‘For the last twelve months, after the fall of our allies in Europe, we in Great Britain, together with our friends from the Empire who came to our aid, have stood alone against the scourge of Hitlerism. We have not shrunk from the duty that history thrust upon us. It fell to us, to our generation of ordinary men and women, to resist the Nazis with unbending resolve. We did it because we had to. We did it without question, we did it bravely and with unrelenting vigour. We did it with thoughts of freedom, and hope, and a wish for a better world. We did it because there was no one else to do it.
‘Herr Hitler and his legions have marched across Europe. They were a terrible enemy: harsh, ruthless, mightily armed and seemingly devoid of human feelings. But we finally stopped Hitler at the Channel coast of France. Last summer, thinking it was only a pause in his great progress, he went to France to see for himself. He stood on the Pas de Calais and looked across the narrow waters towards our white cliffs, so near and yet so far. He reached out for them, intending to take them. It was then that he found his match at last. The indomitable spirit of the English, the Welsh, the Scottish, rose up without question or pause for thought, prepared to lose everything, determined to lose nothing, ready for sacrifice, eager for victory. In truth, we had little more at first than a fist to shake at Hitler. The courage of the British race was never better shown, never admired more widely. Our finest hour followed, our most splendid year, our saving grace. Our tiny island, battered though it has become, bombarded though it was, and besieged as it has been, remained free. It is free now. And it will remain for ever free.
‘Hitler’s war has been fought in vain. He has not prevailed. We have not yielded to his threats, dodged his bombs or run away from his shells. We are still here, as united as ever in our resistance to him. Our reward is that an honourable peace has been achieved.
‘We British are slow to anger, quick to forgive. We are cheerful, optimistic and generous, we love our homes and our families, we cherish our countryside. We are sometimes puzzling to our friends, eccentric even to each other. We are an island race who have taken our culture out to the world. But as Herr Hitler and his friends have discovered, we are also tough, brave and resourceful. We do not yield to threats. We do not panic. We do not give up. We cannot be bullied into submission. When knocked to the floor we spring back at once to our feet, our defiance redoubled, our anger the more keen, our determination to fight for what we believe in more deadly than before.
‘A year ago I promised you that if we should come through this struggle, the life of the world would move into broad, sunlit uplands. That prospect is before us at last.
‘We did not seek or want this war. We had nothing to gain for ourselves by fighting it. We had no territorial gains in mind. We did not even have a quarrel with the ordinary German people. We fought only for the principle of freedom. We were not prepared to be pushed around by the Nazis, and did not see why anyone else should be. So the moment did arise and we therefore braced ourselves to the necessary duty. We dared to resist, we dared to stand firm, we dared to fight to whatever end it would take. The sacrifice has been made and now it is at an end. We have come through the darkest hours this country has ever known, and we are the greater for it.
‘I said as I began that there could be no better news than the news of peace. I have, though, one extra tiding for you, that I believe you will consider to be an improvement even on peace itself. Just before I went into the House this afternoon word came to me that there have been great and important and permanent changes inside Germany. In a sudden access of good sense, the German people have removed Adolf Hitler from office, and not a moment too soon. We do not yet know the fate of Herr Hitler, nor are we going to expend any energy in trying to find out. Good riddance, I say, and here I know I speak for us all. The man who has replaced him as German Chancellor, Rudolf Hess, is the co-signatory to the cease-fire we have arranged. We may safely assume that our peace accord remains in place. Herr Hess, in my experience, will not be any easier to deal with than his predecessor, but at least we shall not have to fight him.
‘We therefore have a rare opportunity to celebrate our country’s glory and for that reason I have declared tomorrow a public holiday. Tomorrow, celebrate with deserved and unashamed joy, in reward for what you have earned. Tonight, though, as a preliminary, we can turn our backs on the recent past with a simple gesture of freedom. Celebrate tonight by switching on the lights in your house and opening your curtains, throwing wide your windows. All danger is past. Let the world find out where we live, see us again for what we are.
‘Long live the cause of freedom. Advance, Britannia! God save the King!’
24
Holograph notebooks of J. L. Sawyer
xxviii
Our negotiating team flew back to England the day after Churchill departed. After a long run across the lake, the great white seaplane lifted away from the smooth waters of Stora Varten. It climbed slowly in a wide, shallow turn above the trees of the countryside and the steep roofs of Stockholm. The mood of everyone in the cabin of the aircraft was one of great elation. None of us stayed in our seats for long during the flight, but for most of the time we clustered excitedly in the narrow spaces and aisle, talking eagerly about what we had achieved, how we had done it, what our hopes were for the bright future that we had helped create.
When the pilot announced some three hours later that the plane was flying along the British coast I moved to one of the seats next to a window, staring out with feelings of rejoicing at the green countryside, the line of white breakers, the smooth blue sea. We were somewhere above the Channel, following the English south coast, not high above the waves nor far from the land. I could see small seaside resorts, tall white cliffs, distant downs. On this day of bright sunshine the country looked remarkably whole from the plane, undamaged by the war. I knew that close up the reality was different, but from this passing eminence it was possible to glimpse England as she had been, as she would be again.
When we were not far from Southampton a flight of RAF Spitfires appeared from high in the blue, streaking down past us, cavorting and rolling, repeatedly circling us as we growled slowly along above the waves. They stayed with us all the way to the Solent, a joyful escort. As we were preparing to make our landing they moved away, formated in the distance into the shape of a long vee, then made one last pass above us, the roar of their engines clearly audible inside our cabin. Then they disappeared towards the land and our slow, cumbersome flying-boat made its crashing, bouncing arrival on the choppy surface of Southampton Water.
Half an hour later, as we stepped ashore from a naval launch, a small crowd applauded us politely. We went through the formalities of arrival in a slight daze, hardly daring to believe that the radical lifting of the mood of the country which we could already sense was real, permanent.
I craved to go home, to see Birgit, to be there with her in the last days before our baby was born, but the problems of travelling around in wartime Britain were not yet a thing of the past. The government had at short notice declared the day a public holiday - PE Day, Peace in Europe Day - and there were no trains, buses, or indeed any easy or affordable way of leaving Southampton until the next morning.