Chapter 66, Downing Street, 6 November 1936
The man was smartly dressed, but a certain lazy disinterest destroyed his aura; he looked small, uninspiring. He also looked fearful of what was about to happen, and stared, mournfully, disconsolately, like a cow for the abattoir, into the distance. Somewhere in the building a clock chimed that it was seven o’clock.
A civil servant, looking irritated at still being at work so late, stalked past him with the merest of nods. He stared lugubriously back. He noticed that the usual round of Downing Street attendants was lacking.
“Your Excellency”, an aide finally called, his respect and courtesy also best described as ‘lacking’, “the Prime Minister will see you now.”
Victor Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, rose awkwardly from his chair and trudged along behind the aide. He didn’t think to ask the man his name, seeing only a functionary. He wasn’t cruel, just engaged in his own concerns.
“His Excellency the Viceroy of India,” the aide announced. Linlithgow was not surprised to see that Churchill was sat beside Lloyd George. Churchill glowered at Linlithgow.
“Quite the display,” Lloyd George in attempt at levity, gestured at the Viceroy’s evening clothes.
“Winston, Prime Minister,” the Viceroy said bitterly, curtly, ignoring Lloyd George. Churchill looked furious.
“Well, man, why the flummery?” Lloyd George seemed fixated upon this, as if there was a clue from his formal dinner wear.
“I will, this evening, be invited to become a bencher, an honorary bencher, of Middle Temple. In thirty minutes,” he added dully. “And I’m going to resign.”
“Resign!” Churchill spat the word. “And so, this,” he jabbed at Linlithgow’s evening attire, “was what?”
“It was a ruse,” Lloyd George said cannily. “You needed a reason to come home.” The Prime Minister was so angry, a frustrated rage that was so thinly concealed that he could barely find the words. With Churchill still smouldering next to him an uncomfortable silence descended. Finally Lloyd George spoke, with forced calm. “Alright then, let us be clear. You are a failure,” Lloyd George said bluntly. “Your pronouncements and public comments on the conduct of His Majesty and his Government have been completely unprofessional and disloyal to the Crown,” he said in a rapid delivery. There was no Celtic charm this evening.
“I see,” Linlithgow said, rather primly.
“By siding with your friends Zetland and Halifax you’re serving one man, Neville Chamberlain, and by doing that you have created a breach between you and the Government that you represent and the King for whom you act,” Lloyd George said, again in a mildly offhand way.
“If this is all concluded, may I leave, then?” Linlithgow didn’t say this sarcastically, just directly and flatly.
“I would add,” Churchill said, his anger triggered anew by Linlithgow’s rather ‘bombproof’ attitude, “that your tenure thus far is hardly crowned with laurels.”
Linlithgow, who hated the opportunism of Lloyd George and the ‘diehard’ imperialism of Churchill, frowned. “I have tried, Winston,” he said sharply, with the first hint of emotion as he replied in mild rebuke to Churchill’s disrespect for the office, “to institute Whitehall’s desire for the Government of India Act to actually be in effect. I understood that ‘empower local self-government’ was British policy,” he said with an air of assumed innocent misunderstanding.
“Stop changing the subject!” Churchill was angry. “We were talking of your comments to the press, and to the princely states!”
“And you, Chancellor,” Linlithgow said acidly, “were criticising my performance after a mere six months in office. I have the right to defend my conduct in office.”
Churchill gave vent to his rage. “And you have the obligation, Sir, to be loyal to your King!”
Too much, or too little, had now passed. Lloyd George patted Winston’s arm gently. “That’ll do. Was there anything else?”
“Only that my comments will be carried verbatim in the
The Times tomorrow with interviews in a range of newspapers. As it is my duty to provide notice of my spoken comments, you have notice.” Linlithgow stood and walked heavily out of the study.
“Turd,” Churchill snapped.
“Tool, more like,” Lloyd George said wearily. “I’ll telephone Beaverbrook, it’ll be too late for tomorrow but we can counter this nonsense in the editions after that.” Churchill grunted which Lloyd George accepted. “India?”
“Best that we impose direct control for a while,” Churchill said immediately.
“Uh huh,” Lloyd George said, never really interested in Indian affairs, “we need a new Viceroy, though.” He picked up the telephone. “Could you see if Lord Lothian is in London this evening and have him sent around urgently, please.” Lloyd George looked at Churchill. “Poor Lothian, he has this nonsense to deal with.”
“Ask one of the regional governors to step in,” Churchill suggested.
