Chapter 88, Whitehall, 23 March 1937
Eden sat in the Cabinet Room, in contemplative mood, and looked again at the newspapers; it had been a fairly intense month of strong lobbying by all camps, the editorials ranging from stridently pro-George (the ever loyal The Times leading this particular cause) to the Beaverbook press’ confused lamentations for the long-departed Edward, to the occasional flickers suggesting that, really, neither was much good. This last week, to the nation’s relief (and that included, Eden suspected, of the editors) and in the glow of some events of state having passed without incident, the tone appeared to have calmed down. But Eden had, in reading a collation of articles, letters and editorials, picked up a common theme among both professional writers and lay correspondents. It was, now, widely acknowledged that the Civil Service (that bit of it that was known about among the populace) hadn’t quite managed the crisis as well it could have done. Things had been missed, continuity, a critical element of British governance, had not been achieved. A development of that theme was that political neutrality did not mean an abdication (!) of responsibility; dereliction of duty had been mentioned, though at this stage largely by the retired Colonels and Indian Civil Service types than the weight of the public. Eden had agreed with many a writer that a significant element of the collapse of Whitehall over the winter stemmed from the collusion between Crown and the makeshift Government. The Civil Service could deal with an errant Prime Minister, or an errant King; one could be deployed to remind the other of their duty. But to have both acting so brazenly in defiance of the conventions had broken Whitehall. Further change was afoot, and probably needed; everyone with an ounce of sense could see that, it was just the scale of the pain that worried so.
Eden had not attended to this, yet, and he was beginning to wonder if he had ‘missed the bus’; his priority had been to corral his Cabinet, support the accession of King George, and to arrange the King’s Speech. All of this had been done, with solid rather than spectacular results. But he realised that the MPs and peers, as well as the Palace staff, had assumed roles and duties that properly sat with the Whitehall bureaucracy.
The sounds of muttered voices in the corridor signalled to Eden that his guests had arrived. Sir Warren Fisher and Edward Bridges were not surprised when, with Vansittart of the Foreign Office and Sir Archibald Carter of the Admiralty, they were summoned to meet with Eden. As befitted the ongoing sense of crisis in the country this was what the waspish Beaverbrook press had called ‘meeting by gaslight’, in that it was a late night meeting. The anti-Eden (or anti-Government, or frankly anti-everything, for as the dust settled most newspaper editors were wearily scratching heads and wondering what the hell they did now) press dryly remarked that the new Government ‘had something of the night about it’, seeming to conduct most of the business of state in the hours of darkness.
Stanley, Kingsley Wood and Margesson, his four senior Cabinet appointments, entered without the usual chatter, banter, of colleagues. Eden wordlessly handed one of today’s editorials to Kingsley Wood, who looked at it, and then at Eden.
“They are all, like that,” he said tiredly. “All of them. All criticising us for not rebuilding the bureaucracy, ah, dealing with the Civil Service.”
Margesson, who had been sitting back, now suddenly leaned forward, like a tiger about to attack the hapless Foreign Secretary. “We’re at the stage where they have a point.”
“What,” Oliver Stanley asked quizzically, “would you do first?”
“Cabinet Secretary,” Margesson snapped.
Eden, who was eerily disengaged, now also leaned forward, as if somehow joining the fray. “We can look to that,” he said simply. “Are they here?”
“The last of ‘em has just arrived now,” Kingsley Wood said simply.
Margesson rose bring to them in. The four senior civil servants trooped in, and found themselves arrayed opposite the politicians. Whether that was deliberate confrontation, or unfortunate choreography, none of the bureaucrats could tell. Fisher, taking his seat opposite, raised an eyebrow, with Secretaries of State, including his own, here then this was clearly a relatively important matter.
“Ah, gentlemen, sit, ah, please.” Eden had risen from his chair as they entered, a respectful gesture only just copied in time by the rest of the politicians. Fisher had seemed to appreciate this and saw that Vansittart did too. “I want this process to be, ah, as painless as possible.”
“Getting rid of Lloyd George, and the blessed Neville, has already achieved that,” Fisher said waspishly. Stanley and Kingsley Wood laughed nervously. Eden and Margesson did not.
“Ah, yes,” Eden replied uncertainly. “The fact of the ah, matter is this,” he continued earnestly, warming up and growing into the task ahead, “the Civil Service has taken as much of a battering over the last few months as the Whitehall establishment, and, of course, the ah Palace.”
