A Royal Prerogative - A UK AAR

[Director]

Yes, but no... if Edward decided to keep Wallis 'on the side' then I think there would be some private eye-rolling and snickering, not at his decision to keep a mistress but rather at who he chose. It is Edward's politically-tone-deaf entitlement and self-absorption that have dragged this out in public, and the politicizing and posturing from DLG and NC and the archbishop that have made it tawdry. I have a hard time imagining Eddie and Windsor carrying on - rather more him pleading and her controlling him by denial - so I think this is all about power and posturing rather than passion and sex, which therefore has made it, in that most deprecating of Southernisms, 'tacky'.

If I were going to essay a witticism I should say that Edward and Wallis have gender, but perhaps not sex.


'No-one is alarmed by goings-on in Germany, don't you know... they lost the war, and they know it, and that's what all those medals and uniforms are about. That fellow Hitler is a staunch anti-communist and rather a good sort - one of us at heart, even though he is a plebeian little commoner. The Reds and the Jews are a much bigger threat than the Germans, everyone thinks so. Rather a lot we could learn from Hitler about keeping 'those people' in line, don't you agree? And that fellow Churchill is so tiresome with his goings-on about the Germans and re-armament. Only what we should do in their place, after all, not that we ever would be. Don't worry your little head over Germany. Hitler's quite a reasonable man, knows his place and all that. He's someone we can cut a deal with... and who cares what happens to some far-off place in Ruritania, after all.'

And so they will keep petting the nice doggy until they get bitten, after which it will be a contest to see how many can be thrown to the wolf while they try to find a stick.

Of course, we can use our perfect hindsight to see what is coming. From their perspective, and at that time, an aggressive Russia probably looks like a bigger threat to peace than Germany.

 

[Le Jones]

Chapter 76, Rawalpindi, 20 January 1937

It wasn’t really a riot, more a demonstration. A Hindu-led, anti-British, pro-congress march through the city, calling on the British to honour the 1935 India Act (which everyone of the British wanted to forget, and quietly) was the latest in a campaign of ‘flying protests’, designed to fall upon a city and energise the population. Rawalpindi was the first of a week of planned demonstrations in the Punjab.

But the British were ready; this was an area with as many Sikhs and Muslims as Hindus and some them hated the Hindus as much as they hated the British. A tip off had been given to the local authority, the Governor of Sind, and he, being a man of measured temperament, had agreed to troops but as an aid to the civil power. That Governor, Sir Lancelot Graham, had reported this to the Viceroy but, as that office was temporarily vacant, and the Governor of Bombay had been recalled to London (where it was expected that he would be appointed as the next Viceroy) only the Governor of faraway Bengal had acknowledged Graham’s decision, agreeing with it and advising him to concentrate his troops.

Anderson, in Bengal, had a point. Although Rawalpindi in theory had a brigade, the 2nd Worcestershires were terribly undermanned (sending most of their trained men to the 1st Battalion in Palestine) and the 1st Devonshires were dispersed on other duties. That meant that Graham’s 'brigade' really consisted of the 1st Battalion of the Royal Ulster Rifles.

They were moving now, entering the city to protect the key facilities, the railway station, the government buildings, the banks. These men of Belfast, Clogher, Antrim and Coleraine passed the time in the trucks making the usual bluff jokes of men facing an uncertain day. Cigarettes were eagerly drawn upon; it wasn’t the prospect of death, but the uncertainty of a large crowd with a mixed population. As the platoons went off to their assigned buildings the young Ulstermen felt isolated: the battalion was spread very thin. The platoon assigned to the train station, the key transportation hub, felt undermanned and lacking support. Surely, the young Second Lieutenant wondered as he and his platoon Sergeant formed up in the ticket hall, HQ has a strategic reserve, ready to call upon.

They arrived slowly but steadily. Trains arrived and disgorged their cargoes, the more affluent types who could offered the modest train fares into town. Families came, fathers carrying children on their shoulders and singing the exotic songs that even now, months into their deployment, felt utterly alien to the strongly protestant Ulstermen. What wasn’t alien was that the crowds were growing, and the Ulstermen were between them and the exit.

“Sir,” (in the Northern Irish accent it was more ‘Sorrr’) the sergeant asked, “what do we do?”

The Lieutenant hesitated; he was fresh out of Sandhurst and was torn between his orders, which stated that the protesters shouldn’t be allowed to take over the station and disrupt ‘order and good discipline’, and the sheer mass of people irresistibly making their way to his thin line of troops. There was only one thing to do.

“Let them past,” he snapped, “but funnel them to the entrance. Let’s get rid of them, into the city.”

“Sir,” the Sergeant said curtly, inclining the platoon with a simple quarter turn so that the British acted as a natural ‘guiderail’ for the Indians. Both sides were tense, warily eyeing one another.

The crowd, slowly, made its way out of the station and into the town beyond. Another subaltern, selected by the CO, arrived at the platoon guarding the station. “Orders,” he said simply. “They’re gathering in a square in town. CO wants you to rejoin your company.” He gestured to the street outside, where more troops of the RUR were marching past. “We’re to surround them and stop them rioting.”

The company marched through the city, giving up on map reading and taking the simple expedient of merely following the Indian demonstrators. The company commander was an old ‘India hand’ and, as the company halted on a bridge before the square, gave one order.

“Un-load!” The metallic clanging sound of rifles being checked for ammunition echoed around the clearing. “I will not,” he continued, in the perfect pronunciation of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy, “have a man start a crush by tripping on his rifle.”

“So what’s the fucking point of us being here,” a Belfast voice muttered from the ranks.

