My hypothetical forecast is the following: This will be the decisive year of the war. Hitler must make a supreme effort (most probably in spring or in summer) in order to bring the war to an end this year – in his own favour, of course. It would be catastrophic for him to prolong the war into 1942 and subsequent years, because in that phase of the war time will be on the side of England (and the USA). By the beginning of 1942, British military production will be at its peak, while the US military industry will be entering the phase of full-scale production. Then England and the USA will be capable of simply raining bombs and shells on Germany. By that time, the British Empire will also have sufficiently mobilized its human and material resources. In a word, from 1942 onwards there will be no hope for Germany to tie the war, let alone win it, since the world remains on the plane of ‘normal’ capitalist relations. That is why Hitler must hurry with his knockout blow. He has already had his share of disappointments. There can be little doubt that after losing the Battle of Britain in the autumn of 1940, Hitler’s plan was to take advantage of the winter season for a joint onslaught with Mussolini on Egypt, Palestine, Iraq and so on. This would have severed links between India and England, while at the same time solving Germany’s oil problem. Italy’s defeats in Albania and Africa, plus the Soviet Union’s opposition to the German overland march to the Middle East through the Balkans and Turkey, have upset Hitler’s plans. Evidently, the winter of 1940/1941 will yield less than he hoped for. So a final, decisive knockout blow becomes all the more imperative.

But where? In which direction?

I think it will be directed against England, for a blow in any other direction cannot produce a decisive effect.

In what form?

Most probably, in a combined form – vicious intensification of the sea war, vicious air raids, and vicious attempts at invasion. Hitler will stop at nothing: gas, germ warfare, a variety of ‘secret weapons’ (if he really has them) – all will be deployed. So far we have seen hundreds of bombers operating over London and other British cities, and it is quite possible that we shall soon see thousands. For the moment is approaching when Hitler, for all his caution, will have to stake his all and risk coming out with nothing. And he is not the type of man to sell his chance of victory cheaply. That is why all of us living in England must prepare for very hard days. I’m completing the strengthening of our bomb shelters just in time.

The outcome?

At the moment one can only guess. But if we rule out the impact of some entirely new ‘secret weapon’ (the Germans have yet to reveal any real ‘secrets’ in this war), then I think Hitler’s knockout blow will fail. He missed his moment. Immediately after Dunkerque, following the capitulation of France, he still had the chance to make a successful invasion (although even then it would not have been easy). Now England has strengthened and reinforced itself to such an extent – not only militarily, but also in terms of morale – that Hitler, having mastery neither of the sea nor of the air, must be highly uncertain of the success of his invasion.

Page 1507

Maisky told Eden that ‘he had himself never doubted our ability to resist’; TNA FO 371 29262 N104/50/59, 6 Jan. 1941.

His chances are so small that sometimes I think to myself: will he really risk it? Won’t the events of autumn 1940 be repeated in 1941? Perhaps Hitler will once again pace the shores of the Channel before retreating with the words: ‘The berries are unripe and sour.’

But then I reflect: what else can he do? What choice does he have?

No, a knockout blow against England will, by all appearances, be attempted, but it will most probably fail.

What then?

Too early to say. One thing is clear: the failure of a German attempt to invade is not equivalent to an English victory. I mean a victory, not a draw. Victory for England is still a distant prospect – at any rate for the England of Churchill, Simon, Margesson, Attlee and Bevin.

If the trial of strength this spring and summer ends inconclusively, a highly complicated situation will emerge next winter, one which may lead either to a compromise peace or to the unleashing of revolutionary forces.

Time will tell.

Wilkinson’s own situation, in terms of day-to-day living, is poor. German bombs destroyed her flat in London; moreover, she lost the greater part of her library. She has no time to visit her cottage in the country. She spends the day at the Home Office and sleeps there in her own office. Her lifestyle is positively spartan.

But the most interesting thing today was Wilkinson’s view of the war. In response to my remark that one could not but consider this war an imperialist war, she responded most frankly.

‘I’ll be brutally realistic,’ she said with fervour, ‘let the war we are waging be a bourgeois war. What of it? It’s impossible to choose the conditions for a war. One has to take a war as it is. And I think we ought to win this bourgeois war. For bourgeois England, with all its defects, is still immeasurably better than Nazi Germany. I’d rather die than live under Hitler.’

At that same moment Agniya ran into the room. She was excited and out of breath, and shouted: ‘Bombs! Fire…The street’s as light as day!’

Together we ran to the bathroom window. Indeed, all was ablaze outside. Hundreds of bright white fires sparkled under the trees in Kensington Gardens: incendiary bombs. Two fire bombs were also burning in the garden of our Nepalese neighbours. The same in the courtyard of the house adjacent to the Nepalese. As far as we could see, the courtyards of all the houses in Kensington Palace Gardens were lit by the bluish-white flames of burning bombs.

We rushed to another window that overlooked our garden. Several bombs were burning below in various spots near the shelter and near the staircase that descended from the white hall.

I raced downstairs and began mobilizing our people. There were two more bombs outside the front porch, and further bombs by the garage and in the passage between our house and that of our Nepalese neighbours. Fire bombs sparkled opposite in the yard of the Lithuanians and farther along the street. It was light enough to read a newspaper. But our thoughts were not set on reading.

Our people assembled. Some ran to put out the bombs at the front of the building and others rushed to the garden. I was with the second group. We took sandbags and poured sand over the flames. The bombs were extinguished fairly quickly. I put out one bomb; Agniya came running down to put out another. All our bombs were extinguished in about 15 minutes. Luckily, not a single one fell on the roof.

Others on the street did not fare so well. The roof of No. 21 diagonally opposite us caught fire. Red tongues of flame rose to the sky. But a fire brigade arrived in time to deal with the fire. On the whole, the bombs in Kensington Gardens and other places in our district were dealt with successfully. There were no major fires.

This is well attested by the conduct of the Church, which in England is very closely tied to the masses and senses its mood quite acutely.

On 13 December, the Catholic Herald, the mouthpiece of British Catholics, published an article on the front page under a banner headline: ‘If We Don’t Ensure Social Justice in National and International Affairs, Communism Will Come’. Sharply attacking the communists and the People’s Convention scheduled for 12 January, the paper wrote nonetheless: the meaning of all the Church’s statements cited above is patently obvious. The Church senses the first subterranean shocks in the social structure and hastens to pull the wool over the eyes of the masses in advance and (how very English!) to find some rotten compromise through which it might blunt the edges of the rising movement. Moreover, the Church would like to lead this movement in its own way and stop the communists and other left elements from gaining control of it. At the same time, the Church wants to exert a ‘moral influence’ on diehard elements in the ruling classes who refuse to meet the surging wave halfway. Will the Church’s ploy succeed? We shall see.

Secular authorities lag considerably behind the Church. A special committee headed by Attlee has been developing war aims for a few months already without making any progress. Why? Because there is disagreement within the committee and the government on a cardinal issue: some, particularly Bevin, insist on including in the war aims matters of a social order – otherwise, they say, it will be impossible to restrain the masses for long. Others, such as Beaverbrook and Kingsley Wood, object to this. The result is stalemate.

Be that as it may, the conduct of the Church is very significant. It testifies to the fact that the temperature of popular discontent has risen rather high.

What are Wells’ impressions of America? In particular, what is the American attitude to the war?

Wells answered as follows:

‘And what are the prospects?’ I asked.

‘Little by little America is nonetheless bestirring itself,’ replied Wells, ‘and Roosevelt is undoubtedly the mouthpiece of popular sentiments towards the war. In about a year, practical aid from the USA will be in full swing. This will give England such a massive advantage that a German victory will become impossible. But I think Germany has actually lost the war already. I don’t believe in the possibility of an invasion, and if this is the case, how can Germany beat us?… I am concerned by something else: I fear that in the not too distant future, the USA may be drawn into the war.’

‘Why does that worry you?’

‘You see,’ continued Wells, ‘if the USA enters the war, those same capitalist elements who are presently against the transition from peace-time to military production will be obliged to engage in arms manufacture at a frenzied pace and will have purely selfish motives for dragging the war out any way they can. That’s the first point. Another thing: if Germany cannot defeat England, then, in all honesty, I also fail to see how England can defeat Germany. The only way for England to win is to get rid of all her Halifaxes, but I don’t as yet see how this could be done. Hence the conclusion: in the not-too-distant future, say, in 8–10 months, the war may come to a stalemate. There will be talk of peace negotiations. Should the USA remain outside the war, it would promote peace and, most significantly, would bring an end to the war in such a way as to ensure tranquillity in Europe for many years to come.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ I inquired.

‘I see only one way,’ Wells responded eagerly, ‘of safeguarding a sustainable peace after the war: a great Air Federation of the three powers, the USA, England and the USSR. These three powers alone should have large air forces and control their use. All the rest ought not to have large air fleets.’

‘But what if these three powers fall out? What then?’ I asked.

Wells argued that such an eventuality must be ruled out. This is the only hope for mankind. Otherwise the next war will finish it off for good. To fulfil this hope it is imperative to establish friendship between England, the USA and the USSR. In this connection Wells inquired about the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. I informed him about the events of the past 3–4 months, but my words, of course, contained little that was reassuring. Wells became angry and began heaping abuse on ‘those Halifaxes of ours’ who see no further than their noses. In perfect contradiction to what he had just been saying, Wells now set about assuring me that within a year at most ‘Halifaxes’ would no longer be in power and England would be ruled by different people, with whom the USSR would be able to establish genuinely cordial relations.

‘You know,’ my interlocutor added unexpectedly, ‘I like Stalin. He’s first class stuff !’

And, without a pause, following some peculiar logic of his own, he suddenly stated in the most categorical terms: ‘Only all of you are so terribly old-fashioned. The Communist Manifesto is out of date and you should revise it by adapting it to the new technology and new relations.’

I burst out laughing and said that we were up to the neck in other, more urgent problems, but Wells had warmed to his new theme and kept impressing on me that he, Wells, was a far more advanced and modern man than we, the Bolsheviks.

‘What is the general attitude towards the USSR in America?’ I asked so as to divert Wells’ thoughts to another topic.

‘Somewhat better,’ he answered, ‘but still hostile on the whole. Even the left has not got over Finland and to a certain extent the Baltic. For Wall Street, the USSR remains the “communist bogey”. Willkie

Wendell Lewis Willkie was the 1940 Republican nominee for president; he favoured a more intense American involvement in the war.

is a fine illustration of this. He is the true voice of Wall Street, a hardened capitalist bandit. He is now coming to England – what for? Allegedly to familiarize himself with the situation and to coordinate better the “war efforts” of the two countries. Nonsense! In fact he is coming to see whether England has not become too “Red” or is considering doing so. That’s the Wall Street spirit for you!’

Wells took a deep breath and added:

I thanked Wells half-jokingly for his ‘propaganda’ on behalf of the USSR, and our conversation somehow turned to the Litvinovs. Wells told me a few things about Ivy’s family.

It transpires that her grandfather, progenitor of the family, emigrated from Vienna to England after the 1848 revolution. He was a fairly wealthy Jewish businessman and fond of gambling on the Stock Exchange. He never struck lucky, and the family of old Low would panic every time he headed off to the City. Then one of the sons would rush to the City, look for his father and try to drag him back home.

Ivy’s grandfather had three sons: Sir Sidney Low, who became owner of the Evening Standard and the Pall Mall Gazette, Sir Maurice Low, who for many years was the correspondent of The Times in the United States, and Walter Low, Ivy’s father. Rather romantically, Walter married the daughter of an Englishman and an Afghan woman. So there is Jewish, English and Afghan blood mixed in Ivy’s veins (knowing this, I am no longer surprised by her temperament and character!). Ivy had an aunt, who hated ‘modernism’ in women (smoking, lipstick, and the like). Ivy’s sister is married and lives in Ceylon… She has other relatives, too. What a good theme for a contemporary Rougon-Macquart chronicle!

The first. Soon after Italy entered the war, Hitler boasted about it in a conversation with an American statesman. The statesman thought for a while and then said: ‘Italy was on our side in the last war. It is on yours in this war. That’s only fair. Providence is just: it does not wish to keep punishing the same party.’

The second. Three weeks have passed since war broke out between Italy and Greece. Hitler calls Rome and asks meaningfully: ‘Benito, is that you? What? Are you still at home? I thought you were in Greece already.’

Mussolini retorts: ‘Hello! Is that you, Adolf? What?… I can’t hear you!… Are you calling from London?’…

Jimmy Thomas

James Henry Thomas, a trade unionist, he became lord privy seal and minister of employment, 1929–30 and secretary of state for dominion affairs, 1930–35.

liked to speak profusely. Once at a grand dinner, where the prince of Wales and Lord Birkenhead (now deceased) were present, Thomas went on far too long. The prince of Wales was clearly annoyed. Birkenhead, who sat next to him, asked: ‘Does Your Highness wish him to conclude?’

‘Yes, of course,’ answered the prince, ‘Shut him up.’

‘Right away!’

Birkenhead wrote something on a piece of paper, beckoned a servant and asked him to give it to the speaker without waiting for the end of his speech. Thomas cast a glance at the note and his features instantly took on a peculiar appearance. He blushed, coughed, and was back in his seat within a couple of minutes.

‘Whatever did you write?’ the prince inquired.

‘I wrote: “Jimmy, your trousers are in disarray”,’ Birkenhead answered with a laugh.

During the conversation, I remarked with a laugh that Wendell Willkie was coming to England to see, first and foremost, whether it had become ‘too’ Red or was in danger of becoming so.

‘Oh, Tom,’ Hicks exclaimed, addressing Williams and feigning fear, ‘it seems that we will have to sink into obscurity for the duration!’

One of my guests rejoined: ‘Yes, we don’t have any sort of socialism here.’

‘Ho, ho, ho!’ Hicks roared again, before adding in the same tone: ‘For as long as we are in power there will be no socialism in England.’

An uneasy silence fell around the table. No wonder: Hicks had inadvertently divulged the truth.

I recalled what Randolph Churchill told me the day before: ‘Bevin, of course, has proved himself a disappointment in many ways, but my father will not let him leave the government: he saves us lot of troubles [sic].’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, pretending not to understand.

‘Well,’ Randolph replied very frankly, ‘had it not been for Bevin, we’d have had endless trouble with workers about working conditions, wages, workdays, etc.’

Precisely. Labour is performing its historical mission.

As usually happens, the minister of economic warfare refused to commit himself in any way. He merely promised to investigate the fact that I had reported to him, and then moved on to more general issues.

First, Dalton said that the British government is obliged to treat with suspicion our trade with America, because our neutrality has a certain bias: we trade with Germany, but not with England. I replied that the British government’s conduct with regard to the Baltic question was not conducive to the creation of a favourable atmosphere for the promotion of trade between our countries.

My reply stung Dalton and he set about proving, with somewhat affected fervour, that reference to the Baltic question is just a pretext. Even if the Baltic issue were to be resolved, the Soviet government would find other pretexts to justify its present attitude towards England. The problem is that the Soviet government does not seek to improve Anglo-Soviet relations. That is why the British government is in no hurry to settle the Baltic question. Naturally, I rebuffed Dalton in the appropriate manner.

Secondly, Dalton attacked me in connection with Cripps’s position in Moscow. The Soviet government, you see, ‘keeps Cripps at a distance’, Molotov does not receive him, everyone else slights him and all but ‘humiliates’ him. Dalton is most irritated by the fact that Molotov found it impossible to receive Cripps before his visit to Berlin.

I replied to Dalton that the position of an ambassador in the country of his accreditation depends primarily on the character of relations between the governments of the countries concerned (as I know from my own experience). Dalton knows perfectly well that relations between London and Moscow today are far from ideal, through no fault of our own, and this cannot but affect Cripps’s position in Moscow and mine in London. In any case, I have not heard of anything that might be interpreted as discrimination against Cripps. As for Cripps’s meetings with Comrade Molotov, an important circumstance should not be forgotten: Molotov is first and foremost chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars and, secondly, People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs. He has to perform many duties and, naturally enough, cannot receive ambassadors frequently. But Cripps can meet Vyshinsky, first deputy chairman of the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs (he is also vice chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars), as often as he wishes. However, Cripps rarely visits Vyshinsky. As far as I know, Cripps has not visited the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs since 19 November, that is, he has not been there for two months, and he has not asked for a meeting with Vyshinsky. It looks like a boycott. Such behaviour can hardly help the ambassador fulfil his functions. I, for example, have not seen Churchill since 3 July, but I hardly make a fuss about it and I don’t declare myself offended.

Dalton was slightly confused by this rebuff and softened his tone. He assured me that he had always been and remains an advocate of good relations between our countries and asked for my assistance in solving Cripps’s problem.

(1) Aras is thinking of a pact that will last ten years at least, and which can be prolonged or renewed.

(2) The pact should be of a ‘general character’ and be effective with respect to any state. I deliberately listed one state after another – Japan, England, Germany, France, Italy and the United States – and each time Aras confirmed: ‘The pact should be effective against this state also.’ He merely added that he thought it essential, on concluding the pact, to reassure Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan and so on, that the pact was not directed against them.

(3) According to Aras, Ismet

Ismet İnönü, prime minister, 1923–24 and 1925–37; president of the Republic of Turkey, 1938–50.

and the Turkish government in general are wholly in favour of such a pact, though he has not specifically asked Ankara about it.

After our talk Aras decided to sound out the Turkish government in a more concrete way. If Ankara’s reply is positive, as he fully expects, I could in turn sound out Moscow. Should Moscow take a favourable view, Saraçoğlu would make formal proposals to the Soviet government.

All this is very good, but there’s something odd about it. The ground underfoot, it seems, is on fire but Aras is in no hurry to sound out Ankara by telegraph. Instead, he is sending a letter by special courier. How long will that take?… I tried suggesting to Aras that he should act quickly, but he refused to take my hint. It reminds me of the way Admiral Drax was planning to attend military conferences in Moscow in August 1939. Not serious!

There’s another, more important thing. Dalton told me plainly today that in order to avoid similar problems in future we had better conclude a wartime trade agreement with England, like those supposedly concluded with England by all neutral countries.

‘What about the United States?’ I asked, not without malice.

Dalton had to admit the absence of such a trade agreement with the United States.

I moved onto the offensive, declaring that the Soviet Union would not conclude a wartime trade agreement as a matter of principle: we cannot permit outside control over our foreign policy. Halifax tried to impose such control on us during the trade negotiations last year, and was rebuffed. No further attempts have been made since the present government came to power. Does Dalton really want to take us back to that stage? There’s no point.

Dalton was greatly disappointed and began to talk about our imports from the United States: cotton, oil-well drilling machines, etc. The British, you see, suspect that we replace the Soviet-made products we export to Germany with the products we import from the United States. That is why our guarantee that we do not re-export the commodities imported from the USA and other countries to the ‘enemy’ is insufficient for the British. They want an additional guarantee: that we do not export to the ‘enemy’ the commodities produced domestically in volumes equivalent to the imported ones, particularly cotton, copper, etc. I dismissed these absurd claims.

Dalton asserted, inter alia, that according to our agreement with Germany we are to supply it annually with 90,000 tons of cotton, 960,000 tons of oil, etc.

In conclusion, Dalton complained once again about Cripps not being able to meet Molotov, about Cripps being isolated, etc. This creates ill-feeling in London.

I did not want to go back to this topic and reminded Dalton of our recent conversation on 24 January.

‘We howl with laughter at each other but get nowhere’; Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 148.

Weizmann came to discuss the following matter: at present Palestine has no market for her oranges – would the USSR take them in exchange for furs? It would be easy to sell the furs through Jewish firms in America.

I answered Weizmann by saying that off hand I could not say anything definite, but I promised to make enquiries. However, as a preliminary reply, I said that the Palestinian Jews should not place any great hopes on us: we do not, as a rule, import fruit from abroad. I was proved right. Moscow turned down Weizmann’s proposal, and I sent him a letter to that effect today.

In the course of the conversation about oranges, Weizmann talked about Palestinian affairs in general. Furthermore, he spoke about the present situation and the prospects for world Jewry. Weizmann takes a very pessimistic view. According to his calculations, there are about 17 million Jews in the world today. Of these, 10–11 million live in comparatively tolerable conditions: at any rate, they are not threatened with physical extermination. These are the Jews who live in the US, the British Empire and the USSR. Weizmann spoke about Soviet Jews in particular: ‘I’m not worried about them. They are not under any threat. In twenty or thirty years’ time, if the present regime in your country lasts, they will be assimilated.’

‘What do you mean, assimilated?’ I retorted. ‘Surely you know that Jews in the USSR enjoy all the rights of a national minority, like the Armenians, Georgians, Ukrainians and so on?’

‘Of course I know that,’ Weizmann answered, ‘but when I say “assimilated”, all I mean is that Soviet Jews will gradually merge with the general current of Russian life, as an inalienable part of it. I may not like this, but I’m ready to accept it: at least Soviet Jews are on firm ground, and their fate does not make me shudder. But I cannot think without horror about the fate of the 6–7 million Jews who live in Central or South-East Europe – in Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia, the Balkans and especially Poland. What’s going to happen to them? Where will they go?’

Weizmann sighed deeply and continued: ‘If Germany wins the war they will all simply perish. However, I don’t believe that the Germans will win. But even if England wins the war, what will happen then?’

Here he began to set out his fears. The English – and especially their colonial administrators – don’t like Jews. This is particularly noticeable in Palestine, which is inhabited by both Jews and Arabs. Here the British ‘high commissioners’ undoubtedly prefer the Arabs to the Jews. Why? For one very simple reason. An English colonial administrator will usually get his training in British colonies like Nigeria, the Sudan, Rhodesia and so on. These places have a well-defined pattern of rule: a few roads, some courts, a little missionary activity, a little medical care for the population. It’s all so simple, so straightforward, so calm. No serious problems, and no complaints on the part of the governed. The English administrator likes this, and gets used to it. But in Palestine?

Growing more animated, Weizmann continued: ‘You won’t get very far with a programme like that here. Here there are big and complex problems. It’s true that the Palestinian Arabs are the kind of guinea pigs the administrator is used to, but the Jews reduce him to despair. They are dissatisfied with everything, they ask questions, they demand answers – and sometimes these answers are not easily supplied. The administrator begins to get angry and to see the Jews as a nuisance. But the main thing is that the administrator constantly feels that the Jew is looking at him and thinking to himself: “Are you intelligent? But maybe I’m twice as intelligent as you.” This turns the administrator against the Jews for good, and he begins to praise the Arabs. Things are quite different with them: they don’t want anything and don’t bother anyone.’

And then, taking all these circumstances into account, Weizmann anxiously asks himself: ‘What has a British victory to offer the Jews?’ The question leads him to some uncomfortable conclusions. For the only ‘plan’ which Weizmann can think of to save Central European Jewry (and in the first place Polish Jewry) is this: to move a million Arabs now living in Palestine to Iraq, and to settle 4–5 million Jews from Poland and other countries on the land which the Arabs had been occupying. The British are hardly likely to agree to this. And if they don’t agree, what will happen?

I expressed some surprise about how Weizmann hoped to settle 5 million Jews on territory occupied by 1 million Arabs.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Weizmann burst out laughing. ‘The Arab is often called the son of the desert. It would be truer to call him the father of the desert. His laziness and primitivism turn a flourishing garden into a desert. Give me the land occupied by a million Arabs, and I will easily settle five times that number of Jews on it.’

Weizmann shook his head sadly and concluded: ‘The only thing is, how do we obtain this land?’

Here is a vivid example. Comert

Pierre Comert was the head of the Information and Press Service of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1933–38.

paid me a visit today. He worked in the League of Nations and headed the press department of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He found refuge in London and is now the editor of the émigré newspaper France (he claims the print-run of his paper is nearly 40,000 copies). We spoke at length about France and the causes of her collapse, about Reynaud, Daladier, Marquise Crussol and Countess de Portes. This is very fashionable today. Everything seemed to be going all right, and Comert’s analysis coincided in many regards with my thoughts about the roots of the French debacle. I asked Comert: ‘How do you imagine the future of France after this war? Suppose the Germans evacuate your country tomorrow, willingly or otherwise, what would happen then?’

Comert started thinking aloud. And how strange were his thoughts.

‘The Third Republic is dead,’ he said. ‘Reynaud, Daladier, Laval, Flandin and their like are dead, too. Something new must emerge.’

But as soon as he tried to describe the gist of the new, he exposed incredible confusion in his mind and… intellectual poverty. In Comert’s opinion, the curse of pre-war France was total corruption, especially the corruption of officials. This was the source of all the troubles. But, how to explain the corruption? It can be explained by the meagre salaries which the Republic paid its employees, far too small to live on. This made it easy for the ‘two hundred families’ to bribe the functionaries in one form or another. In the end, the Republic was lost. The situation in France was so bad on the eve of the war that a revolution was needed to clean its Augean stables. This is how Comert sees it.

But then came the war. France suffered defeat, and now a revolution is no longer needed. The war did what a revolution should have done. Comert sees the France of the future as having the same parliament (perhaps with a slight modification of electoral law), the same system of ‘democracy’ that has just broken down (perhaps with minor amendments and a fresh lick of paint) and, above all, officials well paid by the republic. Should the latter point be implemented, the rest will fall into place. For if government employees get decent salaries, corruption will disappear, along with all the bad things that drove the Third Republic to its grave. The solution, according to Comert, is as simple as that.

Yet Comert, after all, is one of the best representatives of old France: a left radical, an advocate of democracy, and an ardent supporter of the League of Nations!

When Comert left, I reflected at length about France and about what is happening there. A sickening feeling. The people as yet ‘keep silent’ while a big open wound festers on the prostrate body of the nation, over which crawl nasty black flies: Vichy with its heroes Pétain, Darlan, Weygand, Laval, Flandin, Peyrouton

Marcel Peyrouton, French minister of the interior, 1940–41.

and so on and so forth. How vile! But it will pass.

The pinnacle of vileness: Comert related to me the circumstances of Laval’s arrest and dismissal in December. Agents of Peyrouton’s Ministry of Internal Affairs in Paris tapped Laval’s telephone conversation with the Germans. It turns out that all the confiscations, requisitions, etc. made by the Germans in occupied France have been yielding Laval his thirty pieces of silver. Laval was unhappy with his rate, and demanded an increase over the phone. When he was told about this, Pétain was furious and arrested Laval. Later, Abetz

Otto Abetz, German ambassador to Paris during the occupation, 1940–44.

rescued him from the ‘fires of Gehenna’.

Such Herculean pillars of degradation! This is how the old world dies.

According to Aras (who was informed by Aktai), Schulenburg recently visited Comrade Molotov and explained to him the purpose of the concentration of German troops in Rumania. The reason advanced by Schulenburg was defence of the oil fields. Molotov heard him out coolly and thanked him for his explanation without adding a single comment.

Aras says the Turks proceed from the following calculations:

Germany now has up to 30,000 combat aircraft, including 10,000 first-line machines.

England now has up to 20,000 combat aircraft, including 10,000 first-line machines (some of which are in the Middle East).

Proceeding from these figures, Aras believes that an invasion is hardly likely. More probable is a German offensive in early spring in all directions at once – against England, the Balkans, in Spain and elsewhere. In addition, of course, one may expect an intensification of the submarine war.

He says the atmosphere in Belgrade is still tranquil. Three days ago he even received from there a reassuring telegram: the German troops were said to have temporarily halted their advance toward Bulgaria’s borders. However, he was in the Foreign Office yesterday and the FO confirmed the statement made by Churchill over the radio on the 9th, concerning the rapid ‘infiltration’ of Germans into Bulgaria. Subbotić’s first move in this difficult situation was to see me and exchange views, as well as to ask me to convey to the Soviet government his fervent hope that the Soviet Union would interfere in Balkan affairs and prevent the capture of the Balkans by Germany. How? In what form? That’s up to us. The one important thing at this crucial moment is for the Soviet Union to pronounce its weighty word, which would immediately raise its prestige in the Middle East and in the whole world.

I replied to Subbotić that our political line in respect to the Balkans is well known. I had briefed him on our policy more than once in the past. We don’t want the Balkans to be involved in the war, and we don’t want the dominance of a single great power in the Balkans. As alarming as the reports from the Balkans may be, one should not draw hasty conclusions. History does not end today.

Subbotić agreed with me, but added sadly: ‘Your home is in Moscow, and mine is on the Danube.’

On parting, Subbotić asked once again, in the most insistent manner, for Soviet intervention in favour of Yugoslavia and the Balkans.

‘I’m not asking you to commission your bust,’ he said with a perfectly disarming smile. ‘It’s my initiative, not yours. I just want to have your portrait in my collection. That’s all. If you permit me to display it, I’ll show it at an exhibition of my work. If not, it will remain in my studio.’

I could find little to say against this and agreed to ‘grant’ a few sittings to Epstein for him to make my portrait (Epstein calls all his busts ‘portraits’). Besides, I was intrigued by the very process by which a major artist works and creates. For whatever one may say, Epstein and Vigeland are the greatest contemporary sculptors.

The second sitting was today. Very interesting. I’m sitting on a soft faded chair placed on a small platform. The sculptor’s ‘easel’ stands in front of me. It is a small table on three legs with a half-metre iron rod in the centre. My head slowly grows out of the grey clay on the upper end of the rod. Epstein pinches pieces of clay mixed with water in a zinc washtub and rolls them in his palms into thick and thin sausages, from which he moulds my portrait. Much has been done already during two sittings: one can see the contours of my head, face, eyes, moustache and beard… Epstein himself keeps murmuring: ‘This is just the beginning… A rough primitive sketch.’

Let’s see what happens next. I’ll have five or six sittings in all. With such original artists as Epstein, you never know what will come out in the end – you yourself or a monster. We’ll see. I’m prepared for the worst.

The set-up is interesting. Epstein has been living for 12 years in a typical English house not far from us: 18, Hyde Park Gate. A long corridor leads from the porch to his studio behind the house. A large, bright room with two enormous windows, one above, the other on the left. Astonishing artistic chaos. Scattered over tables, chairs, benches and the floor are statues, heads, arms, legs and other parts of the human body in clay and plaster of Paris. In the corner stands a blackened and rusted small stove, which burns but doesn’t warm. The figure of the sculptor himself moves quickly and deftly amidst the vast chaos. He is dressed in a shabby ginger jacket, over a torn grey shirt. His grey baggy trousers are stained with clay and plaster of Paris.

Epstein is a quite charming man. He is 60, but his blue eyes have a special sparkle, that of a genius and a child. For some odd reason his face, figure and manners remind me very much of M.M. Litvinov – especially when in the course of his work he sticks out his lips like a child. I told Epstein that he resembles M.M. He was pleased to hear this and said: ‘One and the same type, one nation and birthplace: my parents, after all, were Polish Jews.’