“Hankey gone, Horace Wilson gone, huge changes in the Home Department,” Stanley muttered in support of his Prime Minister. “And then there’s Kell.”
Sir Warren Fisher noted that the Home Secretary, the nominal ‘owner’ of the Civil Servants in the Home Department as well as Kell in the Security Service (was he restored to greatness? Wasn’t he? As with everything, no one quite knew), was nodding along with this. “We need, I suppose, to replenish our stocks,” Fisher said slightly flippantly, as if trying to push Eden past this issue by making light of it.
“Not just that,” Eden said with a surprising firmness, sounding rather like Attlee in his snappiness and alarming the civil servants. He sighed, seemingly wanting to get to the point. “I have decided to orchestrate a wholesale review of the senior domestic Civil Service. This review will be led by Sir John Anderson.”
“The Governor of Bengal?” Bridges, the most junior member of the Civil Service delegation, was nevertheless too stunned to be deferential.
“Ah, yes. He was PUS at the, ah, Home Department,” Eden explained in a measured tone, “and was due to come home soon anyway. “He will lead an internal review, perhaps view it as a Star Chamber, of the Civil Service. He will be supported by the Metropolitan Police Commissioner and you, Sir Archibald; we’re leaving the Admiralty alone.” As Carter nodded with relief Eden leaned forward, rather an assertive gesture. “I want you to understand that this is not, ah, an aggressive, yes, aggressive move. It is rather one of your own coming home to clear out the stables.”
Fisher, who hadn’t anticipated this, took refuge in a question. “What are the terms of this review?”
Eden nodded at the question. “We will first put in place the leadership required, of all of the departments affected, at a senior level. Each PUS will then be able to work with Sir John on carrying out the structural reforms that are necessary.”
Eden sat back, and looked at Stanley, who nodded. “And you, Sir Warren, will support this.” Stanley seemed firm.
Fisher straightened, in a mildly imperious way. “I will?” He made those two syllables sound very elaborate, very pompous. The challenge was obvious, the gauntlet thrown down.
Eden looked away, guiltily, from the senior civil servant, while Kingsley Wood blushed. “Call it your legacy,” Stanley said, still surprisingly firm.
“Legacy? You make me sound like a Victorian governor…”
Margesson suddenly snapped. “Call it retirement planning.” Fisher, thus put on notice that his own tenure was ending, looked like a newly landed fish.
“We have nothing but respect for your efforts,” Eden began, before Fisher could rally, “and you will be duly recognised by the system for your years of public service.”
Sir Warren Fisher was lost for words. Vansittart, looking as though he had ‘survivor’s guilt,’ took up the civil service response. “Perhaps we could do this in a slightly more consensual way…”
The politicians were unrelenting, and perhaps for the first time since the Abdication they were conveying a genuine sense of investment in the project. “Sir John will be charged with appointing a Cabinet Secretary, Permanent Secretary at the Treasury, as well as the Home Department but not,” Eden said with a sharp look at Vansittart, “yet, at the Foreign Office. With everyone gazing at India or home I need you keeping watch on, ah, foreign affairs.”
“Minding the shop?” Vansittart said with a smile, a warm reminder that they had worked together, reasonably harmoniously in Vansittart’s view, at the Foreign Office.
“You have had a wonderful tenure,” Kingsley Wood began, “and we have discussed where you might serve next, but all in good time.”
Eden offered the ghost of a smile; despite the perceived warmth, in Vansittart’s case it was more an instance of ‘sentence suspended’ than ‘acquitted’, for Eden was desperate to move him on (and Kingsley Wood had equally wanted him for another couple of months) and then turned to look at Kingsley Wood. “Both of you, just keep, ah, a watching brief on things.”
“I am shocked,” Sir Warren Fisher had found his voice, “at the heavy-handed way in which I have been treated. It is but…”
“…nothing, but bloody nothing,” Margesson knew how to bully a bully. He had been too long a politician at the dirty end of party politics to be scared by an airy, pompous PUS. “While Lloyd George and King Edward were destroying our system of government you,” he pointed at Fisher, “and the rest, did nothing. Read these,” he jerked a thumb at the mess of newspaper cuttings on the table, “read what the country thinks about you.”
Sir Archibald Carter had barely said a word, Vansittart was looking awkwardly at his shoes, so Edward Bridges felt that he had to say something. “Prime Minister,” he frowned, an earnest and well-meaning man, “we will do our best,” he looked sharply at Margesson, who glowered back, “but could I ask how this will be communicated to our departments?”
