’Molely’ Molesworth might not have been on par with the Lieutenant-Generals in rank, but as Deputy Chief of General Staff for the Indian Army he was more than due his share of official curtsey. In any event, his arrival had been telegraphed in advance. Quite unlike Bernard Freyberg, Major-General, VC, CMG, DSO** and General Officer Commanding the 2nd New Zealand Expeditionary Force, who hauled his large and much abused frame out of the Chevrolet behind Blamey.
If Wavell was in the least put out by receiving three visitors for the price of one, he gave little sign. Instead, he welcomed them all warmly and made polite conversation about the weather, the tribulations of air travel and Cairo traffic until the four men were safely seated in his office, drinks in hand and doors shut.
“Well gentlemen, it would be too much to ask if you were all here for Genie’s birthday…?”
It was almost inevitable Blamey opened the batting. Never much of a diplomat at the best of times, and hardly one of the boys in such company, he wasn’t inclined to take the back seat to anyone. Yet, for as far as Wavell had come to know his man, he was surprised by quiet almost tentative tone from the bullish fellow
“Sir… I received instructions this morning that umm… My government would like my opinion on the future movements of the Australian Imperial Force. They ask if the AIF should be withdrawn to Australia wholesale, or if it might be more advisable to move directly to Singapore. I’m also to inform them of the earliest we can leave Egypt and… ” Blamey choked down a curse. “The lilly livered bastards also want to know how much kit I can screw out of you before we go. I’m not meant to be telling you that obviously, but… Christ. It’s one thing to cut and run. I’m not playing snake in the grass for the buggers too. Sorry sir, I’m so bloody sorry…”
Wavell’s look of polite interest hardly wavered as he listened to this toll of doom ring out. “That’s alright, Tom; and thank you, I do appreciate your honesty.” He had, after all, been half expecting something along these lines. His only real surprise was that it had taken so long, and that Blamey was so upset about it.
On the other end of the settee Freyberg coughed, “My government,” he rumbled, “has only asked my advice on the desirability of redeploying my command. We… that is, Tom and I, rather think our Governments have been talking between themselves, as the options I am to consider are essentially the same as his: Singapore or Australia. However mine are not orders, and Wellington say they will be guided by my opinion.”
Again Wavell nodded politely. “Thank you, Bernard” He turned to Molesworth, who was already blushing. “I take it you are here for my Indians, Moley?”
Molesworth nodded, “Yes, Archie. We seem to have a political accord developing with the Congress Party, but they don’t much like the idea of Indian troops defending British interests.”
Wavell raised a curious eyebrow “Any you may well need them for keeping order too, dare I say?”
“If Jinnah AML can’t be kept under control then yes, I rather fear we will.” Molesworth agreed sadly. “I knew it was going to leave you in the most dreadful bind, but I had not realized things would be this bad.” He glanced across at the two Dominion generals.
“No, that is quite alright, old man,” smiled Wavell gently “Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.”
“So that’s it then,” said Blamey into the air before turning to Wavell. “Where do you intend to take the British forces? I’m instructed to invite you to Australia, but I’d understand if you told me to go and roger myself.”
Wavell looked blank. “I’m sorry — take whom where? I assure you, Tom, I’ve no intention of going anywhere at all, nor shall I without orders.”
“Oh come on, man” snapped Blamey. “Making bricks without straw is one thing, but you’re not holding Egypt with the rest of us bottling out.”
Wavell nodded “I take your point, Tom, and I dare say you are right, but I intend to do my best.”
“So you intend to stay?” asked Freyberg.
“Yes” replied Wavell simply.
“Good.” said Freyberg soberly. “Then so shall we. And I will inform Wellington to that effect.”
For the first time, Wavell showed some trace of passion “Really? Oh Ber… Thank you, Bernard. I thank you, and the Empire thanks you.”
“What’s left of it” muttered Blamey.
“That is rather the point, isn’t it,” said Freyberg, accepting Wavell’s gratitude with a gentle nod. “This is the Empire now, or so far as I can see.”
A sigh ran around the group. Someone had to say it, and it was typical of Freyberg to grasp the nettle.
“What are your instructions from London — if I may inquire?” Molesworth asked.
“As they have always been,” smiled Wavell. “London has had no end of things to say, but there has been no change to my strategic guidance.”
“What are they thinking?” muttered Freyberg.
“God only knows.” Blamey’s laugh was drier than dust. “God knows if they are thinking at all.”
“Be that as it may,” Wavell carefully avoided any trace of a smile,
“My position is clear, and not a little easier thanks to Bernard’s great generosity. But any further help… I should not like to beg, but I need troops and time, gentlemen, and any of either you might spare would not go unwelcome.”
Freyberg scratched his chin. “London may have gone mad, but our immediate problem, Archie, is that Tom over here is cursed with politicians not given the strategic vision the good Lord gave an ant. And, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, the Indian Government appears to be rather flustered. Not without reason, but history offers little sympathy for even the best excuses.”
“Is this really the sort of conversation we ought to be having?” asked Molesworth cautiously.
“If not us, then who?” asked Freyberg with no caution at all. “As far as I can see, everyone is worried over their own little patch, and praying like hell someone else is looking to the whole.”
“And no bugger is” agreed Blamey reluctantly.
“It can’t be done.” Jack Hunderford sounded really regretful. He’d been flattered by the invitation to attend the meeting and even more so that his opinions were heard so intently.
“But, we can get a Boeing 314 there, even if it does need some extra fuel tanks.” Secretary Cordell Hull was determined to make this rescue happen. Overnight the electronics engineers at the Naval Aircraft Radio Laboratory had studied the mysterious piece of equipment; they were already stunned by its implications. They’d wanted to know where it had come from and how, but those questions had been carefully evaded. The message was very clear, though; the technology the Tizard escapees would be bringing with them was worth its weight in gold. That was a separate issue from the political importance of bringing Churchill out.
“That’s not the problem.” Hunderford was the head of flying boat operations for Pan American and was reputed to be the only man Juan Trippe ever listened to. There was nobody around who knew more about operating big flying boats. That was why he was in the room. “Landing flying boats on water is a very difficult operation. We make it look easy because we train the living daylights out of our crews and only fly in and out of carefullymaintained operating bases. Every one of our pilots has landed a dozen times or more at each base on the route before we let them take a Clipper in there. Landing at an unknown Scottish loch, or even worse, a lake, is impossible. Think of it this way. The flying boats that could do it can’t get there and the ones that can get there can’t do it. The Clippers look big and tough, but that’s just their size. They’re really very fragile. Rough water or a floating log will do for them. You’d be better off with one of the British boats. The Empires are much tougher than our Clippers. That’s why ours are economically viable and theirs aren’t.”