed things. “Yes Sir.”
“In fact,” Dill said with a nod at the just arriving Mukungurutse, “Des will get him now. Present my compliments to the Chief of Staff, I need to see him.” ‘Des’ gloomily dropped off a tea service and stomped off to fetch the Colonel. Belsay noticed Dill’s approval at the choice of biscuits. “Dare I ask, Hugh, from where our gallant driver acquired these?”
“Not if you want an honest answer Sir, no…” he was prevented (or rescued) from elaborating by the arrival of Colonel Rose. Belsay would never have called himself ‘Guards material’; he was too sarcastic, not polished enough. Although Upper Middle Class, he lacked the swagger and airy confidence for the Household troops. But every time he saw Colonel Rose he felt able to transfer to the Coldstreams; the man was a mess. Belsay noticed (which meant that Dill was sure to notice) that the Colonel wasn’t wearing his Sam Browne, preferring a non-issue shirt upon which someone (presumably Colonel Rose, although one could never be sure) had rather liberally smeared what looked like a lightly coloured oily substance. Mukungurutse, taking his nod from the General, retreated muttering under his breath about ‘that boy being on borrowed time’.
“Ah, Colonel,” Dill said after a laboured survey of Colonel Rose’s attire, “have a look at this. The Major here, and rightly in my view, has a few questions. So do I.” He waved Rose and Belsay to seats, Belsay sitting out of the way so as to not get too involved in the discussion. He was scribbling a record of the meeting. “If this cavalry force comes out to us, can we check what they’re bringing. An armoured car force screening the frontier with Lebanon would be useful, I believe.”
“Yes it would Sir,” Rose said with his usual quietly thoughtful voice, “but if I may, the problem is the urban areas. We need a strong infantry presence with some good local intelligence to target our security efforts.”
This. This was, to Belsay, what would save Colonel Rose; he listened, nodded, and then said something totally different but with as much respectfulness as he could muster. Belsay noticed Dill steepling his hands, looking past the other two officers. “Go on,” he said after a long pause.
“I also noticed, as I’m sure that you and Hugh did,” he said slowly.
Clever, thought Belsay,
sucking up, but only a bit. “I noticed that there are a lot of Service Corps and RAOC troops coming out.”
Belsay had noticed that, but had guessed at Whitehall throwing them out to make up for the lack of infantry. Dill, however, took on a knowing look.
“Yes Colonel,” Dill said softly. “What would that indicate?”
Belsay hated the Socratic method but Rose didn’t seem to mind. “Manoeuvrability, Sir.”
“Yes, at a pinch mobility,” Dill said. “Hugh?”
“Out of area stuff, Sir?” Belsay wished he had paused to collect his thoughts before blurting out the answer.
“Yes, perhaps if the Government, whichever one is actually in power, that is, wanted a force readily deployable in the Middle East.” He looked at them both. “Where would you send us?”
“Ethiopia?” That was Belsay.
“Yes but the time for that has gone away. But yes, Ethiopia or Egypt, I suppose.”
Rose was stumped. “Mesopotamia?”
“Perhaps if our recent ventures weren’t enough,” he said, letting the Colonel down gently. He stretched out the wait. “The answer is India,” he said confidently.
Belsay and Rose were baffled. “India?”
“Yes, Colonel. Cyril,” he said, referring to the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, “confided in me before we left and the mood now, I hear, in Whitehall is that the Viceroy’s declaration that he disagrees with the King’s action has had a destabilising impact on the situation out there.”
Rose frowned. “But why not just send the reinforcements straight there? The lancer regiments were due to go out anyway.”
Dill nodded. “You’ll find, I suspect, that the units that they’re replacing, that were homeward bound, will instead stay on.”
“So we’re the strategic reserve,” Rose muttered.
“Well,” Dill countered, pedantic as ever, “more that we’re a possible source of reinforcement that’s already halfway out to India. With an augmented force we can robustly deal with the civil disquiet here, while being at readiness to move to India if required.”
Belsay was taking notes but risked a question. “Does that mean that we need to strengthen Haifa?”