Stanley’s face indicated that he conceded that Bridges made a good point. “Gently,” was all that he could offer.
“There’s no need,” Eden said crisply, “for much to be said at this stage, ah, at all. A couple of retirements, a couple of departmental changes, it would be unwise, ah, foolish, for us to second-guess Anderson’s assessment.” Bridges nodded, looked relieved. Sir Warren Fisher smouldered in his chair. Eden offered a smile. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said in gentle direction to finish the meeting.
After the Civil Servants had left, Eden had Cairncross, who was doing all sorts of double duties in the hollowed out Downing Street staff, escort another man into his study where, with the Stanley, Kingsley Wood and Margesson, he was offered a brandy. Another secretary came in and closed the curtains, the classic Whitehall ritual of early evening and a sign of drawing in the entrusted, the cabal, on other, more furtive matters. Everyone else was behind the rampart of curtains, outside of the trusted circle. Intriguingly, Sir Roger Keyes, the Minister without Portfolio in the Government, was the new arrival.
“We have something,” Eden began in a drawl, and they took drinks, “of another issue. We will need to formally do something about Ball’s antics with Neville.”
“I thought,” Stanley began irritably, “that we had done with all of that. Even the Beaver has stopped printing stories about it.”
“No,” Margesson said with force, “we need to grip the Home Department and the Security Service. Some of the reports that I have managed to get hold of are…”
“…alarming?” That was Kingsley Wood, frowning. “I’m not entirely sure it’s the entire department, Prime Minister.”
“Perhaps, but some of what I have read from David here is rather, ah, bone chilling,” Eden said firmly. “I remind you that with the exception of Howard and Margesson here, we were all targeted by this rather sinister activity. We therefore need to thoroughly review our Security Service, ah, for a start it needs a new leader.”
Stanley frowned. “At the same time as the review?”
“I rather think we must, no point in ah, dragging this out, even further. It is the secretive companion, Anderson will be told, to his more overt task.”
Stanley was confused. “So, he’s picking the new Head of the Security Service?”
“I’d like to,” Margesson said, with customary force, before wondering if head overreached. “With your agreement, Prime Minister,” he said, sounding as though Eden’s agreement was immaterial.
“I think that this is one appointment that this group should make,” Kingsley Wood said quietly. Margesson, surprised by the support, nodded in thanks. Stanley frowned, and then finally offered a nod of his own.
“Well then,” Eden offered, eager to close matters swiftly. “Do we have a list of candidates?” He looked at Roger Keyes, who offered a typed sheet to Eden, who nodded again after the briefest of skim reads. “Perhaps, Sir Roger, you could, ah, explain your reasoning. And thank you, for taking this duty.” Keyes’ job in Government so far had been, after running Eden’s earlier leadership campaign in the aftermath of Baldwin’s resignation in ’36, to arrange the new legislation and to guide it through Parliament. With the King’s Speech so recent, he had a brief period of relative quiet while the draft Bills and measures were discussed in ministries and committees. He was also the only man that Eden had felt able to trust with this. Perhaps it was that he, like Stanley, had been targeted by Ball’s antics. But there was a steely determination to get things under control.
“Before I begin, I want you to understand our methodology. We want to appoint someone with the dignity and discretion, but also the insider knowledge.”
“Makes sense Roger,” Margesson agreed. “Any idea who you want?” The inflection was a clear statement that Margesson had to be persuaded.
Keyes looked at Eden who nodded. “We have this list.” He paused, then read from his list. “Alexander Maxwell, currently Under Secretary at the Home Department...”
“…well thought of on the Joint Intelligence Committee,” Kingsley Wood added in a matter-of-fact way, “or so Vansittart tells me.”
“Isn’t there, an ah, chance,” Eden said in an evasive tone, “that Maxwell might be needed by the Home Department?”
Margesson nodded. “Well yes, Eden. That’s what I want.”
Eden looked at Keyes as one would a prized pupil who hasn’t quite done well this time. “That may scotch that nomination,” he said airily.
“Albert Canning, Commander of Special Branch,” Keyes continued with polite firmness, “and something of the traditional candidate, given the relationship between Special Branch and the Security Service.”
“Hmmmn, not sure about that one,” Stanley said with feeling. “Only if he can be considered free from involvement in recent events.”
“Deloused, you mean,” Keyes said genially. “I shall consider that point. Next is Ralph Stevenson, currently in the Foreign Office.”