They marched on, the heat rising with the sun. The Ulsters stopped for a drink of water, ignoring the local traders who had already done well out of the demonstrators and sought to now sell to the British. There was a further pause while the Company was reinforced by another rifle company posted to guard the southern approaches to the city. The battalion 2IC, an elderly Major who had once marched in the ranks, fussily took command of the half-battalion and, the British ranks swelled, they marched to assert order.

The demonstration reached the centre of town; a solitary figure stood up and, doing his best, shouted out. To the Ulsters, it was barely audible gibberish. They formed in two ranks, at ease in the blazing sun. Rations were surreptitiously munched upon, the remainder of the water canteens drank. The man continued, occasional remarks drifting into earshot of the RUR. The handful that could understand explained it for the others. There was mention of the King, of the collapse of Parliament, of the hypocrisy of ‘British civilisation’.

After an age, the ranks were overjoyed as the main protest finally ended. It was then that the trouble began. A group of bored young men, clearly of different origin to this demonstration, picked a fight at the edge of the crowd. There were screams, there was shouting. There was, definitely, one gunshot.

The officers had seen the danger, and did their best. “Royal Ulsters!” The Major struggled to make himself heard, “let the families past! Open files!” Opening the half-battalion had the effect of doubling the length of the British line. Like water through a grate, fleeing Indians ran through the ranks of the RUR, helping them but crippling British command and control.

Something had to be done, so the Major forced the RUR to push through to close on their platoons and then move forward. The isolated little clumps of khaki pushed their way, like the teeth of a comb through thick hair, to the centre of the violence. The Major bit his lip and was torn between the instinct to have his men load their rifles and the obvious dangers of an unintended shot being fired. Fixing bayonets was unthinkable. There was no immediate threat to his men, so he demurred.

They pressed on, thousands of Indians now behind them (and scattering into the city, the worry for the other half of the battalion). The Major pressed on, finally closing on his target. Then then stone throwing began.

Rifleman McMullan was the first to be struck, indeed he was to be the first casualty in the Indian Emergency of 1937, a rock smashing into his solar topee and just above his right eye. McMullan’s platoon, the platoon that had been guarding the station, were on the left flank of the half-battalion and the furthest away from the Major and his command group. The young lieutenant, knowing that he couldn’t open fire and couldn’t fix bayonets, did the next best thing. He and his men charged. A rifle, wielded effectively, was a decent club and the young soldiers beat their way through the rioters.

Discipline was shaky in the other platoons as more and more riflemen broke ranks and charged into the fight. The Major halted the rest of the half battalion, screaming at his officers and sergeants to regain control. Finally, in desperation, he fired his pistol, the only (officially) loaded weapon in the RUR, above his head. Miraculously, it did the job as the rioters melted away, the British NCOs just about preventing a ragged pursuit.

The rollcall was taken, the ranks redressed, the wounded tended. The Major, who had served through the worst of the Great War, looked over the square and saw the debris of battle.

====​

GAME NOTES

A change of style and tempo and, indeed, focus (sorry again, Attlee!) as we pick up on India, a thread I have ignored since the resignation of the Viceroy back in September 1936.

We’ve talked about India before, but by way of reminder in the OTL 1936 it was in an uncertain position with the 1935 Government of India Act, the key British ‘offer’ to India, still waiting to be enacted. In this TL it’s even worse as absolutely nothing positive has happened; the Lloyd George Cabinet had far too much to worry about at home to develop any plan for India and the myriad of nationalist groups have filled the vacuum. The British Army in Rawalpindi was as described, a few weak British battalions doing their best, the wonders of the regimental system meaning that the second battalions were creaming off their trained men to go the first (David Niven talks about this ‘milking’ in his autobiography – unlike some it, the description of life in the HLI rings true). And so, we have a half-battalion taking on a huge, initially peaceful, protest. I initially wondered about an Amritsar style outrage but tbh I think that by 1936 the British, in any TL, have moved ‘the other way’, with a marked reluctance to assert themselves. To be clear, I am not advocating repression, more that many in the British Army by the late ‘30s recognised the dangers and nearly always ‘pulled back’. Certainly, the Ulsters’ deployment to India seems to have been conducted extremely well; it was, as discussed, a disciplined, rather quiet battalion (very like the DLI, my regiment of choice) with a good mix of ‘late entry’ (i.e. promoted from the ranks) and professional direct entrant officers. It is their misfortune to be, like many British Army battalions, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This incident is going to be an interesting one for this TL’s historians to assess; yes, the British used force but it was as a result of one of their number being struck down, and they didn't open fire. Yes, the Indians had violent elements but these were clearly troublemakers not connected with Congress or the Nationalists. The British Army will point to its unloaded rifles and restraint, the Indians to the fact that the British can’t control law and order and protect their demonstrators in a supposedly peaceful province. What happens now, with no Viceroy, no real leadership from London (given that the UK is facing one of the weirdest elections in its history) is anyone’s guess (well, I know, but you don’t!); Congress can’t talk as there is no one to talk to, London can’t talk as it will want to organise its position first. Until then, India is in for a rough ride. The repercussions of Rawalpindi and its successors will be felt across the Empire.

Not many do for some reason.

He's an interesting actor, and one who has a very 'international' vibe: he doesn't feel very British. I used to think the same about Tim Curry - he feels American / pseudo European more than English. And then there's Ustinov...

All a bit tawdry isn't it? I'm a bit surprised that Ball was naive enough to think he could so easily shake down someone called Slippery Sam, for all Hoare's many faults (he was perhaps mostly fault) he was not actually stupid and knew how the game was played. Then again the general impression has been of Chamberlain being massively over-confident throughout all of this so it is perhaps unsurprising. Will this be enough to knock that complacency out of him I wonder. As you say he lacked an inner circle of friends, I get the impression he also lacked anyone who would tell him the truth and be listened to, so perhaps this may be dismissed as a minor isolated issue and not a straw in the wind.