When Epstein works, the inspiration is palpable. He steps aside and gazes with absent, wild eyes. He runs to his ‘easel’ and feverishly flings a clay sausage onto the moist grey mass of clay that will be my head. Or he suddenly drops to his knees and examines the gradually developing oval of the face with a crazed look. Or he throws off his ginger jacket as if he is hot and starts pasting small pieces of moist clay onto the bust.

Yes, he is without doubt an artist, an artist ‘by the grace of God’! You see and feel him creating, giving birth, with pain and with joy, to each stroke, each line, and each curve.

I talked a great deal during the first sitting and asked Epstein about his past, his work and his life. He answered about half my questions. Once he noticed this himself and said with his enchanting child’s smile: ‘Please excuse me… When I’m working, I hear only half of what I’m told.’

If we take only the costs of war, this amounted to 4 million pounds daily in January 1940 and reached 10 million pounds this February. So this growth appears to be even greater than that of general expenditure.

How is this gigantic spending reflected in the national budget?

On 31 March 1940, Simon submitted to parliament a national budget totalling 2,667 million pounds, of which 2,000 million was allocated to the war. This quickly turned out to be insufficient, and in July 1940 Kingsley Wood submitted a revised budget totalling 3,467 million pounds, including 2,800 million for war expenses, to the two Houses of Parliament for approval. Soon enough even this proved insufficient, and in February 1941 Kingsley Wood submitted to parliament the third revised budget: 3,967 million pounds, including 3,300 for the war. No further problems are expected before the end of the fiscal year (31 March). Thus, the budget of the first year of this war already requires nearly 4,000 million pounds, i.e. it consumes nearly half the national income (about 8,000 million pounds). The largest budget in the last imperialist war was in 1918 (the last year of the war) and amounted to only 2,500 million.

How is this spending covered?

Last July, parliament adopted a number of measures to increase national revenues. (1) Standard income tax was raised from 7 to 8 shillings per pound, and tax on additional income, above 2,000 pounds, was raised to the maximum rate of 18 shillings per pound. (2) Taxes on beer, tobacco, wine and entertainment were raised, and a new 12% tax on purchases was levied (24% on luxury goods). (3) Property tax was increased by 10% on average (this is a progressive tax; the upper rates for land possessions above 2 million pounds reach 65%). (4) The excess profits tax was raised from 60% to 100% from 1 January 1941.

In addition, a major campaign was launched (led by Sir Robert Kindersley)

Sir Robert Kindersley, a director of the Bank of England, 1914–46.

to sell war savings certificates and similar securities.

These sources are expected to yield up to 1,360 million pounds. In such a way, the budget deficit is reduced to 2,607 million pounds.

How is the budget deficit covered?

Mostly through inflation – by issuing ‘Treasury bonds’ and various short-term loans. But this cannot last for long. The British government will submit a new budget to parliament in April, and the deficit problem has to be resolved by then one way or another. How? As yet it is difficult to say. There are grounds to assume, however, that the notorious ‘Keynes Plan’ will be put into operation in one form or another. It is probable that a vigorous struggle will break out among various classes and groups regarding the distribution of the financial burden of the war.

How typical that, in spite of the high excess profits tax, capitalist companies should make good money from the war. Thus, the 2,261 companies whose reports were published before 31 December 1940 made a profit of 410 million pounds in 1940 in comparison to 376 million in 1939. Likewise, the average dividend of 116 spinning factories over 1940 was 9.56%, compared to 5.93% over 1939. Westminster Bank and Barclay’s (two of the ‘big five’) paid out the same dividends to their shareholders in 1940 as in 1939 (14%, 18%, 12%). Similar facts can be observed in other spheres of the economy.

Why does it happen?

The explanation is very simple. The government now takes 100% of excess profit (compared with just 65% until 1 January 1941), but does not touch ‘normal profit’. But what is ‘normal profit’? Businessmen usually indicate the highest profit year as the ‘standard year’, and the exchequer readily accepts this. Thus, the foundations of the capitalist system remain unaffected by the war.

Aras’s messenger carrying the letter about the pact was stranded somewhere on the way to Ankara. A quite absurd situation. But Aras is not discouraged. A couple of days ago he received mail from Ankara, in which there was a message from Saraçoğlu: in essence, Aras believes, it provides the answer to the question he put to the Turkish government in his letter.

It turns out that about five weeks ago, Comrade Vinogradov,

Sergei Aleksandrovich Vinogradov, counsellor, then Soviet ambassador in Turkey, 1940–48.

our ambassador in Ankara, asked the Turkish government on behalf of the Soviet government to confirm the statement made by Aktai in Moscow to the effect that Turkey would not do anything in the Black Sea area or in the Balkans without the consent of the Soviet Union. Saraçoğlu stated in his reply to Comrade Vinogradov:

(1) The Turkish government welcomes the fact that the Soviet government continues to regard the agreement of 1925 as the cornerstone of Soviet–Turkish relations.

(2) The Turkish government is ready to examine in a favourable light any expansion and augmentation of the said agreement on the basis of reciprocity.

Having read the French translation of Saraçoğlu’s letter, Aras became very excited and, waving his arms about, began assuring me that the Turkish government is ready to conclude with us a pact of mutual assistance. For the 1925 agreement, together with the three supplementary agreements that exist, represent the utmost of what can be done within the framework of a pact of friendship and non-aggression. If the Turkish government now speaks about the expansion and augmentation of the agreement in question, this can mean nothing else but consent to a pact of mutual assistance.

I listened to Aras attentively, but since the circumstances had taken a different turn from what we had envisaged in our previous conversations, I decided not to commit myself. I left the whole matter at the point where, depending on the circumstances, I could either come back to the idea of a mutual assistance pact or forget it and not touch the subject again.

Then Aras told me about the Turkish–Bulgarian declaration. There is nothing new in it, for it ensues from earlier agreements between Turkey and Bulgaria, but it is useful all the same. At any rate, Bulgaria pledges not to attack Greece. Besides, according to Aras’s sources, Bulgaria consulted with Germany before signing the declaration, and Germany apparently promised not to move its troops into Bulgaria. The Turks informed the USSR and England about the talks concerning the declaration. The British did not like the declaration, but tried to put a brave face on it. On the whole, Aras believes the declaration to be a compromise deriving from the influences of three powers: Germany, the USSR and England. Momchilov sent a cable to Sofia urging the Bulgarian government to sign similar declarations with Greece and Yugoslavia. Both Athens and Belgrade viewed the idea favourably. Summing up, Aras said he is not pessimistic, as ‘it is disadvantageous for Germany to unleash war in the Balkans’. Is that so?

I asked Aras what position Turkey would take if Germany attacked Saloniki.

Aras’s speech suddenly lost its clarity and he plunged into lengthy discourse, about how, after all, Turkey is not greatly bothered about who gets their hands on Saloniki. But Western Thrace is another matter! Turkey could not allow Germany to occupy Western Thrace.

Aras, however, soon tried to leave this unpleasant topic behind and said that Hitler was thinking not about the Balkans, but about the west. Aras knows from reliable sources that Hitler has demanded naval and air bases on the Spanish coast from Franco. Hitler is counting on the sea war above all. The Balkans are just a smokescreen.

I expressed some doubts about the validity of this notion, and we had a long argument about it. As I was taking my leave, Aras formulated current Turkish policy, or rather the policy he finds expedient, in the following way: friendship with the Soviet Union, cordial relations with England, and no provocations in relations with Germany.

What was it all about?

The Labour leaders obviously wanted to feel our pulse in connection with the events in the Balkans. Their line of reasoning was roughly the following: Germany is approaching the Black Sea coast. Germany needs oil badly and has to resolve this problem promptly. If Germany gets a firm foothold in the Balkans, it will extend its reach to Turkey. If Turkey falls to Germany, Baku will be endangered. The Soviet national economy is highly mechanized. Oil is its blood. Consequently, a threat to Baku means a threat to our whole economy and to our defence. What do we think about this?

I replied that we understand perfectly well the role and importance of oil in our times and take adequate protective measures. About a year ago, certain European governments showed great interest in the Baku oil, and aeroplanes of ‘unknown nationality’ even took air photographs of the Baku oil fields, but nothing happened to the Baku oil thanks to the vigilance of our military authorities. Why should we be troubled about the Baku oil now? I see no grounds for that. As for the Balkans, we are closely following the development of events there and, if need be, will certainly take the appropriate steps to protect our interests. In general, it should not be forgotten that the Soviet Union pursues its own independent policy and is able to defend itself under all circumstances.

Attlee and Greenwood were manifestly disappointed.

I, in turn, decided to take their pulse regarding the war prospects in general. To broach the subject, I asked how one should interpret Churchill’s rejection of the US army (not only now but in general), contained in his speech broadcast on 9 February. Does this signify a change in the ‘general strategy’ of the war? For I and many others had the impression that the British government was counting precisely on the arrival of US battalions to help them gain the final ‘victory’ over Germany.

My question gave rise to a long discussion. The reply the Labour leaders gave me can be roughly summarized in the following way:

(1) No changes have been made to the ‘general strategy’, but the war experience in Poland, France and Libya has shown that it is not numerical strength but the degree of military mechanization that is decisive in contemporary conditions. Therefore, the British government holds that an army of 3 or 4 million is sufficient to win the war, provided it is a first-class army in terms of training, weapons and mechanization.

(2) On paper, Germany may have an army of 8 million against the English 4 million, but a mere comparison of figures is deceptive. The German forces are scattered all over Europe. In fact, Germany could concentrate no more than half its forces against England at any given moment. Meanwhile, England will soon be capable of throwing nearly its whole army against Germany (operations in the Middle East will most likely be completed within the next six months).

(3) Furthermore, many important factors are working in England’s favour: the growing discontent in the countries occupied by Germany, the blockade, the increasing might of the British air force (the British air force, aided by the USA, will surpass the German air force in 1942), the psychological effect of the United States becoming a de facto ally of England and, finally, the limited German oil resources. The latter is particularly important. Oil is Germany’s Achilles’ heel. This is where one must strike: the war should be protracted and the Rumanian oil fields bombed. Moreover, the British army is exerting increasing pressure, which will be felt especially strongly from 1942 onwards.

Germany will crack under the impact of all these factors sooner or later – if not in 1941, then in 1942; if not in 1942, then in 1943, etc. England can wait. In the light of the above considerations, it is more important for the British government to have several dozen thousand supplementary American aircraft and tanks than 2 million poorly trained US soldiers in 1942 or 1943.

I objected, saying that Attlee and Greenwood had taken only the enemy’s problems into account: what about the problems which England may encounter? Who knows how England will be affected by systematic air raids, a shortage of food and raw materials, etc.? In the final analysis, all will depend on the ‘morale’ on both sides of the front.

Greenwood interrupted me: ‘I bet German morale will crack much earlier than ours,’ he exclaimed.

Attlee added: ‘We, the British, are a terribly stubborn nation. We were very stubborn in our desire to avoid the war. We will now be awfully stubborn in our desire to fight to the end.’

I summed up: ‘Time will tell.’

When the clock struck five, the two ministers rushed to the meeting of the War Cabinet. They said, however, that they had had insufficient time to say all they had wanted to say and that we would need to meet again in the next few days.

Our second meeting took place today in Attlee’s office. Greenwood was absent: he had to attend some urgent conference. The two of us, Attlee and I, conversed for some 40 minutes. There was nothing interesting in our conversation. Attlee basically harped on an old theme. I held to my former line. Three of Attlee’s statements deserve attention:

(1) The war will probably continue for two more years, but it could possibly end in early 1943 – with British victory, of course.

(2) No preparations for invasion (concentration of ships, barges, etc.) have been spotted on the French coast.

(3) War aims must include not only foreign policy, but also social issues, as the former are inseparable from the latter. Attlee did not go into details.

Once I asked him why there had been fewer sculptors than painters in the history of art, and whom he admired as the greatest sculptor.

‘Why fewer sculptors?’ Epstein burst into his infectious laughter. ‘It’s clear as day. Because it’s much easier to be a painter than a sculptor. The work itself is easier and cleaner. You try toiling with clay, stone or metal! It’s a far cry from the easel and brush. Every bone aches in the evening. I had pupils who were painters… Nothing came out of it. They’d fumble with clay for a few days and quit: Merci! I’m better off daubing paint on canvas!’

‘But you also paint,’ I objected. ‘What do you consider to be more “your thing”: painting or sculpting?’

‘Sculpting, of course!’ Epstein answered without the slightest hesitation. ‘I like real things that I can touch and feel with my hands. A picture will never give you that feeling.’

‘What do you prefer in painting: oils or watercolour?’ I continued.

‘Watercolour. I hate washing oil paints off the brushes.’

I repeated my second question: whom does he consider the greatest sculptor in history?

Epstein thought for a moment and said: ‘It’s difficult to give a definite answer to your question. I think the ancient Egyptians had wonderful sculptors. Unfortunately, we don’t know their names. The one who made the head of an Egyptian queen that’s displayed in the Berlin museum was undoubtedly a man of genius. Perhaps he is the greatest sculptor in human history.’

‘What about Phidias?’

Phidias, fifth-century BC Greek sculptor, painter and architect.

I asked.

‘Phidias, of course, was a great sculptor,’ Epstein replied. ‘But he… But he… How should I put it? He is a bit too sweet for me.’

Then he added emphatically: ‘If you want to single out one man as the greatest sculptor, I would name Michelangelo. He is phenomenal! He is for sculpture what Beethoven is for music.’

The conversation turned to music. I asked Epstein to name his favourite composer.

‘Beethoven and Bach,’ he answered at once. ‘I sometimes arrange small concerts at home. My musician friends come and play. Mostly Beethoven. But I like Bach very much as well.’

‘What about Tchaikovsky?’ I asked, having confessed that although Beethoven was my musical ‘idol’ too, I liked Tchaikovsky as well. Perhaps because Tchaikovsky is very Russian, our very own composer.

Epstein smiled lightly and said: ‘Tchaikovsky is too sweet for me… but I recognize his greatness.’

It was evident that Epstein does not like Tchaikovsky and that he added this last phrase out of courtesy.

Epstein says that music helps him very much in his creative work. Listening to the piano, he always experiences a surge of inspiration. Images and pictures arise in his mind which he then transforms into sculpture. Adam, for instance, was inspired by Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony (especially its finale).

In literature, by contrast, Epstein has no definite allegiances. He couldn’t tell me with any certainty who his favourite writer is, and finally confessed: ‘I was very fond of Walt Whitman

Walter Whitman, American poet and writer (1819–92).

when I was young. He’s a very good poet. He had a great influence on me.’

Nonetheless, Epstein has sculpted quite a lot of heads – or ‘portraits’, as he calls them – of prominent literary figures: Tagore,

Sir Rabindranath Tagore, Calcutta-born poet and educationalist; Nobel Prize for Literature, 1913.

Bernard Shaw, Priestley

John Boynton Priestley, English novelist, playwright and broadcaster.

and others. His efforts were not always successful. Bernard Shaw’s wife did not like her husband’s head. Shaw himself thought his ‘portrait’ a success, but Mrs Shaw declared that if her husband took the portrait, she would leave the house. Under such a threat, Bernard was, of course, forced to capitulate. His portrait remained in Epstein’s studio. He showed it to me. I commended the sculptor’s work (the bust was made masterfully), but thought to myself that this ‘portrait’ of Bernard Shaw did not quite catch the man. Something was missing.

‘Mrs Shaw very much liked Rodin’s

François Auguste René Rodin, French sculptor (1840–1917).

bust of her husband,’ Epstein said. He grunted, shrugged his shoulders and added: ‘I don’t know what she found in it. In my opinion the portrait is no good, although Shaw paid Rodin a heap of money for it. Women always have their fantasies, you know.’

Epstein’s impressions of Tagore are interesting. Tagore used to arrive at Epstein’s studio escorted by a group of young Hindus, his pupils. He would seat himself on the chair and not utter a word during the sitting. He behaved as if he were a saint. He maintained a meaningful silence and gazed into space with an air of profundity. Tagore’s haughty treatment of his ‘pupils’ bordered on cruelty, while they looked at him in ecstasy, anticipated his every desire, and marvelled at his every gesture. Tagore paid not the slightest attention to them: he did not seem to notice them at all, looked over their heads and gave abrupt orders in a sharp dictatorial tone. He would, for instance, descend from the studio to the reception room where his pupils were waiting and bark in vexation: ‘Taxi!’

The ‘pupils’ would rush to the door and scatter through the neighbouring streets to hail a car for him.

Once the following incident occurred. It so happened that a small Indian boy was living in Epstein’s house at the time when he was doing Tagore’s bust. He was the son of Epstein’s friend and model (she sat for some of Epstein’s best sculptures, such as Mother and Child). A brave and progressive woman, she left her husband and went to England despite being a Muslim! Subsequently she returned to India and died in peculiar circumstances. Epstein suspects something tragic. Anyway, that small boy, the son of Epstein’s friend, came running cheerfully into the studio one day when Tagore was there. Epstein patted the boy’s head and said to his guest: ‘Let me introduce a little compatriot.’

Tagore looked at the boy with a kind smile, but then, as if he had suddenly recalled something, asked curtly: ‘Is he a Hindu or a Muslim?’

‘He is a Muslim,’ Epstein replied. ‘Does it matter?’

Tagore stiffened. The smile instantly left his face. He turned away and fell into his saintly pose and displayed no further interest in the boy. He simply did not see him. The boy had ceased to exist for him.

Epstein was shocked. Tagore had revealed his true face.

During the reception, I spoke with Butler. I demanded the release and repatriation of our sailors from the two requisitioned steamers. Doing so, I made reference to Moscow’s wishes. Butler agreed once again to raise the question before the British government, but could not promise a successful outcome. I also informed Butler of the reply concerning access for military attachés (he himself asked me about it). Butler admitted that the British attachés in Moscow have not shown sufficient initiative in asking for access, but that things will be different from now on. Butler is very pleased with Cripps’s trip to Ankara to meet Eden. He twice asked me most emphatically to inform Moscow that if the Soviet government wanted to communicate something to Cripps in his absence, this must be done through the British embassy in Moscow, which would be in direct contact with Cripps all the time. The English are a naive lot. Do they really expect us to show particular interest in the talks between Cripps and Eden in Ankara, given the present state of Anglo-Soviet relations?

I inquired about Churchill’s meeting with Shigemitsu (yesterday, 24 February). Butler answered briefly that the peace Matsuoka

Yosuke Matsuoka, foreign minister of Japan, 1940–41; signed the neutrality agreement with the Russians in Moscow in April 1941.

proposed in his note is out of the question ‘until the complete defeat of Hitlerism’.

A propos the PM’s meeting with the Japanese ambassador. I heard the following details from other sources. Churchill began by assuring the ambassador that he had displayed full sympathy with Japan throughout his political career and regretted the dissolving of the Anglo-Japanese alliance. An armed conflict with Japan would be a very great disappointment for Churchill, but he ought to warn the Japanese government categorically that peace today is out of the question. England is fighting not for territories, trade advantages, markets, etc., but for the principles of ‘democracy’. England shall not bury the hatchet until Hitlerism is wiped off the face of the earth. Churchill got so excited saying this that tears appeared in his eyes. Emotional moments of this kind happen to him every now and again.

Hitler, as is his habit, embarked on a pugnacious monologue, in which he stated that he would welcome Yugoslavia’s entry into the ‘New Europe’ and promised in return the free use of Saloniki for trade purposes. However, he did not present a formal invitation to accede to the ‘Tripartite Pact’. Cvetković replied that Yugoslavia pursued and hoped to maintain cordial relations with Germany. Hitler objected, however, saying that this was not enough. Yugoslavia had to define its position more clearly. Germany is ready to guarantee Yugoslavia’s integrity and inviolability (‘whatever happens in the Balkans’), but Yugoslavia should not linger with its decision. Whoever joins the ‘New Europe’ earlier will gain the utmost. Cvetković said he would ‘think over’ Hitler’s words and left for Belgrade. The Yugoslavian government, according to Subbotić, fully understands that German pressure on Yugoslavia has begun – as yet in a relatively mild form, but what will happen next?

Momchilov, who was also present at the reception, is in a very pessimistic frame of mind. The Germans are sure to enter Bulgaria. They are also sure to occupy Saloniki in order to pound the British from the air along the Saloniki–Dodecanese–Suez line. The British are sure to drop bombs on Rumanian oil fields and Bulgarian railways. The USSR, to be sure, will not start quarrelling with Germany over Bulgaria. As a result, Bulgaria will have to foot the bill. Some of the journalists present at the reception were already speculating: what will Momchilov do when the Germans occupy Bulgaria? Will he return to his country or not?

Lord Grigg (undersecretary in the war department) told me: he did not expect an invasion but rather an intensification of the naval and air war. Grigg also said that about two-thirds of the 2 million strong army stationed at home could be considered … in terms of training and weapons, and that serious aid from the United States would start arriving this August or September.

Subbotić himself was gloomy and let it be understood quite clearly that the USSR had failed to live up to the hopes placed in it by the Balkan states.

Aras argued that the Germans will be making a ‘very grave mistake’ if they cross the Greek border, because then the whole of the Balkans will be ablaze and the war will extend to the Black Sea. The Turks will have to let the British pass through the Straits to deliver a blow to the German left flank. The Turks will also inevitably be drawn into the war. The consequences of all this will be unpleasant for Germany. Future historians may say that Hitler’s decision to strike at Saloniki was the fatal step in his career.

After lunch I asked Aras about his last meeting with Churchill (24 February). Aras said the prime minister had no concrete proposals or demands towards Turkey. He merely informed Aras that Eden was flying to Ankara, where he would raise the question in all seriousness of Turkey’s position in the war. Then Churchill assured Aras that the British government had not the slightest desire to open a new front in the Balkans and that if the Balkans did nevertheless become a theatre of war, there would only be Germany to blame. Churchill also expressed the thought that ‘Russia’s real interests’ in this part of the globe lie on the English side. The current Soviet stance can be explained by Russia’s desire to avoid a conflict with Germany. This is understandable, but ‘Russia will have to change its policy’ sooner or later.

I heard from other sources that in his conversation with Aras Churchill was far more insistent in his demands for a ‘clarification’ of the Turkish position than Aras told me.

Lloyd George doesn’t look too bad. But some kind of shadow seems to have fallen over his features. On top of that he has a cold: he coughs and blows his nose, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket every other minute. His hands tremble, especially when he pours water into his glass. The irrepressible Welshman is growing old. I wonder whether he will hold out much longer…

Lloyd George does not believe in the likelihood of an invasion. He waves his hand scornfully and utters with a sneer: ‘It’s impossible!’

But the situation at sea troubles him. In the 1914–18 war only submarines were engaged against British commercial ships. Now there are aircraft as well. During the last war the Germans operating at sea with bases on the German and Belgian coasts. Today they operate with bases on the Atlantic coast of France. It makes a huge difference. The difficulties of the present situation are all the more evident when one considers that not only the British, but also the French, Italians, Japanese and Russians fought against German submarines in the war of 1914–18.

Lloyd George is rather sceptical about the British statistics of losses. The experience of the last war convinces him that the truth lies somewhere between the German and British communiqués. But even if one fully trusts the British figures, one must still bear in mind that they are incomplete, for these figures refer only to ships sunk, while there are very many damaged ships which often take months to be repaired. The British tonnage loss since the beginning of the war is estimated at approximately 4 million tons. With the addition of the idle damaged ships, the loss amounts to nearly 5 million tons. Moreover, an acute intensification of the German war against British commercial ships is to be expected in 1941. Hitler is evidently wagering on the ‘blockade’ of England. He understands that any invasion is doomed to fail in the present circumstances, but a ‘blockade’ – that might even come off! At any rate it should be attempted!

‘And, frankly speaking,’ Lloyd George concluded, ‘I see a serious danger to England here. Perhaps the only serious danger. The Germans cannot beat us from the air. Invasion is out of the question, at least for the foreseeable future.’

I remarked that the commercial tonnage losses were compensated to a certain extent from various sources: the new ships built in England, those being built in the United States, and so on. Hopkins

Harry Lloyd Hopkins, US secretary of commerce, 1938–40; special adviser and personal assistant to Roosevelt throughout the war.

has promised to supply England with new vessels of up to 4 million tons in 1942.

‘I don’t believe in those promises,’ Lloyd George snapped with some irritation. ‘They always err on the side of optimism. We’ll never get 4 million tons from America next year. It’s far from easy to develop a shipbuilding industry in a short period of time. Besides, the Americans are novices in this business. Our shipbuilding industry is more developed, but even we can’t cope with such a task. As for British shipyards, they are overloaded with war contracts and commercial ships have to take second place. In 1940 we built only 750,000 tons, while the programme called for 1.25 million.’

I disagreed, saying I was disinclined to be too pessimistic about British prospects in the naval war.

‘You see,’ I explained, ‘it is difficult to defeat a great nation in its own element. Your element is the sea, the German element is land. That’s why I don’t believe the Germans can beat you at sea. You’ll manage somehow. You’ll work something out. On the other hand, I doubt your ability to beat Germany on land, for land has been the Germans’ element for millennia. And how could it be otherwise? Your army is basically an amateur army. You don’t have the skills and traditions of land warfare. You don’t have real military science and a good general staff. You only have the experience of colonial wars to fall back on. That does not suit Europe. That is why I regard with scepticism all these cries of “war to the end” or “war till the crushing of Hitlerism”. But as for the sea… You’ll manage somehow at sea. You’ll think of something.’

Lloyd George laughed and looked at me slyly.

‘There is much truth in what you say,’ he said suddenly. ‘Yes, the sea is our home. The sea is in our blood. Take Megan: there is no greater delight for her than the sea. She adores water and swims like a fish. Or Gwilym. He is crazy about yachting. The more turbulent the sea, the more he likes it. Yes, we’ll manage somehow at sea.’

Lloyd George thought for a moment and continued with animation: ‘Look, there is a way out. We have 7 million acres of farmable land in need of drainage. Using this land we could cut food imports by half. What’s the problem? The problem is that the land owners have no means to drain the land by themselves. This could be done by the state. It means that 7 million acres of land must be nationalized. This conclusion has been reached by all authoritative British agricultural specialists, irrespective of party affiliation: Liberals, Conservatives, etc. But no! The government does not want to do it. God forbid, it would be so much ‘like Russia!’ Help! Bolshevism! As a result, our food prospects are worsening with every passing month.’

Lloyd George waved his hand and added: ‘Winston is waging a “Tory war”. He wants to win without infringing the privileges of the ruling upper crust. This won’t do. Something has to be forfeited: either the victory or the privileges. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that the War Cabinet does not have a “general plan” for the conduct of war. I’m sure they have never discussed such a plan seriously. They think the plan is hidden in Winston’s head. I doubt it.’

Pausing for a while, the old man concluded: ‘Winston has become a hostage of the Conservative Party and swims with the current. I’ve told you more than once that I see only one way of gaining a real victory over Germany: by drawing the Soviet Union over to our side. But this is just what the British government doesn’t want. The government is awfully afraid of the possible effects of such an “alliance” on the internal life of the country. Better to lose the war than to “pave the way for Bolshevism”. That’s what the wisdom of the Conservatives amounts to, and of Labour – or at least Transport House. The interests of the nation clash with class prejudice, and the latter has the upper hand.’

I asked: ‘What then? Do you anticipate the defeat of England?’

‘No,’ Lloyd George answered. ‘I don’t anticipate that. But I don’t believe in victory either. I have a direct question for anyone blathering about ultimate victory: how do you expect to win? Show me clearly, with figures and facts in hand. Nobody has yet given me a satisfactory answer.’

I told Lloyd George about Churchill’s demeanour in his recent talk with Shigemitsu. Judging by the prime minister’s behaviour, one can hardly expect a compromise peace.

‘Tears in his eyes?’ Lloyd George smiled. ‘Yes, that happens to Winston. He is a very emotional man. So what?… Now he has tears because he wants to crush Hitler. Within a year he may have tears because of the shock of the horrors of the war… Things change.’

Lloyd George suddenly remembered something and burst into peals of laughter.

‘If you remember, I twice lunched with Winston in December. His wife was with us at the table. She is a fairly intelligent woman, and above all she has plenty of typically English common sense… Winston was being very noisy about fighting to the end. He will not agree to peace until Germany is defeated. He will not sign a treaty with Hitler, etc. I argued with him, saying that the future is a closed book. There may come a time when tactics will need to be revised. One shouldn’t tie one’s hands for good. Winston, however, continued to growl. Suddenly Mrs Churchill interrupted our conversation and, addressing her husband, said with a smile: “Are we not allowed to change our mind if the moment requires it?” Winston wheezed, but said nothing in reply… Oh, the lady is clever! And Winston listens to her.’

Our conversation shifted to the role of women in politics. Lloyd George said he had been reading [title missing] recently. He liked the first book more than the second, but the second gives a most vivid picture of women’s interference in French politics.

‘Is there anything similar in England?’ I asked. ‘I’ve heard much about the role of such women as Lady Oxford,

Margot Asquith, countess of Oxford and Asquith, was the wife of H.H. Asquith, the British prime minister from 1908–16.

Lady Londonderry

Edith Vane-Tempest-Stewart, marchioness of Londonderry, was a noted London socialite.

and Lady Astor in British politics. Is their role comparable, generally speaking, with that of Countess de Portes and Marquise de Crussol?’

The old man pondered, as though recalling his experiences in politics, and replied: ‘No, we have never had anything similar to what went on in France, nor do we have it today. The sole comparable case is that of Lady Londonderry and MacDonald. Indeed, Lady Londonderry played a big role in promoting MacDonald to the premiership. But one must give her her due: she did so in masterly fashion, quietly, behind the scenes, without showing herself off or openly interfering in affairs of state. I can’t recall any other precedent.’

‘What about Lady Astor? Or Lady Oxford?’ I prompted Lloyd George.

‘Lady Astor?’ The old man waved his hand. ‘She makes a lot of fuss, but has no influence. Lady Oxford? Oh no! Asquith has never listened to her political judgements.’

Then Lloyd George asked me to tell him about the situation in the Balkans and our attitude to the latest events in this part of the world – in particular, to the entry of German troops into Bulgaria. I briefly described to him our position. Lloyd George shook his grey mane and said: ‘What happened in Bulgaria must be unpleasant for you, but, in the final analysis, it is not important enough for you to quarrel with Germany. If the same happens in Yugoslavia, your “vital interests” will not be greatly affected either. And I fear Yugoslavia will follow suit. The Straits are a different matter. You can’t yield the Straits! But the Germans are well aware of this and I doubt they will dare encroach upon the Straits. Germany cannot afford a quarrel with the Soviet Union.’

I asked Lloyd George whether he thinks the British will try to grab Saloniki before the Germans.