Dill frowned. “Good point Hugh, I confess to not having thought about that. Have the ADC invite Admiral Pound up here when he’s next over this way.” Sir Dudley Pound was the Commander of the Mediterranean Fleet, although the good Admiral rarely left Malta. “Now, ‘Rosey’,” Belsay frowned and the Colonel blanched at the General’s use of his nickname, “how is it looking out there?”
Rose grimaced, Dill noticed this and formed an expectant look. “We’re undermanned, Sir,” he said bluntly but humbly. “The guerrilla tactics are working. Very slowly, very deliberately, we’re bleeding to death.”
“The Police,” Dill began, knowing what came next.
“Are not up to it, Sir. They arrive in blue serge, seen from a mile off, and by the time they arrive the scene is either deserted or laced with explosive traps.”
Dill nodded rather stiffly. “Proposals?”
“Not changed, Sir, since Orders Group this morning.”
“Martial law, is it?” Rose nodded. “I see. Hugh?”
“We could see if the High Commissioner will see you this evening.”
“Steady,” Dill countered with a smile,” we need to do our legwork first. Can you call Whitehall, and get the War Office to back us up with Sir Arthur. If London tell him to do it he might. Colonel?”
“Sir?”
“That’ll give us the room we need?”
“I think so, Sir.”
“Very well then, to our business. Oh,” Dill raised a finger, like a teacher making a final point. “What about our ‘intelligence’?” He placed, as ever, an odd emphasis on the word.
“They’re up and down along the frontier,” Rose said, Dill frowning at his inexact wording. Rose handed the General a single side of paper.
“Hmmn,” Dill said as he read, “the impression that I get from this is that our good friend the mufti could turn off the rebellion in an instant.”
“That is exactly the view of the staff Sir. If his French supporters wanted it done.”
Dill threw a withering look at Rose. “On my staff, Colonel, one would do well to avoid idle speculation.” Belsay thought that unfair and, putting his pen down, pushed his notebook away as if refusing to commit the unfair quip to record. Dill saw that and understood. “I understand the frustrations,” he said in a reassuring voice, “but we must set the tone for the staff.”
A knock at the door announced the ADC. “Des is ready with the staff car, Sir.”
“Is the call set up for the Major to make?”
“It is, Sir.”
====
The British High Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief for Palestine and Transjordan had spent a day on official visits as part of a very traditional ‘smile and wave’ policy. Seeing Dill and Rose arrive he sagged onto a chair, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“I have just been delayed,” he said in a tight, slightly squeaky voice, “from changing into evening attire by a telephone call from Duff Cooper. Rather impressive of you, summoning your old political master from your Whitehall days to give
me my orders.” Dill stated impassively at this flood of wounded feelings and hurt pride. “Two weeks in the Mandate and you allegedly know best,” he snapped. “It has been agreed that I will, this evening, declare a state of martial law. Orders will be issued for your troops and the police.”
“Thank you, Sir Arthur,” Dill said with a perfectly straight face.
“I believe that negotiation, led by me, could have settled this.” Wauchope saw Rose frown. He smiled sadly. “Ah Rosey, how fickly you have changed sides.” He shook his head. “I have been threatened, pushed around and generally discredited by this action. I have informed Duff Cooper that I want a call with the Colonial Secretary. I won’t remain here as a puppet. But we were, I assess, close to a resolution. The Mufti would have entreated with me, had we promised him a Royal Commission, or Parliamentary Inquiry. But now there will be blood, gentleman, I promise you that.”
====
GAME NOTES
A fairly gentle update covering two pretty weighty PODs. The first is that the Lloyd George administration authorises a massive surge in troops for Palestine, the other is that it orders the senior Briton in the region to declare martial law.