So I 'get' and respect your point, but I think that this is, as you say, the overconfidence of the Chamberlain camp coming through. We saw this with his handling of the anti-appeasers in our TL, and he has never, despite his other achievements, had to lead a UK General Election. Yes, they're less presidential in 1936 than they are (to my chagrin) in 2022, but the direction and policies still come from the top. And the lack of a true 'cabinet in waiting' is causing problems.

Perhaps a tad harsh. I would agree they were not really ready for the challenge coming their way though, SIS in the 30s was far more obsessed with Communism and was busy worldwide battling the red menace. I'm not really convinced a focus on Germany would have particularly helped, maybe some slightly more accurate estimates on German production might have calmed people down, but the problem was never lack of intelligence about Germany or Hitlers intentions (he wrote them all down in a published book!), it was the lack of anyone at the top who would do anything about it.

I think it's both the people on the ground and the central management. The quality of the PCOs varied wildly, from stolid, unspectacular efforts (Paris, Lisbon) to outright collapse (the Netherlands). I have tried to show that the quality of agent is ok, occasionally strong, but that Whitehall never really focused its efforts. I may PM you on your thoughts of successors to Kell in '5' and (less urgently in this TL) Sinclair at '6'.

This is a story about a sex scandal.

Yes. Yes it is.

Yes, but no... if Edward decided to keep Wallis 'on the side' then I think there would be some private eye-rolling and snickering, not at his decision to keep a mistress but rather at who he chose. It is Edward's politically-tone-deaf entitlement and self-absorption that have dragged this out in public, and the politicizing and posturing from DLG and NC and the archbishop that have made it tawdry. I have a hard time imagining Eddie and Windsor carrying on - rather more him pleading and her controlling him by denial - so I think this is all about power and posturing rather than passion and sex, which therefore has made it, in that most deprecating of Southernisms, 'tacky'.

If I were going to essay a witticism I should say that Edward and Wallis have gender, but perhaps not sex.

Yes, and I think Baldwin and Chamberlain (tbh the only two that really mattered) could have stomached a mistress, if the King had calmly explained this in an early audience. Lang and some of the aristocracy would have hated it, but it's the lot of royal mistresses to often be scorned by the Establishment. He was, in this TL and OTL, determined to marry at all costs, which I think had to have come from him as much as Wallis; by all accounts having goaded Edward on, she came to hate the scrutiny that came with being the centre of the crisis.

'No-one is alarmed by goings-on in Germany, don't you know... they lost the war, and they know it, and that's what all those medals and uniforms are about. That fellow Hitler is a staunch anti-communist and rather a good sort - one of us at heart, even though he is a plebeian little commoner. The Reds and the Jews are a much bigger threat than the Germans, everyone thinks so. Rather a lot we could learn from Hitler about keeping 'those people' in line, don't you agree? And that fellow Churchill is so tiresome with his goings-on about the Germans and re-armament. Only what we should do in their place, after all, not that we ever would be. Don't worry your little head over Germany. Hitler's quite a reasonable man, knows his place and all that. He's someone we can cut a deal with... and who cares what happens to some far-off place in Ruritania, after all.'

And so they will keep petting the nice doggy until they get bitten, after which it will be a contest to see how many can be thrown to the wolf while they try to find a stick.

Of course, we can use our perfect hindsight to see what is coming. From their perspective, and at that time, an aggressive Russia probably looks like a bigger threat to peace than Germany.

And don't ignore Musso - he has, unlike Stalin and Hitler, actually fought a war at this stage in the 30s. The RN's focus on Italy and the Med (as the link between the Western and Eastern bits of the Empire) is critical.

 

[Director]

It's the old, old problem of Imperialism, is it not. You need a small garrison to keep down the cost of the thing, but the only way a small garrison can control a large, restive population is for the lower-level officers to make exactly the right decisions, and use exactly the right level of force... every single time. Once the level of repression rises to gunfire and massacre it can be impossible to lower it again.



I have been in the middle of... well, something that sounds similar. I was asked to be one of the directors of the Mississippi Lions' All-State Band (see below*). The convention had been moved from the Philippines to Taiwan (for Marcos reasons) and the final event was the parade in downtown Taipei. As we turned onto the parade route, which was lined every three feet or so by rifle-toting military policemen, the crowd - a sea of screaming people - burst through the barricades and the policemen, ran out into the street, and into the middle of our marching column.

Fortunately they were screaming, "Americans! We love you!" but the policemen had pulled out their billy-clubs and were whaling away at every grandmother and child they could reach. So here we were, marching forward to a drum cadence, with hundreds of people running through the ranks pursued by policemen who - God Bless Us All - did not fire a shot. Two things saved us - perfect discipline, because these high-school-age kids did not break step or ranks, and the fact that we had rehearsed collapsing the width of the column from 8 people across, to shoulder-to-shoulder.

Oh, and running. In step, which is a real challenge carrying musical instruments. So the drum-major whistled it up, the drummers hit warp speed and we ran - in step, God Bless Them - like a battering ram over the crowd and on to a clear, safe spot.

Absolutely terrifying, and do-able only because the kids were rigorously disciplined and never had a chance to think. And because Mickey Grove The Wizard of Koz, God Bless Him, thought about emergency measures ahead of time. (Band director at Kosciusko, Mississippi for a long time and a man worthy of praise).

So - kudos and congrats to those Ulstermen. I hope someone bought you all a beer, because that fracas could easily have been a bloody disaster.

(This is from a year or two later; Taipei was 1987).