‘I can’t say,’ the old man shrugged his shoulders. ‘At least ten or twelve divisions would be needed for the landing. Do we have them? I don’t know. You are right to suggest that our army is basically an amateur army. It is difficult to predict what it will do. I am inclined to think that such a landing will not take place: all those who are in a position to make such a decision – Dill, Wavell, Eden – are cautious men averse to risky ventures.’

I felt somewhat sad taking my leave of Lloyd George. His wife has just died. Neither Megan, nor Gwilym, nor any other of his relations lives with him. His home is empty. Two housemaids tend to the old man. And he keeps raising a handkerchief to his face with a trembling hand…

From Lloyd George we drove to the Webbs for tea. A short distance. This old couple looked better than usual. When I told them about Lloyd George’s condition, Beatrice said with evident satisfaction: ‘He is five years younger than me.’

We discussed current events. What impressed me most was the amazing coincidence of their and Lloyd George’s opinions. The Webbs, too, do not believe in the likelihood of an invasion and regard the German ‘blockade’ of England as the main danger. They, too, do not know how England can emerge ‘victorious’ over Germany, especially after Churchill turned down the American proposal to send troops to England. The Webbs maintain that Germany is unable to defeat England, and England is unable to win the European continent back from Germany. Finally, the Webbs also think that the sole chance for England to ‘win’ lies in drawing the USSR over to its side, but the British ruling circles will never do so out of fear of Bolshevism. The Webbs are convinced that the British government does not want to improve Anglo-Soviet relations for that very reason. In this situation, they see nothing ahead but a long, hard, exhausting war that will lead Western Europe to attrition and destruction. There is one bright ray in the gloom: the USSR, which even now is moving rapidly towards a mighty economic surge. It’s a very good thing that the USSR stays out of the war. It would be still better if it kept out until the war’s end. Stalin is a wise leader who knows what he is doing.

I like talking with the Webbs. Clever old people. Wise old people. Besides, they are the ideal embodiment of the ‘English spirit’. One can often deduce from their judgements what England will do and how it will behave in a particular situation. A perfect example of this was my conversation with the Webbs last year in mid-May, when the French front started crumbling but there was still no sign of a rout. I asked the old couple what England would do if France was taken out of the game.

Beatrice thought for a moment, as if weighing all possible options on her mental scales, and then answered firmly: ‘Of course, England will continue the war alone. We have no other option. What happened during the era of the Napoleonic wars will be repeated.’

Sidney nodded his agreement. The Webbs were proved right.

A classic example of how an internal contradiction erodes the foreign policy of the whole bourgeois world!

Russophile sentiments are widespread among the Bulgarian population. Traditional Slavophile sentiments blend with the entirely modern sympathy of the poor towards the Soviet system. The national interests of Bulgaria, of course, would have been best served by close ties with the Soviet Union. In early December of last year we proposed a mutual assistance pact to the Bulgarian government, or even just our guarantee. Filov

Bogdan Dimitrov Filov, Bulgarian prime minister, 1940–44.

and Co. needed only to say ‘yes’, and all would have been arranged. But they did not say ‘yes’; instead they politely explained that since Bulgaria was not being threatened from any quarter, they found it untimely to discuss a pact or guarantees. The matter of Bulgaria’s immediate future was thereby decided. What happened yesterday is the logical outcome of Filov’s answer to the offer we made in December.

Why did the Bulgarian government decline the powerful support of the USSR?

The answer is quite clear: because the Bulgarian ruling circles, which consists of representatives of the kulak class and bourgeoisie of the comprador type, reasons according to the principle: better Hitler than Stalin. Under Hitler, they would keep their lands and capital and be permitted to serve as the lackeys of German capitalism; under Stalin, they would be deprived of their lands and capital and thrown into the dustbin of history. The Bulgarian upper crust chose Hitler.

Doesn’t the same cardinal contradiction, the contradiction between national-state interests and the class interests of the ruling circles, seep into the foreign policy of other bourgeois countries as well? Didn’t the French ‘200 families’ lose the war because they thought: ‘better Hitler than Stalin’? Didn’t the British ruling elite headed by Baldwin and Chamberlain fail to establish good relations with the Soviet Union and thereby avert the war because it thought: ‘better Hitler than Stalin’? Don’t the British ruling circles headed by Churchill sabotage improvements in Anglo-Soviet relations because deep down they think: ‘better Hitler than Stalin’?

The fatal and ineradicable contradiction of two worlds. It will make itself felt for the duration of the war. But this circumstance gives hope for the future.

If the last war eventually led to the formation of the Soviet Union even though all the belligerent powers entered into it with no fears of a social order and in full confidence that capitalism would reign forever, then are there not even better grounds for believing that this war, into which the capitalist powers entered with inner trembling before the spectre of impending revolution, might eventually lead to the emergence of several new socialist or near-socialist states? Can it not happen that an armed cataclysm of such grandiose dimensions may pave the way to colossal social shifts in Europe?

Subbotić came by. In a very anxious frame of mind.

‘The situation in the Balkans is bad, very bad,’ he said, and went on to explain. ‘Now that Bulgaria has joined the Axis, Yugoslavia is surrounded on three sides. Hopes for effective Soviet support have proved unwarranted. The Yugoslav government has to manoeuvre to gain time, but this is becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day. Yugoslavia is prepared to trade with Germany and develop economic relations to the maximum (all the more so as the German market is the sole external market for Yugoslavia today), but she does not want to go any further. Does not want to become a member of the ‘Axis’ or to allow the passage of German troops through her territory against England and Greece. Wants instead to remain absolutely neutral. But Germany demands more. How to behave? What should be done?’

In Belgrade, according to Subbotić, there is great commotion. He is unsure of what is happening there. It has now been eight days since he last had any news from his government. This makes him anxious. Momchilov also did not have any information from Sofia for some ten days before Bulgaria’s access to the ‘Axis’, and then, like a bolt from the blue, came the news that Bulgaria had joined.

What will happen?

I tried to console Subbotić and explain our position to him. I said: ‘Just wait! Everything will not be over today!’

The Czechs report:

(1) Although the Germans are creating the impression that they are preparing for an attack on Greece, their major objective is a strike against Turkey in order to proceed further to Syria, Iraq, Iran and Egypt. The Germans are going to concentrate up to 40 divisions in the Balkans for this purpose. Demonstrations of force against the Greeks are possible, so as to compel them to conclude a separate peace with Italy. Yugoslavia will capitulate to the ‘Axis’ in the nearest future.

(2) Three German divisions are deployed in Tripoli. They got there in the following way: transport ships carrying weapons (and some men) slipped through the Sicilian Straits at night and sailed straight on to Tripoli through Tunisian territorial waters. The French knew about it, but did not warn the British.

(3) There were disagreements about Greece in the Cabinet before the departure of Eden and Dill to the Middle East. Eden was of the opinion that the British were not in a position to help the Greeks effectively on land and therefore recommended not to embark on such assistance so as to avoid the experience of Norway and Dunkerque. Churchill, on the other hand, thought that in this case the British should take the risk: otherwise the prestige of England, particularly among small nations, would be ruined beyond repair. Before taking a firm decision the Cabinet resolved to clarify the situation on the spot and with this object in mind sent Eden and Dill to the Middle East.

(4) In Ankara, Eden and Dill discussed military rather than political issues, with the following outcome. In the event of German aggression, Turkey will defend the Rhodope–Catalca line, and England will render her maximal assistance (10–12 divisions). The British will provide Greece with air support, and operations in North Africa will shift to the defensive.

(5) The disposition of German forces in February: 60 divisions in France, 10 in Holland and Belgium, 6 in Norway, 20 in Central Europe (Czechoslovakia, Austria and Slovakia), 60 in Poland and 40 in the Balkans.

Duff Cooper has had a talk with the most ‘trusted’ diplomatic correspondents about the situation in the Balkans. The minister of information is in a pessimistic mood.

Yugoslavia? It will most probably follow Bulgaria. Turkey? Turkey will defend itself in the event of German aggression against it. The Turkish position in the event of German aggression against Greece remains uncertain. The formation of a ‘Balkan front’ against Germany? Very difficult, if it’s even possible. First, all Balkan railways are in the hands of Germany, or will soon be so. Second, while in the last war the main German forces were engaged on the western and eastern fronts, today Germany has a huge ‘unemployed’ army at its disposal and can concentrate any number of troops in the Balkans. England, by contrast, would have great difficulty transporting large army units to the Balkans. Besides, England has to take the situation in Africa into account. Under these circumstances Turkey should play the decisive role in the formation of a ‘Balkan front’, but Turkey vacillates, reluctant to give a definite ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

Yes, the minister of information is in a gloomy mood. He even left his listeners with the sense that he was preparing them for the imminent capitulation of Greece. Whether that will happen or not is a different question, but such was the impression made by Duff Cooper’s statements.

The minister of information spoke about the Soviet Union as well. In his opinion, the Soviet government wants the ‘Axis’ to win, but which ‘Axis’? An exhausted and weakened ‘Axis’. Duff Cooper maintains that Hitler is doing precisely what the Soviet government wants: he is scattering his forces over Europe, thereby paving the way not to his victory, but to exhaustion.

Duff Cooper spoke approvingly of the TASS communiqué of 3 March. In his view, it is bolstering morale in Turkey.

I’m getting information from various sources that Cripps is most unhappy about the current situation, does not see prospects for an improvement in Anglo-Soviet relations, complains of his isolation in Moscow, etc. In his opinion, the reason lies not in the British government’s stance, but in the Soviet government’s ‘fear’ of a conflict with Germany. Besides, he suspects that contact between Berlin and Moscow is far closer than many people think.

This is most unpleasant. It looks as though Cripps is turning into our enemy due to his political failures, failures resulting from the British government’s reluctance to move towards rapprochement with us. I warned Cripps when he was leaving for Moscow that he might find himself in an awkward position through London’s fault. An ambassador, after all, is akin to a travelling salesman. When he sells good commodities, he will be successful even if his personal qualities are quite ordinary. When he sells bad commodities, he is doomed to fail even if his personal qualities are excellent. Cripps has basically had nothing to sell for these past ten months. This is the source of his failure. But instead of directing his anger at his boss, who has not provided him with decent goods, Cripps prefers to curse his buyer, who for very good reasons has no wish to buy rotten stuff. Very short-sighted. But even clever people are often like that.

Cripps returned to Moscow from Ankara firmly convinced, as he intimated to the press and fellow ambassadors, that Russia and Germany would be at war ‘before summer’. He cast doubt on Dill’s insistence that Hitler would not commence a war on two fronts and predicted that he would attack Russia ‘not later than the end of June’; see NA, State Department, 740.0011 EW/39/8919, telegram from Steinhardt, 7 March 1941; V. Assarasson, I Skuggan av Stalin (Stockholm, 1963), p. 56; G. Gafencu, Prelude to the Russian Campaign (London, 1945), p. 198; W. Duranty, The Kremlin and the People (New York, 1942), pp. 151–2; and A. Werth, Moscow ’41 (London, 1942), p. 133. Maisky told the Webbs that ‘Eden was friendly, the British Foreign Office was obdurate and Churchill supported the Foreign

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Office. Stafford had apparently agreed with his government’s policy – at any rate he had not succeeded in altering it’; Webb, diary, p. 7036, 3 March 1941.

How does Epstein work? He does everything himself. Not only clay figures, but also sculptures from marble and granite (when he decides to use these materials). He chisels everything out with his own hand. Not all sculptors work like that. Rodin, for instance, whose studio Epstein visited several times, only made statues from clay with his own hands. Then his pupils reproduced it in marble or granite, using the appropriate measuring tools and instruments.

How does Epstein choose his models? His models are either people who commission their ‘portraits’ or people he seeks out himself. Many celebrities from the worlds of politics, art, literature and business have sat for him. He made the busts of MacDonald, Beaverbrook, Rothermere, Weizmann, Bernard Shaw, and many more. The sessions with Rothermere were amusing. This press baron did not want to waste time. So he did business during the sittings: dictated messages to his secretary, consulted with financial experts, speculated on the stock exchange, etc. Epstein said with a laugh: ‘Rothermere made more money during one sitting than I’ve earned during my whole life.’

As for models of the second group, he looked for them everywhere and sometimes took them straight from the street. There were occasions when he suddenly saw a face that grabbed his imagination in the Underground or in an omnibus. He would immediately ask the person to pose for him. There were complications sometimes, even scandals in the case of women, but Epstein usually got what he wanted. He also searched for his models among outstanding contemporaries. So it was with the Abyssinian emperor, who visited England in 1936. His statue of the Negus (from the waist up) is magnificent. It breathes the tragedy of his life.

Epstein has long contemplated doing a large multi-figure sculpture, ‘The Ship of Slaves’, and is gathering material for it. I saw many sketches in his studio: heads, busts, figures of the Negro type (including the head of Paul Robeson).

Paul Leroy Robeson, radical black singer who was awarded the Stalin Peace Prize for his anti-imperialist activities. While in England he prevailed on Maisky to enrol his son in the school for the children of the Soviet diplomatic corps in London.

Whether Epstein will realize his intention is unclear. He himself is less than definite about it.

I once asked Epstein whether he was a member of the Royal Society of Sculptors. I was certain he was.

‘Oh no, no!’ Epstein waved his hands. ‘How could I be?’

And he told me the following instructive story. About 30 years ago (Epstein is 60), at the beginning of his career, he was commissioned to decorate the Medical Association building in the Strand with figures. He performed the job brilliantly, but caused an awful commotion in the press and in parliament. Why? Simply because the figures were unclothed. There was nothing amoral about them, they were simply nude. The protest campaign was led by the Society for the Prevention of Vice whose office, as ill luck would have it, faced the Medical Association building. The bosses of this ‘Society’ were so furious that they even stuck paper on their windows so as not to see the cursed naked figures. A fierce debate raged in the press. Questions were raised and answered in parliament. Should the figures be removed or not? Since opinions were divided, parliament finally decided to recruit the authority of the archbishop of Canterbury. The archbishop came personally to the Strand to carry out an inspection. Fortunately for Epstein, the then archbishop was a reasonable man, and the figures were not removed. But when soon afterwards two of Epstein’s colleagues recommended electing him to the RSS, he was blackballed. Epstein took offence and decided he could live perfectly well without the RSS. He himself has never applied for membership since, and others have not dared raise the matter again.

‘The RSS is as nothing compared with those colleagues who, if only they could, would exile me to the farthermost corners of the British Empire!’ exclaimed Epstein.

Epstein pays them back in their own coin. When I asked him if there were sculptors in England who deserved notice, he shrugged his shoulders, gave a bitter smile, and said: ‘Not that I know of.’

In spite of all his troubles and financial difficulties, Epstein the sculptor is a proud man. Once in my presence he lambasted his clients, who understand nothing about art, his colleagues, who envy him, and his critics, who accommodate themselves to the tastes of the crowd. He exclaimed bitterly: ‘This damned profession! I’d not advise anybody to become a sculptor!’

I said nothing for a while, but when Epstein had cooled down a little I asked: ‘So, if you had to start your life all over again, you wouldn’t become a sculptor?’

‘Who, me?’ Epstein replied in bewilderment. ‘Oh, no! Let others find themselves different jobs, but I am a sculptor! And I don’t want to be anything else!’

I smiled to myself once more: what a rare fusion of genius and child!

Aras called in. He again spoke at length about the urgent need for a Soviet–Turkish alliance and affirmed that the statement made by Saraçoğlu to Vinogradov in mid-January actually opened the path to an ‘alliance’. If I were to tell him that the Soviet government favoured the idea of a mutual assistance pact in principle, he would put the question to Ankara in the clearest possible form. Then practical negotiations concerning the pact could be opened in Ankara or in Moscow, or ‘even in London’.

I remained noncommittal and left the question open so that I could return to it at any moment or simply ‘forget’ about it. I merely noted that a pact without corresponding military agreements to sustain the pact is meaningless. Aras fully agreed with this and even set about fervently assuring me that it would not be difficult to conclude military agreements. I reminded Aras of the unsuccessful military negotiations between the USSR, England and France in 1939, but Aras exclaimed with the same fervour that England and France had not displayed a ‘sincere desire’ to form an ‘alliance’ during the Moscow negotiations, whereas Turkey today would like such an ‘alliance’ ‘in all sincerity’. Despite all Aras’s arguments, I’m not sure he is right. It even seems to me that Aras himself does not quite understand what kind of military agreements are in question here.

Regarding the visit of Eden and Dill to Ankara, Aras says it has not altered one jot the former position of the Turkish government. On the contrary, the English appear to have recognized this position as being quite correct. Its essence consists of the following. Turkey will defend itself resolutely. Its conduct in the event of a German attack on Greece will depend on the circumstances. Turkey will even allow the British to use its territory for military purposes (the newspapers announced this a few days ago), but only if Turkey itself enters the war. A scheme of the Egyptian type is out of the question in Turkey.

As far as the visit of Eden and Dill to Athens is concerned, Aras says the parties reached an agreement: the Greeks will not conclude a separate peace with Italy, and the British will give them their utmost assistance, not only at sea and in the air, but also on land. The latter may occur later, however. The Greeks do not want the British troops to land immediately so as not to ‘provoke’ Germany, with whom they maintain ‘normal’ diplomatic relations. This is also the reason why they do not allow the British to bomb the Rumanian oil fields using Greek bases. However, if and when Germany attacks Greece, the British troops will be welcome, provided there are no fewer than 10 divisions. If the British government intends to send only 3–4 divisions, it would be better not to send them at all.

I asked Aras how many divisions the British could land in Greece.

‘Three to four divisions,’ Aras replied.

‘And where?’ I inquired.

Aras said this would depend on the conduct of Yugoslavia. If Yugoslavia refuses to let German troops march through her territory, the British might well land in Saloniki and try to command the mountain passes between Bulgaria and Greece. If Yugoslavia does let German troops through, it would be difficult to hold out in Saloniki, and the Anglo-Greek front will most probably stretch along the mountain chains of northern Greece, including the famous Pass of Thermopylae.

Beaverbrook looked quite well, but he was very angry. He barked and fumed his way through lunch. The troubles in his ministry must have got to him. Beaverbrook is very optimistic in everything that concerns the air force. He declared that England was approaching parity with Germany in terms of both quantity and quality. England will achieve preponderance at the turn of the year, with a further significant growth in 1942, when American production will be fully developed. Beaverbrook hardly believes in the threat of an invasion, but he is most anxious about attacks on British commercial shipping. He consoles himself with the hope that the United States will formally enter the war in the near future.

Alexander asserts that the Battle of the Atlantic has already begun. The Admiralty has arrived at such a conclusion on the basis of a number of indicators, including the rate of losses over the last three weeks. Meanwhile, Alexander is confident that his department will manage to prevent an increase in losses in 1941 compared to 1940, and may even be able to achieve a decrease. We shall see.

Monckton told Novikov

Kirill Vasilevich Novikov, recruited to NKID in 1937 after pursuing a successful career in the metal industry; counsellor at the Soviet embassy in Great Britain, 1940–42; head of the second European department of NKID, 1942–47; ambassador in India, 1947–53.

that Cripps had been in an ‘awful’ mood before his visit to Ankara. He saw not the slightest grounds for hope. But he cheered up after meeting Eden. He sent Monckton a telegram the other day in which he says, among other things, that Eden will take up the question of Anglo-Soviet relations in all earnestness upon his return to London. We shall see. I’m not too optimistic in this respect.

The visit was preceded by a minor ‘diplomatic incident’.

In the evening of 4 March I received by post a regular notification from Winant in which he informed me that he had presented his credentials to the king and wanted to visit me. The next morning my secretary called the US embassy and offered Winant the choice of two dates, the 6th or the 7th. Winant’s secretary promised to reply on the same day, but no reply came until the evening of the 7th. In the evening of 7 March I sent a note to Winant, in response to his notification concerning the presentation of credentials, and mentioned in passing that as he had not been able to visit me on the dates I had proposed because of his numerous commitments, I would now be waiting for him to make the next step. My note had the desired effect. He received it on the morning of 10 March, after the weekend, and his secretary called the embassy right away and asked for an appointment that same day.

Winant makes a somewhat strange impression. Tall, dark-haired, with slow, demure manners, a listless, barely audible voice, and a pensive, introspective look, he is the polar opposite of his predecessor, the vociferous, jaunty, loquacious and flighty Joe Kennedy. I had to strain my ears to catch Winant’s words.

We talked for about an hour. Winant said he had been eagerly awaiting this visit (something hardly attested by the events that preceded it). We discussed a number of current topics. Recalling our meeting in 1939 in Geneva (where Winant was then director of the International Labour Office). He said: ‘You, the Soviet representatives, were most perspicacious. You had already understood where the game between the European powers was headed.’

I thanked Winant for his compliment, but could not return it: as far as I could remember, Winant had not shown great foresight in 1939.

I asked Winant: what are the reasons for the ‘defeatist mood’ towards England that is so widespread in the USA?

Winant sees two main reasons behind the sharp swings in American attitudes towards the war. First, the American public was not sure whether the Allies were waging the war in earnest. In the epoch of Chamberlain and Daladier, such doubts were entirely legitimate. Second, it is only natural that the American public has wanted and wants its country to keep out of the war. In the past there was a great deal that was unclear in this respect, too. The situation has now changed: Churchill’s coming to power has dispelled any doubt Americans might have had, and Roosevelt’s formula of the ‘arsenal of democracy’, backed up by Churchill’s statement that there is no need for an American army in Europe, has softened the fears of the American public on the second point. That is why the ‘defeatist mood’ in the USA has disappeared for the time being (besides, England has already proved its fighting capability). One can now expect aid to England to get going on the other side of the ocean under the slogan ‘full steam ahead’.

I asked what this meant exactly in regard to the most acute problem of today – commercial shipping.

Winant replied that the USA would not be able to do much in this field this year, but in 1942 it will be in a position to provide England with no less than 3 million tons of newly built ships.

Winant says that Harriman,

William Averell Harriman, President Roosevelt’s special representative in Great Britain, with rank of minister, March 1941; US ambassador to the USSR, 1943–46.

the ‘personal envoy of the president’ who has arrived in London, will be on the staff of the US embassy and will act as a high-ranking ‘pusher’ in all transactions between the USA and England concerning supplies, the delivery of weapons, etc.

I’ll try to sum things up.

The navy. The navy has acquired 480 new vessels since the beginning of the war, including two 35,000-ton battleships (a third battleship of the same tonnage will be put into service in May and four more battleships are being constructed), 32 cruisers (of which 12 are heavy cruisers with 8-inch guns), 60 submarines and 140 destroyers and torpedo boats (by 1 July of this year), small-size vessels (corvettes, torpedo boats, mine-sweepers, etc.), plus more than 1,000 mosquito boats. The British government counts on having in the future 10 battleships and torpedo boats monthly. Thus, even considering all previous losses, the British navy is considerably stronger than it was before the war. There is one important shortcoming however: 25–30% of the available vessels are constantly under repair because the shipyards are overloaded and because the ships stay too long in the open sea (in this war the British navy has to do virtually the same job that was done in the last war by the joint navies of England, France, Italy, Russia, Japan and, towards the end, the USA).

The air force. During the past winter, the aviation has made tremendous progress. The monthly production of planes in England now reaches 2,000 aircraft (of which 1,500 are combat aircraft). It is planned to raise the monthly output to 2,500 once some new plants are put into operation towards the end of the year. Up to 600 machines (half of them combat aircraft) and 2,000–2,500 aircraft engines are delivered monthly by the United States. The USA is expected to supply at least 1,000 machines a month by the end of the year. In total, the British air force now has 19–20,000 combat planes, including 11–12,000 first-line planes (of which 6–7,000 are in England, 2,500 in the Middle East, and about 3,000 in the Fleet Air Arm, i.e. throughout the Empire). New, more powerful planes will be put into service this spring: the Stirling [sic], Halifax and Manchester bombers and the Tornado and Whirlwind fighters. There seems to be no lack of personnel (though I am a little sceptical in this respect). The problem of how to combat night air raids is yet to be resolved.

The army. The army currently numbers 4 million, including 2 million volunteers (aged 17–65) in the Home Guard for the special purpose of defending the isles against invasion, and 2 million conscripts in regular service at home and abroad. By and large, the Home Guard is well organized and armed. This force is very well suited to its purpose, especially the younger age group. In the regular army there are 50 divisions which may be considered well trained and armed (about 1 million men); the second million requires more training and more arms. The 50 first-line divisions incorporate six mechanized divisions, which are expected to increase to 10 before the end of this year and to 20 by the spring of 1942. To judge by their actions in Libya (where one mechanized division was engaged), the British mechanized troops are of reasonable quality. Military leadership (generals Dill and Brooke) is by all accounts capable and wise, but this still needs to be tested in practice. To the troops stationed at home should be added a further half million – from England, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, India, etc. – which are fighting or undergoing training in the Middle East, in the dominions, and in India. On the whole, the condition of the army is much better now than a year ago, not to mention the period immediately following Dunkerque.

Commercial shipping. England’s pre-war commercial tonnage amounted to 21 million, including 18 million tons at home. About 9 million tons has been added since the beginning of the war (the Allies, purchases, new construction, captures, etc.), giving a total of up to 30 million tons, or 44% of global tonnage as it stood on the eve of the war. About 5 million has been lost, so England now has about 25 million tons. Since losses have been compensated almost exclusively on the side of British tonnage, rather than Allied, the latter’s capacity has decreased by only 5% compared with the pre-war period. Yet the English tanker fleet has decreased by about 40%. This is very significant. Even if losses stay on the same level in 1941 (by which I mean 90,000 tons weekly, as happened in the last seven months of 1940, when the Germans started attacking the British commercial vessels in earnest), the loss will be of no less than 4.5 million tons by 1 January 1942. Compensation will be hardly more than 2–2.5 million tons (new vessels built in England and the USA, German and Italian vessels requisitioned in American harbours, etc.). The net loss will be about 2 million tons. And there are grounds to believe that the losses in the coming season will be greater than last year. The tonnage deficit will definitely make itself felt in the winter of 1941–42 in terms of the delivery of supplies, food and so on. Moreover, as a result of the war waged by the Germans against British tonnage, English vessels are forced, as a rule, to take longer routes (e.g. around Africa to Asia) and to sail at a slower pace than usual (big convoys sail at the speed of their slowest vessels, the ships are delayed en route and in ports, etc.). Shipping is definitely the weak spot in British armaments this year.

The ‘national front’ has survived as a united force. The Labourites have been completely absorbed by the Tories and do all their dirty work for them (Bevin and Morrison toil in wholesale in the Ministry of Labour and the Home Office, with Attlee, Greenwood and Alexander executing special orders in retail). This state of affairs, of course, may lead in the future to the explosion of the ‘united front’ from below, but for the moment it strengthens the position of the ruling classes. For the ‘machine’ of the Labour Party and the trade unions still keeps a tight grip on the working masses. Transport House skilfully exploits in its own interests the workers’ anti-fascist sentiments, which are very strong. Pritt told me the other day of his impression that no less than 95% of workers in factories and plants think roughly in the following way: ‘First we eliminate Hitler and then we deal with our own lords.’ Pritt clearly perceives the weakness of such reasoning, but the masses do not, and they think and act accordingly. Communist influence is very limited, especially after the Daily Worker was closed down. There is, of course, dissatisfaction within the wide circles of the proletariat, and it is gradually growing (the ‘People’s Convention’ demonstrated this in January), but it is not yet very acute and does not constitute a serious threat to the ruling upper crust. All is relatively well in the Empire, too. True, Eire retains its neutrality, but Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and even South Africa are being drawn into the war with increasing force. Temporary ‘calm’ has been restored in India with the help of repressions. It is not stable, but it may well last for the duration of the current ‘war season’. So it would seem that no major complications threaten the British government in the immediate future either at home or in the Empire (with the possible exception of India).

Morale among the broad masses of the population is now very strong. The victories in Africa, the insignificant human losses at the front, the respite in the air war over England in the last three or four months, the absence of epidemics, the tolerable food situation (worse than last year, but by no means catastrophic) and, finally, the government’s position – all this and much else creates an atmosphere of great confidence across the nation and a willingness to fight. The USA’s open allegiance with England strengthens these feelings still further. The clear position of Churchill and Co. to ‘fight to the end’ does have an effect on both the state apparatus and the masses. Nothing remains to remind one of the era of Chamberlain, when the air was thick with corrosive rumours, gossip and reports (not always unfounded) about doubts, hesitation and indecision ‘at the top’. The future will show how durable the present mood will prove, but today it is universal and, if nothing extraordinary happens, will most likely prevail throughout the current ‘war season’.

So England, undoubtedly, is embarking on a new ‘trial of strength’ much stronger and better equipped than she was last summer. (However, even now England is still not prepared for a large-scale strategic offensive against Germany. England would prefer to remain largely on the defensive this year, but this would not exclude small-scale offensive operations, particularly in isolated theatres of war: in Africa, Sicily, etc.). Eden, it seems to me, was quite frank when he told me in our recent conversation (12 February) that the British government would not like to open a front in the Balkans in 1941 precisely because it is not yet ready to launch serious operations on the European continent. Whether or not the British government will be able to fulfil this wish is another matter entirely, however, for Germany will also have her say.

How do political and party circles here envisage the immediate future?

They are sceptical about the possibility of an imminent attempted invasion, but they can’t rule out such an attempt later on, if England is weakened on other fronts and if serious disorders emerge at home.

They consider the German campaign against British commercial shipping to be the gravest danger. The ‘Battle of the Atlantic’ is commanding everyone’s attention. Serious losses and problems are expected, but in their heart of hearts people are confident that even now England will somehow muddle through.

Next, they believe that the immediate future may see the launching of large-scale military operations in the Balkans and the Middle East, where Germany will aim for Asia Minor, Iraq, Iran, Egypt, etc. Major developments in the Spanish direction (Gibraltar, Morocco, etc.) are considered less probable.

Finally, people dream of the United States entering the war openly.

That is the general picture insofar as it may be discerned today. Time will show what lies ahead.

In any case, unless numerous signs prove deceptive, the new struggle between the two adversaries will hardly yield an end to the war this year.

In our conversation, Winant let it be understood that in the near future US supplies may be convoyed by US military vessels (in one form or another). I inquired: ‘How would the United States react if the Germans sank such a convoy?’

Winant answered with a timid smile on his lips: ‘The answer to your question can be found in the recent past.’

He obviously meant the sinking of the Lusitania in the war of 1914–18.

Then Winant started lavishing compliments on me. In our conversation in Geneva in 1939, I had demonstrated outstanding foresight concerning the European situation. Now, in the embassy archives, he has found a record of my conversation with Counsellor Herschel Johnson on 1 March 1938. My statements of that time have proved most prophetic (I have a poor memory, incidentally, of the conversation with Johnson). Winant concluded half in jest: ‘Should you happen to be in a prophetic mood again, please send for me.’