Eden frowned, “I like Ralph, ah, I do, but he’s hardly an independent thinker.”
Stanley looked unimpressed. “Does that not suggest that he may be tainted by his earlier dealings?” He sipped on his malt. “None of them, Roger,” he said pointedly at Keys, “is particularly dynamic, challenging, dare I say, radical?”
“It’s, ah, too soon for that,” Eden said, answering for Keyes. “I’d rather plump for capable and above reproach. We can’t be risky, this soon in the rebirth of our, ah, intelligence apparatus.”
Stanley looked far from convinced but wasn’t going to press the issue. “I suppose,” he said finally.
Keyes clearly wasn’t finished. “Go on, Roger,” Eden said in a supportive tone.
“Sir Philip Game.”
“The Commissioner?”
“Yes, Oliver, the Commissioner.”
“Could work,” Stanley said grudgingly.
“Eric Holt-Wilson,” Keyes said carefully. “Kell’s deputy.”
“Is he running the show now?”
“Yes, Howard,” Margesson said for Keyes. “He’s just like Kell.”
“We should consider him, ah, have a look,” Eden said in judgment.
“Sir Ormonde Winter.”
“You’re joking,” Margesson snapped.
"I know he has some dubious views.”
“Well, the man was suspected of being a fascist,” Stanley said drily.
“Who?” Kingsley Wood was confused.
“Sir Ormonde de l'Épée Winter,” Eden said effortlessly. “It says here he ran the intelligence operation during the Irish Civil War.”
“I’m trying,” Keyes said in a curiously persistent tone, “to also offer candidates with wider experience.”
Stanley frowned. “Is that why this chap from India, er, Tegart, is on the list?”
“Who?”
“Six lines down,” Stanley explained to Kingsley Wood. “Charles Tegart, from India.”
“Perhaps as a deputy,” Eden said while he read the file, “he strikes me as someone who would make a good, unfussy deputy.” Keyes nodded. “Alright, we’ll have a look, and then we’ll get it a shortlist of two or three. Was that all, Roger?”
Keyes shook his head. “It’s also the Secret Service,” his eyes darted fleetingly to Kingsley Wood, and back again. “If we’re going to clean up Whitehall is it time to move Sinclair on?”
Eden sighed, weary. “You mean, after…”
“…Spain, Portugal, Holland. It’s hardly flush with victory. From what I read they only just managed to smuggle Winston’s nephew to safety after the silly ass ran to Spain.”
Eden looked ready to wilt but Margesson supplied the shot of energy that the PM needed. “I agree, actually,” he said in an unusually chatty tone. “Fisher, for all his sins, was damming about their recent efforts.”
“What I don’t have,” Keyes said, smiling at Margesson's support, “is a list of candidates.” There was a curious inflection in his voice.
Stanley, ready to plunge where Eden was reticent to, looked sharply at Keyes. “You’re tempted, aren’t you?”
Keyes pursed his lips, “I’m not yet sure. But my instinct is for a military man, ideally with Whitehall experience. My first thought was General Dill. Establishment, trustworthy, set up the JIC, but…”
“…he is otherwise engaged,” Stanley finished Keyes’ thought, “with the Palestine mess.”
“And, rather, ah, high profile,” Eden muttered. “Howard, start to prepare ‘Van’ for a change, I know from experience that he can be rather protective of the spies.”
“Will he help us?” Stanley was suspicious.
“Yes he will,” Eden said easily, Keyes nodding in support. “If we engage him from the off.”
Margesson looked sharply at Keyes. “Who would be in your shortlist?”
Keyes pursed his lips. “From the military? Dill, Haining, Bartholomew. From within SIS? Menzies. From wider in the community, Jasper Harker. I also considered Hankey.”
“None from the Navy?”
“Well,” Keyes said with a wince, “DNI is hardly the most dynamic of people. I had thought about the Naval Attache in Berlin. Captain Muirhead-Gould.”
“That’s a long list, without a file,” Eden said wearily. “I want a shortlist, like we are, ah, for the Security Service.”
Kingsley wood had clasped his hands very primly on the desk and looked rather like a schoolboy about to turn over an examination. “So we have the Royal Commission on India, the Constitutional Committee…”
“…no we don’t. Without the need to, ah, succour Attlee it goes away. It’s all in the Establishment Bill.”