“Yes, yes,” Lloyd George agreed, “and we can always give the Viceroyalty to one of our supporters. The list of peerages we’re going to approve is bloody obscene.”
Churchill looked glum. “I’ll have a think, see which of the governors can step up.”
Lloyd George’s thin crust of a forced interest was finally pierced. “I actually asked you here to talk about Morrison. You’ve seen his letter?”
“Sly, most opportunistic, his decision, threatening to resign.”
“Oh no, Winston, he’ll go. We’ll lose most of the Labour lot. All of them if Dalton jumps.”
“Attlee won’t have them back,” Churchill said, but not confidently.
“He’s not as timid as you might…”
“A gerbil,” Churchill said dismissively.
A secretary knocked at the door and entered immediately. “Lord Lothian’s compliments, Sirs, and he is on his way.”
Lloyd George acknowledged the secretary with a wave. “Thank God,” he said with a sigh.
“We’ve given it our best,” Churchill said simply.
“I’m not done yet,” Lloyd George said with relish. “I am not handing over to Neville bloody Chamberlain. We need to get old Eddie out of that Palace and onto the streets.”
Churchill frowned. “But…”
“…the one thing that everyone has forgotten,” Lloyd George said conspiratorially, “is that the people get a say. And if the country sees the King being good at his bloody job, they might just vote in a government that supports him.”
“My dear David,” Churchill began, thinking of at least three elements of Lloyd George’s comments that would not stand scrutiny, but Lloyd George was already thinking far ahead.
“We send him somewhere redolent with grief, with suffering.”
“Where?”
Lloyd George picked up a newspaper, still mourning the recent clashes between the left and right. “Jarrow. Wearside.”
“Tyneside,” Churchill said immediately.
“Fine, fine,” Lloyd George swatted away Churchill’s interruption. “We send the King to Jarrow. Never mind pointless debates with Attlee and Neville. No. We get the King to Jarrow, mixing with his people. Ah, here he is.”
“Well normally I’d be delighted to see you, I suppose you know that the rumour in my club is that Linlithgow is resigning.” Philip Kerr, 11th Marquess of Lothian and the Secretary of State for India had an amused smile. Lloyd George suspected, slightly enviously, that he was one of the few of the makeshift Cabinet that would survive, politically, this increasingly desperate drama.
“Aye,” Lloyd George said quietly, conceding that Chamberlain was playing this round well if the rumours were already out there. “I’ve got two questions for you. How do we manage governing India going forward, and who do we get as stand-in Viceroy?”
“Ah, well let’s deal with the Viceroy bit first, shall we boys?” The secretary returned with a glass of water for both Lothian and Lloyd George and a whisky for Churchill. Lloyd George, teetotal, frowned while Lothian, whose Christian Scientist beliefs encouraged abstinence, beamed. “Oh come on David, we’re hounded by the press and hated by half the public. And you’ve dragged
me from a quiet night for one filled with intrigue and skullduggery. I’d say Winston has earned a tipple, a wee dram!” The ‘wee dram’ was said in a truly awful faux Scottish accent, for Lothian’s normal voice was not that dissimilar to Neville Chamberlain’s, thin and English. Lothian had known both Lloyd George and Churchill for years and sought to leaven the obvious tension.
“Continue, please, Philip,” Churchill said this calmly. He and Lothian had clashed as often as they had found common cause, and he simply wasn’t in the mood, on this night of all nights.
“My advice is that you get young Knatchbull to do it.”
“Brabourne?” Churchill was sceptical. “He is, Philip, not a dramatic, inspiring figure!”
“Yes, Winston, precisely. If you give it to Anderson or one of the military they’ll want to meddle, have a stir of the pot, make lots of speeches. Gandhi will either end up as Prime Minister or prisoner,” Lothian said with a swashbuckling smile. “Young Brabourne is a safe pair of hands. And that’s what we need.”
“Alright then, that’s the Viceroy. How we appoint him?” Lloyd George frowned. “Do I need Parliament to do it?”
“Prerogative power,” Churchill said knowingly, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
Lothian nodded agreement. “It’s one of the easiest things that you can do, providing that you can get the Palace to sign up.”
Lloyd George smiled wearily. “The one thing that I
can guarantee. What about running India?”
Lothian frowned. “The Government doesn’t agree on this.” He looked sharply, shrewdly, at both men, swirling his water around the cheap Downing Street tumbler (Lloyd George had, probably wisely, refused to bring his own glassware). “And, candidly, a government that includes yon Winston here,” he sketched a salute in the air with the tumbler, “and Amery, as well as Slippery Sam, will never agree.”