My general impression of Winant is quite clear: he is an advocate of US entry into the war, but is still trying to veil his opinion. Harriman, however, who is busy setting up a special ‘department’ at the embassy to supervise US supplies to England, is quite brazen in this respect. A few days ago, at a meeting of American journalists, Harriman declared ‘off the record’ that he hoped to see the United States at war within the next few months.

‘This is of course less than the alliance I would like,’ he said, ‘but still, it is an important step forward in the right direction. It is a starting point for a bloc of neutral powers in Eastern Europe and Asia Minor.’

Aras is also very pleased with developments in Yugoslavia. The situation is now very difficult for the Germans. How to advance on Greece? Through the Maritsa valley? This is politically hazardous, as Turkey cannot tolerate the presence of German troops on its Greek border: the entire fortified area at Adrianople would be outflanked. Turkey will have to intervene in the war if the Germans undertake something similar. Through the Struma valley? But here the topographic conditions are adverse in the extreme: a long narrow gorge (about 30 km) between high and steep mountains, through which there runs a rapid, unnavigable river and a single road on which two cars are not always able to pass. Even small forces are sufficient to defend one’s positions here with ease. Through the Vardar valley? Yes, topographically this is the easiest way, but following the coup of 27 March in Belgrade, the Germans will not get the Vardar valley without a fight. That is why Aras thinks that Yugoslavia will be drawn into the war; it creates unexpected additional difficulties for Germany.

Germany’s situation is further complicated by England’s decision to fight in the Balkans in earnest. According to Aras (whose reports must always be treated with a degree of caution), two British divisions are currently stationed in Saloniki.

I enquired about the outcome of Eden’s meeting with Saraçoğlu in Cyprus ([date missing] March). Aras assured me that Turkey’s stance has not changed one jot and set about asserting, somewhat naively, that Eden was utterly delighted with the results of the meeting. My foot!

A visit from Simopoulos followed. The old man has recovered from the consequences of severe flu, but looks poorly all the same: he is thinner and greyer, and coughs.

Simopoulos considers our communiqué to be of exceptional importance: it signifies a turning point in the situation in the Balkans, perhaps a turning point in the whole war. He is terribly satisfied with events in Yugoslavia. He spoke at length about ‘Serbian honesty’ and ‘Bulgarian perfidy’.

The English, in Simopoulos’s opinion, have decided to fight in the Balkans in earnest, but he does not know how many British troops have landed in Greece. He says that the English conceal this even from the Greek government. He believes that the British government has earmarked considerable forces for Greece. Why does he think so? Because during the negotiations in Athens between Eden, Dill and the Greek government, the latter said unequivocally: either serious aid with land forces or no aid at all. A second Norway must be avoided at all costs. Eden and Dill allegedly agreed with this. We shall see.

I tried to discuss the strategic situation in the Balkans with Simopoulos, but to no avail: the old man understands nothing about strategy, mixes up mountains and plains, and doesn’t know the difference between a division and a corps. When you ask him anything related to military strategy, he spreads his arms in perplexity and mumbles helplessly: ‘You’d better ask my military attaché. I’m clueless in these matters.’

A rum job at a time when diplomacy has become strategy.

I told Nicolson that I fail to see how the Germans can beat the British or how the British can beat the Germans. Nicolson did not even try to dispute this. He confessed that he himself could not perceive an obvious way for England to emerge victorious over Germany, but added: ‘Last summer, after the collapse of France, Churchill said: My belief that we shall win the Battle of Britain rests on faith. I can’t prove anything to you. And we won!… The same may happen with our victory over Germany. I confess, however, that I can’t prove to you or to myself by way of reasoning or logic that we should achieve victory; nor, more importantly, can I tell you how we can achieve it.’

Then we talked about the problems of ‘reconstruction’. I noted that England might achieve victory if it were a socialist England, but that as yet I see no sign of her moving towards such a transformation. Nicolson agreed with me and said what he thought of Churchill: ‘He is a fine leader during a war, but I’m far from convinced that he will prove so excellent when the time comes to solve domestic problems.’ Significant!

He is greatly concerned about the war on British commercial shipping and the feeble efforts of the Ministry of Shipping (particularly as regards the repair of damaged vessels).

Then we talked about the last sea battle of 28 March. Alexander evaluates the situation as follows: at present, the Italian fleet has lost 50% of its combat efficiency. What is the reason for the Italian defeats at sea? Not the vessels (the ships, according to Alexander, are good), but the personnel. Their shooting is inaccurate and they lack skill in manoeuvring. At sea, all this is paramount.

‘If the Italian navy,’ added Alexander, ‘had English crews, our Mediterranean squadron would have ceased to exist long ago.’

He lavished praise on Admiral Andrew Cunningham,

Andrew Browne Cunningham, admiral, lord commissioner of the Admiralty and deputy chief of naval staff, 1938–39; commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean, 1939–42; first sea lord and chief of naval staff, 1943–46.

commander of the Mediterranean forces, and called him the ‘great sea captain’.

The Italian fleet, according to Alexander, headed out to sea from its own harbours, where it had been hiding until then, to prevent the transfer of British troops to the Balkans, and got itself into a pretty mess. Incidentally, there were 35 German officers among the rescued Italian crews (about 1,000 men). Obviously, the Germans now command the Italian navy.

(1) The actual purpose of Eden’s and Dill’s second visit to Athens is to try to establish a tripartite defensive bloc of Yugoslavia, Greek and Turkey. I doubt that anything will come of it.

(2) A Czechoslovak brigade comprising some 4,000 men is setting out for Yugoslavia. A thousand or so more Czechs will join them in Egypt. A Polish brigade is also on its way to Yugoslavia from Palestine.

(3) There are presently some 20,000 Polish troops in England, including 3,000 pilots. The other 17,000 guard the eastern shore of Scotland against invasion. Of these, remarkably enough, some 6,500 are officers!

I saw Beaverbrook in his ministry and asked him to intervene in the case concerning the repatriation of our sailors. I was afforded a magnificent welcome: ten thousand secretaries came to meet me, the minister himself saw me to the lift, and during our conversation he showered me with compliments and promised to raise the question of repatriation at today’s session of the War Cabinet. He made it clear that he would insist that my demands be met. On vivra – verra.

Beaverbrook stated in passing that the Soviet Union has three ‘true friends’ in government: he, Eden and Alexander.

Then we spoke about British aviation, and Beaverbrook said that England currently suffers from an overproduction of aircraft: all the depots are crammed and there is nowhere to keep the planes. There is also a shortage of pilots. Production may have to be restrained or even reduced in the next months.

If this is true, it means that the scene has changed beyond recognition since last summer!

On parting I once again asked Beaverbrook to take measures to repatriate our sailors, and added: ‘If the Ministry of Shipping is as “effective” in other matters as in the case of our sailors, I’m quite sure you’ll lose the war.’

Beaverbrook was simply delighted. He roared with laughter for a long while before eventually exclaiming: ‘There is much in what you say!’

This time Beaverbrook did not poke fun at my shabby coat. No wonder! I was wearing a brand-new coat. It seemed to satisfy him.

* * *

Prytz dropped in. He confirmed indirectly what I had just heard from Beaverbrook about overproduction in the British aircraft industry. It turns out that a few days ago a ‘high-ranking person’ proposed selling two or three hundred British fighters to Sweden in exchange for high-grade steel and the like. Whether this comes off or not is a different matter (transportation is a problem), but it is obvious that the British do indeed now have an abundance of aircraft, particularly fighters.

Prytz said that during the last 5–6 weeks relations between Stockholm and Berlin have been rather tense. The Germans have started violating the Swedish–German agreement on the transit of German troops through Sweden and Norway: instead of an equal number of troops heading in both directions, they have been sending more troops into Norway than they have been withdrawing. As a result, a concentrated force has been formed in Norway and keeps growing all the time. The Swedish government insists on the observance of the agreement. The Germans respond by delaying coal deliveries and halting the passage of Swedish steamers (one per month) from New York to Göteborg. In addition, the Germans disliked very much the major military exercise recently arranged by the Swedish government. On the whole, the situation is strained. Where will it lead? Prytz is troubled. He fears that after the ‘liquidation of the Balkans’ Hitler will propose to Sweden and Switzerland to join the ‘New Europe’ – and then what?

Prytz’s news inclines me to take a rather sceptical view of the feasibility of Butler’s plan to bring our sailors home on board a ‘neutral’ Swedish ship. Will this plan fall through as well?

What about? Of course, above all about the war, and even more so about how it might be terminated. Clive has no clear ideas in this respect, but he willingly agreed with the prerequisites which I set out before him (of course, I outlined them in a very mild manner). Significant!

He inquired rather anxiously whether he could be of any help to the diplomatic corps at present. I replied that there was nothing to worry about on that front, but that if the food situation deteriorated, he could be useful.

I asked Clive: how is the French collapse to be explained? He told me the following story in reply.

Soon after the beginning of the war he happened to talk to a powerful French landowner in Brittany whose son had just joined the army. The landowner gasped and sighed and was full of trepidation about the future of France. Clive inquired about the reasons for this trepidation.

‘You see,’ the landowner replied, ‘when I went to war 25 years ago, it was all very clear-cut. We, the French soldiers of the time, understood perfectly well that defeat would mean the end of France. It had to be avoided at all costs. So that’s how we acted. My son reasons differently. He says: if we are defeated, many will suffer and experience all sorts of hardship, but all the same I will stay on my land, or at least on part of my land, and somehow I’ll get through it. If we achieve a victory, the Popular Front will be in charge, and they will just cut our throats. That’s why I’m greatly concerned about our future.’

I congratulated him, but he reacted without any great enthusiasm. I asked him why not.

‘You see,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving London with mixed feelings. My appointment is a great honour, of course, but it is a very difficult and complicated task, and I am not certain of being sufficiently equipped to accomplish it.’

Then, adopting a more intimate tone, he continued: ‘Here in London, everything is familiar to me. Relations are established. The most difficult time is already in the past. We have achieved victory. We need simply to develop and consolidate our gains. In Chongqing, things are different. I haven’t been to China for some 10 years. The situation in Chongqing will be new to me. True, I know almost all the leaders, but I know little about the relationships between the leaders. Neither do I know the people in secondary and tertiary roles. China’s international position is also very complicated. I’m a rather lazy person, and I’ve grown accustomed to a certain level of comfort. How will it be in China?… When the Generalissimo (that’s how he calls Jiang Jieshi) proposed the post of foreign minister to me, I hesitated for a long while before replying. Eventually, I took the plunge. The main thing is that I haven’t been to China for such a long time. If I miss this chance, I may completely lose touch with my homeland.’

I began to talk about the scale of the job confronting Guo Taiqi and the major opportunities he would have to influence the foreign policy of China in a direction conducive to her victory. Guo Taiqi agreed with me, but added somewhat thoughtfully: ‘Yes, that’s true, but on the other hand I’ll be very cut off from the outside world in Chongqing.’

Guo Taiqi is not taking his family, which is currently in the United States, to Chongqing. Might this not be because he is unsure of how long he will stay there?

Gu Weijun, from Vichy, has been appointed Chinese ambassador to London instead of Guo Taiqi.

(1) Eden can’t pull off a tripartite bloc of Yugoslavia, Greece and Turkey because of Turkey’s position.

(2) The British have already landed six divisions in Greece, fully armed and equipped, with a large quantity of aircraft. Reinforcements continue to arrive.

(3) A great quantity of troops is passing through Prague in the direction of the Soviet border. There is a Geographical Institute in Prague which passed into German hands long ago. This Institute is now urgently engaged in producing detailed maps of the Ukraine.

Easterman shook his head and replied: ‘No!’

I asked him to elaborate.

‘You know,’ Easterman replied, ‘I’m not wholly English (he is an English Jew) and I take a rather critical view of the English, but I must tell you frankly that I see no prospect of an early end to the war. Why?… Well, simply because the average Englishman cannot even conceive of the possibility of his country being defeated. And by whom? Bloody foreigners? No, it’s impossible, unthinkable. It’s never happened before. It goes against the laws of nature. True, there have been instances when the English lost a battle, but they always won the war. So it was and so it will be. So it must be. That is why, when winter comes, the average Englishman will tell himself: “Somehow we will muddle through.”’

Then I had a visit from Glasgow (diplomatic correspondent of the Observer), who spoke at length about the general prospects for the war. His reasoning is interesting. This is what it amounts to: England is in a very difficult position. In the last war Germany was actually beaten by hunger, i.e. the blockade. In this war, the blockade is much less effective because Germany has seized nearly the whole European continent and sucks all its juices; and because Japan, Russia, Italy and even the United States are against England in the matter of the blockade. England is unable to beat Germany on dry land. The efficacy of the air war against Germany is nil. So it turns out that England has not got even a single ‘friend’ in the world, while Germany has a long list of ‘friends’. The countries which still keep out of the war, above all Russia and the USA, are disinclined to change their position as detached observers. It is clear that the situation for England is very difficult, even threatening.

I objected that the USA seemed to have assumed the role of England’s ally.

Glasgow gave a disconsolate wave of his arm: ‘Idle talk – there’s plenty of that. You can’t destroy German tanks and submarines with speeches. For now, America simply promises aid in 1942 and the following years. But we need help immediately.’

Glasgow sighed and concluded mournfully: ‘America. America won’t give us anything for free. Roosevelt’s policy is a clever one. The United States will annex England by the end of the war.’

So, England’s situation appears hopeless.

‘How will it be,’ I asked, ‘the end of the war?’

‘The end of the war?’ Glasgow echoed in a different tone. ‘We’ll win, of course.’

I was dumbfounded and asked in bewilderment: ‘But how? In what way? You’ve just said…’

‘Well, what about it?’ Glasgow interrupted me. ‘The situation is difficult, but we shall win just the same. God will decide. I’m not saying that we, the British, are saints, but the Germans are even worse than we. So God won’t forsake us.’

How very English! Every Englishman is instinctively convinced that ‘we will muddle through’ and that Providence is of necessity on Great Britain’s side.

Today Hitler responded to Comrade Molotov’s démarche.

We shall remember this and draw practical conclusions. What conclusions? Time will tell. One thing is clear: through its policy in the Balkans, Germany is taking the fatal action of forcing the USSR to turn its front towards her. This does not mean that the USSR will rush into war against Germany. We shall do our utmost to avoid it. But the USSR is turning its front towards Germany. It cannot afford not to. The USSR cannot resign itself to the presence of German heavy artillery in Constanta and Burgas as a permanent phenomenon – a fact about which the Germans themselves recently boasted over the wireless.

Why has Hitler’s policy recently taken such a turn? Is he consciously picking a fight with the USSR? Or does he not see any other way out of the current situation? Hard to say. But it is increasingly clear that we have played our ‘German card’ and will get little more from it (for as long as Germany remains in Hitler’s hands, at any rate). The time draws near when we shall have to look for other cards.

And so the war season of 1941 has opened – nearly a year after the German attack on Norway (on the night of 8–9 April). One can’t help but wish to pierce the veil of the near future with one’s gaze and imagine how the world will look by autumn.

It’s not easy being a prophet in our days, and I don’t want to resort to tea leaves. I’ll merely note that the beginning of the 1941 war season differs significantly from that of the season of 1940.

In Germany’s favour: Germany possessed only Poland beyond its borders at that time, while now all Europe is subject to it in varying degrees, except for England, the USSR and half of the Balkans. Moreover, the prestige of German military might has been firmly established after the experience of Norway, Poland, Holland, Belgium and especially France. On land, Germany is considered ‘invincible’.

In England’s favour: the German offensive has entirely lost the element of surprise. Churchill has replaced Chamberlain as head of the government. England has become much stronger in the air and on land during the past year and has defeated Italy in Africa. England has preserved its mastery of the sea. The USA has openly moved into England’s camp. Hitler will face not only difficult topographic conditions in the Balkans (this was also the case in Norway), but also the resistance of militant tribes energetically supported by England (which was not the case in Norway).

Yes, there is a difference, but what will be the upshot of the current military season?

The events of the next three or four weeks may give us a clue. All will depend on whether or not the Germans succeed with their Blitzkrieg in the Balkans. Much will become clearer after that.

There is one more factor in the current situation, a factor of great significance – the Soviet Union. The position of the USSR is somewhat different from what it was a year ago, and it may change still further under certain conditions.

I congratulated him on the pact of friendship and non-aggression between the USSR and Yugoslavia, signed on the night of 5 April. Subbotić was deeply moved: he embraced and kissed me, and there were tears in his eyes.

‘The pact,’ he exclaimed, ‘has saved Yugoslavia’s soul. Hardships and suffering may await our people, and the Germans may temporarily seize our country – it doesn’t matter. Every Yugoslavian, and every Serbian in particular, will now know: Russia is thinking about us and, sooner or later, will save us. I’m not a communist, but I bow low to Stalin on the occasion of this pact.’

Subbotić saw the Yugoslavian queen yesterday (she lives in England with her two younger sons). She was also deeply affected by the pact between the USSR and Yugoslavia and used the same words: ‘I bow low to Stalin on the occasion of this pact.’

Subbotić spoke profusely on this subject, stressing that the most important thing now is to lift the morale of the Yugoslavian people, something which our pact has greatly facilitated. He sees my visit as a further move in this direction. The Yugoslavian people will never forget the USSR’s conduct in this critical situation and will draw from it the courage and hope they need for the hard struggle ahead. Despite the tragic circumstances, Subbotić is experiencing a sense of personal satisfaction: he has been working so long for rapprochement between Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union.

We then discussed the British position. It followed from Subbotić’s words that here all is not yet clear. He was to meet Churchill today, but the prime minister was held up on business outside the capital and asked Butler to talk to Subbotić. During Subbotić’s meeting with Butler in the latter’s office, Churchill rang and asked Subbotić to convey his message to the Yugoslavian people: from now on Great Britain regards Yugoslavia as its ally; all the British Empire’s resources are on Yugoslavia’s side; and the struggle will be continued until the aggressor is definitively destroyed.

Subbotić is yet to receive any concrete information about aid. Butler was very evasive about this today, referring the matter to Eden and Dill: being on the scene, they would have a better idea of how to act. Moreover, they had been given broad authority. Butler was also evasive about the quantity of British troops in Greece. True, he hinted that the English plan involved the massing of up to 15 divisions there, but he would not say exactly how many had already assembled. Butler does not attach great importance to the German offensive in Libya, which makes Subbotić think that the British government is going to supply Greece with troops mostly from Africa. Butler is delighted with our pact with Yugoslavia. He congratulated Subbotić and asked him to convey his congratulations to me as well.

Subbotić complained that he was experiencing great difficulties in maintaining contact with his government. The Belgrade radio station was wrecked by the Germans on the first day of their attack. The Yugoslavian government was evacuated from the capital. Where to? Subbotić himself has no idea. The government has a radio station in Ljubljana, but it has a very weak signal and cannot be heard in London. Subbotić receives news from Yugoslavia via Switzerland or North Africa. That is why he is ill-informed about his government’s plans. He believes that it will be difficult to defend the flat northern part of the country, but with British assistance a strong front can be created in the mountainous south-western region. For now, however, it is rather risky to speculate about the more distant future. I had the impression that on the whole Subbotić has little faith in the possibility of effective resistance to Germany.

Subbotić told me en passant that Simović’s government tried to avoid any ‘provocations’ towards Germany until the very last moment. For instance, it turned down Eden’s visit to Belgrade, as proposed by the English. Its dealings with the Anglo-Greek headquarters were conducted through the military attaché in Athens. Only now has the situation changed. But Subbotić does not know how close is the contact between the Yugoslavian general staff and the command of the Anglo-Greek forces. Nor does he know anything about Turkey’s position. Butler told him today that the British government has informed the Turkish government of its desire to see Turkey participate in the struggle against Germany alongside Yugoslavia and Greece, but it does not find it possible to go any further lest the Turks suspect that the British government wishes to interfere in Turkish–Soviet relations.

On the whole, then, there is no panic, only anxiety.

As far as one can gauge, the initial plan of the British government was as follows: the British and their allies would not make any serious attempt to defend the flat northern part of Yugoslavia, but would establish a strong front along the mountains in western and south-western parts of Yugoslavia and stand their ground against Bulgaria in Greece and southern Serbia. The main blow was to be directed against Albania, in order to force the Italians into the sea as quickly as possible. The role of Yugoslavia itself in this plan was not quite clear: owing to a shortage of time and other reasons, the Yugoslavian military leaders and the command of the Anglo-Greek forces had failed to coordinate a programme for joint action. The roles of the British and the Greeks had been better defined. The British were to provide the second line of defence. Elliot, whom I saw in the lobby today, explained to me that the British did not want to repeat the mistake they made in Belgium last year, when the English and French took responsibility for the first line of defence themselves (i.e. when they occupied advanced positions at the last moment without preliminary preparations and the coordination of defence plans). In Greece the front line would be defended by the Greeks.

But now, after the lightning capture of Saloniki and Üsküb by the Germans, that entire plan is no longer relevant. It needs to be quickly altered. How? Nobody knows; even the war department seems to be at a loss. There was talk in the lobbies today that if Yugoslavia was lost, the British might try to use the Peloponnese as their base and hold the front in northern Greece from there. How serious is this? I don’t know. Such a plan hardly strikes me as viable.

English dissatisfaction with Turkey is all too evident. Turkey was openly reprimanded from all sides today. Also evident are the attempts to take our pulse in connection with the new turn of events. Brendan Bracken talked with me on this subject in the lobby today. He said half in jest: ‘You’d better remove road signs in the Ukraine double quick.’

Vansittart (I called on him yesterday) spoke in the same vein, predicting an early German attack on the USSR. But Vansittart is a little unstable these days: after his Black Record

Refers to Vansittart’s Black Record: Germans past and present, published in 1941, in which he suggested that German history had always been marked by militarism and aggression, of which Nazism was only the latest phase. He advocated the harsh treatment of Germany after the war.

he sees Germans everywhere, even under his bed.

I reply to all our unexpected and unbidden well-wishers that I fail to see any causes that render a clash between Germany and the USSR inevitable; but should such a clash nevertheless occur, the Soviet Union will take care of itself.

When I entered his office, Lloyd George had just come back from lunch with Churchill. He said the prime minister was concerned, perhaps even somewhat depressed. The situation in Libya has taken a more serious turn than was initially anticipated. The British relied excessively on the obstacle provided by the Sicilian Channel and exposed Cyrenaica. The Germans, contrary to all expectations, assembled a relatively large force in Tripoli (including, Churchill maintains, one mechanized brigade… Just a single brigade? Lloyd George has his doubts), and the results are there for all to see: Bengasi has fallen, and there are German tanks on the Egyptian border. The British government, of course, is responding, but does it have time? And can one count on the Sicilian Channel any longer?

The situation in the Balkans is even graver. The swift success of the Germans in the Balkans came as a great surprise to Churchill. The Greeks fought bravely, but what could they do against machines? Moreover, the Germans outflanked them by driving on through Yugoslavia. German and British troops will come into contact in the next few days: what will happen then? The prime minister is somewhat concerned. He does not yet know whether the imperial forces will manage to hold out against German pressure.

The general plan now boils down to the following: to defend the Olympus–Albania line. But will it come off? L-G is not sure. Should it become impossible to hold on in northern Greece, Churchill will try to entrench in the Peloponnese, but will this succeed? Again, L-G has his doubts. The situation in Yugoslavia is equally unclear. The British government is undoubtedly ignorant of what is happening there. Will the Yugoslavians be able to stop the Germans? Will the English be able to supply Yugoslavia, particularly if the Germans enter Albania and cut Yugoslavia off from Greece? L-G is very sceptical about the future of Yugoslavia.

Eden is returning to London today: L-G was informed about this by Churchill. Eden’s mission in the Middle East, according to L-G, ended in a complete fiasco. Especially in Turkey. What will he do next? In this connection, the old man asked me what was happening in the sphere of Soviet–British relations. Nothing doing, I replied, and told him the unfortunate story of the repatriation of our sailors. L-G raised his hands in despair and exclaimed: ‘Sheer madness! After all, the key to all these questions – Turkey, Yugoslavia, Greece – and indeed the key to the entire outcome of the war lies in Moscow!’

The old man fumed and cursed the British ruling circles for being ‘blinded by class’. He made no exception even for Churchill. It seems that the prime minister now reasons in the following way: a German attack on the Soviet Union in the very near future is inevitable – because of the Ukraine, because of Baku – and then the USSR will fall like a ‘ripe fruit’ into Churchill’s basket. So is there any point in making efforts to attract the USSR? Is there any point in trying to court it? It will all happen by itself.

L-G does not share this confidence in things taking their own course. He does not believe that Hitler will turn eastward against us. To do so he would have to employ nearly his entire army. What would happen in Western Europe then?…

The old man, nonetheless, thinks that we, too, are in a very difficult position. What if Hitler attacks Turkey? Will the USSR be able to observe German seizure of the Straits with equanimity?

I replied in my usual spirit: namely, we can take care of ourselves. The old man shook his head and answered: ‘Don’t play with fire! The German army is a terrible machine. Once the Balkan campaign is over, there will be no force left in Europe which could even conceive of opposing Germany on land, except for you. Will Hitler accept such a state of affairs? I doubt it. Hitler, after all, strives for global domination. Moreover, he will be left with an idle army of several million, intoxicated with success and demanding employment. Will Hitler be able to resist the temptation to divert it to the east?’

I took issue with this, pointing out that the Soviet Union has in reserve, as a last resort, a force such as no other state can boast: the social discontent of the lower classes in all capitalist countries. I illustrated my point with the examples of Rumania and Bulgaria. If social discontent is mobilized, organized and supported, it can become a factor of major strategic importance (not to mention its political significance).

Lloyd George listened to me very attentively and exclaimed: ‘Pray God that you are right! If your calculations are correct, I’ve just heard the best news in many a long day… So, there is a way of bringing Hitler to book!’

And the old man once again cursed the British government for its ‘Russian policy’.

When Donovan was in Madrid a month ago, he wanted to meet Franco. Suñer did not want them to meet, and made sure that Donovan left without seeing the caudillo. He had a rather frank conversation with Suñer instead.

Suñer told Donovan that he was absolutely confident of Germany’s eventual victory. In his opinion, Hitler will soon become ruler of the entire European continent west of the USSR. France and Italy will be part of his empire. England will be offered the role of junior partner in his scheme. If England refuses, she will be annihilated by either invasion or blockade. Hitler is not going to wage war against the United States – that would be sheer folly. But having seized Europe, Hitler will launch a violent economic war against the United States. Spain will not be able to keep out of the ‘new order’ taking shape in Europe and will shortly enter the war on the side of the Axis.

Suñer’s views undoubtedly reflect those now prevalent in Berlin.

Dulanty complained of the economic difficulties ensuing from the Irish government’s desire to remain neutral at all costs. The British government has stopped supplying Ireland with bread, sugar, tea and petrol. Neither does it want to give Ireland dollars for the purchase of essential food products in the USA. Tension is mounting in Ireland. For instance, if the two Irish ministers who are presently in the United States fail to buy and transport 30,000 tons of wheat in the next few weeks, Ireland will be left without bread in July and August (until the next harvest).

In the course of the conversation, I hinted ‘as a matter of personal opinion’ at how the problem of the five detained ships might be resolved: the legal case is postponed for the duration, and in the meantime the Irish government takes the ships from the Soviet government on time charter. The idea appealed very much to Dulanty and he promised to contact Dublin about it at once. Then he asked: ‘And you, perhaps, could sell us the 30,000 tons of wheat?’

I replied that this was not impossible and, if Dulanty wished, I could make further inquiries in Moscow. Dulanty jumped at the offer at first, but then cooled down quickly, as if he’d just remembered something: ‘No, better wait before making inquiries… You know our people… They’d say: What? Taking bread from infidels? They may even accuse me of entering into negotiations with a “godless state” without the necessary authority, while the purchase of wheat has been entrusted to ministers in America.’

I did not insist.

The sentiments that reign in Ireland are quite something!… Such is the darkness in which the world still wallows!

What next? Turkey will not, of course, take action now: the strategic situation is utterly unfavourable, especially after the Germans took Dédéagatch. The British are displeased, but can do nothing about it. The Turks have to mark time, to manoeuvre and, what is most important, to improve their relations with the Soviet Union. Aras spoke of the latter at length and with great insistence. Expressions such as ‘you and we’, ‘we and you’ peppered his speech. One’s general impression is that the Turks want to find someone to hide behind. It is also unclear how they will behave if the Germans, having completed the Balkan operations, directly raise the question of their joining the ‘Axis’.

What are the immediate prospects? Aras thinks that having ‘liquidated’ the Balkans (of which he seems to have no doubts) the Germans will have the choice of three possible directions: Turkey, the USSR or North Africa (including Gibraltar, French North Africa, etc.). Aras tries to convince himself that North Africa is the most advantageous direction for the Germans and that that’s where they will go, but it is evident that he is plagued by doubts, for he told me that in about three months’ time Turkey will be faced with a critical juncture.

Guo Taiqi argued at length and with ardour about the need for a united national front with Chinese communists; he promised to cooperate towards this end. He also spoke much about the fact that a genuine and lasting national surge in China is possible only on the basis of sweeping social reforms, particularly regarding the peasantry. He added, somewhat naively, that all Guomindang and Communist Party members are essentially agreed on this point. Disagreements emerge only about the forms and timing of these essential reforms. Just like Goethe’s Gretchen.

In the sphere of foreign policy, Guo Taiqi intends to pursue a line of very close friendship with the Soviet Union and very close ‘allied’ relations with the ‘democracies’, i.e. England and the United States. I wonder how well these can be combined. We shall see.

This is not the main point, however. What is most important is the extent to which Guo Taiqi’s good intentions will be welcome in the atmosphere of Chongqing. And will he be able to demonstrate sufficient will-power and independence to pursue his line should he encounter resistance (as is very likely to happen). Jiang Jieshi, after all, is a strong and authoritarian man. Once more: we shall see.

Guo Taiqi’s visit made me somewhat sad. He came to London three months before me, and we have been good colleagues throughout these eight years. We’ve seen each other often, had long talks, and got used to one another. Relations of trust have been established between us (as far as trust is possible, of course, between a Soviet and a bourgeois diplomat). Guo Taiqi never deceived or misled me. Naturally enough, he didn’t tell me everything and preferred to maintain silence on some topics; but when he did tell me something, I knew it to be true. I repaid him in the same coin. We also met several times in Geneva, which he frequently visited as a Chinese delegate. There, too, on the shores of La Léman, we retained a friendly tone in our relations. So many of my memories of diplomatic life here are associated with Guo Taiqi: receptions in the Palace, ministerial dinners, fashionable ‘garden parties’, political lunches, semi-official ‘weekends’…

Eight years of orderly routine and habit – and now Guo Taiqi is leaving London for good! His departure serves to remind me of the time that has passed since I first set foot on English soil as Ambassador. It also reminds me that nothing lasts for ever and that the time will soon come when I, too, will have to leave London for good. Well, I’m always ready. To tell the truth, coming to London in October 1932 I never thought I’d be stuck here for so long. I thought I might remain in London for five years or so, but as for staying longer – it didn’t even cross my mind!