“Fine, but certainly the Establishment Bill, and now a Star Chamber looking at the Civil Service? While we hunt for a new Head of the Security Service, and possibly,” he shot his best attempt of a withering look at Keyes, “the Secret Service. That’s a lot for a government to take, particularly when a government is as fledgling as it is.”
Eden sighed. “We are, I rather think, fine. We do have a majority,” he drawled.
“Do we need a statement?” Keyes, for all that he was an MP, was not as experienced as the others.
“There really is no need,” Stanley said soothingly, understanding Eden’s point. “If Attlee is mad enough to challenge us sorting out the Civil Service he’ll be crucified by the papers.” He looked suddenly at Eden. “And some of his own MPs will turn on him.”
“For the good of the country,” Kingsley Wood said flatly.
“You sound like one who wants the thing to happen,” Keyes said rather primly.
“Perhaps,” Eden agreed, “I do.” He paused, and then surveyed his colleagues. “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake, eh? Wellington had it right.”
“That remark was believed to have been made by Napoleon,” Keyes corrected, without feeling.
====
GAME NOTES
Before we begin the work proper, I have a couple of observations: one is that I will probably release one more chapter before BBA, like a tsunami on a Pacific atoll, slams us with its brilliance/buggy incompetence. I intend to do my usual routine of wait 24 hours, see if the brave souls who pre-ordered it (ze fools!) recommend it/sue Paradox for the cost of a new laptop, and then I will take the plunge. I will run another game based along the premise at the heart of this AAR; thankfully I’ve so far done little apart from wreck the British constitution and play around with spies so this won’t destroy the existing body of eighty or so chapters. But I’m intrigued by some of its features (the air ones, and the beginnings of proper C2) so think it may enrich the AAR.
My second point, and this from the self-confessed atrocious commentatAAR that I am, is how good the HOI4 area of AAR land is at the moment. I note that @stnylan ’s masterpiece has returned, we have @Bullfilter and his excellent Poland AAR, and now @TheButterflyComposer has launched his democratic Germany work. I will try, today, to catch up on all three, but it’s great to see HOI4 so strong (when it normally pales in comparison to CK2 or 3, and the other PDX works).
And now to this AAR and this update. Yet another externally led review, Le Jones? Yes, although this one is much narrower in scope and tightly controlled by Whitehall.
The strain upon the British Civil Service has been the quiet tragedy of this AAR, something that I have treated with a degree of neglect (and the list of contenders for that dubious award is long – the Commonwealth, and the state of the UK military have also yet to really feature) and one that I think can be ignored no longer. The sense of 1936 and 37 being difficult years is nothing new, of course. In this TL we’ve seen public collapses in the varying Royal households, as well as the chaos that engulfed Palestine (nothing to do with the King Edward and DLG nonsense) and India (very much emanating from the King Edward and DLG nonsense) and now there will need to be some form or regrouping of the bureaucrats. High on the ‘to do’ list will be filling a swathe of positions at home. Baldwin had a decent enough team, actually great in places; my only caveat is that many of them (Fisher, Hankey etc) had been in their positions for a long time. While this is great for experience and stability, it is consequently less promising for development and the growth of new talent, and both were probably ripe for retirement in the OTL 1937. With the chaos gripping Whitehall in this TL DLG, in one of his better decisions / omissions, did no senior recruitment (although there was a fair bit of firing!), allowing Eden a significant opportunity; he has both the vacancies to appoint fresh talent and weaker opposition than he would have had OTL. This is not, though, a mandate to go completely mad: senior Civil Service appointments at this time were more closeted and based upon professional reputation and culture than perhaps they are now, and some appointments, no matter how laudable, will be met with the response that they just ‘won’t do’.
The spymasters’ jobs are rather unusual, but still not utterly dissimilar to those of the Civil Service; Kell has been with the Security Service from its inception and Sinclair is only the second head of the Secret Service since its founding. Neither, strictly, exist (yes, yes, I know they do, but they don’t exist in statute, more as an exercise of prerogative powers, deliberately crafted using prerogative to keep them away from Parliamentary scrutiny just before WW1) and recruiting new leaders is frankly something in which the Cabinet can do, pretty much, what it wants. My list for the Security Service is pretty predictable: the Head of Special Branch, a senior Home Office mandarin, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, an ambitious Foreign Office insider, and then a couple of wackier suggestions. Perhaps the one omission is that we aren’t, immediately, looking at promoting a good man from within MI5, but this might feature later. I’d be intrigued to know your thoughts on this, while I have a name in mind this is very much a hunch based on who I think Eden’s Cabinet would tolerate. This will present problems: if the Security Service isn’t given leadership it might struggle to respond to what’s coming. In OTL, Kell’s team did rather well to counter the German threat (less so the Russian one, but we’ll come to that later) and German successes in the UK were few and far between.