Both Lloyd George and Churchill nodded. “So…”
“…so,” Lothian said softly, mirroring Lloyd George. “The dramatic thing to do is in this moment of crisis is what, no doubt, yon Winston would have said. Tear down the house, leave a figurehead Viceroy, and impose rule from London.”
Churchill, annoyed at being so easily predicted, glowered while Lloyd George, smiling wryly, looked to Lothian. “Alright,” he said with a theatrical tweak of the moustache. “Permanently?”
“Goodness no. But Winston would no doubt say long enough to calm everyone down, given an opportunity to let everyone air their views.”
“You disagree,” Lloyd George read Lothian’s expression.
“Aye, I do,” Lothian said softly. “I do not see what appointing and then publicly ripping away his authority does for us.” He took the silence of the other two as permission to continue. “It’s a sly old thing to snatch reform away yet again.”
Churchill glowered while Lloyd George, who had never really cared for India, gestured for Lothian to continue.
“The report of the Simon Commission was a let-down, and even that was lost in the chaos of MacDonald and his little gang,” Lothian said, a hint of melancholy creeping in. “And then Edward and his round table…”
“A most seditious act,” Churchill said, glowering from his corner.
Lothian shot an exasperated look at Churchill before looking at the Prime Minister. “Three conferences, a white paper, a Parliamentary Select Committee…”
“…chaired by Linlithgow.”
“Aye,” Lothian said with a hint of piratical swagger.
“So?”
“So,” Lothian again mirrored his Prime Minister, “we appoint Brabourne as Viceroy. We then quietly slow down any reforms and changes that were planned. Cabinet,” he gestured at Winston, “will no doubt demand that anyway.”
“Some of them,” Lloyd George murmured.
“If you publicly rip up the GOA…”
“…GOA?”
“Government of India Act,” Lothian said with a hint of surprise.
“Yes yes,” Lloyd George said wearily. “Fine. What of it,” he said testily.
“So, there are expectations out there,” Lothian said. “Expectation which we, of course, will never have to worry about. But if we publicly rip it all down you’re throwing down the gauntlet to the Congress.”
“But we always will have the power…”
Lothian sighed. “If you look at the thing it looks as if all the powers are vested in the Governor General and the governors. But is not every power here vested in the King? Everything is done in the name of the King but does the King ever interfere? Once the power passes into the hands of the legislature, the Governor or the Governor General is never going to interfere.”
“Well,” Churchill said, slowly, “India is not London…”
“…so we delay everything quietly,” Lloyd George replied as he grappled with the problem, cutting across both of them. “Aye, it’s all we’ve got, at least. At least…”
“…at least,” Churchill said finally, exploding with contained rage, “until Neville and his cabal give us the most noble order of the boot. India,” he continued, “must be governed with a vision…”
“…one thing at a time, Winston,” Lloyd George said, a hint of patronising creeping in.
Churchill caught the undertone, and half stood, towering over the little Welshman and the languidly leaning Lothian. “Rule from Whitehall, yes. A new Viceroy, yes. But with a plan for…”
“…that’s enough,” Lloyd George snapped, “for a government fighting for oxygen to do. Keep India quiet for now,” he stood, trying to match Churchill for height. “And,” he jabbed, unconsciously emulating Churchill, “off our desks,” each word was fired like a bullet, and accompanied by a jab.
Churchill was angry, and tossed his tumbler into the fire. “Waste of good whisky,” he said finally, quietly. He left, noisily.
Lloyd George didn’t say much, but smiled secretively. An idea was forming, one that sought to pair the chaos of India with a desire to survive.
====
GAME NOTES
I have made it a rule, an undertaking, to mention when, as HOI4 occasionally forces us to, I have cheated / tweaked the game (perhaps via a console command). I’m afraid that with India, utterly buggered up (in every way) India, there is quite a bit of said ‘tweaking’. Starting with the ‘normal’ HOI4 India experience; as you all know I hate, deplore, that India (or “British Raj”) is a semi-autonomous subject of the UK. This means a different Army (although some Indian Army generals appear in the UK OOB), the ability to make her own military equipments, the ability to choose what domestic infrastructure (small ‘i’, so I include all that civilian factories can make) to build. The contrast with other elements of the British Empire that lack this autonomy (Egypt is the obvious one, as was discussed ages ago) is striking. And it is stupid.