(*)The Mississippi Lions' All-State Band is an honors band formed from the top high-school musicians in the state, chosen by competitive examination and funded by the Lions Club, in exchange for playing at the annual convention and marching in the parade. This trip was their first international trip (outside Mexico and Canada) but they have successfully negotiated others since.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

He's an interesting actor, and one who has a very 'international' vibe: he doesn't feel very British. I used to think the same about Tim Curry - he feels American / pseudo European more than English. And then there's Ustinov...

Christopher Lee actually was European nobility and looked it, though was also very English.

Looking at India, it certainly doesn't look like a comfortable status quo is going to be reach again in time for the war, which is bad news for everyone on the Allies side.

 

[DensleyBlair]

I’ve whiled away a few hours on my sickbed today catching up with everything I’ve missed here since August, which was evidently… quite a lot.

I can’t possibly say something to all of it – I probably couldn’t do it justice even if I were operating at full capacity – but I suppose what really sticks out, reading many chapters in one sitting, is how sordid the whole thing is. Which is sort of a silly thing to say (as Butterfly so elegantly put it: this is a story about a sex scandal), but I don’t exactly mean in the obvious sort of Mary-Whitehouse moral-policeman sense. It’s more, I suppose, a queasiness watching the whole rotten Establishment at work playing their grubby little power games – and barely even hiding it. Frankly the whole lot of them need shuffling off somewhere far from influence or authority to have a long hard think about what they’ve done.

Except poor old Monckton. The true hero of the piece.

Anyway, excellent work @Le Jones and long may it continue. Hopefully I won’t make the mistake of falling 7 months behind again…

 

[Kurt_Steiner]

No massacre this time, good, very good.

By the way, 54 pages to get to Jan 1937. The influence of Mr El Pip cannot be denied.

 

[Historywhiz]

No massacre this time, good, very good.

By the way, 54 pages to get to Jan 1937. The influence of Mr El Pip cannot be denied.

And as the 2-year anniversary since the start is next week, we can officially declare this to be “slower than real time too,” which is the hallmark of all good AARs.

 

[El Pip]

By the way, 54 pages to get to Jan 1937. The influence of Mr El Pip cannot be denied.

I do my best to raise the tone and maintain standards.

And as the 2-year anniversary since the start is next week, we can officially declare this to be “slower than real time too,” which is the hallmark of all good AARs.

I have always thought so.

I must admit I feel there is only one real solution to these troubles in India, a solution first proposed by the Governor of Kalabar

"Gentlemen, we'll have to suppress this uprising with the utmost tact and diplomacy... we'll string up 'alf a dozen of 'em for a start."

Admittedly he did have the 3rd Foot and Mouth Regiment to back him up, but I feel sure the Royal Ulster Rifles can rise to the situation.

 

[Le Jones]

Chapter 77, Bristol, 27 January 1937

Clement Attlee enjoyed the early morning walk, having the streets largely to himself and relishing the light frost on the streets. It was quite the sort of day to put a bounce in one’s step. He knew that he would need all of that bounce today, and the fact that this was arguably his fault made it worse. The extraordinary conference was necessary, Attlee knew, sadly, because the movement was just awfully divided. Sighing, he decided that he wouldn’t turn back to the conference hall, not just yet.

Labour was having an interesting campaign and Attlee, normally a modest man, felt a measure of self-satisfaction that some of its surprising success had been down to him. Much of it had come not from sweeping change but modest ‘hamster bite’ tactics. Rearmament / disarmament was a good example: tacit, rather oblique support for increased defence expenditure (again, rather obscurely referenced to the RAF and Royal Navy rather than the British Army) had been enough for constituency MPs (or candidates for seats) to be able to swerve around Labour’s strong pacifist pedigree with some style. With the quiet support of Greenwood as well as the right of the party the Labour machinery had prepared dozens of prewritten articles for candidates to publish locally and in their pamphlets on the need for fighter defences and increased airfield construction, along with minesweepers and cruisers for trade protection. That all this meant greater British investment in the industrial base and shipyards flowed into greater job security for the union membership. Of course, this has been a ‘volte face’ as not two years ago Attlee and Labour had called for the complete abolition of all air forces. This had been fudged into a rejoinder of ‘the Tories didn’t listen, so we’re stuck with an arms race, let’s focus on the defensive bits’ approach. It wasn’t neat, or tidy, or particularly logical, but it might, Attlee hoped, just be enough. There were the awful rumours of violence in India, there absolutely was, confirmed, violence in Palestine, and then there was Spain, always Spain, the Spain that tugged on Attlee’s conscience as the gruesome reports of Nationalist actions grew darker by the day. Much of it exacerbated by the suspension, the powerlessness, of Parliament. And now this long campaign.

On the economy, Labour had again been more sophisticated than in 1935; nationalisation of the mines was sacrosanct, but again the scarier (for the right, and the urban middle class) language had been dropped in favour of more inclusive comment favouring ‘a consensus’. On agriculture, Labour had abandoned the slightly Leninist-sounding ‘reorganisation of agriculture’ in favour of increased cooperative schemes to take over abandoned / unclaimed farmland or well-compensated purchase for land upon which to build new housing. On education and unemployment relief Labour had passionately stuck to its 1935 policies, candidates arguing passionately for raising of the school age, abandoning the hated means tests, and focussing on infant mortality.

He sat on a bench and, with a stubby pencil, jotted down some thoughts for the speech that he would shortly make. The city was coming alive now, as more and people headed about their business. A few people even recognised him.