If the Security Service is now explicitly placed on the path of reform, then SIS is still in a period of uncertainty. I think that the collapse of Whitehall authority and the destruction of confidence that has engulfed the British establishment would, eventually, catch SIS and there is now open speculation about replacing Admiral Sinclair as its leader. To be candid, I remain amazed that the survived as he did OTL, this was not a happy period and the spies’ failures were numerous (and documented, at least in part, here). Again, I have some names for Sinclair’s replacement but would be fascinated to know your thoughts. If you guess the name I’m mulling as the favourite I might have to post you a bottle of something…
Yes, it was a pretty awful place when I stumbled over it.
Thank you - the British are at the very beginning of dealing with this period of unrest, and the job of DLI and many other raw British battalions like them will, simply, be to hold the line while the intelligence and politics can be brought to bear. Classic British imperial policing, essentially.
It is, and I have winced everytime something that I may cover/consider in this AAR has been discussed over the last 8 days. Not just the Abdication Crisis, but the wedding to Prince Philip, the accession and coronation of George VI etc...
I didn't deliberately go looking, I wanted to rant about the LOTR bilge on Amazon and had a cursory look; it was deeply unpleasant.
I think there will be changes; Eden is in a 'like' but also different position to Chamberlain OTL and will have a very different take on world affairs (which will start to dominate as the domestic plans are set up).
I'm with you on the colonial issue, it was a stupid diversion that both sides became weirdly fixated upon.
Thank you, they'll pop up occasionally and will have a 'fun' war, when it starts.
PS: As an aside, and it may be different in the British Army, or in 1936, but as a subby I would never have dreamed of referring to my OC (or any superior officer really) in the first person by their rank. Just by his first name: “Sir“
Referring to someone by their rank when talking directly to them was generally something you would only ever do to a more junior officer, but required of course in the second or third person. And without using their name, it could be a little bit more insulting. OC: “Lieutenant, you are a disgrace!” “Yes, sir! Major Martinet said the same a minute ago.” As opposed to “Lieutenant Fubb, take your men around the left flank and provide fire support for 2nd Platoon’s attack.” “Yes, Sir.”
Fascinating, thanks for sharing.
But maybe we just did things a little differently, or formally. I did find the regimental banter very good and authentic sounding.
Thanks!
I agonised over this not being a Sharpe / Hornblower [insert other military tale here] parody, hence I took a real company's details, tweaked them very slightly, completely redid the names, et voila. Holgate is an interesting one, despite the fact that he and Captain Lumsden are the closest to parody, someone very like him existed (and seems to have dragged his lads through the fall of France).
I need to double check, but I think the RSM at this time looked like a tank. I couldn't contrive to put him in the chapter, but he looked and sounded terrifying.
This certainly chimes with my experience, the RN being the arm of the UK military with which I have the most experience.
Quite right too.
and names? Surely not to a superior officer.
Yes. Though it can also be polite: “Yes, I actually do know your name, Lieutenant Bloggs - you wretched little oik.”
Yes, always, as a mark of respect. Especially when talking about someone of superior rank when someone else superior to you is in the group. But if it’s a bunch of people of the same rank grouching or happily reminiscing about a superior in private? More likely than not either an insulting nickname “old Mudguard” (a bald bloke, whose head was ‘shiny on top, but shit underneath’) or the ASP (A Smiling Penis); or alternatively something playful or gruffly affectionate: ‘Old xxxx’, etc.
often though it would be the appointment rather than the rank used in some of those circumstances (the CO, OC, 2IC, the Adj, etc).
Maybe, though when in the field (or training for it) I subscribed to the view that there was no such thing as ‘semi-tac’: thinking you could take it a bit too easy was a good way to grow complacent and get you and your men killed.
So, in a regiment or battalion, in third person it was almost always ‘the CO‘ or ‘the OC’, regardless of the incumbent’s rank, rather like the captain of the ship being the captain, whether a Lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander, Commander, or Captain by rank.
And when you were in barracks, things were probably more formal, if less immediately threatening. one wouldn’t wish familiarity to breed contempt, would one?
Interesting, thanks.
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