And then we have the event that really triggered the need for this update. In my view this TL’s India would be relatively benign (compared to the chaos elsewhere) as the King and the marriage crisis is a UK political squabble and one that wouldn’t automatically mean much for British India. It certainly didn’t in the OTL Abdication Crisis. For reasons left as an exercise for the player, India, in the no-Abdication decision tree, is treated as a Dominion and therefore declares full independence when the “Dominions Break with the Crown” event happens. For the traditional (i.e. actual) Dominions of Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa, this is simple enough (if a little odd, we’ll deal with this in a looming update) but for India it is dramatic as we suddenly see an Indian PM / President (it’s never made clear, I think) and a complete rupture with the UK. My reaction, when this first happened, was ‘colourful’ at best. So when the second game following the premise of Edward VIII holding out was played (the basis for this AAR) I immediately diplo annexed India using the console commands, and ruminated that it could be reflected in prose by the DLG team pausing any enacting of the Government of India Act, tied in with some form of rupture with Linlithgow. This is an imperfect solution and will have ramifications, in game and in AAR, which I will do my best to navigate with as much plausibility as I can.
India, both OTL and here, is already probably lost to the British if one’s view of British India is the Victorian Raj; I believe that a British Government willing to be repressive or, at the other end of the spectrum, incredibly far-sighted,
might have held on (either to a police state or some form of Dominion), and in the conclusion of the other AAR suggested that the British (stronger than OTL thanks to Halifax’s deal with Germany) carved up India ruthlessly, with self-governing regions divided among ethnic / religious / baldly geographic lines but lacking even the partial unity that they had in the OTL 1947. The 1935 Government of India Act, the “GOA” referred to above, was a horribly controversial statute that tried in part to achieve this, although “federation” was one three big proposals. The sum of the GOA was that it was just too controversial; it produced some of the 1930s’ most colourful parliamentary exchanges and nearly did for Churchill’s career through the deep divisions it exposed within the Conservative Party. What was the problem? IMHO this mammoth piece of legislation (‘twas the largest Act of Parliament ever enacted at that time) tried, in my view, to do far, far too much. It is true that the Raj was looking rather tired by 1935, and a range of factors (contribution to WW1, rising Indian and sectarian nationalism, the sheer bloody cost of the thing, some cack-handed British reactions, a wider sense of British drift) meant that some form of reform was probably overdue by the 30s. Previous efforts, particularly those immediately after WW1, to do something, anything, to maintain the British grip didn’t work. By the early thirties you have a chain of abortive attempts to allay some of the varying Indian demands, particularly greater Indian representation in the legislature (but not really the executive). Of course, India being India, there is a third element to the weird dance between the British and their subjects, the princely states. The GOA tried to reconcile all three. And here the problems begin…
Previous conversations on the role of the Viceroy and Secretary of State fluctuated between abolition to reduced autonomy to rule by decree (essentially what the DLG government is going to do while it clings on to power). In the GOA the British Government, in the person of the Secretary of State for India through the Governor General of India (Viceroy) would continue to control India’s financial obligations, defence, foreign affairs and the British Indian Army and would make the key appointments to the Reserve Bank of India and Railway Board. No finance bill could be placed in the legislature without the consent of the Governor General. The Viceroy, under the supervision of the Secretary of State for India, was provided with overriding and certifying powers that could, theoretically, have allowed him to rule autocratically. Again, DLG will explore these going forward.
Viceroy aside the three main features of the Act were provisions for ‘Federation’, responsible government with safeguards, and separate representation of communal and other groups. Lovely. So what did that mean? The
United Federation of Planets All Indian Federation was supposed to the binding bit, tying together the paternalistic British, the provinces and the princely states. There would be 11 provinces administered by a governor, another 6 by a chief commissioner, and then whomever among the princes could be arsed to join (it was their choice – they absolutely could refuse to join if they wanted to). Each constituent part would have a seat on the Federal Legislature. The Federation would not be effective until at least 50% of the legislature seats had been filled and states representing at least 50% of the population of India had formally acceded (joining the Federation was via an accession treaty overriding, for the princely states, all previous agreements). This of course never happened; the princely states hated it and then the situation in Europe dominated British attention. The establishment of the Federation was indefinitely postponed after the outbreak of the Second World War.
The composition of provincial legislatures was not straightforward; for one they varied from province to province. In all legislative assemblies all members were directly elected by the people, apart from those that weren’t (Madras and Bombay, to name two) where there was an assembly and a council; membership of these councils included some representatives nominated directly by the local Governor (British appointed). Seats in the local assemblies were divided with representation from separate constituencies of ‘General’ (basically those falling under another category, as well as the castes), Muslim, European, Anglo Indian, Indian Christian and Sikh communities.