To the latter point first; when we last looked at Palestine (Chapter 17, and what a sunny world that was!) Wauchope was wearily rather overwhelmed by the break out of the Arab Revolt. Now, with a new PM at home and the newly arrived Sir John Dill to command the Army, he is stoutly against the Army’s efforts for a clampdown on the rebels. This is entirely OTL; for some reason that I cannot really work out Wauchope seemed to have a fervent belief that he, and he alone, could negotiate a settlement and that Dill’s efforts to empower the Army and Police (and the bit about Policemen racing around, vainly, emptied villages is entirely true) would weaken his hand. The view of the Government OTL was to let Dill and Wauchope argue it out in Jerusalem but here, with a new administration not wanting pointless distractions overseas it has authorised Dill’s request and essentially ordered Wauchope to accede to the military’s demand. In OTL, Wauchope went to the Grand Mufti and got him to agree to a ceasefire (which of course later broke down). This happened so instantly that Dill was horrified by the organisation and coordination of the rebels. Here though, a ceasefire isn’t going to happen as the British Army will be unleashed.
That Army will now be strongly bolstered. By the end of ’36 Dill already had an insufficient but growing force and here, while I’ve kept the figures vague in the narrative, in the game I sent out the 1st UK Division with a cavalry brigade. The light cavalry regiments mentioned really were India bound in the summer / autumn of 1936 so I posit that Whitehall would keep the regiments eagerly awaiting relief out in India for longer than anticipated while the reinforcements were sent to Dill. The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders did spend the summer in Scotland supporting ceremonial events so now, probably recuperating in their Hampshire barracks, they are ‘fair game’ for an emergency augmentation deployment as are the Ulster bound Royal Ulsters.
I’ve speculated that another reason for this surge into the Middle East is India and I can see the attraction of it from a Whitehall happily looking at maps without understanding what they mean. While the presence of a small army in Palestine would give the British some options should India explode, it is harder than Duff Cooper and Churchill realise to concentrate the troops (as they would presumably be dispersed throughout Palestine on counter-insurgency tasks) for redeployment to India. Hard, but not impossible and perhaps if the rebellion in Palestine could be stamped out quickly the troops could then be sent on to India.
If the update really focuses on Dill and his (entirely fictional) staff, with a cameo from Wauchope, then hanging over all of this is the controversial figure of Amin al-Husseini, the Grand Mufti. I have to confess that he looks utterly uninspiring; despite his clear power in the Arab Revolt and afterwards with the Axis powers he looks like someone who would sell you groceries or work at your local high street bank. He also bears a more than passing resemblance to a UK TV talent show contestant…
The scourge of Mandate Palestine
Mentored by Gary Barlow
Dill is as Socratic and slightly aloof as ever, and Colonel Rose is based on a military acquaintance of mine who made high rank despite being, like ‘Rosey’, a rather Dickensian slob. We’ll see both, again, soon.
As hard as it is to feel sorry for senior civil servants, I do feel a bit sorry for him.
We'll be looking at this in a future update.
Right then, we see something of our new ‘government’ in action. Of a sort, anyway. Churchill and DLG make an odd couple in practice, spending as much time winding each other up as they seem to be devoting to forming anything like a ministry. On which score, it is interesting to see the candidness with which they (or Churchill, anyway) are talking about political suicide. Aside from a monomaniacal sense of loyalty to the king, and aside from DLG’s continual goal of “be the prime minister”, it is hard to see what exactly the splitters hope to achieve. Behind all of the talk about duty, and the less salubrious talk of revenge, there doesn’t seem to be much of substance that actually unites the 'king's party'
This is very fair - but.
Only a year or so earlier one of the biggest defeats to a Government was delivered over India. These were committed politicians (nicknamed the 'diehards') who were prepared to take a stand over principle. This is a grubbier version, but people were prepared to take a stand if required.
They'd have to be compelte morons to not know that they're dooming themselves with this action. But yes, the interesting question is what they are hoping hoping achieve before/'if' they get taken down by Parliammet.
Any ideas?
Sure, but there's a long way between knowing something and actually admitting to it. And if they aren't planning to leverage an admission into a steely bond of 'we happy few vs the rest' that might form the basis of a new political group then… what exactly would you do it for? Do these people really love Edward so much?
No they don't; in fact few adore him and probably fewer do after they'd actually met him. A lot of them are taking a stand over principle, some are eager to just screw around Baldwin and Chamberlain, some are just eager for one more bite of power. But yes, it's a complete mess.