Bidding farewell to Guo Taiqi, I made a comment in this spirit. We recalled our ‘contemporaries’ in the diplomatic corps who arrived in London at about the same time: Hoesch, Grandi, Corbin, Bingham. The twists and turns of fate! ‘Some are no more, others are far away’

Page 1509

Maisky is quoting from Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin. I am grateful to Dr Oliver Ready for pointing this out.

… And now Guo Taiqi is leaving. He grinned and said, with a friendly pat on the shoulder: ‘You remain to hold the fort!’

For the first 3–4 days the German Blitz was triumphant. With lightning force, the Germans drove on to Saloniki (bypassing Struma), Üsküb and Monastir, nearly reaching Albania. They unleashed new tanks specially adapted to the mountainous terrain (3–4 tons with one small gun and two machine-guns). They captured Belgrade, Zagreb, Ljubljana and a few towns in the flat northern country. Belgrade was viciously bombed from the air. They set up a ‘Croatian state’ with Pavelić

Ante Pavelić, the Croatian fascist dictator, placed as the head of the puppet state of Croatia by Hitler, 1941–45.

at its head.

What next? We shall see. During the past three days the Germans came into contact with the major Greek and British forces along the Olympus–Lake Ohrid line. The Yugoslavian army, distraught at the beginning, seems to be recovering from the initial shock and is putting up more effective resistance. The next 8–10 days will be crucial. If the Germans manage to maintain their Blitz, they will conquer the Balkans soon and Turkey will be next on the agenda. If, on the contrary, the British, Greeks and Yugoslavians manage to stem the German advance, or at least make it slow and costly, the attack on the Balkans will be the first German failure on land, with all the ensuing consequences.

Events in North Africa will be equally important. The Germans took the whole of Cyrenaica last week and even crossed the Egyptian border. True, only mechanized units operate on the German side so far, repeating Wavell’s manoeuvre in the opposite direction, and German victories have not yet been consolidated by infantry. Besides, the Germans, who do not control the sea, face serious problems with supplies. Petrol, for instance, they have to deliver by air. Nonetheless, the British are in a very embarrassing position. The next 8–10 days will be indicative here, too: will the British succeed in thwarting the German advance?

We shall see.

Imagine that: 44 years as the reporter of a small provincial paper! That’s the measure of British stability!

Another vivid memory comes to mind.

The year was 1925. I was counsellor in London and head of the embassy’s press department. In order to establish closer contacts with the Manchester Guardian, I went to Manchester to get acquainted with C.P. Scott,

Charles Prestwich Scott, editor of the Manchester Guardian, 1872–1929, and its proprietor from 1905 until his death in 1932.

the paper’s well-known editor. He received me cordially, introduced me to the editorial staff, showed me how they worked and told me many interesting things about the history of the paper and the city of Manchester. When we concluded the business part of our conversation, concerning Anglo-Soviet relations and other matters, I asked Scott: ‘I heard or read somewhere that Marx and Engels once worked for the Manchester Guardian. Is it true?’

Scott assumed a serious and thoughtful look. He tossed back his handsome head with its high forehead and thick grey hair (Scott was 75) and seemed to lapse into reminiscence. Then, as if thinking aloud, he said: ‘I joined the paper in 1871 and became its editor in 1873…’

He paused for a minute, and it seemed he was trying to pierce the dark veil of the past with his inner eye. Finally, he concluded: ‘No, I have no memory of that!’

And in order to remain on the safe side, like a true Englishman, he added in an accommodating tone: ‘Maybe it happened before my time’.

I was amazed: Scott had been working for the Manchester Guardian for 54 years, for 52 of which he was its editor! Such British stability!

But my amazement did not end there. Next day I visited the Ardwick Cemetery where, as I knew, the renowned Chartist leader Ernest Jones was buried. The cemetery warden, who resembled a moss-grown old tree, showed me Jones’ grave. I stopped and started examining the gravestone, erected by the Trades Union Congress, and read the inscriptions. I was in no hurry. I walked round the grave a few times and saw, to my surprise, that the warden was still there, although I had already given him the customary tip. He, too, was attentively inspecting the gravestone. Suddenly words flew from the warden’s lips: ‘What a funeral that was! How grand it was! The whole city followed the coffin…’

I looked at the warden in bewilderment. He seemed to be lost in distant memories, and I asked him gently: ‘How come you know about Jones’ funeral?’

‘How?’ the warden exclaimed, somewhat offended. ‘Well, I was already working in the cemetery then as a young boy.’

I was dumb-struck. According to the inscription, Ernest Jones died in 1869. Now it was 1925. So the warden had been ‘on duty’ for 56 years! That’s British stability!…

But should we really be surprised that the English mentality differs so drastically from our Russian one, and indeed the continental one?

Today I attended a service in the Greek Church on the occasion of the enthronement of the new king of Yugoslavia, Peter II. I was in this church not long ago for Metaxas’s funeral service. The diplomatic corps was in attendance, the duke of Gloucester was representing King George, and Cranborne – the British government. The ever-present Monck was there, too. A fair crowd. This time the service was conducted by both Greek and Yugoslavian priests. One of the latter read the prayers and the Scripture in Slavonic and I understood every word. I couldn’t help recalling Omsk and the church in our gymnasium.

The press made a big fuss of my presence in the church. It’s understandable: they want to demonstrate that the USSR is on the side of Yugoslavia, that is, on the side of England, that is, against Germany. They even suggested I was following special instructions from Moscow. Nonsense, of course. I had no instructions whatsoever. I was merely observing the rules for participation in diplomatic ceremonies, wherever they take place.

There was one curious incident. I noticed a young woman fainting during the service and being carried out of the church. I couldn’t make out her face as she was standing quite far away from me. In the evening, Andrei brought the following joke from Fleet Street: ‘Princess Vsevolod of Russia fainted at the sight of Maisky!’

Ha-ha-ha!

I exchanged a few words with Aras in church. He was very pleased with Zaslavsky’s ‘refutation’ in Pravda yesterday (about the fact that ‘it did not occur’ to the Soviet government to send a congratulatory telegram to Peter II). Aras says that the German government is ratcheting up the pressure on Yugoslavia and Greece, and that Eden and Dill have flown to Athens again to counteract this. He also says that Belgrade has established close contact with Moscow and Ankara. Its outcome will determine Yugoslavia’s policy.

In two days’ time Guo Taiqi will be flying to America via Lisbon. And here am I, trying to reconstruct his image, to sketch a brief outline of him from our meetings over long years, from conversations, observations and impressions.

There is nothing remarkable about Guo Taiqi’s appearance: a short, miniature, almost skinny Chinaman with a round, typically Oriental face, a rather flat nose, and a pair of big horn-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. When he takes off his glasses (which happens from time to time), his eye sockets look terribly small and his face absolutely flat. One cannot guess his age by his appearance: he may be 35 and he may be 60. In fact, he is about 50. Guo Taiqi’s movements are even, unhurried and smooth. They reflect his temperament and his nationality. As with many other Chinese people, I was always most impressed by a kind of subconscious sense of the venerability of his race, a kind of majestic serenity nurtured by the thousand-year history of his nation. How many times during our conversations did I fly into a rage, become irritated or indignant at one or other action by the British government, one or other machination on the part of Japan? But Guo Taiqi always preserved an imperturbable calmness and merely observed: ‘It will pass…’, ‘It will change…’, ‘One must not lose one’s patience…’

All the time I had the feeling that, gazing at me from the height of the 5,000-year history of his people and smiling to himself like a wise old man before an excited youngster, Guo Taiqi wanted to say: ‘Yes, many things have happened in my life… Many things… Good and bad… I used to get excited, too, like this youngster, but not anymore. Life has its own equilibrium. One must learn to wait – and it will come… It will come!’

Indeed, aren’t all European nations (even the German, French and English, to say nothing of young Russia) greenhorns compared with the Chinese? The English measure their precedents by the century, while the Chinese measure them by the millennium. A Chinaman, speaking about the most recent events, will let slip: ‘There was an incident at the time of the Tang dynasty…’

Or: ‘Poet so-and-so said two thousand years ago…’

And so on and so forth.

Guo Taiqi comes from a family of ‘Chinese scientists’, from the Yangtze valley. He became an orphan at a young age, and ended up in the United States where he studied political science at the University of Pennsylvania. That is why he speaks perfect English with a slight American accent. He then returned to China, where he took an active part in the national revolutionary movement in the ranks of the Guomindang. Fought in the war of 1926/27. He remained with Jiang Jieshi and occupied various posts in the Chinese government. In 1932, he conducted the armistice negotiations with the Japanese in Shanghai. At the end of that year he arrived in London, where he served as a Chinese envoy before becoming ambassador. As a diplomatic representative of China, Guo Taiqi was very active and successful. He had many connections and acquaintances, was well informed, and displayed much common sense in his judgements of people and events. He won himself a good reputation in the Foreign Office and political circles. He maintained friendly relations not only with the right but also with elements on the left. He displayed interest (whether genuine or not I can’t say) in the theatre and arts.

Needless to say, Guo Taiqi had his weaknesses, too. He was a sybarite and grew ever more accustomed to the effete bourgeois lifestyle. He had some shady sources of income: I nurture grave suspicions that he exploited his diplomatic status to make some money on the side through contraband. Strange things also went on in his family life. He sought to keep his wife (a fat, uncultured and rather common Chinese woman) at a distance, whether in China or America. Here in London, he always had young and pretty compatriots following him around. But, after all, Guo Taiqi is a bourgeois diplomat, and a Chinese one at that – it would be absurd to apply the standards of communist morals to him.

In the sphere of politics, Guo Taiqi has increasingly fallen under British influence. Now, in the context of the ongoing war, he has become a confirmed supporter of the Anglo-American line. Throughout the eight years of our stay in London, however, he has also tried to strengthen relations with the USSR. He maintained close and cordial relations with me and strove to facilitate improvements in Anglo-Soviet relations to the best of his ability. And when, paying me his farewell visit, he described his line as one of close friendship with the USSR and close friendship with England and the United States, he was undoubtedly being sincere. But is such a line possible? Is it feasible in the current situation?

I don’t know. Events will show.

Will Guo Taiqi continue to adhere to this line?

I don’t know that either. People often change. Especially in our days.

I replied that I had no such messages, but thought that Simović’s telegram was the natural outcome of the friendly relations established between our countries.

Subbotić is in a foul mood. There are many reasons for this, but here are the main ones: (1) The situation at the front is bad. The Germans have 2,000 tanks. Yugoslavia is not prepared for such an attack. (2) The situation with the British is unsatisfactory. So far Subbotić has failed to meet Churchill. He has not seen Eden either. He could not even see Butler: ‘They’ve gone away for Easter.’ Perhaps, but is this a time for holidays? And what use is that to Yugoslavia? It looks as if the British government does not treat its new ally seriously enough and does not care about its fate. The British government has its hands full in North Africa and Greece. It has no time for Yugoslavia. (3) He has almost no contact with the Yugoslavian government. Where are they? What are they doing? Complete mystery. He gets no instructions from his government. All negotiations concerning aid are conducted, as far as he knows, through the British military attaché in Yugoslavia. But what is the result? That’s also unknown. The telegram concerning contact with me is the only one Subbotić has received from home for several days. All his information about the situation in Yugoslavia comes from the English.

I tried to encourage Subbotić, referring, in particular, to our experience of civil war. He listened and often agreed with what I said, but did not believe it.

He saw Butler on the evening of the 15th and Eden on the 16th. He did not meet the prime minister. Subbotić’s general impression from the talks is bad. The British government, apparently, either will not or cannot provide effective aid to Yugoslavia. On his own initiative (he still does not have any instructions from his government), Subbotić appealed to Eden with a request for British naval aid to Yugoslavia in the Adriatic. Eden responded warmly and promised all kinds of support, but the Admiralty found thousands of reasons why the aid could not be provided.

The British government, it seems, does not set great hopes on Yugoslavia’s continued resistance. Eden spoke with Subbotić about the evacuation of King Peter and the Yugoslavian government. But Subbotić himself has no contact with the latter. All his efforts in this direction have been in vain. Also a bad sign.

Subbotić spoke at length about how the Soviet Union could drastically enhance its prestige among the Yugoslavian people by opening her borders in this difficult moment to Yugoslavian émigrés. For purely objective reasons, only a few Yugoslavians would be able to avail themselves of our hospitality, but the very fact of the borders being opened would have a great impact on morale. Why not do it?

Aras assures me that Hitler and Franco have already made a deal: the Spanish government has agreed to join the ‘Axis’ with all the ensuing consequences. Everything will follow the ‘Bulgarian model’. Germany will enter Spain and attack Gibraltar. In anticipation of these events, the Portuguese government is already preparing to evacuate to the Azores. Hitler will advance from Spain to North Africa, subjugate Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and later…

Aras spread out his arms in uncertainty, as if to say: ‘Later anything is possible.’

Aras says the Germans are now bargaining with Pétain about letting the German troops pass through France as well (the border between occupied France and Spain is too narrow for big formations), and he is sure they will get their way.

The position of Turkey? It’s perfectly clear: to stay out of the war at all costs. To hold onto the USSR. ‘We’ll do as you do’, said Aras, repeating this formula several times during our conversation. In Aras’s opinion, it is unlikely that Germany will now strike at Turkey or make tough demands of her (such as the transit of troops). What’s more likely is that the Germans will try to enfeeble her from within. They may demand that Turkey join the ‘New Europe’. What will Turkey do then? Aras does not know. Personally speaking, he would say to the Germans: We’ll do as the USSR does. Aras won’t venture to say how Ankara might act. I was left with the impression that Turkey’s capitulation cannot be ruled out. We shall see.

Aras told me the following about the situation in Greece. The fight is basically over. The English have decided to evacuate Greece. Their objective is to save their forces and weapons, as well as to rescue the maximum quantity of Greek troops (a third to a half of the Greek army, according to their calculations). The Greek government and the king are moving to Crete. The English will also defend the Greek islands. But the focal point of the war now becomes Egypt. And Aras is far from certain that the English will manage to defend it.

His mood is so-so. He says Greece will be evacuated, and the British government will try to save as many British and Greek troops and weapons as possible. The defence of the Greek islands will be maintained, in particular of Crete, to where the Greek king has already moved. Egypt is now the centre of attention. Greenwood thinks the British government has a good chance of holding on to it. Two points are unclear: (1) Will Turkey resist or not? and (2) Will Spain join the ‘Axis’ or not? Personally, Greenwood is doubtful that Turkey will resist and sure that Spain will side with the ‘Axis’. If the latter occurs, Hitler will occupy North Africa in one form or another, and Greenwood attaches no significance to the rhetoric of Weygand, Pétain and others. England will then find herself in a very tight corner. Nonetheless, Greenwood is in a bellicose frame of mind and asserts that there will be a radical turn in the war in the autumn of 1942 in England’s favour.

I asked how and why such a turn should occur? I fail to envisage a situation in which England could defeat Germany on land.

‘No,’ Greenwood agreed, ‘of course we can’t defeat Germany on land, but the blockade and especially the air force will do it.’

That old story! I’ve heard it so many times.

We spoke little of Anglo-Soviet affairs. Neither I nor Greenwood wanted to discuss the matter. But he did mention at one point that he ‘fully understands the policy’ of the Soviet government: ‘Only a madman could choose to enter the war!’ he exclaimed.

Then, touching on the Soviet–Japanese pact, he surprised me by stating that he sees nothing dangerous in it for either England or China.

* * *

Events are developing fast. Yesterday Duff Cooper informed the editors of the major newspapers, for the purposes of their ‘orientation’, that George of Greece has notified Wavell about the impossibility of further resistance and about his relocation to Crete.

The Portuguese government has sent a considerable military force to the Azores. It is evidently preparing to evacuate there.

King Peter and the greater part of the Yugoslavian government are already in Cairo. The rest are in Jerusalem. The gold has been evacuated to a safe place (part of it was taken out earlier to the United States and Egypt). Some air force units are being evacuated from Yugoslavia. Attempts are being made to evacuate warships, too, but it’s an uncertain business. Yugoslavian commercial ships, totalling 400,000 tons, have been placed at the disposal of the British government. The resistance has not entirely ended in Yugoslavia. Fighting continues in some places, but it can no longer affect the general course of events. Yugoslavia does not exist any longer, and one has to come to terms with this grave but incontrovertible fact.

Subbotić is now in a position to maintain normal contact with the Yugoslavian government. He also communicates with Gavrilović

Milovan Gavrilović, Yugoslav ambassador to the USSR, 1940–45. A former leader of the leftist Serbian Agrarian Party, he advocated the creation of a Balkan Union governed by Slavophile ideas.

(the Yugoslavian minister in Moscow). Yesterday, Subbotić went to see Eden, who acquainted him with the statement he was about to make in parliament and even made some amendments to the text at Subbotić’s request. Eden was most generous and made ample promises for the future, but such promises now leave Subbotić cold. He again insisted on the opening of our border to Yugoslavian refugees and requested that a Soviet envoy remain with the Yugoslavian government in exile. In his view, the latter would be of great political and psychological significance.

Subbotić is very low. One senses as well his vexation with England and his almost panicky respect for Germany.

Today there can be no room for doubts: yes, the German Blitzkrieg was a success. Perhaps even more so than previous ones.

How quickly events unfold in our days! Merely 20 days have passed, and Yugoslavia no longer exists, and within another 2–3 days Greece will be no more. Some 10–12 days are sufficient for ‘liquidating’ a whole nation, a whole state. That is the meaning of ‘mechanized war’, as Voznesensky,

Nikolai Alekseevich Voznesensky, chairman of the USSR State Planning Commission 1938–41 and 1942–49; deputy chairman of the Soviet Council of Ministers from 1939; arrested 1949, shot 1950 and rehabilitated 1954.

chairman of the State Planning Committee, put it at the last party conference.

The capture of Yugoslavia and Greece, i.e. of the whole Balkans (together with the earlier gleichgeschalteten

Maisky probably means Gleichschaltung – ‘forcible-coordination’, a Nazi term used for establishing their authoritarian rule in occupied territories.

of Rumania and Bulgaria) by the Germans poses a whole host of serious problems. The most important of them is: what will be Hitler’s next move?

It seems to me that there are two likely alternatives. The first: pressure will begin to be exerted on Turkey, so as to seize her diplomatically or by force, and advance through her to Asia Minor and Egypt. The second: Germany will leave Turkey in peace for the time being, draw Spain (even better, Spain and France) into a triple pact, march to Gibraltar, cross the Strait, seize Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia, capture Egypt via North Africa, and press on to Iraq and Iran. The second alternative looks more probable, since there is no danger of serious conflict along this route before the Egyptian frontier. Seen from the German point of view, the first alternative is fraught with a number of dangerous unknowns, relating, first and foremost, to the conduct of the USSR. Well, we shall see. A combination of the two alternatives cannot be excluded: no wonder the Germans have gone to such lengths to occupy the Greek islands in the Aegean. The encirclement of Turkey is beginning, together with her isolation from England and the United States.

Whatever happens, a very dangerous situation is taking shape for England. Her strength lies at sea. On land she cannot dream of matching Germany’s might. If England lets the Germans into the African continent or Asia Minor, the Empire will be in shreds. But now it seems that England won’t be able to do much about it. If Spain joins the ‘Axis’ (which, to my mind, is inevitable), then Gibraltar, the sole British naval base in the western Mediterranean, will be ‘liquidated’ in one way or another (captured or besieged, i.e. no longer capable of serving as a naval base). Then the Germans will be in a position not only to cross the Strait freely, but also to sail almost unhindered in the western part of the Mediterranean and transport troops and supplies from Italy and France directly to Algeria and Tunisia. It will be difficult to effectively control the Mediterranean west of Sicily from Alexandria or even from Crete. How will the British be able to prevent the transfer of large German forces to Africa? How will they be able to organize serious opposition to these forces in Egypt and other parts of the ‘black continent’?

I had a long walk with Negrín in the vicinity of Bovingdon. We discussed the current situation. Negrín is in a gloomy frame of mind.

He does not doubt that the Germans will establish a secure route to Africa through Spain for themselves, that they will be able to mass a large force there, capture Egypt and the Suez Channel, march on to the Persian Gulf and even India, and conquer the whole African continent in a relatively short time. Simultaneously, the Japanese will attack Malaya and Dutch India. What will the British do then? Blockade – which even now is not the sharpest of weapons – will then become quite senseless. In fact, the English will be powerless against the Germans on land. The two sides will, at best, become equally effective in the air, or equally ineffective. Acute internal discord and conflict will follow in England (and in the United States). Morale will begin to slide. The Germans will take the opportunity to ‘liquidate’ England – by force or by the other means which they know only too well. Then Hitler, intoxicated with success, will aim at world domination. Clashes with the USSR and the USA will become inevitable, and Hitler may emerge victorious once again. Japan will turn into a German vassal. The same will happen to any other major state which still happens to be uninvolved in the war at that time. Eventually the swastika will fly over the entire world, with all the ensuing consequences. There will be one Herrenvolk of 100 million people; the rest of mankind will become slaves. To stave off any slave revolt, the Germans will mix races and peoples, break families, move Spaniards to China and Chinese to Spain, Frenchmen to India and Indians to France, etc. Amid this ethnographic, political and cultural chaos the Germans will strive to immortalize their mastery of the world.

Such are Negrín’s thoughts.

‘The dream is terrible, but God is merciful.’ Many objections could be raised against Negrín’s analysis, but it also contains much that deserves consideration.

One thing is clear: the war is entering a new and exceptionally important phase. The next six months may prove to be a turning point not only in the history of the war, but in the history of mankind as well. We shall see.

Guo laughed and said: ‘As if that’s what they want! They live just fine in London.’

Guo furnished me with interesting details about the life and behaviour of members of the ‘Polish government’ in London. They spend heaps of money. They are puttin’ on the Ritz. All of them have cars, secretaries, aides-de-camps, servants or batmen. They drink and eat in the most extravagant London restaurants. They try to make the acquaintance of only the most aristocratic families (without always succeeding). The ‘official representatives of Poland’, that’s to say, squander their money and live fast. And of the 17,000-strong Polish corps defending a section of the Scottish shore against invasion, there are 6,500 officers!

How all this resembles the old Polish szlachta!

An association of the Polish and Lithuanian land nobility which had enjoyed institutional and economic privileges since the fifteenth century.

I recall that when Poland sent an embassy to England in the 1670s, it numbered no fewer than 1,600 people! This at a time when Sweden, Germany and other countries would send no more than 70 to 100. The Polish ‘Pans’, don’t you know! They won’t be outdone by anyone!

Daudet

Alphonse Daudet (1840–97), French novelist.

once wrote about ‘Kings in Exile’. Will there be a new Daudet for our times, who will write a novel about governments-in-exile once this war is over? There are more and more of them and they offer good material for a novelist. The ‘Polish government’ in particular.

And then, as though remembering something, Aras added: ‘We shall now fight only in the event of a direct attack.’

Will they? I’m not so sure. For Aras followed the above statement by saying that there was no reason whatsoever for Germany to unleash its forces against Turkey, that Syria (even if it were to fall into German hands) was of no special interest to Turkey, etc.

Then Aras returned once again to the question of relations between Ankara and Moscow, stressing the need for very close ties and hinting that Turkey could only mount effective resistance to Germany if she received the active assistance of the USSR.

On the whole, Aras’s mood is defeatist. If he is representing Ankara’s attitudes correctly, it won’t be difficult for the Germans to lay their hands on Turkey without a war.

Evidently, this is how things stand. It has been reported from Istanbul that a critical attitude towards England and an inclination to reach an agreement with Germany are growing in Turkish ruling circles. Papen

Franz von Papen, German ambassador to Turkey, 1939–44.

will find fertile soil in Ankara when he returns from Berlin. Meanwhile, German representatives in Tehran declare openly that they will now attend to Syria (they promise her ‘independence’) and will enter Iraq and Iran from there.

It seems that the Middle East will be the theatre of highly significant events in the next couple of months.

On the first question, we dived deep into the past. Bracken lambasted Baldwin and Chamberlain for their policy toward the USSR, in particular for their conduct during the negotiations about the pact in 1939. I told Bracken that throughout the talks I had the sense that Chamberlain and Halifax did not want the pact.

‘Of course they didn’t!’ Bracken exclaimed.

As proof he adduced a fact which was new to me. It appears that at the end of May, or early June 1939, Eden offered his services to Halifax for the negotiations in Moscow. Halifax, however, declined the offer and sent Strang instead.

I asked Bracken: what may we expect in Anglo-Soviet relations in the near future?

Bracken replied that Eden is undoubtedly striving to improve relations, but Bracken is not sure that he will be successful. Why? For two reasons. (1) Eden is often too cautious: he does not want to take risks and assume responsibility. (2) It is not clear whether the USSR wants an improvement in relations.

I objected to the second point: the USSR was ready to maintain good relations on the basis of reciprocity with all states, be they belligerent or otherwise. Bracken listened to me with great interest and said: ‘In Conservative circles one often hears the following argument. If Germany attacks the Soviet Union (as many now believe will happen), the USSR will come to us of its own accord. If Germany does not attack the USSR, it will do nothing for us anyway. So is it worth courting the USSR?’

I burst out laughing and noted that the British government had not even tried to court us, so how can it know what effect its courting might have on the conduct of the Soviet government? Then I strongly condemned the tendency, prevalent in the press and among British politicians, to frighten us with Germany. I mentioned Churchill’s recent speeches (9 and 27 April) in this connection, in which he, too, paid his due to this popular craze. I can only regret such speeches. What is their purpose? Why has Churchill suddenly begun taking Soviet interests to heart? We can take care of our interests ourselves, can’t we? The Soviet Union needs no outside mentors. The prime minister’s remarks sound very infelicitous and even tactless in the current situation. They produce an effect in Moscow quite opposed to the one he intends.

My words seemed to impress Bracken. He even remarked: ‘Yes, sometimes it’s better not to mention certain things aloud.’

I inquired whether the British government had any exact information about Hitler’s intention to attack the USSR, or whether this was all just theoretical speculation based on wishful thinking.

Bracken had to admit that the British government has, in essence, no specific information concerning Germany’s preparations for an attack. There are only suppositions based on various signs and on conversations between Hitler and trustworthy individuals. As an example of the latter group, Bracken named Cudahy,

John Clarence Cudahy, American ambassador to Poland, 1933–37; Ireland 1937–40; Belgium, 1940; and Luxembourg, 1940.

former US ambassador in Belgium, who as a high-ranking journalist recently visited Berlin and had a long talk with the Führer. Cudahy is a great admirer of Hitler, so his testimony, in Bracken’s opinion, deserves special attention. Hitler spoke sharply about the USSR in this conversation, saying that his present policy toward Moscow was just a ‘wartime manoeuvre’ and that his words in Mein Kampf would be realized to the letter. He just needs time. In general, everything written in Mein Kampf holds true and will be put into practice sooner or later. One only needs a bit of patience. Then Hitler allegedly added: ‘The Soviet–Finnish war taught us a lot. I have no doubt that my armies will cut through Russia like a knife through butter.’

I laughed at Hitler’s bragging and repeated my questions to Bracken. Does he know anything more concrete and definite about German preparations for an attack on the Soviet Union? When is the attack to be expected? In what form?

Bracken shrugged his shoulders and said that the British government has no precise information. The attack may be expected this summer or autumn, or maybe next spring.

It was clear that the campaign waged by the British government and the press about the forthcoming German attack on the USSR has no solid foundation whatsoever and follows the model, Der Wunsch ist der Vater des Gedankens.

The proverb ‘The wish is father to the thought’ derives from Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part 2, but it has become much more common in the German language – to the extent that Maisky, who uses it often throughout the diary, assumes it to be German.

Regarding the prospects of the war, Bracken was more realistic. He remembers that Churchill told him on Christmas Eve: ‘1941 will be the most difficult year in the war for us, but we shall win nonetheless!’ The first half of Churchill’s prophecy is coming true. The time will come for the second half, too.

The evacuation from Greece, according to Bracken, will be successfully completed (although the English will have to abandon almost all heavy equipment). The British government has sufficient forces in Libya to defend Egypt and will gradually build them up. I interrupted Bracken and asked: ‘Your calculations proceed from the current state of affairs in North Africa, where Germany and Italy have at most six or seven divisions between them. Suppose the Germans reach North Africa through Spain, conquer Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia, immobilize Gibraltar as a naval base in one way or another, thereby attaining almost complete freedom of navigation in the western part of the Mediterranean and, finally, assemble not seven, but 27 or 37 divisions against Egypt – what then? Will England be able to defend Egypt in such conditions?’

Bracken shrugged his shoulders and replied: ‘I don’t know. It depends on the circumstances.’

Bracken now outlines the ‘general strategy’ of the war in the following way: the British government will do its utmost to remain on the defensive till the autumn of 1942. Thereafter it will start going over to the offensive. But not on land: Bracken does not think that England can match Germany on land. It will be an air offensive. To corroborate his predictions, Bracken adduced the following calculation.

At the present time, according to information available to the British government, the Germans have 35,000 combat aircraft of all types (of which 5,000 are first-line aircraft – i.e. the Germans have a disproportionate quantity of outdated planes). They produce about 1,500 combat planes every month. In this way, by 1 October 1942 Germany should have 35,000 plus 25,000, minus 8,000 (in losses) – 52,000 aircraft in total.

The English now have 23,000 combat aircraft and produce about 2,000 monthly at home. So by 1 October 1942 they should have 23,000 plus 34,000, minus 8,000 in losses (although Bracken thinks that English losses will be fewer than German ones) – all in all, 49,000. No fewer than 15,000 US and Canadian aircraft should be added to this figure. This means that the English will have 64,000 planes at their disposal as against 52,000 German aircraft. Deliveries from America will increase at a furious pace and reach 5–6,000 aircraft monthly in early 1943. That is why Bracken thinks the war may end in 1943.

There is one weak link in these calculations. Bracken proceeds from the assumption that the German output of combat aircraft will remain at today’s level. What if it is raised? For it almost certainly will be raised. Furthermore, what we have observed until now leads one to conclude that an air war cannot bring decisive results on its own. True, only hundreds of planes have been engaged in air raids so far – what will happen with thousands? Nobody can tell for sure. Here we run up against a big X. But let us assume that an air war, in which not hundreds but thousands of bombers are engaged, does bring decisive results. What will it mean? It will mean the barbarous obliteration of German cities and the barbarous obliteration of English cities, a conflict in which England hopes in the end to experience 15% less destruction than Germany. This will be called a ‘victory’. A horrific prospect! Will the people really accept this?…

Whose morale will crack first? That is the essential question.