Breathe, grab a glass, some nice young aide will be round with snacks shortly. All better? And we’re back…
The (British appointed) regional governors retained substantial authority to interact with legislatures, safeguard minority rights as well as the privileges of civil servants and British business interests, and to step in (under the assent and supervision of the Viceroy) and manage the administration of a province indefinitely under special provisions. His ministers were to be chosen from among the elected members of the provincial legislature and were collectively responsible to it. So, while it increased the power of the locally elected ministers, the governor was always hovering, waiting to take over.
Although the Act was intended to go some way towards meeting Indian demands, both the detail of the bill and the lack of Indian involvement in drafting its contents meant that the Act met with a lukewarm response at best in India, while still proving too radical for a significant element in Britain (Churchill and the “diehards” – don’t be mistaken, he’s seriously p***ed here). It’s a mess, and in OTL only parts of it (the legislative elections particularly) were starting to take shape by 1937. Here, with DLG in power, (sighs) it’s not going to be as rosy.
On the ‘India as Dominion’ point, this stems, I think, from a Paradox misunderstanding of the nature of the Viceroy; he certainly wielded more power than, say, the Governors General of the ‘white’ dominions and had a stronger relationship with his Secretary of State than the others had with the Dominions Secretary. Halifax, as Lord Irwin, suggested during his tenure as Viceroy (a job he never really warmed to) that full Dominion status was a (vaguely defined) logical outcome of constitutional reform. Beyond a few slow handclaps it made little material difference to the course of Indian affairs (although I accept the impact of the perception of this statement from the Crown’s senior official in India). The GOA was silent on Dominion status. Again, in KFM I suggested that a multitude of smaller states joined the Commonwealth as Dominions rather than large unified India.
Linlithgow, or, more properly, Victor Alexander John Hope, 2nd Marquess of Linlithgow, KG, KT, GCSI, GCIE, OBE, TD, PC, FRSE, was as dull, plodding and uninspiring as portrayed here. A literal and metaphorical ‘stiff neck’ (not entirely his fault as a war wound meant that his neck mobility was limited – no, I’m not joking) he invariably comes across as either “a big, doleful cow,” (a quote I have seen twice, both unattributed) or a unimaginative, surly, dour Scot who didn’t achieve much during his tenure as Viceroy. Would he have resigned as a result of King Edward’s dalliances? Accepting that I needed
something in which to dress the game events (and my attempts to correct), I lean to a conclusion that he alone probably wouldn’t (while he was dour and Establishment, I’m not sure that he had it in him to actively do anything in protest),
unless Whitehall drove him to it. That is why I have suggested that the DLG administration has pushed him into coming home (along with pressure from the Chamberlain cabal).
If Linlithgow is a rather dull character then Philip Henry Kerr, 11th Marquess of Lothian is anything but. A good two-thirds of the pictures of him show a cheeky, beaming, slightly naughty character and a lot of his remarks show a wonderful irreverence. I have gambled that, like Lloyd George, he would have refused a ‘wee dram’ (I’ve looked, at length, for evidence of his abstinence, but in the absence of evidence either way have gambled that he would have followed the Christian Scientist teachings); but his cheerful nature demonstrates that he doesn’t need it. He certainly had a colourful life, and is probably best known for being the British Ambassador to the United States at the start of the war, and for being something of a committed appeaser. He died, of course, in Washington in 1940 and was replaced by Lord Halifax.
Ah, it returns. HoI4 AARs were going a little bit crazy without such calm influences...
Oh God - I'm the AAR version of
The Antiques Roadshow.
As it would. I’m sure Ribbentrop didn’t even know the word for subtlety in German, nor understand the concept and certainly not be able to demonstrate it in an English context.
I still find it truly bizarre that the best a vast country like Germany could provide as Ambassador is Ribbentwerp. It's not that he wasn't good, it's that he actively reduced relations. Remarkable.
Well, still have to recall Parliament, boot out the government, sign off on the new one...or not...and then get rid of the King. Or Wallis. Or both.
Probably not getting sorted by Christmas...no.
Agreed - this is going to roll over into '37. That is precisely want dear old DLG wants, it's a race against time between the Simpsons getting a divorce and Chamberlain getting into Downing Street.