There were, of course, problems, one of them within the party’s gift and one without. The public desertion of Herbert Morrison from Lloyd George’s Cabinet had of course brought immediate speculation of what Attlee would do. He had, rather cannily, initially left the returning would-be rebels hanging, waiting for approval to return. He had eventually formally welcomed most of them, so that they could take their place in the Parliamentary Labour Party and fight for their seats. That was the easy bit, as floating above all else was the King, what to do about the King?

There were two high profile camps in the current constitutional mess, firstly the ‘Sampson’ camp (or perhaps, the ‘Simpson’ camp), small, ever dwindling, expecting to lose, gamely staggering on for the King. Archie Sinclair had made the Liberals virtually a ‘one issue’ party with his support for Lloyd George and their declaration of support for modernity and the right to choose was doing well in some of the suburbs and among the urban middle classes; where church attendance (particularly of the more puritanical types) was high their candidates had tried to make this about other issues. How much the Liberals’ eccentric campaign would succeed was anyone’s guess, supported by some newly unwhipped Tories who, in the shires, were trading on family connections and, almost, a ‘divine right of kings’ approach to the matter. It was a dizzying coalition that was predicted to fail utterly, but what would this mean for the earnest, rather predictable Labour campaign?

And then there was the Goliath of the Chamberlain Conservatives, wielding enormous Establishment power and bolstered by the clearly embarrassed return of the Eden and Stanley factions. Attlee thought of the Conservatives as a monster, albeit a wounded one. That the Lloyd George Government had been underwritten by Tory rebels was an embarrassment that had seeped through into the election, as baffled local associations had been torn on whether to support the King’s supporters or the new official candidates hastily foisted upon them. The Conservatives were also wounded, deeply wounded, by the endless revelations on Chamberlain’s antics in spying, seemingly, upon everyone. But the monster, Attlee admitted to himself, still had irresistible momentum, fighting a campaign largely on the King but also, increasingly, on wider issues.

That left Attlee and the Labour Party as the third faction. He despised Neville Chamberlain, seeing that behind the crusty, austere veneer was a scheming politician clearly relishing his position as ‘the coming man’. Attlee wondered how much the King and his behaviour would matter after the hustings, when every voter would be free to express his true sentiment. Would siding with the King and Lloyd George’s anti-democratic practices be abhorrent to him? If it really, really, was an issue, Attlee realised, he might to have offer more than the current ‘a plague on both your houses’ approach to the constitutional questions which he was currently touting. To really offer a third choice in the horrible, divisive election that was tearing the nation apart.

He arrived at the venue, a rather drab conference hall, and was immediately engulfed by the Party. Some would never forgive him for the disaster of ‘35, some loyalists still gathered around him, eager to be seen to support him in case, just in case, a miracle could occur. And at least half a dozen MPs in his immediate vicinity held to the firm conviction that no matter how well Attlee did, they could do better.

He smiled as a cheerful (drunk?) Arthur Greenwood drifted over to him, deftly avoiding an Ellen Wilkinson more shrill than usual. Attlee could rather incoherently detect ‘public ownership’ and something about the railways being uttered. Stafford Cripps, hovering not unlike a vampire or ghoul from an American film, was ‘holding court’ as he whined on about the need to seriously consider a republic in Britain. Attlee shuddered, trying to calculate how many seats a manifesto pledge to dissolve the British Monarchy would cost them.

“What’s it to be, Clem?” Greenwood asked this in an odd way, casualness concealing keen interest. “Working conditions? Spain? Or, the obvious? The King?”

“The King,” Attlee snapped, “and the Commonwealth.” Greenwood looked benignly disappointed but it was a shrewd move as the delegates around him were intrigued. The casual disdain shown to the Commonwealth by Lloyd George had struck a patriotic nerve in the little man. And the King, well, wasn’t an issue, he was palpably the issue. They followed him into the hallway. True to form, he approached the lectern timidly, rather sheepishly. More than one delegate rued ever supporting this undemonstrative little lawyer.

He cleared his throat. He knew that like many of his generation his was a thin, nasal voice. A thousand expectant faces stared up at him. Nothing for it now, but to get on with it. “Comrades,” Attlee began, as the delegates fell silent. “There is much too much, for one man to talk about today.” He took off his spectacles, suddenly worried that they were a barrier between him and the conference.

“Have you read the papers?” There was muttered acknowledgement. “This is an election you won’t have seen before.” Here and there, a chuckle or a supporting comment could be heard. “It is our job to make sure you won’t see it again.”

He coughed. “On one hand, Neville Chamberlain and his bullying tactics. Spying, threatening, it’s just not right. And then on the other hand, the Liberals, I read, support this privileged King and his running away from his duty. This election, they would have you believe,” he nodded to himself, then stopped when he realised it looked silly, “is all about a man’s right to choose. Rather arrogant! While this silly little fight goes on, millions of our countrymen are starving, waiting for what they can get from the dole queue.”

He paused. “I believe that a great disservice has been done to constitutional monarchy by overemphasis and by vulgar adulation, particularly in the Press, but also from the Conservative Party.” There, he had done it, forced the breach, showed the difference, with Chamberlain’s party. “The interests which stand for wealth and class privilege have done all they can to invest our monarchy with an unreal halo, and to create a false reverence for royalty, and this has tended to obscure the realities of the position.” The old socialists, still dominant, if not united, looked at one another in uncertainty. Was he agreeing with them? “I think, too, the continuance of old-fashioned ceremonial, and the surrounding of the Monarch by persons drawn from a narrow and privileged class, have hampered him in his work, and have at times frustrated any good intentions.” There were nods and some cheers, as despite public pledges by both Lloyd George and Churchill, nothing had been done to make even cosmetic changes to the Palace administration.