This is a signal. The threat of war is approaching our frontiers. The time is approaching for major and significant decisions. It is necessary for Stalin himself to be at the helm.

No, of course not. There’s a big difference.

Then the present war had just begun; now it is in full swing. Then there was confusion, indecision and discord at the highest level; now one senses firmness, unity and clarity about the common goal. There are appeasers in the ruling circles, of course, just like under Chamberlain, but they are not for the time being playing any sort of serious role. The clearly defined motto of the majority led by Churchill is ‘Fight!’

Such sentiments found full expression in the two-day debate that concluded today. It’s not merely the fact that a vote of confidence in the government was passed by a majority of 447 against 3 that’s significant (party discipline certainly played its role here), but the general character of events in the House over these past few days. Typically, all the critics who spoke (Winterton, Shinwell and others) came down on the government not for waging a war, but for waging it with insufficient vigour. The general inference to be drawn from the debate is that the British ruling classes do not want peace, preferring to fight against Germany.

Why?

Because peace today would mean peace on the basis of Germany’s present gains. In other words, Germany would come out of the war on the European continent west of the USSR in possession of all the material, technical and other resources of the countries it had occupied or subjugated. This, in turn, would enable Germany, over a period of five years or so, to build a fleet not inferior to that of the English, which would signify the end of the British Empire.

It cannot be ruled out, however, that in spite of the above considerations the ruling classes of England might prefer peace to war at a certain moment, but when? In two cases: (1) if England were to suffer crushing defeats and its position became hopeless or (2) if the soil of society were to catch fire under the feet of the English bourgeoisie at home or in the Empire. Neither case is to be observed at present. That is why the ruling classes of Great Britain can still afford the luxury of continuing the war in order to uphold their position in the world. That is why the political barometer points to ‘Fight!’ after the two-day debate. The British working class, or the vast majority of it at least, tags after the bourgeoisie – under the influence of traditions, the Church, the press and the radio, the Labour machine, and a dim awareness of its interest in colonial excess profit.

That is the general background, against which the personality of Churchill plays an extremely crucial role. The prime minister was undoubtedly born too late. By nature he is an adventurist on a historical scale, strong-willed and resolute, a romantic of British imperialism and war. Had he lived in previous centuries, he would have been a match for Cortes or Admiral Drake, a conqueror of new lands or a celebrated pirate canonized as [name missing]. It is not without reason that Churchill reveres his ancestor, the duke of Marlborough, who lived at the turn of the seventeenth century and was a brilliant military leader, a political chameleon, and protagonist of the most shameless love affairs. Indeed, the prime minister has dedicated four fat volumes to the career of the duke of Marlborough.

Churchill has told me more than once over the years, and I have no grounds not to believe him, that the British Empire is his alpha and omega. In 1918–20, Churchill organized a crusade against ‘Bolshevism’, which he considered a major menace to the British Empire at that time. (In 1935–39, Churchill considered ‘Hitlerism’ the major menace to the British Empire, hence his sharp about-face and his declaration of readiness to join ‘Bolshevism’ in confronting the new danger. Now Churchill is also waging war for the Empire – he declared passionately yesterday that he would defend the British positions in the Middle East to the last.)

Churchill is just as keen on wars. Megan Lloyd George told me once that ever since childhood she had heard stories about how Churchill, when visiting her father, would always talk about battles, military campaigns and conquests with great enthusiasm and excitement. He always imagined himself in the role of a great military leader who flung armies from one end of Europe to another, conquered kingdoms and won brilliant victories. Today – I know this from the most reliable sources – Churchill is totally engrossed in the war. Fortune has smiled on him at last. He has ‘his own’ war, a gigantic war in which he, like a fanatical chess player, swears to checkmate Hitler. In this war, Churchill is commander-in-chief, chief of the general staff, and leader of the troops. He won’t surrender ‘his’ war to anyone. And now, when the British bourgeoisie wants to continue the war, Churchill has become its godsend. But he may become an obstacle if and when it desires peace.

All this, however, is just the ‘music of the future’. Today Churchill has a massive role to play in England. He is surely ‘master’ of the country for he is a cut above all other political leaders, except Lloyd George (who is 78!). Moreover, Churchill is a talented writer and orator – extremely important qualities for a major ‘historical adventurist’ of our days.

Recently Churchill has been cultivating the image of both undisputed ‘leader’ of the nation and good ‘democrat’. He befriends Bevin, who is probably no less militant than he. He extends his ‘patronage’ to the workers. Together with Bevin, he took a stand against punitive measures in connection with the strike of industrial apprentices. Together with Bevin, he was against open conscription of labour, preferring to do it in a covert form. It is difficult to say how far Churchill’s friendship with Bevin will go and what forms it will ultimately assume. It is also hard to say whether Churchill will sustain his present popularity for long. These are all variables. But for the moment, Churchill is unquestionably the premier man in the country.

This has much relevance to Anglo-Soviet relations as well. My general impression is that Eden sincerely wants an improvement in this regard, but cannot do much about it. Talking with me last year, on 27 December, and this year, on 16 April, Eden promised on both occasions to try to resolve the Baltic question, but to no avail. Why?

Eden has two difficulties. The first is Churchill. The prime minister reasons in the following way. If he could count on the immediate entry of the Soviet Union into the war, efforts might be taken to improve relations. Since he cannot count on this, Churchill ceases to care about the Soviet Union and says that the problem of Anglo-Soviet relations does not interest him for now.

Maisky was spot on. Churchill instructed Eden that the Russians ‘knew perfectly well their dangers and also that we need their aid. You will get much more out of them by letting these forces work than by frantic efforts to assure them of your love’; TNA FO 371 29465 N1725/3/38, 28 April 1941.

Also, Churchill suffers from an obsession that a war between Germany and the USSR is inevitable. This being the case, he just has to wait: the USSR will approach England of its own accord as soon as German guns start firing on its borders. No cause for concern. Such reasoning is very strange and nonsensical. But when a social class finds itself on thin ice, even its most intelligent representatives begin to be afflicted by political blindness.

The USA is Eden’s second difficulty. Eden tested the ground in Washington after our talk on 16 April, but did not meet with any sympathy for his plan for resolving the Baltic question. The USA, after all, means everything to England today. Eden has not lost hope for a change for the better and is biding his time. We shall see.

For the time being, I can find little cause for optimism with regard to improvements in Anglo-Soviet relations.

In connection with his departure, Prytz expressed his wish to see Churchill. The prime minister invited him and his wife to lunch (there were half a dozen guests). The situation was ill suited to serious conversation; nonetheless, Prytz was able to glean some interesting things.

Prytz asked Churchill how he envisaged the further development of the war. It would be helpful for the Swedish government to know this. In reply, Churchill told Prytz the following ‘fable’.

There lived two frogs – an optimist and a pessimist. One evening they were jumping over some grass and detected the wonderful smell of fresh milk emanating from a nearby dairy. The frogs were tempted and jumped into the dairy through an open window. They miscalculated and flopped directly into a large jar of milk. What to do?… The pessimist looked around and, seeing that the walls of the jar were high and sheer and that it was not possible to climb up, fell into despair. He turned on his back, folded his legs and sank to the bottom. The optimist did not want to perish so disgracefully. He also saw the high and sheer walls, but decided to flounder while he could. All night long he swam, beat the milk energetically with his legs, and displayed varied forms of activity. And?… By the time morning came, the optimistic frog had, quite unawares, churned a big knob of butter out of the milk and thereby saved his life. The same will happen to the British Empire.

Churchill’s ‘fable’ was very good from the literary point of view, but could not, of course, fully satisfy Prytz. However, all his attempts to learn something more definite about the ‘general strategy’ of the British government in this war were in vain. Prytz even formed the impression that the prime minister did not have a clear idea of the contours of this general strategy and relied more on inspiration and improvisation. I find this quite probable.

In Maisky’s memoirs, with obvious hindsight, he uses the tale to depict a heroic Churchill who stood firm against all odds. But the impression he and Prytz had at the time was entirely different. Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 144–5.

In his talk with Prytz, Churchill mentioned, among other things, the impending clash between the USSR and Germany (this is Churchill’s recent ‘tick’). Prytz expressed his anxiety in this connection, for Sweden would find itself between the devil and the deep blue sea, as both belligerents would want to use its territory for themselves. He then asked if this meant that in the event of conflict with Germany, the USSR would automatically become an ally of England?

Churchill reddened, his eyes became bloodshot, and he cried with fury in his voice: ‘To crush Germany I am prepared to enter into an alliance with anyone, even the devil!’

This metaphor was used by Churchill in his famous radio speech on the day Germany attacked Russia; see diary entry for 22 June 1941.

Lloyd George is in a very gloomy mood. He thinks the most dangerous phase of the war is at hand. All seem to think that Egypt is becoming the focus of events. With a half-smile, the old man exclaimed: ‘The war will be decided at the pyramids.’

Is England prepared for this? Lloyd George is unsure. Germany, he believes, can reach Egypt by two different routes: (1) through Spain and North Africa (Algeria and Tunisia), or (2) through Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Palestine.

The first route is long and complex. If he chooses it, Hitler will need at least half a year to assemble a large enough army against Egypt (he will need about a million-strong army because the British already have up to 500,000 troops there and can increase this number significantly in the next couple of months). Supplying and feeding the German army along the Spanish route will be difficult. Hitler will use it if he finds nothing better, but he will first try to secure the more convenient second route. He has already started moving along it: he occupied the Aegean islands along the Turkish coast, fuelled a rebellion in Iraq, and will most probably soon start transferring troops to Syria by air. However, all this is not enough to mount a large-scale campaign. The next step will be a demand for Turkey to allow the transfer of German troops through its territory or at least to allow the delivery of war matériel (as happened with Yugoslavia) along the Smyrna–Aleppo line and then eastward to Baghdad and southward to Palestine. If Turkey permits this, the British position in the Middle East will become critical. The British government might be able to defend Egypt from the west, but it will hardly manage to do so from the east. Should an offensive be mounted simultaneously from the west and from the east (and such is the Germans’ usual strategy), the loss of Egypt would be almost inevitable.

If Egypt is lost, Germany will be able to conquer the whole of Africa. This will not satisfy Germany, however, because there is no oil in Africa, and which truly great power can do without oil in our days? There is oil in Asia, and that is why after Egypt (or possibly even earlier) the Germans will move to Iraq, Iran and maybe to India and Burma – all countries rich in oil.

And this is where the USSR steps onto the stage. L-G attaches enormous significance to the fact that Comrade Stalin himself now heads the Council of People’s Commissars. This is an obvious symptom of the danger approaching the Soviet borders, and of the fact that in the nearest future (possibly before the end of this month) the Soviet government will have to make decisions of momentous significance. The first of these decisions is whether or not to allow Germany passage to the Middle East. For Turkey will surely ask Moscow’s ‘advice’ when the Germans present their demand to use the Smyrna–Aleppo railway. What will be the response of the Soviet government?

If it says ‘Let them pass’, the Germans will very quickly appear in Iraq, Iran, Turkey and India. In other words, the Soviet Union will be outflanked, and Baku will be exposed to a German attack. If it says ‘Do not let them pass’, relations between Germany and the USSR will inevitably cool, leading to possible complications. So the Soviet government will have to make its choice soon.

Personally, Lloyd George is convinced that Hitler will not risk an armed conflict with the Soviet Union now, and therefore the USSR might not let the Germans through to the Middle East. Why should it? From time immemorial, Russia has gravitated toward the ‘warm sea’. Previously, the ‘warm sea’ was the Straits. Now they have seriously lost their former value, but the Persian Gulf?… That is a quite different matter.

I listened to Lloyd George and drew my own conclusions. I asked him: ‘Imagine that England loses Egypt and all its positions in the Middle East. Will it continue the war?’

L-G paused and spread out his arms in perplexity.

‘That is difficult to say in advance,’ he eventually replied.

I repeated the question several times during our conversation in an attempt to get a more definite answer, but L-G kept repeating: ‘I don’t know. Can’t foretell.’

I recalled our conversation from a year ago, when France was still fighting, yet the first signs of impending catastrophe were visible. I asked him then what England would do if France left the battlefield. Lloyd George had answered without the slightest hesitation: ‘We shall continue the war alone. We can’t do otherwise.’

Today Lloyd George’s mood was different. And this is very significant.

The conversation inevitably veered towards Anglo-Soviet relations. I told Lloyd George of my conversation with Eden on 16 April and said that it had not led to anything. The old man was enraged. The British government’s policy toward the USSR, he fulminated, is idiotic and fatal for England. Where does it originate? It originates with Churchill. No doubt, Churchill is a major figure, a talented orator and writer. No doubt, he is head and shoulders above the puppets that surround him. But he also has major shortcomings. To start with, he is a poor strategist, both in military affairs and in politics. Regarding military affairs, it is enough to recall the Dardanelles operation in the last war and the Norwegian operation in this war. Yes, yes, the Norwegian operation, as full responsibility for its strategy lies primarily with Churchill. Neither can he boast of strategic perfection in the Greek operation. Regarding politics, it is enough to recall how awkwardly Churchill manoeuvred during the years dominated by Baldwin and Chamberlain, how he always failed not only to win over the majority in the Conservative Party, but even to organize a strong minority faction, in spite of all his talents and his well-grounded position. Lloyd George is worried about Churchill’s weakness as a strategist. Another trouble with Churchill is that he always thinks about ‘today’ and never about ‘tomorrow’. Churchill often displays short-sightedness, and this is dangerous, particularly at the present moment.

Second, Churchill is a typical representative of the capitalist world. Lloyd George remembers that before the past war, in the period when Lloyd George introduced laws on the taxation of landlords, Churchill never ceased grumbling at his actions. Lloyd George had to talk with him privately many times in order to persuade him not to interfere in the legislation process. The utmost he was able to achieve was to secure Churchill’s neutrality.

‘I don’t like your land policy,’ said Churchill, ‘but, very well, I’ll not object to it at the Cabinet meeting. I’ll keep silent.’

And now Churchill is even staking on the United States. Essentially, he has sold his soul to Wall Street, but, in L-G’s opinion, America will not save England. England can win the war only together with the Soviet Union. This was clear to Lloyd George already at the onset of the war, and he is ever more confident of it now. Meanwhile, the British government is doing everything to alienate the Soviet Union and impede cooperation. Staking on the United States only aggravates the situation. What is the United States in the final analysis? It is now the bulwark of capitalism. Capitalism in England is collapsing under the impact of the war. In America, capitalism stands firm. At the end of the war, the United States will annex England along with the British Empire. Anti-Soviet sentiments are even stronger in America than in England. When the British government tries to take a step toward the improvement of relations with the Soviet Union, Washington immediately pours cold water on the initiative.

‘Things look bad, very bad,’ the old man concluded, and added: ‘Churchill invited me to the War Cabinet several times, but I declined his offers because I know that we shall not agree on the main question of this war – “the Russian question”. Churchill brushes it aside, but I know that if we don’t resolve this problem satisfactorily, we risk defeat.’

About the Dardanelles, incidentally. Lloyd George conveyed some details to me. It was Churchill, then first lord of the Admiralty, who initiated and conducted the operation. Lloyd George was against it, but this matter was beyond his competence, for he was chancellor of the exchequer at that time. Kitchener

Horatio Herbert Kitchener, secretary of state for war, 1914–16.

was against it, too, as was Lord Fisher

John Arbuthnot Fisher (1st Baron Fisher), first sea lord, 1904–10 and 1914–15.

in the Admiralty. As always, Asquith went with the flow and followed the leader. Churchill displayed perseverance and resolution. For instance, he forbade Lord Fisher from uttering his opinion in Cabinet, telling him that it was he who represented the Admiralty in Cabinet. Fisher did not dare disobey his chief. A month later, meeting Lloyd George at the door of 10, Downing Street, Fisher told him bitterly that he would probably resign because of that Dardanelles folly. Only then did L-G learn the admiral’s genuine opinion of the operation. Kitchener took a strange stand. Churchill asked the war secretary at a meeting whether he could give him enough troops to occupy Gallipoli after the fleet broke through the Dardanelles (Churchill’s opinion was that the fleet could force the Straits without the support of the army). Kitchener answered in the affirmative. Churchill was glad and did not bother Kitchener any further. The latter, while not anticipating a successful outcome for the planned operation, did not find it necessary to put up much of a fight: after all, the Admiralty had taken responsibility upon itself. Why should the war secretary be concerned?

Thus, Churchill was provided with the opportunity to pursue his own strategy. The results are well known.

He raised his hands in despair and started complaining bitterly of the Soviet government’s decision (announced on 9 May) to cease recognizing the diplomatic status of the Norwegian, Belgian and Yugoslavian missions in Moscow. This decision is a heavy blow to the morale of the Yugoslavian people during a time of terrible ordeals. It is also a blow to the USSR’s prestige among the Slav nations in the Balkans. And why did we feel the need to do this? It was merely five months ago that the pact of friendship and non-aggression between the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia was concluded, and now all that remains of it are scraps of paper. He, Subbotić, has been working for so many years for the rapprochement of Yugoslavia and the USSR. He was so happy when on 5 April it became a fait accompli. And now?… Now all is destroyed. All is reduced to dust. He is close to tears over what has happened in the course of the last few days.

My position was far from easy, but all the same I started consoling Subbotić, explaining to him the reasons which led to the decision taken by the Soviet government. I spoke at length, underlying in particular that history does not end today and that in the future the peoples of the USSR would find an opportunity to demonstrate in practice their friendship towards the people of Yugoslavia.

Subbotić listened to me with sceptical impatience and exclaimed in raised tones: ‘Why did you feel the need to do it? Rumania… Even trembling Rumania has not severed diplomatic relations with us, but you’ve gone and done it!… You are simply scared of Germany!’

I intended to make a sharp retort, but looking at Subbotić and seeing that he was beside himself, I restrained myself and replied firmly but calmly: ‘Don’t say what you yourself don’t believe in. If even “trembling Rumania”, as you suggest, is not afraid of maintaining diplomatic relations with you, then why should the USSR be afraid of Germany? Your comparison undermines your very argument. It is not the fear of Germany, but very different motives which led the Soviet government to reach its decision.’

I tried once more to explain those reasons to Subbotić.

But he would not calm down. For some reason he suddenly recalled Comrade Plotnikov,

V.A. Plotnikov, Soviet ambassador in Yugoslavia, 1940–41.

our ambassador in Yugoslavia. Subbotić was convinced that Comrade Plotnikov had played a ‘sinister role’ in the rupture of diplomatic relations with Yugoslavia.

‘He was a bad ambassador,’ Subbotić said with irritation. ‘He did not understand and did not like our people. Everyone in Belgrade felt this.’

I objected that although I was not acquainted with Plotnikov personally, I was sure he had performed his functions as Soviet ambassador with merit.

Subbotić could not agree with me. Then he suddenly seemed to soften and asked my permission to remain in touch with me. I replied that I saw no reason why we shouldn’t. We were friends before our countries established diplomatic relations, and we can be friends now, too. Subbotić calmed down a little and said goodbye to me in a more cordial tone.

A grim story!

Events have fully corroborated their prognosis.

Today I asked the Webbs another question: what will England do if she loses Egypt and her positions in the Middle East? Their answer this time was just as categorical: ‘England will continue the war, for until this island is conquered by the Germans (and the leaders seem to be sure that invasion is impossible), there is always the hope that the loss of Egypt and so on is temporary – till the end of the war. Besides, Hitler’s constant victories irritate and enrage our bourgeoisie. They can’t reconcile themselves to his successes. They are stubborn and will do their utmost to beat Germany.’

I was interested to find out whether the attitudes of the British ruling elite are affected by the growing unrest in the mother country or in the British Empire. For the unrest will inevitably increase with every passing month of the war. Won’t this circumstance make the British bourgeoisie more acquiescent in the matter of peace with Germany? The Webbs gave me a quite definite answer to this question as well: there is no serious unrest among the masses at the moment and it is doubtful whether it will manifest itself soon. Of course, the masses are not happy about the bombing, rations and other restrictions brought about by the war, but, in the first place, human losses are 3–4 times less in this war than in the last one. Secondly, the masses earn good money from the war – unemployment has almost vanished, wages have risen and, most importantly, it is not just the worker who works but also his wife and his daughter. Thirdly, ‘Transport House’ has definitively lost its oppositional spirit: it has associated itself with the ruling classes and has become an integral component of their political machine. One should be under no illusions about that. Fourthly, the masses partly understand and partly sense by instinct that their economic well-being is tightly connected to the preservation of the Empire (England has never had a proletariat in the true sense of this word) and that defeat in this war would signify for them a terrible catastrophe and a hopeless future. All those circumstances find their consummate ideological expression for the masses in the slogan, ‘Down with Hitler!’ That is why there is little chance of a serious outbreak of unrest in England in the immediate future. As far as the Empire is concerned, the situation is less clear (particularly in India). However, the development of dangerous unrest in this sphere is neutralized to a certain extent by two factors: the flexibility of the British bourgeoisie, which knows how to make concessions at the right time, and the natives’ fear of falling under the rule of Hitler with his racist policy. The rule of the British bourgeoisie would strike the natives as the lesser evil when compared with Hitler.

The Webbs paint the general prospects for the war in a very gloomy light. It will be a long, exhaustive and destructive war. In the course of it England and the British Empire will become an appendage of the USA. By the end of the war, the United States will become the main stronghold of capitalism. It will be the new centre of the English-speaking world. Great Britain will become its European outpost. The decline in birth rate, which began before the war, will intensify even further. The population of Great Britain will shrink. London will become empty. The deep decay of the second British Empire will become a fait accompli.

The Webbs say that thoughts of such transformations are already established in the minds of those arriving from across the ocean. They told me the following interesting story.

A nephew of the Webbs’ cook, a soldier, arrived in England together with the Canadian Corps. He discovered his aunt, whom he had never seen before, and soon became the object of her adoration and pride. A young, brave and handsome boy! He comes to visit his aunt together with his fellow soldiers. These young soldiers are mostly petty bourgeois or farmers by birth and tend to be progressive in their thinking. There are even socialists among them. The Webbs often meet and talk with these Canadian youths. What do they have to say?

They all say as one that England is, of course, a very pleasant, lovely and picturesque island, but after the war it can no longer remain the centre of the Empire. The centre of the Empire shall move to Montreal or Washington. This is much more expedient geographically, politically and strategically. The Canadians mention Washington because, in their opinion, the United States will inevitably enter the war and as a result, in the course of the war or shortly afterwards, a great empire of English-speaking nations will emerge, led by the United States.

This is most typical!

I started saying that England might emerge from the war strengthened and with enhanced prestige if she turned into a socialist state during or by the end of the war. The Webbs were most sceptical about such a prospect. They fail to see those elements in the country which might make such a ‘revolution’ here. So, if a ‘revolution’ must be excluded, what future can be expected for England other than that envisaged by the Webbs?

They advanced another significant argument to reinforce their prognosis. It is quite evident that the British bourgeoisie does not want to be in one bloc with the USSR. They fear such a bloc. ‘Transport House’, which has never nurtured warm feelings toward the USSR, has now fallen wholly under the anti-Soviet influence of the Tories. But once England declines friendship with the USSR while desiring to continue the war against Germany, she has no way out other than ‘to sell herself’ to the USA, with all the ensuing consequences.

The old couple say that such prospects scare them. But they don’t want to shut their eyes to the bitter truth. This is how it is. As throughout their life, they do not revel in wishful thinking, but examine the facts and draw appropriate conclusions.

As usual, it was Beatrice who did most of the talking. Her husband echoed her and made the odd remark. Sidney now speaks with difficulty. Although he regained his speech after his stroke in 1938, he is not the same man as before.

‘I can read,’ he complained to me today, ‘but I can’t write much, or think coherently and at length.’

Nor can he speak coherently and at length.

Unlike her husband, Beatrice, despite her 83 years, is full of vital energy – mental and physical. She thinks clearly, speaks much, and writes interestingly. She is writing an extensive introduction to the third edition of their Soviet Communism and is preparing it for publication. When we were about to leave, Beatrice recalled that she wanted to give Agniya a bunch of flowers from her garden. Like a young girl, she ran to the gardener’s house to give him instructions.

Nonetheless, as we said goodbye, Beatrice said pensively: ‘I feel like a ghost of the past in today’s world.’

Maybe she is right. The Webbs are unquestionably the best representatives of England’s past, which is crumbling catastrophically before our eyes.

I’m afraid they won’t last long.

Among other things I told Negrín about my conversation with the Webbs (on 22 May). He started challenging one aspect of their forecast: Negrín, on the basis of the impressions he has formed of the United States, is convinced that if the war should end with the general crisis of capitalism, a proletarian revolution is most likely to take place precisely in the United States. I dissented. We argued at length without reaching agreement.

We then discussed the war prospects, British foreign policy and the position of the Soviet Union. In the course of the conversation I said: ‘A future historian may find it highly strange and even tragic that at such a moment two mighty states – the USSR and Great Britain – conducted negotiations concerning the repatriation of 400 sailors for six months and failed to reach an agreement. Even worse is the fact that the issue of the repatriation of 400 sailors was the sole subject of their diplomatic negotiations for those six months. There was nothing else!’

We made a few steps in silence and then I added: ‘Actually, there is nothing strange about this. England’s foreign policy since the last war (as well as that of the other capitalist countries) has always been characterized by a feral hatred of socialism, of communism, of anything “Red”. This hatred blinds the ruling classes of England and makes them pursue a political line that is deeply harmful to their own long-term interests. Hence the policies of Curzon, Baldwin, Chamberlain and Churchill towards the USSR. The servants of the bourgeoisie, like MacDonald, Bevin and others, follow their masters willingly, all the more so as they themselves have little liking for communism and the USSR. There are of course exceptions – Lloyd George, Eden, Cranborne and others – but these are merely the exceptions that prove the rule. In the ninth year of my service in England, I’ve come to the conclusion that the ruling elites in England and the United States hate us no less than those in Germany or Japan. This explains why the repatriation of 400 Soviet sailors has been the sole subject of Anglo-Soviet diplomatic parley over the last six months.’

‘I fully agree with you,’ said Negrín. ‘I am under no illusions whatsoever concerning the sentiments of the British and American elites towards you. The main question for you, it seems to me, boils down to the following: whose hatred is more dangerous at the present moment? Or, if you prefer, more effective? I have no illusions about that either.’

‘Suppose you are right,’ I rejoined. ‘What of it?… You come to the market to sell your goods. There are several buyers there. Some have more money, some less. Some are handsome, some ugly. You want to sell your goods to those who have more money and are handsome, but they turn up their noses and show you their backs. By contrast, the poorer and uglier ones, whatever their motives might be, make advances to you and offer a good price. What would you do in such a situation?’

‘I would sell to the poor and ugly ones,’ Negrín answered with a smile, ‘entertaining no illusions as to their merits or intentions.’

‘Precisely!’ I confirmed.

We took another few steps in silence. Then Negrín said: ‘All the same, the blindness of the Anglo-American elite amazes me. When your home is on fire, anyone with a bucket of water, no matter what his political convictions are, should be welcome. But they seem to think differently.’

‘The reason is,’ I concluded, ‘that the Anglo-American ruling classes are in an advanced state of decay. As a result, even such men as Churchill and Roosevelt can’t understand that the decisive role in this war belongs to the USSR.’

I’ll start with the surroundings. The City has been smashed to pieces. Whole quarters lie in ruins. There are streets that look like jaws with many teeth ripped out of them. Amidst all this chaos and devastation, the Bank of England, the Stock Exchange and Mansion House stand intact – how symbolic! It was in this lord mayor’s residence that the meeting was held. At three o’clock hundreds of listeners were seated in dozens of rows of chairs. I have had to go to Mansion House on many occasions for banquets. This time I had to go there for a meeting. War!…

Next, the audience. The lord mayor, the City notables, high-ranking officials and ambassadors sit on the platform. Johnson, the US chargé d’affaires, is also there (Winant is on leave): the Americans receive special treatment. Journalists, politicians and businessmen sit in the hall, with the envoys in the first row. Five hundred people in all. Among the diplomats there is a terribly confused and amusing situation. On my right sits Cartier, the Belgian ambassador (the doyen): we ceased being official colleagues three weeks ago. But we exchange greetings as ever, and also a few words. On my left is Raczyński. This is a more complicated matter. We’ve known each other well for a long time and visited one other, but now ‘Poland has declared war on the USSR’, so Raczyński sat next to me with his head turned away. He remained in this position throughout the meeting. Although I experience a strong urge to laugh, I too pretend not to notice him. The duke of Alba sits three chairs away from me. He has glanced at me quickly, turned away shyly, and is now examining the handsome ceiling of Mansion House. The Estonian Torma (Schmidt),

August Torma (changed his name from Schmidt in London in 1940). Fought with the British expeditionary forces in northern Russia, 1920; Estonian ambassador in London and representative at the League of Nations, 1934–40.

the Latvian Zariņš and the Lithuanian Balutis sit among the envoys opposite me with frozen expressions, pretending not to see me. Again, I have to restrain myself from laughing and assume an air of complete inscrutability (as newspapers like to put it). In the same row, somewhat to the right, I can see Subbotić, Colban, Simopoulos and Gripenberg… I couldn’t help thinking: ‘Yes, it’s hard to be a diplomat today!’

Finally, Eden’s speech. Foggy and vague. Its central idea was that post-war Europe should not suffer privation. Very well. But how is that to be achieved?… Of course, Eden did not, and could not, give an answer to this essential question. The general impression was of Eden trying to cut iron with a blunt knife.

I repeat: a strange scene! This is how the capitalist world dies.

Beaverbrook said the USSR had three ‘friends’ in the Defence Committee: Churchill, Eden and himself.

‘If that is so,’ I asked, ‘how can one explain the lack of improvement in relations between our countries?’

Beaverbrook replied that it is the United States that stands in the way. England is now heavily dependent on the USA. The USA is England’s only sheet-anchor. And relations between the USA and the USSR are not exactly friendly.

I asked Beaverbrook what he thinks of Hess. Beaverbrook answered without hesitation: ‘Oh, Hess, of course, is Hitler’s emissary.’

There are many proofs, but Beaverbrook considers two to be the most convincing: an additional fuel tank was attached to Hess’s plane, and he flew from Germany to Scotland assisted by a Pelengator.

Radio direction finder.