Who needs the Abwehr at this point? Von Ribbentrop of all people just discovered what would normally take weeks if not months of intelligence work.
And all of this adds to Hitler's view of Ribbentrop.
Quite a cavalcade of horror... Ribbentrop the Nasty, Chamberlain the Contemptuous and Edward the Oblivious.
As an ironic note, Chamberlain's father once proposed an 'understanding' with Imperial Germany, which was spurned by the Kaiser's men. One wonders what Neville's opinion would be if he had been at this little meeting. to hear Britain again propose an 'understanding' with Germany and again be told they'd have to pay through the nose for it.
I persist in thinking that some patriot will simply shoot Crazy Eddie (there's a literary reference for you) and put the nation out of its misery... or can the royal family have him declared non compos mentos and shuffle him off to, oh, I don't know. Bermuda and the Bahamas are lovely - the Yukon isn't - the Andaman Islands are far enough away....
I'd love to have him shot (and toyed with the near miss in July '36 being successful) but usually feel that it's too easy a butterfly.
I can't help but think that it would be a more interesting (that is to say, disastrous) story if instead someone shot Wallis. With no prospect of an unsuitable marriage the justification for getting rid of the king is gone, but there's too much enmity and hostility for people to just move on.
Ooooh! Now that is an intriguing idea!
I think - and this may be uncharitable - I think both the power-brokers and the people would be willing to have Crazy Eddie (See also: The Mote In God's Eye) as King without Wallis no matter what the Church and conservatives say - the same deal that Chamberlain just offered. Very few are willing to have Wallis, but some would accept her if Edward insists. Were Edward more skilled he would accept Chamberlain's offer and then use the whole power of the crown to wreck him... but Edward isn't smart or skilled, Wallis is entirely ignorant of what arrangements are feasible and Edward will do whatever Wallis wants...
I agree that it's not entirely inconceivable that a cleverer King could have manipulated the situation to get what he wanted, it's a very tall order but possible. Sadly, of course, we have Edward VIII is erratic and petulant.
Except one was technically the Authority, and certainly not a man of the people, whilst the other died at the height of their popularity.
True.
Perceptions can be shaped by good media engineering.
Also true, and Beaverbrook deserves a lot of credit for keeping the Edward / DLG show on the road.
Is he really worth the bother? Compared with George and Elizabeth, who are going to be the next monarchs anyway no matter what happens?
If the tories are going to bother with cloak and dagger at all after this point, it will be to have both king and consort die in an accident. Then Bury them under Buckingham Palace's stairs. No one will ever think to look there.
And Princess Elizabeth. As we have already said, butterflying the reign of QE2 out of the way is nigh on impossible.
Walter Monkcton doing valuable research work finding out just how far you can stretch professionalism and duty to the client before a lawyer snaps. My suspicion is "Infinitely, as long as the bills keep being paid" but Eddie is definitely stress testing the theory. The reception with von Ribbntrop, with that company, sounds hell, I doubt I could even manage to stay for one glass of champagne without saying something undiplomatic.
So to this point, Monckton gamely served Edward VIII in the OTL crisis so I anticipate that he will continue a while longer, although his disgust with his master is palpable and there is an interesting side point on whether he is a lawyer providing professional advice to a client or an employee carrying out general duties. One confers an ethical responsibility, the other is more transactional.
I continue to believe there is only one way this ends for Eddie (abdication) and we are just waiting to see how much damage he does on the way out of the door. In contrast the upcoming naval shenaningans around treaties and new build seem more interesting, as that is less of a foregone conclusion.
A second Ark Royal is a very interesting choice, the Third Sea Lord was absolutely dead set against a repeat Ark Royal (too vulnerable to aircraft, risky to operate in the Med / North Sea, etc) and the '36 programme actually authorised two carriers to be built (with another two at the very start of the '37 programme). Given an Ark is considerably cheaper than an armoured carrier (say 75% of the cost as all that armour plate is expensive) and only one is being built, and the savings from only two KGVs being ordered and not three, there is a great deal of 'spare' money sloshing about to be spent on something. I wonder where it ends up? Will it even stay in the Admiralty budget?
So I'm grateful for the time taken on this. I agree that Admiral Henderson was reluctant, what we don't yet know is how far these plans have proceeded and, as you say, what the broader plans will be. The Navy, like everyone else, is in for an interesting time. Channon is a fool so this is Churchill's meddling - I think that he would spot the economy of the Ark Royal class and throw one into the Naval estimates. I do have an idea, and it is very Churchill.