“It is time,” he said with relish, “for every Englishman to choose what is important for him. The reverence of the past or optimism for a future. A socialist future, where class privilege and a bloated court are as obsolete as powdered wigs and the workhouse.” There were cheers now, Attlee hoping that, patriots all, they were all united on this point at least. “That is where we stand. And why we will fight this election welcoming all to the movement,” he paused, the conference sensing that an announcement was on the way, “all,” he emphasised, “regardless of positions that they may have been mistaken in choosing in recent weeks.”

“My final point is this. You have all heard the rumours, well, let us be clear. Just before Christmas, the High Commissioners of Canada, Australia, South Africa and New Zealand informed the Palace, again, that the King’s recent decision to marry was not acceptable to them. The Dominions have declared that they may, in the coming months, take action divorcing them,” that was a deliberate turn of phrase, and hugely overexaggerated the extent of the Dominions action, but he had made his point. “Divorcing them, from the Crown of England.” They were surprised. “A remarkable development, and yet what has our Prime Minister said about the Dominions? He comes back from his holiday, in the Dominion of Canada, and just yesterday, he gets Sinclair to write that ‘we on our side desire to support the voice of the Dominions,’ and then,” he began, realising that a good third of the audience were not, and would probably never be, fully behind him, “and then, he writes: ‘we are not to be diverted into abstract discussions about monarchy and republicanism. It is not my intention for a moment to glance at the past.’ Well,” he said, sizing up the crowd. He was an awkward public speaker (if a solid Parliamentarian), but was doing his best. “The Prime Minister misses the point. A new chapter is being opened,” he said with relish, “and the strongest bind between this country and our Commonwealth cousins has been cut.” There was increased support now, but not by much, the Labour members doing their best to warm to this unexpected theme. “They have been cut without so much as an acknowledgement from this Government in order that we may carry out the wishes of His Majesty and so that this chapter in our history which is closing should be closed with the least possible delay!” It was messily phrased and could have been more incisive, but he managed to deliver it. “What further humiliations are in store?!”

“This Governments, both of ‘em, Baldwin and Lloyd George,” he said in a slightly lecturing tone, gripping at his lapels, “have failed to provide His Majesty with the counsel and guidance to which he is entitled,” there was cheering, sporadic and muted but it was there, “and which would have steered His Majesty from this calamity with our Commonwealth overseas. There is Australia, and there is South Africa. I am really rather alarmed at the position in South Africa. There may well, in our lifetimes, be a final vote on the question of ending the association with this country and setting up a republic. Although the Government there might, might, ordinarily, get a good majority, this crisis may overturn all of that. Consequently, how can we feel happy, particularly in view of our unpreparedness. As the papers have said, I think that we are entitled to know more in detail as to the exact degree of preparations made for this development, and what we will now do, not only to preserve the good name of these Islands, which are so dear to us, but also to save the bonds with our brothers overseas, which is so important to us.”

“So go out, fight for the man in the dole queue, fight for our reputation in the Commonwealth, fight for doing the right thing.” He didn’t shout, he wasn’t ‘shouty’, but there was a quiet passion in the man.

There was silence, then Tom Williams, former miner and the MP for Don Valley, rose to his feet. “The people's flag is deepest red, it shrouded oft our martyred dead!” More to their feet, and the conference sang as one. “And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold, their hearts' blood dyed its every fold!”

Arthur Greenwood, miming as he walked to join his leader, took Attlee by the elbow. “Morrison back in?”

“Morrison back in,” Attlee said, wearily. “And Hugh,” he said, referring to Hugh Dalton, the other senior Labour politician to defect, “all of ‘em. Reach out to them, Arthur,” he said, his mood crabby. They were already 'back' in the Party, but had so far been kept well away from senior leadership. “Not good, but let ‘em in we must.” The singing continued, Attlee and Greenwood picking up the words, “though cowards flinch and traitors sneer, we'll keep the red flag flying here!”

====​

GAME NOTES

I wanted to explore a couple of political issues, before we get back to crisis mode, and to tie up both the Commonwealth thread and the (as yet underdiscussed) Labour Party position.

As I may have already stated, I respect that the game siphons off a huge chunk of the UK’s ‘pp’ points to reflect the fact that this crisis would engulf the machinery of state – the comparisons with BREXIT and COVID are unavoidable and show how a decent civil service and Parliament can be paralysed by historically important developments. But now, with an election, that doesn’t mean that party political stuff isn’t going on...

Labour in 1936/7 is a mess, albeit I am submitting that this TL’s crisis has had a galvanising effect. The true mishap was not, as is often touted, the 1935 election but rather that of 1931 (and the rot set in, probably, even before that). An interesting election 1931, as the two ostensible leaders were both from the left: Ramsay Macdonald for the National (Tory dominated) Government and Arthur Henderson for the Labour party (the Opposition). The non-National Labour vote collapsed and they won just 52 seats (46 Labour and the rest parties fighting more or less under the Labour banner). Even if you consider the 13 National Labour MPs, it was truly a catastrophe for the Labour movement. That Henderson lost his seat exemplifies the scale of the disaster, which, ironically saw a previously and still sort-of Socialist PM gain a crushing majority. Alas, in this fluke of history, it was at the expense of the Party which had been a senior member and by whom he had been so recently shunned.