Hess (i.e. Hitler) was counting on British ‘Quislings’ – the duke of Hamilton,

Douglas Douglas-Hamilton (14th duke of Hamilton), Royal Air Force, 1939–45; Conservative MP, 1930–40.

the duke of Buccleuch

Walter John Montagu Douglas Scott (8th duke of Buccleuch), a Tory peer.

and others. It is not without reason that Hess landed near Hamilton’s estate. Judging by all the available evidence, Hess expected to spend 2–3 days in England, negotiate with the local ‘Quislings’ and fly back home. Hess offered England a peace on ‘honourable’ terms: the British Empire would remain intact, the European continent would go to Germany, some colonies in Africa, a non-aggression pact for 25 years. All this was served up with a spicy anti-Soviet sauce in defence of ‘civilization against Bolshevist barbarism’. However, the precondition for peace and for an agreement was the removal of Churchill from power. Hess is convinced that as long as Churchill heads the government, there can be no ‘friendship’ between Germany and England. Beaverbrook remarked sarcastically: ‘Hess probably thought that as soon as he presented his plan to the dukes they would run to the king, overthrow Churchill and set up a “reasonable government”… Idiot!’

Hess’s gamble on the British ‘Quislings’ has failed. From being an ‘emissary’ he has become a ‘prisoner of war’. Churchill, according to Beaverbrook, does not fully agree with his theory. However, the PM does not himself have a clear view of the ‘Hess incident’ and so does not want to speak in parliament on this matter.

Beaverbrook spoke about Hitler’s plans. Hitler undoubtedly wants peace. He proposed peace (‘on honourable terms’) through Sweden right after the collapse of France, he proposed peace through Hess, and is now launching a major ‘peace offensive’ in the United States – nothing has come or will come of all this! In particular, Roosevelt will not play the role of peace-maker, whatever the Germans may think. The pope, on the other hand, does seem to be seeking ways of drawing closer to Hitler. But this will not help him on the question of peace.

Beaverbrook thinks that Hitler’s present strategic plan is the following: first, an attack on Egypt and the Suez Channel, then the capture of Gibraltar, and then the liquidation of the British fleet in the Mediterranean.

Will he succeed? Time will tell. The British government, according to Beaverbrook, would have accepted peace with Germany on ‘decent terms’, but such terms are currently unobtainable. So now it is necessary to fight.

Here Beaverbrook launched a vicious attack on the English: they are carefree and sluggish, underestimate the severity of the situation, do not look ahead, are always late, have grown accustomed to the quiet life and don’t want to give up their comforts. They are capable of doing so many stupid things! Examples? There are plenty.

Take, for instance, the loss of Cyrenaica. Why did it happen? Certainly not for the reason assumed by many, that the British government had to remove several divisions from Africa for operations in Greece, but simply because, having reached Bengasi, the Middle East Command became ‘dizzy from success’. To such an extent that they sent nearly all their tanks to Cairo! When the Germans launched a sudden attack, there were no tanks in place. They had to be hastily sent back from Egypt. While this was being done, the Germans successfully occupied the whole of Cyrenaica. The British tanks could meet the German forces only on the Egyptian border, which is still the front line today.

Or Crete. Why was Crete lost? Certainly not because the Germans were especially strong or especially capable. It happened for the simple reason that, despite Crete being in British hands for seven months, the Middle East Command did nothing to fortify it. As a result, it fell to the Germans.

The military command in the Middle East? Who are they? Wavell? Just think of the eulogies bestowed on him so recently! And now? Sic transit gloria mundi.

On the whole the English, according to Beaverbrook (he himself is a Canadian!), are asleep. They need to be woken up. They need to be struck hard on the head. That, by the way, is why Beaverbrook is conducting such a big campaign in his press about the threat of invasion…

I heard the following colourful story about the appointment of Leathers as minister of war transport. His appointment came as a total surprise to him. He himself confirmed to me in our conversation that he had to accept his post with 24 hours notice. He has been in coal and transport all his life. I don’t know who recommended Leathers to the prime minister as a suitable candidate for leading the War Transport Ministry, but what is certain is that a month ago Churchill summoned him and offered him the newly established post. Leathers’ first reaction was negative: he said he had never been engaged in politics before, that he was scared of parliament, which he didn’t understand at all, and that he preferred to remain what he had always been, a business man.

The prime minister glanced askance at him and said: ‘You are afraid of the House of Commons? Hm… I see… But there is a way out: we shall make you a lord.’

‘A lord?’ echoed Leathers, somewhat perplexed. He had not expected such a turn of events.

Nevertheless, he liked the prime minister’s offer and agreed to take the post of minister of war transport.

Coming back to his office, Leathers called his wife: ‘Darling, prepare a bottle of champagne for dinner.’

‘What for?’ his wife asked in amazement.

‘Darling, you’ll be a baroness tomorrow.’

And that’s what happened.

Aras sat on my right. He has really aged over the past year and looks more and more like an old, exhausted rabbit. In addition, he wears a funny grey pigtail. He is in a state of panic. He prays that fate will spare Turkey disaster over the next two months. Then winter will be on its way… It is difficult to wage war in Anatolia in winter… Turkey will be saved, at least until next spring. He sought my opinion as to whether I deemed it possible that Turkey would not be drawn into the war. How can I make such a prophecy?… My answer was very noncommittal.

The general atmosphere at the table was rather funereal. Nashat-Pasha kept saying about war, ‘As it was, so it will be.’ War will never disappear. It is in humanity’s blood. Aras elaborated a strange theory that the victors of wars are not in fact those who win, but those who suffer defeat. He referred to the war of 1914–18 as an example. Someone asked: who was the first inventor of the aeroplane? Shigemitsu, smiling his typically Japanese smile, claimed that the first aeroplane was invented in his country. It appears that a thousand years ago a Japanese saint who lived on the top of a mountain made a flying machine in which he flew from the mountain down to the valley. However, when he was flying over a river in the valley his attention was drawn to two pretty girls washing linen on the river bank. The saint bent over to have a better look, and the machine lost its balance, flipped over, and plunged to the bottom of the river together with the saint. We all laughed. Monteiro recalled Icarus. I spoke of Leonardo da Vinci, the first person who applied himself seriously to the construction of a flying machine.

‘Leonardo?’ asked Shigemitsu, and then added, ‘Ah, that Greek…’.

Clearly, the Japanese ambassador is not very well versed in the history of European culture.

‘No, he was not a Greek,’ Monteiro corrected him. ‘He was an Italian artist.’

After lunch Shigemitsu told me that he was going to Tokyo in a few days to consult with his government, and didn’t expect to be back soon. My impression is that he might not be back at all. Shigemitsu is one of the few old Japanese diplomats to survive the recent ‘purge’. It may be his turn now.

It would be wrong to speak of a growing mood in favour of peace. This is not yet the case. Regardless of Crete, the determination to fight, to fight until ‘victory’, still dominates both government circles and public opinion. But the loss of Crete pained the British more than anything else (perhaps because it happened on top of Greece, Cyrenaica and Iraq) and has led them to pose the question: what is going on?

There has not been such a heated debate for a long time – not since Churchill came to power at any rate. During the past year, the House of Commons has turned into an institution which registers, approves and supports the government’s decisions. This time it was different. The government was subject to criticism in the House of Commons for the first time this year, and it was not anaemic, official criticism, but real, full-blooded, even passionate criticism, which, of course, does not necessarily make it wholly valid. There was something about the mood that suggested a desire to find a scapegoat for all the recent defeats. And – so typical! – bitter criticism poured in from all directions: Labourites (Bellenger,

Frederick John Bellenger, journalist and backbench Labour MP, 1933–68. One of eight Labour MPs to support the no-confidence motion moved by Sir John Wardlaw-Milne in July 1942.

Griffiths,

James Griffiths, Labour MP, 1936–70.

Lee-Smith

Hastings Bertrand Lee-Smith, chairman of the Parliamentary Labour Party from 1940–45.

) competed with Conservatives (Macnamara, Winterton, Beverley Baxter) and National Liberals (Hore-Belisha, Granville

Edgar Louis Granville, Liberal MP, 1929–51.

). How may this criticism be summarized?

The attacks targeted the poor coordination between the army and the air force, the absence of a carefully thought-out general plan for the war, the presence of a good number of duds in the government, disorder and lack of coordination in industrial mobilization matters, etc. In general, the ‘inter-party’ attack accused the government of failing to attain a 100% war effort in spite of the full authority it enjoys (the act of 22 May 1940). I repeat: for the first time this year the darts of criticism hailed down on the government as a whole, and even on Churchill personally. It was something unprecedented, something new compared with the debates of 6–7 May.

How did the prime minister respond? Very nervously. He was annoyed and irritated, less eloquent than usual, and even made some tactical errors when arguing with his opponents (with Hore-Belisha, in particular). But, on the whole, Churchill rebuffed the attack successfully, although today there was nothing to recall the evening of 7 May, when agitated MPs gave the PM a stormy ovation. Churchill’s arguments concerning Crete, however, were entirely unconvincing: the crux of the matter, he said, was that the British had lacked enough anti-aircraft guns to strengthen the Cretan airfields.

Today’s debate has left me with a somewhat uncertain impression. Any sensible man would understand the real reason for the British defeats: it is that the British government has no more than 2 million poorly trained and armed soldiers (leaving the Home Guard aside), led by inexperienced officers and commanded by rather thick-headed generals. The British air force, though not inferior to the German one in quality, lags behind in quantity. With such troops, the British government has to confront a 5–6 million-strong German army, well trained and armed, commanded by excellent generals, and supported by a first-class air force. No wonder the British suffer defeats on land. In fact, considering such conditions, one could say that the British army has not been doing that badly.

None of the critics, however, put the problem in such terms, for this would have led to far-reaching conclusions: either to recognize that the British army is no match for the German army in any conditions and therefore to seek a compromise peace with Hitler, or to acknowledge that England cannot hope for victory without the Red Army, which, in turn, necessitates a complete revision of the ‘Russian’ (and not only ‘Russian’) policy of the British government. That is why all critics focused their attacks on various particulars which, though important, could not give a satisfactory answer to the question: what is going on?

The general conclusion: today’s debate shows that the government’s stock (Churchill’s too) has fallen a little, but that the Cabinet is not yet in any serious danger. For deep down everybody understands (without wishing to state openly) the main reason for England’s failures, and at the same time everyone understands that the country’s position is, despite everything, much stronger and more secure than a year ago. If the prime minister draws the appropriate conclusions from today’s debate and throws the dead wood out of the government, he will restore his former standing. All the more so as he still has no rivals. But, naturally enough, a lot will depend on developments at the front…

In the corridors of parliament, I met Lloyd George (who did not speak today) and we exchanged a few words concerning the current situation over a cup of tea.

The old man is gloomy and anxious. He, at least, is under no illusions. In view of the present position of the USSR (for which he lays great blame on the British government), Lloyd George excludes the possibility of a British victory. This means that a compromise peace must be sought. On what terms? Lloyd George thinks that peace could be reached if Hitler were to declare himself satisfied with a Greater Germany, i.e. incorporating Danzig, Silesia, Austria, Alsace-Lorraine, plus a protectorate over Poland and some other parts of Europe, as well as certain territorial ‘modifications’ in Belgium and Holland.

I asked Lloyd George what he thought of the peace terms proposed by Hess.

‘Absolutely unacceptable,’ the old man answered categorically. ‘If Hitler decides to insist on these terms, continuation of the war is inevitable.’

As always, Lloyd George enquired about the state of Anglo-Soviet relations. I told him how things stood. He raised his hands in despair and shrugged his shoulders hopelessly.

(2) Eden: Have I received a reply to his démarche of 2 June concerning the Middle East? No! My personal opinion: considering the present state of relations between England and the USSR, it would be difficult to respond to this démarche. Eden understood this: he will try to clear a path for the elimination of the controversial issues. I: The door to regulating relations is open. It’s the British government’s turn. Eden, reverting to the démarche of 2 June, emphasizes its importance and requests that the reply be expedited. Time is running out.

(3) I ask about the fate of Hess. Eden replies that he will have to spend some time in England – until the end of the war. Eden’s theory: Hess fled because of a quarrel not with Hitler, but with another dignitary (Ribbentrop or Himmler).

Heinrich Luitpold Himmler, head of the Gestapo from 1936.

All those men are at each other’s throats. Cudahy says Göring refused to receive him, having learnt that he had met Ribbentrop and Goebbels.

Talk of peace in the USA–Germany game. Has no effect on Roosevelt. The English will continue ‘to the end’. Winant went to Washington not to lay the ground for peace, but to speed up US aid to England.

I congratulated Vansittart in a routine manner and then added haltingly: ‘To be honest, I don’t know whether it’s appropriate to congratulate you on your elevation to a peerage. The future is uncertain, and – who knows – might the title become not an asset but a liability?’

Vansittart shrugged his shoulders and agreed that the future was indeed impenetrable and that the war would eventually bring about great changes in Europe and in England, in domestic as well as foreign politics.

‘Well, this is Zukunftmusik,’ Vansittart laughed. ‘In the meantime, I have secured a platform for my views just in case. I first thought of the House of Commons, but it’s too late to embark on a parliamentary career at 60. The House of Lords suits me better. And, of course, my pen remains at my side.’

Vansittart now intends to live in Denham and visit London a few times during the week. He wants to write and to speak. He wants to preserve his name, Vansittart, in his new title.

Parting with Vansittart, I involuntarily cast my gaze over his office, which is so familiar to me. Many reminiscences flashed through my mind. All the emotions, conversations, hopes and disappointments I experienced here!… Especially vivid was the memory of my first sharp clashes with Vansittart at the time of the Metro-Vickers affair. Much water has flowed under the bridges since then! Eight years, no less!

My oh my! I’ve been too long in England!

Here is what I have just learnt about the hidden history of this campaign. On 7 June, Churchill summoned the editors of the London newspapers and briefed them on the war situation in the spirit of his speech in parliament on 10 June. The PM’s speech gave little cause for cheer. Above all, the listeners couldn’t see how and when England might win.

One of the editors asked Churchill a question concerning relations between the British and Soviet governments. Churchill replied that the Soviet government resembles a crocodile, which bites whether you beat it or pat it. The British government, he said, had tried various means of improving relations with the Soviet Union and had sought to influence it, but all to no avail. Eventually, the British government had come to the conclusion that it would be better to let things follow their natural course. A collision between Germany and the USSR is inevitable. The massing of German troops on the Soviet border proceeds apace. One must wait…

Then Churchill upbraided the press for its criticism of the government. The prime minister welcomes healthy criticism, of course, but the scheming against the Cabinet carried out in the newspapers recently is a quite different matter. What followed looked like a scene from Boris Godunov.

Churchill announced in an emotional voice that he was not holding on to power, and that if the nation did not approve of his policy, he would resign and leave his place to a better man.

To this the editors cried out that it was not possible to manage without Churchill, that he was the true leader of the nation, and that they were in essence happy with everything. This led to a reconciliation.

After that Churchill gave instructions to Duff Cooper (as well as to the Foreign Office) to go to town on the theme of the inevitability of war between the USSR and Germany.

(1) Eden informed me on behalf of the prime minister that the concentration of German troops on the Soviet borders has intensified particularly during the past 48 hours. The aim of the concentration: war or a war of nerves? In case it turned out to be war, the British government wished to bring it to the notice of the Soviet government that if Germany attacked, the British government will be prepared to provide assistance using its air force units in the Middle East, to send to Moscow a military mission to share the experiences gained during the war, and to develop economic cooperation in every possible way (through the Persian Gulf and Vladivostok).

(2) I suggested that the proposed measures hinted at a level of friendship between the two countries which presently does not exist.

(3) Even if there was a concentration of troops on the border, I do not believe the Germans will attack the Soviet Union.

(4) I attracted Eden’s attention to the press campaign connected with Cripps’s return to England. What a pity they were busy speculating.

(5) Asked about Cripps’s plans. Eden – he will return within 5–10 days. That is what the plans are right now. I mentioned The Times’s suggestion to Cripps from 13/6 to remain in England.

What mood are the Crippses in?

Lady Cripps is in reasonable spirits. She said frankly that she had been in Moscow [word missing] and that her liking for the Soviet Union, far from weakening, had grown. She has only one grudge against us: not long before her departure from Moscow, their Soviet driver was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment for a minor accident, despite the driver having 11 years of irreproachable service behind him and despite him not being at fault for the accident. He was definitely a victim of ‘politics’, since he worked for the British ambassador. I vigorously rebutted Lady Cripps’s interpretation, but it proved impossible to convince her.

With Cripps himself, the situation is far more serious. As far as I could understand from our conversation, his general opinion is that improvements in Anglo-Soviet relations are altogether impossible because the Soviet Union, apprehensive of any complications with Germany, does not desire such improvements. Cripps is not inclined to blame us for that. He understands our position: we simply do not want – after the defeat of France – to bear the full brunt of the German army. But why do we repeat over and over again that it is the Baltic question that makes improvement of relations impossible?

Keeping the primary reason for the difficulties of Anglo-Soviet relations in mind, Cripps has tried throughout the last year to approach the thorny problem from the point of view of a change in the general balance of power on the world stage. That is why he suggested from the outset to conclude a general political agreement between England and the Soviet Union that would lead to such a change (particularly with the assistance of the United States), and then to resolve other contentious matters. However, the Soviet government did not follow this path for the reason mentioned above.

Proofs? There are plenty, but Cripps will limit himself to just three. (1) The proposals of 22 October 1940 undoubtedly provided a basis for a desirable agreement between our countries. The Soviet government said they were insufficient to serve as a basis. Let’s assume this was so. But then why did the Soviet government not advance any counter-proposals? Why did it not propose amendments to Cripps’s proposals? Nothing of the sort happened. Cripps did not even get a reply to his proposals. (2) Trade negotiations with Mikoyan. There was a moment when the negotiations were proceeding quite smoothly and the outlines of an agreement seemed to be taking shape. Mikoyan asked Cripps to finalize the British proposals. Cripps sent him a detailed letter, but did not even receive confirmation that his letter had been delivered to Mikoyan. It would seem that this fact aggrieved Cripps more than the failure of the trade negotiations. How very English: such impoliteness! (3) When Cripps once complained about the differences in the Soviet government’s attitude to Germany and England, Molotov told him that the USSR had a non-aggression pact and trade agreements with Germany. Cripps then said: ‘England is also prepared to conclude a non-aggression pact and trade agreements with you.’ Molotov immediately shifted the conversation to another topic. Yes, it is absolutely clear to Cripps: the USSR does not want to improve its relations with England out of fear of complicating its relations with Germany.

I asked Cripps: ‘What do you actually want? To draw the Soviet Union into the war on the British side?’

Cripps replied: ‘No, I don’t want that. I accept as a fact your desire to stay out of the war. More than that, I quite understand it. All I want is for your “neutrality” in respect of England to be at least 75% as friendly as your “neutrality” in respect of Germany.’

We argued at length on this issue, but Cripps stuck to his guns.

The conversation then turned to short-term prospects. Cripps is absolutely convinced of the inevitability of a German attack on us and is certain this will happen very soon.

On 18 June and again on 20 June, Enigma revealed specific instructions given to the German air force in the north for the offensive. Hinsley, British Intelligence in the Second World, p. 479. On Cripps’s conviction, see also Dawson papers, diary, Box 45, 19 June 1941.

‘If this does not happen before the middle of July,’ he noted, ‘I’ll be greatly surprised.’

Cripps added that, according to the British government’s information, Hitler has amassed 147 divisions on the Soviet borders.

I set about disproving this. The point of my objection was that, to my mind, Hitler is not yet ready for suicide. A campaign against the Soviet Union is, after all, tantamount to suicide. That is why it is difficult for me to believe in a German attack on the Soviet Union, especially in the next few days. It is difficult to deny the concentration of German troops on our borders, but I deem this more likely to be one of Hitler’s moves in the ‘war of nerves’. I cannot rule out the possibility that Hitler may start making demands to us concerning supplies and trade. Politicians seek to create a suitable psychological atmosphere to lend extra weight to their demands. But war? An invasion? An attack?… I can’t believe it! It would be madness.

One more thing. Before preying on his victim Hitler always tries to encircle him, isolate him and undermine him from the inside. He acted in this way even in respect to small countries – Norway, Holland, Belgium and Yugoslavia. Preparations of this kind are all the more necessary in respect to the Soviet Union. But no such preparations are to be observed. Sweden and Turkey are neutral. The Middle East is outside German influence. Japan concluded a pact of neutrality with us as recently as April. So there is no encirclement. No isolation. And, needless to say, there is no strong ‘fifth column’ in the Soviet Union. Given these conditions, will Germany risk an attack on the USSR? Such a step seems improbable.

Cripps would not agree with me. He adduced the following arguments. Hitler cannot plunge into a final and decisive battle against England until the potential threat to Germany from the east has been eliminated. This must be done this year. For the Red Army is a serious force. It will be too late to attack the USSR in 1942, because all the defects exposed by the Finnish campaign will have been rectified by then. The Red Army will be too strong, while the strength of the Reichswehr is more to likely to start diminishing. Today, after eight campaigns (Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Norway, France, Holland, Belgium and the Balkans), the Reichswehr is at its zenith. Army morale is exceptionally high and vast experience has been accumulated. True, the USSR has more men and machines, but the Germans are better at organizing than the Russians. Cripps, comparing the two sides objectively, finds it difficult to foretell the outcome of Germany’s clash with the USSR. One thing is clear, however: Hitler’s chances of success are much higher now than they will be in a year’s time. That is why Cripps is so sure that Hitler will strike. Moreover, Cripps possesses absolutely reliable information that this is just what Hitler is planning. If he manages to defeat the Soviet Union, he will then bring all Germany’s might down on England. Cripps has spoken to some members of the British government who think that before attacking the USSR Hitler will present us with an ultimatum. Cripps does not agree. Hitler will attack us without prior warning because he is interested not so much in getting food, raw materials, etc. from the USSR, as in the destruction of the country and the elimination of the Red Army.

We had a long argument. Cripps stuck to his line.

I asked Cripps when he was going to return to Moscow. He shrugged his shoulders and said this depended on many circumstances. He started elaborating. First, he mentioned the TASS communiqué of 13 June which, in Cripps’s view, was issued to please Schulenburg. Its meaning is clear: the Soviet government lets it be known that Cripps is no longer a ‘persona grata’ and had better leave Moscow. I objected, assuring Cripps that the Soviet government has a high opinion of him personally and that all his difficulties in the USSR have stemmed from the policy of the British government. Cripps, however, did not agree with this and by way of proof cited a telegram he received today from Moscow which says that the Moscow diplomatic corps considers the communiqué to be a ‘polite hint’ on the part of the Soviet government aimed at showing Cripps the door. Cripps kept returning over and over again to Schulenburg as the cause of all his troubles in Moscow. It was obvious that Schulenburg vexes Cripps greatly.

I could no longer restrain myself and exclaimed: ‘Schulenburg has positively bewitched you. This only goes to show how frightened the British are of Hitler.’

Cripps was somewhat embarrassed and switched to a more general theme. The communiqué of 13 June was only the first point. There was a ‘second’, more important one: the Soviet government’s unwillingness to improve its relations with England for the aforesaid reasons. This is manifest in every quarter. Here, Cripps gave vent to his grievances. He was fully ‘isolated’ from Soviet life in Moscow, he was refused additional accommodation for his staff, he was cold-shouldered at every turn (Molotov, for instance, would not meet him before he left for London). He did not dare to invite members of the Soviet government to the embassy for fear they would decline his invitation: after all, any refusal of this sort would acquire political significance in the eyes of Moscow’s diplomatic corps, Schulenburg in particular (again Schulenburg!).

No, Cripps is not planning to return to Moscow soon! What for? Of course, if war breaks out, that’s a different matter. He could be of use in Moscow then. But now… now he can wait.

After Cripps left, I fell to pondering: ‘Is Cripps right? Will Hitler really attack us?’

I did not reach any certain conclusion. It seemed improbable to me that Hitler could attack, knowing our might and our determination to resist. But does he know of them?…

TNA FO 371 29466 N3099/3/38.

A wonderful summer’s day. Bright sun. Hot. Only three or four days since the change in the weather: it had been incredibly cold until the middle of June. Today we wore light suits and cycled. I’m making remarkable progress in this art.

Then I lay on the grass, resting my head on my hands, and gazed into the deep blue skies. I lay and wondered: ‘Will there really be war?’

In the past 2–3 weeks the atmosphere in London has been thick with anticipation of a German attack on the Soviet Union. The press writes about it, it is discussed in the corridors of parliament, Churchill has spoken about it in public more than once, offering us the British government’s assistance, and Cripps told me about it with absolute confidence just three days ago…

Could this be artificially inflated English speculation? Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on the part of the British? One more attempt to spoil our relations with Germany and draw us into the war on their side?

To tell the truth, I am disinclined to believe that Hitler will attack us. Fighting Russia has always been hard. Invasions have always ended in sorrow for their initiators. It is enough to recall the Poles (during the Time of Troubles), Charles XII, Napoleon and the kaiser in 1918. The diesel motor has, of course, introduced great changes in the methods and possibilities of the art of war, but still… Russian geography remains the same. Besides, and this is particularly important, we have a mighty army; we have tanks, aeroplanes and anti-aircraft guns. We have the same tools of war as Germany; France, for example, did not have them. We have deep internal unity, as France did not have. We have firm and wise leadership, as France did not have. We shall be able to stand up for ourselves. Will Hitler risk attacking us under these conditions? It would be tantamount to suicide…

Or perhaps Hitler’s condition is so critical that there is nothing he can do but go for broke?

Who can tell?

After lunch, I was hastily summoned to London at Cripps’s request. He came to see me at 4.30 p.m.

He again spoke of the inevitability of a German attack on the USSR. Very soon.

‘To tell the truth,’ he said, ‘I expected the attack to occur this “weekend” – tomorrow, the 22nd – but Hitler has evidently delayed it till next Sunday, the 29th.’

I asked: ‘Why till “Sunday” exactly?’

‘Because Hitler,’ replied Cripps, ‘generally likes to attack his victims on Sundays. After all, it gives him a small advantage: the enemy is somewhat less prepared on Sundays than usual.’

Being convinced of the inevitability of war between the USSR and Germany, Cripps has already undertaken some preliminary measures. He has arranged with the British government for a military and economic mission to be sent to Moscow immediately following the outbreak of hostilities. The men have already been selected (‘Serious men, who will be able to take decisions on the spot!’) and the means of transportation provided for. Not a moment will be lost. But Cripps wanted to know what attitude the Soviet government would take towards such plans. Would the Soviet government find it possible to cooperate with England in the event of a German invasion? Or would it prefer to act quite independently?

I could not give Cripps a definite answer and promised to liaise with Moscow at once.

On parting, Cripps said: ‘I am now off to the country. I need to have some rest before things get going.’

Towards eight in the evening I returned to Bovingdon. Negrín and I walked together around the garden for a long while, discussing the situation. Negrín, like Cripps, is also almost certain that war between Germany and the USSR is at hand.

Later I kept turning over in my head all the arguments for and against an imminent attack. It seemed improbable – not in general, but right now. Nonetheless, a puzzling question haunted me: ‘Will there really be war?’

By the time I went to bed I had almost convinced myself that Hitler was not bluffing this time, but intended a serious invasion. Still, I did not want to believe it.

I was woken at 8 a.m. by a telephone call from the embassy. In a breathless, agitated voice, Novikov informed me that Hitler had declared war on the USSR and that German troops had crossed our border at 4 a.m.

I woke up Agniya. There was, of course, no question of going back to sleep. We dressed quickly and went down to hear the nine o’clock news on English radio. Novikov had called for the second time a few minutes earlier: Eden wished to see me at 11.30.

We had a hasty breakfast, listened to the nine o’clock news, which added nothing to what we already knew, and set off for London. In the embassy we encountered a crowd of people, noise, commotion and general excitement. It resembled a disturbed beehive.

When I was getting into the car, to drive to Eden’s office, I was told that Comrade Molotov would be going on the air at 11.30. I asked Eden to postpone our meeting by half an hour so that I could listen to the people’s commissar. Eden willingly agreed. Sitting next to the radio, pencil in hand, I listened to what Comrade Molotov had to say and took down a few notes.

I arrived at the Foreign Office at midday. I was led into Eden’s office. This was without doubt a major, serious and historic moment. One might have been forgiven for thinking, had one closed one’s eyes, that everything should be somehow unusual, solemn and majestic at such a moment. The reality was otherwise. Eden rose from his armchair as usual, and with an affable expression took a few steps towards me. He was wearing a plain grey suit, a plain soft tie, and his left hand had been hastily bound with a white rag of some sort. He must have cut his palm with something. The rag kept sliding off, and Eden kept adjusting it while we talked. Eden’s countenance, his suit, his tie and especially that white piece of cloth entirely removed from our meeting any trace of the ‘historic’. That modest dose of solemnity which I felt in my heart on crossing the threshold of Eden’s office quite evaporated at the sight of that rag. Everything became rather simple, ordinary and prosaic. This impression was further enhanced when Eden began our conversation by asking me in the most humdrum fashion about the events at the front and the content of Comrade Molotov’s speech. This ‘humdrum’ tone was sustained for our entire meeting. I couldn’t help but recall the sitting of parliament on 3 September 1939, when Chamberlain informed the House about the outbreak of the war. At the time that sitting also struck me as being too simple and ordinary, lacking the appropriate ‘historical solemnity’. In real life, it seems, everything is far more straightforward than it is in novels and history books.

I’ll not dwell on the content of my talk with Eden here (I have attached it).

At 9 p.m. I listened to Churchill’s broadcast with bated breath. A forceful speech! A fine performance! The prime minister had to play it safe, of course, in all that concerned communism – whether for the sake of America or his own party. But these are mere details. On the whole, Churchill’s speech was bellicose and resolute: no compromises or agreements! War to the bitter end! Precisely what is most needed today.

At the same time, the response came through from Moscow to the question posed by Cripps yesterday: the Soviet government is prepared to cooperate with England and has no objection to the arrival of British missions in the USSR.

I called Eden and asked him to communicate to Churchill my complete satisfaction with his speech. I also agreed to meet Eden the next morning.

So, it’s war! Is Hitler really seeking his own death?

We did not want war; we did not want it at all. We did all we could to avoid it. But now that German fascism has imposed war on us, we shall give no quarter. We shall fight hard, resolutely and stubbornly to the end, as befits Bolsheviks. Against German fascism first of all; later, we will see.

(1) The first round of political support for the war, if we are talking about Great Britain and the British Empire, has been won. Hitler’s calculation was quite clear: to strike to the east, to revive his glory as ‘saviour of European civilization from Bolshevik barbarism’, to cause a split in the public opinion of the ‘democracies’ and to secure either a favourable peace with them or, at the very least, their effective withdrawal from the war until he has finished dealing with the Bolsheviks. So far, this plan has entirely failed. Neither England nor the United States swallowed Hitler’s bait. I have already had occasion to speak about the causes of British belligerence. Far from diminishing the effects of these causes, Hitler’s attack on the USSR has enhanced them, for as a result the ‘united front’ in the country (and with it the social foundation of the bourgeoisie) has been reinforced, and real opportunities for victory over Germany have opened up. The United States have followed England in this instance.