Churchill giving off this vibe in the
first second photo:
Can't even blame him tbh
Excellent! And fair!
Well, the British democracy sausage here has every bit of fat, gristle and ‘meat mechanically recovered from the bone’ being shoved into it. Covered in fast food style ‘waste nothing from the carcass’ gravy. Being prepared by a bevy of dirty-handed short order cooks over a grease trap. Presented for approval to an emotionally stunted, immature drunkard who is not a king’s bootlace.
What will the public think when asked to consume this abomination? Will their credulity be stretched as far as this metaphor? You’d think so - one would have to be a very committed KE8 supporter to swallow it and not feel like regurgitating instantly. There can’t be
that many of them, surely? It’s the kind of situation a Mosley would try to exploit, one would think. It has national disaster written all over it.
Good Heavens, how squalid... this isn't even sausage-making, it is men offering up their mothers for a chance at the brass ring.
I can just hear them saying, 'Well,
someone's going to have to be PM, so why not me?' The Year of the Four Emperors, with the Praetorians selling the Imperium to the highest bidder, has nothing on this lot.
I'd say 'A pox on all your houses and bad cess to the lot of you,' if it weren't for the rising tide of evil in the east: Britain has a vital part to play, if anyone is left fit to lead when this mess is over.
But to see them roll in garbage and filth for such a king... what a breath of fresh air a principled stand against this craven, hollow man would be. Enter Moseley? God save us all.
My apologies for the outburst,
@Le Jones ... your writing is excellent. If anything, too expressive...
I am very, very sorry,
@Bullfilter and
@Director, for triggering your fury! On the Mosley front, I remain genuinely unsure as to what to do with him. I have a couple of ideas, but we'll see how we factor him in. Ideally as little as possible.
To answer DB's question I think this bit is the key to Dalton and Morrison coming across. The MacDonald Labour governments were always accused of not doing enough, indeed the entire Parliamentary Socialism idea was not fully bedded down at this point. Off the top of my head an education act, the last Labour government tried to raise the school leaving age but it's own rebels defeated the Act, if they can get that rammed through and maybe something on Trade Union rights (closed shop probably) they can return saying "we achieved more in xx months than Clem did in xx years." I don't think it's a great plan, but that is my guess.
This is it precisely. Try and get some measures in, leg it as the Government implodes, and then triumphantly show the rest of Labour (which in their minds would now be Attlee-less) how it's done.
The fact DLG and Churchill still have no idea how to get around the opposition from the Church, Establishment, most of parliament, the Empire, everyone who has ever met Wallace and most of the public is a tad surprising. I know the opposition is divided (excessively so I would say, though I do recognise the narrative requires it) but they are surely not going to hang around for the several months this plan requires, even if every step is expedited to the bare legal minimum this is not a quick process. It is one thing to go into this scheme with a mad and unrealistic plan, quite another to do so with absolutely no plan at all.
There is a bit of narrative / game balancing (the game, remember, drags the impasse on forever, and it is possible, as
@TheButterflyComposer points out, to never resolve it at all!) but in a way you're right; this is amateurish, improvised nonsense.
I have an idea, but it is a horrible one.
if DLG actually tries it, or his other two options, he's actually insane.
Or he can title drop and try to use the Royal Prerogative. It will not work...but given the situation, it seems he is going to give it a try.
So I think that there are two, perhaps three tricks that he can play, and they range from 'a generous interpretation' of Parliamentary process to 'outright abuse'. I look forward to seeing if our thoughts align!
NO! That way lies madness, although the parallels are occasionally very palpable.
That's one shaky governing coalition. The chaotic nature of the decisions on cabinet posts just serves to underline the instability, not to mention the protests, and the king's drinking. I guess the Spanish Civil War will go on just fine without British supervision, let alone intervention, but will this alter the result? I, for one, am curious about that one, even if the House has all but forgotten a war is going on in Spain.
Spain is nowhere near, sadly, the new administration's comprehension.