1935 was better, and an interesting one in the development of Clement Attlee, a figure who has featured in this AAR, but usually as a background character. When the Labour leader, Lansbury, found his pacifist views at odds with those of his party he resigned as leader. Baldwin (succeeding the rapidly failing Macdonald), showing the cunning of the true political animal, swiftly called an election and Attlee steered Labour through it as an interim leader. Having been acting leader for a month Attlee managed to guide / not interfere with (opinions are varied on this) Labour as it picked up a hundred seats. Despite challenges from that arch-schemer (and rather loathsome character) Herbert Morrison, Attlee was confirmed as leader. And then, in both this and OTL, the King died. Attlee’s role in the real Royal marriage crisis was fairly muted: Baldwin’s mastery of Government was strong and the opposition parties were small and divided. He showed common sense in supporting Baldwin (Sinclair and the Liberals were much more nuanced) and that was about it. In OTL’s 1936 Labour was still, probably, unelectable; pacificism and a staunch resistance to rearmament weren’t dropped until the looming horror was obvious to all, and Chamberlain’s mastery of his party and the civil service was probably better than Baldwin’s thus ruling out any opportunity for the small Labour opposition to do much beyond sniping at the Government on domestic issues.

And here, in our TL, I suggest that Labour, as well as the Chamberlain Conservatives, are facing the election with optimism. The King’s situation presents Labour with some good manifesto points: the collapse of the façade of Royal authority, the largely (although not uniquely, as we have seen) Conservative nature of the DLG administration, and the mess that is the relationship between the UK and the Dominions. It is this latter one that Attlee (who could, domestically, be very sharply astute) has closed on, perhaps hoping that atavistic affection can be triggered; perhaps that this embarrassment for the wider Imperial family will strike a patriotic nerve. Attlee is also the first leader to tacitly accept (if not wholly welcome) the naughty elements of his party who had defected to the King. But, in the face of the juggernaut that is Chamberlain and his command of the intelligence, ecclesiastical and newspaper communities, will it matter?

I have been in the middle of... well, something that sounds similar. I was asked to be one of the directors of the Mississippi Lions' All-State Band (see below*). The convention had been moved from the Philippines to Taiwan (for Marcos reasons) and the final event was the parade in downtown Taipei. As we turned onto the parade route, which was lined every three feet or so by rifle-toting military policemen, the crowd - a sea of screaming people - burst through the barricades and the policemen, ran out into the street, and into the middle of our marching column.

Fortunately they were screaming, "Americans! We love you!" but the policemen had pulled out their billy-clubs and were whaling away at every grandmother and child they could reach. So here we were, marching forward to a drum cadence, with hundreds of people running through the ranks pursued by policemen who - God Bless Us All - did not fire a shot. Two things saved us - perfect discipline, because these high-school-age kids did not break step or ranks, and the fact that we had rehearsed collapsing the width of the column from 8 people across, to shoulder-to-shoulder.

Oh, and running. In step, which is a real challenge carrying musical instruments. So the drum-major whistled it up, the drummers hit warp speed and we ran - in step, God Bless Them - like a battering ram over the crowd and on to a clear, safe spot.

Absolutely terrifying, and do-able only because the kids were rigorously disciplined and never had a chance to think. And because Mickey Grove The Wizard of Koz, God Bless Him, thought about emergency measures ahead of time. (Band director at Kosciusko, Mississippi for a long time and a man worthy of praise).

So - kudos and congrats to those Ulstermen. I hope someone bought you all a beer, because that fracas could easily have been a bloody disaster.

(*)The Mississippi Lions' All-State Band is an honors band formed from the top high-school musicians in the state, chosen by competitive examination and funded by the Lions Club, in exchange for playing at the annual convention and marching in the parade. This trip was their first international trip (outside Mexico and Canada) but they have successfully negotiated others since.

An incredibly alarming memory, @Director - I kinda got vibes of the beach stampede scene in Jaws (which terrified me as a kid). Glad you and the band made it out ok.

Christopher Lee actually was European nobility and looked it, though was also very English.

Looking at India, it certainly doesn't look like a comfortable status quo is going to be reach again in time for the war, which is bad news for everyone on the Allies side.

Yes he was, and did some naughty stuff in OTL WW2 as well!

You're right, on India; these changes are going to be deep and will have an impact on the British and Allied approach to WW2.

I’ve whiled away a few hours on my sickbed today catching up with everything I’ve missed here since August, which was evidently… quite a lot.

I can’t possibly say something to all of it – I probably couldn’t do it justice even if I were operating at full capacity – but I suppose what really sticks out, reading many chapters in one sitting, is how sordid the whole thing is. Which is sort of a silly thing to say (as Butterfly so elegantly put it: this is a story about a sex scandal), but I don’t exactly mean in the obvious sort of Mary-Whitehouse moral-policeman sense. It’s more, I suppose, a queasiness watching the whole rotten Establishment at work playing their grubby little power games – and barely even hiding it. Frankly the whole lot of them need shuffling off somewhere far from influence or authority to have a long hard think about what they’ve done.

Except poor old Monckton. The true hero of the piece.

Welcome back @DensleyBlair, I hope you're recovering well. Yeah, it's a tawdry tale, and while there is a redemption arc of sorts for the UK, it is a long slog.

No massacre this time, good, very good.

By the way, 54 pages to get to Jan 1937. The influence of Mr El Pip cannot be denied.

And as the 2-year anniversary since the start is next week, we can officially declare this to be “slower than real time too,” which is the hallmark of all good AARs.

I do my best to raise the tone and maintain standards.

I have always thought so.

I initially resisted this notion, but yes, it is true. I think we'll get through 1937 with greater pace, as after the dust settles we're essentially highlighting the differences between this TL and OTL until 1938 when it all begins to go wrong.

I must admit I feel there is only one real solution to these troubles in India, a solution first proposed by the Governor of Kalabar

Admittedly he did have the 3rd Foot and Mouth Regiment to back him up, but I feel sure the Royal Ulster Rifles can rise to the situation.

A classic, true classic, the Devils in Skirts!

On another note, I posited, recently, the concept of Patrick Stewart as Clement Attlee. Turns out he already has played him!

It's a bizarre piece, still not sure what I make of it.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

Rearmament / disarmament was a good example: tacit, rather oblique support for increased defence expenditure (again, rather obscurely referenced to the RAF and Royal Navy rather than the British Army) had been enough for constituency MPs (or candidates for seats) to be able to swerve around Labour’s strong pacifist pedigree with some style.

How strong exactly was the general public's pacifism/rearmemant mood in the 20s, and in the 30s? Presumably it was rather for the former, and only increasingly the latter rather late into the 30s?

And how was it dispersed, from working to upper classes?

 

[Director]

I'd say, "When pigs fly", except that, of course, pigs can fly... briefly. It's the landing that does in so many flying pigs...


If Patrick Stewart can play a Frenchman and a Russian, Atlee should have been no great stretch. If only he were alive and still acting today.

 

[Historywhiz]

I'd say, "When pigs fly", except that, of course, pigs can fly... briefly. It's the landing that does in so many flying pigs...


If Patrick Stewart can play a Frenchman and a Russian, Atlee should have been no great stretch. If only he were alive and still acting today.

Pardon? Patrick Stewart is alive and well… unless the new Star Trek series is using some elaborate deep fake technology.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

Patrick Stewart is not only still acting, he's still theater acting.

 

[Director]

@Historywhiz - As the rolleyes were supposed to indicate, the comment was satirical. I apologize for not making that more clear.

I have had enormous respect for Sir Patrick, which ended - along with his wonderful career - when he decided to revisit an iconic character by making Picard the reverse of all of his past self. A 'Scrooge' turn, if you will, except in a bad way.

He may play other roles but he will never get the mud-stain out.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

I have had enormous respect for Sir Patrick, which ended - along with his wonderful career - when he decided to revisit an iconic character by making Picard the reverse of all of his past self. A 'Scrooge' turn, if you will, except in a bad way.

The 'reverse' of his past self is a bit much. I do not like ST Picard, but they haven't character assassinated Picard himself yet...just the entire federation, star fleet, Earth, 7 of 9, Romulans etc etc. He's just old and a bit more touchy feely. And in love with Data (which is a bit wierd).

And then he was turned into a robot zombie...okay.

 

[El Pip]

It wasn’t neat, or tidy, or particularly logical,

Well of course it wasn't, it was a Labour party policy

He despised Neville Chamberlain, seeing that behind the crusty, austere veneer was a scheming politician

Attlee having just been scheming about how to take advantage of events, is upset that the other party has the audacity to do the same but more competently. I genuinely believe the biggest single reason behind the Labour party's repeated electoral failures is their moral arrogance, their baffling insistence that they alone have good intentions and any possible opposition is due to people being stupid or selfish.

How strong exactly was the general public's pacifism/rearmemant mood in the 20s, and in the 30s? Presumably it was rather for the former, and only increasingly the latter rather late into the 30s?

The 1934 Peace Ballot was dodgy as sin (self selecting voters and ran by people who knew the answer they wanted) but did show a majority wanted dis-armament if possible and if everyone did it. Mind you it also showed a majority thought military action to defend countries from aggression was justified. By May 1937 a pollster asked - “If another major European war breaks out, do you think Great Britain will be drawn into it?” The response was Yes 83%, No 17%, which seems pretty decisive. For anything else you are reduced to looking at newspaper headlines and trying to read the tea-leaves of by-election results, so good luck with that.

For what it is worth I think the broad picture is there was a preference for disarmament, but not unilaterally, and a preference for peace, not at any price but at some price. Also worth saying the 1935 Conservative manifesto promised rearmament and Labour were running on disarmament and abolishing the RAF, elections are of course about many policies but Labour still lost very badly.

I have had enormous respect for Sir Patrick, which ended - along with his wonderful career - when he decided to revisit an iconic character by making Picard the reverse of all of his past self. A 'Scrooge' turn, if you will, except in a bad way.

He may play other roles but he will never get the mud-stain out.

I must disagree here, Patrick Stewart ended his career when he voiced the poo in the Emoji Movie, a catastrophically ill-advised decision which long predates Picard.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

I must disagree here, Patrick Stewart ended his career when he voiced the poo in the Emoji Movie, a catastrophically ill-advised decision which long predates Picard.

I am...speechless that 'voiced the poo' is something El Pip has put into the written record. And that it is contextually accurate.

Then again, being paid a lot of money to voice the poo sounds like a pretty fun time to be honest, especially if the lines are terrible. Alas, it does not come close to capturing the majesty of the great mighty poo from Conker's Bad Fur Day. That one sung.

 

[Director]

I had - mercifully - forgotten the round of public appearances where he giggled his way through explanations of voicing animated poo. If I recall correctly he also voiced the pedophiliac FBI man in American Dad. Picard (or Pukehard as a certain 'beloved' commentor calls it) is the most recent example.

Perhaps his body of work deserves two chapters, one titled, 'Oh my!' and the other 'God Help Us!' Or an gent/wife/holder of power of attorney who could say, "No! Absolutely not!! Bad Patrick no dinner!!! Where is my slipper!!!!"

His reading of the Christmas Carol is still my favorite... it says something that my second-favorite is the Goes-Wrong version.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

His reading of the Christmas Carol is still my favorite... it says something that my second-favorite is the Goes-Wrong version

I have a soft spot for the incredibly goofy Albert Finney version. And the classic Alistair Sim one, which pretty much all the later ones rip off.

 

[Bullfilter]

So Attlee finally got his run. Probably did the best he could …

But, in the face of the juggernaut that is Chamberlain and his command of the intelligence, ecclesiastical and newspaper communities, will it matter?

It may matter somewhat, but probably not enough. Will this slow bleeding to death of British democracy and unity ever be staunched?