(2) Against this background, Churchill has played an extremely prominent and positive role. His fable about the optimistic frog has proved unexpectedly prescient. Without a moment’s hesitation, he brought all his influence and eloquence to bear on the situation. Not only was the prime minister’s radio broadcast on 22 June remarkable for its form and inner force: it also presented the case for fighting to the last and offering maximum aid to the USSR with the utmost clarity and implacability. Eden told me that our conversation on the morning of the 22nd had its effect on Churchill’s speech. Eden conveyed my requests to Churchill, and Churchill made some amendments to his speech (it should be added that Eden, Beaverbrook and Winant contributed their ‘advice’ during the preparation of the text). It was critically important for the prime minister to deliver an immediate blow with his bludgeon before anyone could come to their senses. This set the tone at once – both here and in America. Winant told me frankly that without Churchill’s speech Washington would not have taken the position formulated by Sumner Welles on the evening of the 23rd as quickly and as definitely as it did. The same goes for England, as many have testified. Had Churchill dithered with his speech and delayed it for 2–3 days, they say, the anti-Soviet elements in the country would have sown a good deal of confusion in the minds of the public. But the prime minister acted with lightning speed – and salvaged the situation. He was greatly assisted behind the scenes by Eden and Beaverbrook, as well as Winant. What were the Labour ministers doing at that critical moment? They said nothing, and some even engaged in sabotage.

(3) So, the first round has been won. England is with us. Hitler’s hopes for a separate peace with the ‘democracies’ have so far failed. All this is good. But some grey areas remain. First, what will England’s aid consist of? And will it really be serious? I’m not sure. In particular, it’s unclear to me whether the English are bombing northern Germany to the maximum of their capabilities. Second, bewilderment is still palpable in the minds of the public. Psychologically, this is quite understandable. Only recently ‘Russia’ was considered a covert ally of Germany, all but an enemy. And suddenly, within 24 hours, it has become a friend! This transition was too abrupt, and the British mentality has yet to adjust to the new state of affairs. This, by the way, was very noticeable at the sitting of parliament on the 24th, when Eden spoke about the German attack on the USSR. His speech was not bad on the whole, but the response was more reserved than might have been expected. Another example was the big lunch (some 400 guests) on the 25th in honour of Fraser,

Peter Fraser, prime minister of New Zealand, 1940–49; minister of external affairs and minister of island territories, 1943–49.

the prime minister of New Zealand. After the chairman Lord Nathan

Harry Louis Nathan, colonel, Labour MP, 1937–40; parliamentary undersecretary of state for war, 1945–46.

proposed a toast to the ‘success of Russia’ and I answered with a few words of gratitude, the response of the audience was cooler than the circumstances warranted. I hope the mood of the English will settle and that the current bewilderment will pass.

(4) Thirdly and lastly, great scepticism concerning the Red Army’s efficacy may be observed in all quarters. People in the War Ministry believe that our resistance will last no more than 4–6 weeks. One and the same question is discussed in the lobbies of parliament: will the Red Army be able to stand up against the Reichswehr? The News Chronicle’s editorial of the 25th contains the words: ‘if a miracle happens and the Red Army’s resistance lasts till autumn, then…’ etc.; ‘if, on the contrary, the Red Army collapses in a few weeks (a possibility which must be taken seriously), then…’, etc. In all the conversations I have had during these past five days with people of diverse ranks, positions and political sympathies (including workers’ deputations), the tune is always the same: ‘will the Red Army resist?’ Long years of anti-Soviet propaganda have clearly left their mark, as has the hypnotic effect of the military might which Germany has exhibited so brilliantly over the course of the war. Developments at the front will play a decisive role in influencing British sentiments in this sphere.

True, we have lost some territory in Lithuania and Western Belorussia (Kovno, Grodno, Vilnius and Brest-Litovsk, if we are to believe the Germans), but this is not so important. The territory occupied by the Germans has neither natural borders nor, most probably, any serious fortifications, as we gained it less than two years ago. Meanwhile, the Germans have not managed to pierce the front line anywhere and, most importantly, it has become absolutely clear that the Red Army is capable of measuring swords with the Reichswehr. Not that I doubted this before, but the past week has been a good test of my a priori opinion.

The first week has even surpassed my expectations. I quite anticipated that in the first days we would face failures and partial defeats. I was prepared for this on two accounts. First, the Germans, being the attacking force, could be expected to possess the advantage of surprise, of choosing the points of attack, and of massing their best forces at these points. Second, the Germans are, of course, better at organizing than we. German plans are always worked out in the minutest detail, and the preparation for their execution is usually 100%. Only once everything is in place is the signal to attack given. Our plans and our preparations are rarely anywhere near as complete. There is too much of ‘that’ll do’ and ‘hit or miss’ about our work. Besides, it always takes us some time to get moving. That’s why the Germans were likely to be in the ascendancy for the first week or two. Only later, in the event of things not going so well for us, would we put our shoulder to the wheel and switch to a furious, shock-brigade pace of activity.

Events so far have proved more favourable than I had expected. We shall see what the second week brings. For there is no doubt that the events of the past week were just the first trial of strength: the Germans have yet to call on their main resources.

Now my doubts have been dispelled. True, we have suffered great losses in men, tanks, planes and territories. In the second week of the war, the Germans crossed the Western Dvina, reached Ostrov, crossed the Prut, entered Bessarabia, advanced towards Berezina and the region of Novograd-Volynsk, but this is not what matters. What matters is that nowhere did the Germans succeed in seriously breaking through our lines and crushing the Red Army’s resistance. Our navy is still intact and sturdy, although it gradually moves to the east; our army is strong and battle-worthy; our reserves of tanks and aircrafts are not running low. As in the past, we stand like a solid, invincible wall, defending our homeland against the attack of the mechanized Attila.

For the Germans, on the other hand, the situation is becoming increasingly complicated. They are sustaining enormous casualties (700,000 killed and wounded over the first two weeks of the war); 6–7 mechanized divisions are wrecked; no fewer than 200 planes have been destroyed; their lines of communication are getting longer and less easy to operate; partisan warfare and sabotage in the occupied areas make their life ever more intolerable. A large number of indicators suggest that the first wave of the German attack, launched on 22 June, is petering out, not only before reaching Moscow and Kiev, but even without having brought all the Germans up to the old Soviet borders (1939).

It would be the height of stupidity, of course, to think that the spearhead of the German attack has already been broken. Nothing of the kind. The first wave is exhausted, but it will be followed by a second, and the second may be followed by a third. Hitler will stop at nothing to break through: he may use gas or perhaps something even worse. And it would be frivolity of the most unforgivable kind to crow about an easy victory in advance. The enemy is strong, crafty and dangerous. Great sacrifices and efforts will be required on our side before we crush German fascism. It cannot be ruled out that the loss of significant territories, cities and industrial areas may still await us.

It is already quite clear, however, that this is a case of diamond cut diamond. For the first time Hitler has encountered an army that measures up to his own in terms of arms, methods of warfare and tactical techniques, and that surpasses his army in strength and morale. Moreover, Hitler has for the first time come up against a country that is monolithic within and whose leadership far surpasses his own in firmness, wisdom and confidence. The speech by Comrade Stalin, which I heard on the radio in the small hours of the morning of 3 July, is a document of the greatest historical significance. Its basic idea can be simply formulated: a patriotic war to the end! Until victory! No wavering! No compromises! Not a pound of bread, not a litre of petrol to the enemy!

It’s amusing to hear complaints on the German radio that we are not ‘playing by the rules’ of warfare: German tank columns break through our lines, but our armies do not admit that they are encircled and continue to fight stubbornly against the enemy’s main forces. A territory is occupied by German troops, but we do not lay down arms: we mount partisan operations, organize sabotage, and, when retreating, destroy everything that might be of use to the enemy. How very ‘unorthodox’! And how unpleasant for the German command! They’ve seen nothing yet. This is just the beginning.

Yes, there is no doubt we will win. The question is only when and at what price?

All last week was spent treading water along the same front line (Ostrov, Polotsk, Lepel, Borisov, Bobruisk, Novograd-Volynsk, Chernovtsy, Prut). It was absolutely clear that the energy of the first German attack had exhausted itself, and that some kind of temporary equilibrium was establishing itself on the front line. Only a temporary equilibrium, of course, for there is no doubt that the first attack will be followed by another, which will probably be even fiercer.

But the second attack will lack the element of surprise which played a significant role in the first days of the war (when several hundred planes, incidentally, were destroyed by the Germans right on the airfields), and, on the other hand, the Red Army will meet the second attack being both battle-hardened and better organized. The latter is evident from the creation of three fronts the day before yesterday: north-western (Finland and the Baltics) commanded by Voroshilov, western (north of the Pripet marshes) commanded by Timoshenko

Semen Konstantinovich Timoshenko, marshal of the Soviet Union, people’s commissar for defence, May 1940 to July 1941; deputy people’s commissar for defence July–September 1941; commander of the Stalingrad front, July 1942, and of the north-western front, October 1942 to March 1943.

and south-western (south of the Pripet marshes plus Bessarabia) commanded by Budenny.

Semen Budenny, marshal, a former tsarist cavalry officer, his association with Stalin during the Civil War saved his life when the purges racked the top brass of the Red Army. Commander-in-chief of the Russian army in the Ukraine and Bessarabia at the outbreak of the war; removed from his command after the disastrous defeats inflicted on his troops in summer 1941.

Comrade Stalin will be commander-in-chief – ‘de facto’, if not ‘de jure’. I accept the possibility that more territories may be lost during the second attack, but I am sure that the Germans will fail to defeat the Red Army.

Today, at 2 p.m., a momentous statement was broadcast over the radio in London and in Moscow: an agreement about a military alliance was signed yesterday evening in Moscow between the USSR and England. The parties undertake to assist one another in every way during the war and to conclude neither a separate armistice nor a separate peace.

Very good!

I remember that about two years ago, when the Anglo-French military delegation went to Moscow to negotiate a mutual assistance pact, I wrote in my diary that the logic of things, despite the subjective aspirations of the two sides, was driving the USSR and England to form a bloc against Germany. Such was the international situation. I made the reservation, though, that the two countries might cease to share common interests and that their paths might diverge, if and when questions surrounding the final division between capitalism and socialism became the order of the day. After I wrote these lines in my diary, many events occurred which seemed to refute my theory entirely: the non-aggression pact with Germany, rapprochement with Berlin along economic and political lines, confrontation with England during the Soviet–Finnish war, and the cold, hostile relations between London and Moscow in the course of last year… More than once during this period I asked myself the question: did I make a wrong prognosis? Was the theory recorded in my diary in August 1939 correct? Shouldn’t I amend it?

But an inner voice kept repeating: no, you were not wrong! Your theory is correct! And I did not make any amendments. Now life has proved me right: the USSR and England are allies. They have joined forces to wage a deadly struggle against Germany.

Both countries can say: ‘Our paths have converged.’ But nothing is forever. The ‘paths’ can diverge… Under a variety of circumstances. Especially if and when the problem of capitalism and socialism is placed on the agenda in one form or another.

Cripps must be triumphant! His life’s dream (since the war broke out, at least) has been fulfilled. What’s more, the success is his. This massively strengthens his position. He will return to England as a hero, to the great displeasure and embarrassment of such men as Citrine, Bevin and Attlee, who sent him to Moscow last year, hoping to get rid of a restless and dangerous rival, and who did so much in the past year to prevent Cripps from achieving even a crumb of success in the matter of improving Anglo-Soviet relations. The Labour elite already senses danger in the air and wants to parry it in advance in a typically English manner. Transport House invites Cripps to return to the bosom of the party. We’ll see how Cripps responds…

Someone else is triumphant today – Eden. Since 1935, when he visited Moscow, he has been an advocate of maximal rapprochement with the USSR. He has never vacillated in this direction, even at the lowest moments in Anglo-Soviet relations. His dream has also come true. He, too, considers himself victorious. His star now shines brightly in the political sky. As he told me of the impending signing of the alliance treaty the day before yesterday, Eden was terribly excited and agitated. We spoke about negotiations with the Poles, Czechs and Yugoslavs, about exerting pressure on Iran, where too many German ‘experts’ and ‘tourists’ had gathered, and about the situation in Syria. Eden joked: ‘My head is spinning from all these talks and agreements… I’m afraid to get things mixed up and to make wrong treaty with wrong man.’

Then, assuming a more serious tone, Eden added with palpable emotion: ‘I hope that in 48 hours at most we shall be allies. This is what I have been striving to achieve for so many years!’

The world is in the grip of the most severe contradictions. Today brought a vivid illustration of this fact.

Ever since the USSR entered the war, a tragicomic controversy has flared up in England. The BBC introduced the following practice last year: the national anthems of all the Allies are played on Sundays before the nine o’clock news broadcast. Naturally, after 22 June, the question arose: should the ‘Internationale’ be played over the wireless or not? The answer would seem obvious: it should. But do, please, remember: the ‘Internationale’ is not only the national anthem of the USSR, but is also the militant song of the international proletariat, and in particular of the British Communist Party. The hair of thousands of British Blimps stands on end when they hear it. It came to blows – in the press, in parliament, in society. Strabolgi raised the matter in the House of Lords and received a quite absurd answer from his party colleague, Lord Snell, who spoke on behalf of the government. Silverman raised the same question in the House of Commons. The government gave the same stupid answer: the USSR is not an ‘ally’ in the generally accepted meaning of the word. This caused a minor row in the Chamber.

Lady Cripps called on us at ten in the evening. She told us about the row over the ‘Internationale’ and asked, at Butler’s request and ‘in complete confidentiality’, whether the ‘Internationale’ was our sole national anthem. I explained that it was. Duff Cooper rang me up on 11 July and asked whether we might be able to find some other Soviet or Russian song to replace it. He, for instance, had heard an orchestra playing ‘Kutuzov’s March’

Tchaikovsky’s ‘1812 Overture’.

after Molotov’s speech on 22 June – couldn’t that be substituted for the ‘Internationale’? Needless to say, I categorically opposed the idea. On the 12th, I visited Duff Cooper to discuss how ‘cultural rapprochement’ between our countries could be achieved. Duff Cooper asked once again: could we not replace the ‘Internationale’ with something else? I once again expressed my categorical disagreement. I learnt from my conversation with Duff Cooper that Churchill himself is behind all this. He declares: I am ready to do anything for Russia, but I will not allow the communists to make political capital from the ‘Internationale’. A strange man!… In the end, Cooper said that the following solution had been found: national anthems would be played for the last time on Sunday the 13th. They would then be cancelled. Instead of anthems, national music of all the Allies would be played in turn on Sundays. I shrugged my shoulders and remarked that the BBC’s programming was an internal matter for England, but that I was nonetheless surprised by the reason which led to the proposed change.

The conclusion of a military alliance between the USSR and Great Britain was announced today at two o’clock. I was waiting with curiosity to hear what the BBC would offer at 8.45 in the evening. And? The first item in the programme of national anthems was… a very beautiful but little-known Soviet song. There was no ‘Internationale’. After that song, all the other national anthems were played one after another.

I was vexed and amused at the same time. I was vexed because, despite my repeated warning, Duff Cooper did replace the ‘Internationale’ with another tune. It would have been better if the BBC had played nothing Soviet at all. It looked especially odd on the day of the announcement of an alliance between our countries. I was amused because the fear of playing the ‘Internationale’ vividly demonstrated England’s internal weakness. We would not be afraid to play ‘God Save the King’ in similar circumstances. The USSR and England represent two different civilizations, and this small but highly characteristic episode shows quite clearly that English civilization is tottering.

We were at the dinner table when the BBC demonstrated the British government’s cowardice and foolishness. Agniya got terribly worked up, while being cross with me for being calm and finding it all amusing (I was mocking the British government). She exclaimed: ‘I see we have spent these nine years in England for nothing!’

Unable to contain herself, she leapt to her feet and ran out of the room in tears. It took me some time to calm her down. Agniya’s reaction produced quite an impression on our guests (the Negríns, Blume,

Isabelle Blume-Grégoire, elected to the Chamber of Representatives in 1936, she was one of the first female parliamentarians of the Belgian Labour Party. Head of the welfare service of the Ministry of Work and Marine in London from January 1941 until September 1944.

Casares,

Santiago Casares Quiroga, last Spanish prime minister before the Civil War, May to July 1936, who resigned his post having failed to confront Franco’s uprising, finding refuge in London.

Noel-Baker and the Shinwells)… Maybe it will have good political consequences.

Evidently Eden did not, for some reason, wish to be present when the ‘message’ was handed over. Perhaps because he had already made his plans for the ‘weekend’ and thought it a pity to cancel them.

At around one o’clock Eden called me from the Foreign Office and said that Churchill would receive me at five in the afternoon, but asked me to come to Chequers, where he was spending the ‘weekend’. Having completed the translation of the message and typed it up (to maintain secrecy I did it all myself) I took off to the countryside. The weather was capricious, with rain giving way to bright sunshine. Teterev, who had not been to Chequers before, lost his way and took the wrong turn. When we finally reached the PM’s country residence, it was already nearly 5.30. It was embarrassing, but nothing could be done.

A young secretary met me at the door and led me to the prime minister.

‘They are having tea,’ he uttered on the way.

Dark halls, old paintings, strange staircases… How it should be in a respectful, solid English house several centuries old. Not that I know how old Chequers is. Maybe it is relatively young – by English standards, of course.

Page 1513

The original house on the site was built in the twelfth century, but the present mansion dates back to the sixteenth century.

Eventually, the secretary flung a door wide open and I found myself in a large lit room in the shape of an extended rectangle. It was noisy and full of life. Mrs Churchill sat at the table and poured the tea. There were several young people of both sexes at the table and near it. General Ismay

Hastings Ismay, general, military adviser to Churchill and deputy secretary (military) to the War Cabinet 1940–45.

sat to one side, by a window. Everyone was talking, laughing, exchanging remarks. The air was filled with chatter. Churchill, dressed in strange grey-blue overalls and a belt (a cross between a bricklayer’s work clothes and an outfit suitable for a bomb-shelter), was sitting in the other corner of the room and playing Halma with some pretty young girl. He gave my hand a friendly shake and replied good-humouredly to my apologies for being late: ‘That’s all right. Have a cup of tea while I finish the game.’

Mrs Churchill sat me next to her very hospitably, while Randolph’s red-haired wife set about offering me biscuits. I drank two cups. Ate a few biscuits. Randolph was mentioned. His wife complained that she had little hope of seeing him soon. She said proudly that ‘baby Winston’ had started to walk.

Finally the prime minister ended the game, stood up, nodded to the guests and led me downstairs to a somewhat large and dreary drawing room. We sat on a sofa at the fireplace and I presented Churchill with Stalin’s ‘personal message’. The prime minister started reading it slowly, attentively, now and then consulting a geographical map which was close at hand. He was evidently pleased – pleased at the very fact of having receiving a ‘personal message’ – and did not try to conceal it. When Churchill came to the paragraph where Stalin said that the position of our army would now be immeasurably worse if it had had to begin its defence at the old borders of the USSR and not the new ones, he stopped and exclaimed: ‘Quite right! I’ve always understood and sought to justify the policy of “limited expansion” which Stalin has pursued in the last two years.’

When the prime minister finished reading the message, I asked him what he thought of it. Churchill replied that first he had to consult C[hiefs] of S[taff]. He could make just a few preliminary comments. He likes the idea of a northern front in Norway. This can be done. He is prepared to go for it. He is also prepared to send a light division there at the appropriate moment, although it would be not Norwegian (there is no such division), but mixed. Yes, the plan of launching an offensive in northern Norway so as to gradually move down to the south of Scandinavia is most attractive. Such an operation could strengthen the position of Sweden considerably. As if to prove his point, Churchill picked up the telephone and asked to speak to Admiral Pound,

Sir (Alfred) Dudley Pound, admiral of the fleet, 1939; first sea lord and chief of naval staff, 1939–43.

chief of the naval staff. He began asking him about the preparations for Admiral Vian’s

Sir Philip Louis Vian, as a captain, led the attack on the battleship Bismarck, May 1941; promoted to rear-admiral and sent to Russia for naval cooperation in the evacuation of Russians from Spitzbergen, July 1941.

naval operation and the aircraft carrier operation in the area of Petsamo – they are scheduled for the end of the month. He pressed Pound to act fast and gave him orders in a sharp, somewhat irritated tone.

But on the matter of a second front in France, Churchill immediately took a negative stand. This cannot be done. It’s risky. It will end in disaster for England, bringing no benefits at all. All the prime minister’s arguments are expounded in detail in his reply to Stalin’s ‘personal message’. To vindicate his position, Churchill appealed to Ismay, who had just entered the room where we were talking. Ismay fully backed the PM. I realized that for the time being it would be impossible to change Churchill’s mind on this matter. He had already formed a quite definite view of it. Perhaps in order to soften the impression made by his refusal, the prime minister began to talk about an air offensive against Germany from the west.

‘We shall bomb Germany mercilessly,’ he exclaimed emphatically. ‘Day after day, week after week, month after month! We will keep expanding our raids and increasing the strength of our strikes. In the end we will overwhelm Germany with bombs. We will break the morale of the population.’

Then Churchill suddenly shifted to Iran, repeating everything I had heard from Eden this morning, but in a sharper and more resolute form.

‘The shah must not be allowed to pursue monkey tricks,’ the prime minister uttered heatedly. ‘Persia must be with us! The shah must choose one way or the other.’

Churchill added that if the shah persisted, a military occupation of Persia by Anglo-Soviet forces would be necessary. He hinted, moreover, that the Persian operation, along with Norway, could also be a sort of ‘second front’.

Since it was clear that there could be no talk of a landing operation on the other side of the Channel for now, I turned to questions of supplies, emphasizing their importance. In particular, I focused on the Air Ministry’s refusal to supply planes to us (we had requested 3,000 fighters and 3,000 bombers) and asked in this connection whether some of the machines could be delivered to us by air from the Middle East. Churchill avoided answering my question directly. He promised to examine the issue without committing himself to anything.

I showed my impatience. Churchill betrayed his anxiety and set about assuring me most emphatically of his sincere desire to provide the USSR with maximum assistance; at the same time, he did not want to place us under any dangerous illusions.

‘Today, our possibilities are limited,’ the prime minister said. ‘We do not know how to fight. We have neither the traditions nor the appropriate education. Ours is an army of amateurs. But we are firmly set on getting rid of Hitler. And we shall get rid of him!’

Then Churchill started asserting that victory was possible only with the active participation of the United States in the war, noting that on questions of supply, the USSR should count first and foremost on the USA. He promised to facilitate our access to the American armaments market, if necessary.

Then our conversation turned to military operations. Churchill expressed his admiration for the Red Army. He confessed he had expected far worse, especially when taking into account the fact that Germany was the attacking party.

‘I feared that by now a part of your armies would have been smashed and the Germans would have captured 1–1.5 million of your men. Nothing of the sort has occurred. Even if the Germans have captured 300–400,000, as they claim, that’s nothing considering the scope and intensity of the operations. It merely goes to show that the Red Army is fighting well and remains intact. That is what matters. The loss of territories is of secondary importance.’

Churchill added that over the last couple of days he had feared disaster near Smolensk, but there too the Soviet military command managed to avoid the traps set for them. They passed with flying colours. On the whole, Churchill has always had a high opinion of the military capabilities of the USSR. The experience of the war fully bears out his a priori forecast.

I asked Churchill what he thought of Japan’s position. The prime minister answered that, judging by the information at his disposal, Tokyo was preparing a ‘leap’ to the south, in the direction of Indochina. Churchill does not think that Japan will risk attacking us, provided our Far Eastern army remains in place.

When our conversation was coming to an end, Hopkins, who was spending the ‘weekend’ at Chequers as the prime minister’s guest, entered the room. We greeted each other, but talked little. I asked Hopkins about certain American supplies with which we had encountered difficulties. He promised to make inquiries and inform me of the results. It’s strange, but Hopkins reminds me – in his countenance, manners and dress – of a Zemstvo statistician of olden times.

Churchill and I parted warmly and amicably. As I was leaving, I heard his secretary summoning chiefs of staff for a conference that evening. Churchill promised to dispatch an urgent reply to Stalin through Cripps, and to send me a copy.

Admiral Pound called on me at 11 p.m. today and did indeed present me with a copy of the PM’s reply. In it I found everything I had heard from his lips yesterday. In general, it gives little cause for comfort. No second front in France for now. The entire burden of fighting against the German war machine rests on our shoulders. But at least the PM’s stance is now clear to me. That is important. Illusions must be avoided! Wishful thinking is worst of all.

On 25 July, I met Hopkins at the American embassy. Winant was present. Molotov had asked me to discuss with Hopkins the possibility of providing us with a range of matériel and fighters which the Americans had sent to the Middle East for the English. My talk on this subject with the president’s ‘personal emissary’ brought little success. Hopkins replied that, first, it was down to the English to dispose of the materials supplied to them, and it would be improper for the Americans to interfere; secondly, the 700 fighters of the Tomahawk class, which we would like to get from Cairo, were not in fact in Cairo. The British have already given us 200 of them (in fact, some of them are in England, and some in the US Atlantic ports), 150 are in Egypt and the other 350 are being shipped from America to the Middle East. True, Hopkins assured me that Roosevelt was ready to provide the USSR with every kind of support in the struggle against Hitler, but warned me at the same time against cultivating any illusions regarding the speed and scope of American armaments aid. The US war industry has only now begun to expand, and the production of aircraft, for instance, will become serious only in the middle of 1942 (merely 1,600 machines of all types will be produced this July) and reach a real high level only in early 1943. Hopkins thinks therefore that two programmes should be set up: (1) a programme of immediate aid to the USSR and (2) a programme of aid for the future, say, for the next two years. Work on both must start right away.

Once this topic was exhausted, Hopkins suddenly asked: what could be done to bring Roosevelt and Stalin closer?

I did not understand Hopkins right away. He then started explaining that Stalin was little more than a name to Roosevelt. The abstract head, perhaps, of the Soviet government. There is nothing concrete, material or personal in Roosevelt’s perception of Stalin. Roosevelt has no notion of Stalin as a personality, a human being. What are his tastes, views, habits and sentiments? Can he be trusted or can’t he? Stalin, for his part, probably has no clear idea of the American president’s personality and character either. This is very bad. The USA and the USSR now have to cooperate in the struggle against Hitler. Roosevelt is the leader of the USA, and Stalin the leader of the USSR. The two men should know each other well and understand each other. Only then will cooperation proceed in a smooth and cordial fashion. But how can this be done? Hopkins openly admitted that he lacked a ready answer to this question.

I agreed with Hopkins that it would be a very good thing to make Stalin and Roosevelt better acquainted, but how? Theoretically, there are three methods for such an ‘acquaintance’: (1) meeting in person; (2) exchanging personal messages; and (3) sending personal representatives to each other. The first method was obviously impossible at this time – Hopkins fully agreed about that. So what was left: personal messages? Sending personal representatives?

Hopkins thought and said: ‘There is much that is right in what you say, but I am not in a position to provide a clear answer right away. I need to think it over.’

It was evident that Hopkins was very preoccupied by the matter of ‘acquaintance’ between Roosevelt and Stalin, and that he had been doing some serious thinking. Winant kept mostly silent during our conversation, but he, too, seemed to be interested in the question over which Hopkins had been racking his brains.

Then we parted, and other affairs, especially the Polish negotiations, quickly dislodged the memory of this meeting from my mind.

On the 27th, I was in Bovingdon. At around ten in the evening a telephone call came from the embassy and I was informed that Winant wanted to see me urgently on important business. I set off to town straightaway. When I entered the embassy building it was ten past eleven. Winant was sitting in my office and talking with Novikov. It turned out that Winant had brought along the passports of Hopkins and his two assistants. He asked me to put visas on their passports immediately, as the three of them were leaving for the USSR in half an hour. I did not understand what he was talking about. But Winant exclaimed impatiently: ‘I’ll explain everything to you afterwards. For now just give me the visas. The train departs for Scotland at 11.40. Hopkins is already at the station. I must give him the passports with the visas before the train departs.’

That’s easy to say: give me the visas! All the stamps and seals were at the consulate. Driving to the consulate would take a quarter of an hour, and there would probably be no one there anyway at such a late hour. What to do?

I adjusted quickly, in the Bolshevik style. After all, Hopkins’ visit to Moscow could not be delayed on account of a few paragraphs in the consular instructions! I took Hopkins’ passport and wrote on a blank leaf by hand: ‘I request that Mr Harry Hopkins be allowed through without inspection of his luggage. Ambassador of the USSR to Great Britain I. Maisky. 27 July 1941.’ Then I called Lepekhin and attached our seal. I did the same with the other two passports. I expect the head of the NKID consular department to faint when he sees ‘my visa’. Such a visa, I imagine, has never been recorded in the annals of our diplomacy. But why worry? Even Peter the Great used to say: ‘The law itself can be changed if the need requires it.’ Here the ‘need’ was unquestionable.

Winant took the passports and left. He came back at midnight.

‘I only just made it,’ he exclaimed on entering my office. ‘The train was already moving.’

He then told me what had happened. It turns out that after their talk with me on 25 July, Hopkins and Winant gave much thought to how to improve relations between the USA and the USSR and between Roosevelt and Stalin in particular, and finally arrived at the conclusion that in the present conditions a visit by Hopkins to Moscow would be the most expedient step. They asked Roosevelt. The reply came this afternoon: the president agrees. And Hopkins set off this very evening.

I called Agniya and introduced her to Winant. The three of us stayed up until half past one, talked a lot, and drank to victory over Hitler. Winant is straightforward, natural and humane – a complete contrast to Kennedy. He is well disposed towards the USSR and sincerely wishes to help us.

And now Hopkins is in Moscow! I’m very glad. This will yield benefit. Hopkins makes a good impression – he is unaffected, democratic and full of energy. In his countenance and manners he resembles a Zemstvo statistician of the old times. He has arrived to meet Stalin as Roosevelt’s personal representative. Comrade Stalin, of course, will know how to receive him in the appropriate way.

Novikov, Korzh, Zinchenko,

Konstantin Emelianovich Zinchenko, from 1940 to 1942 second, then first, secretary at the Soviet embassy in Great Britain; central organ of NKID in Moscow, 1942–44.

Zonov and I arrived in the Foreign Office at 4.15 this afternoon. The rain was pouring down, dull grey clouds scuttled over the sky. We entered the reception room. I started telling our young men that meetings on ‘non-intervention’ in Spain had once been held in this room. Before I had finished my story Sikorski appeared in his general’s uniform, accompanied by the chairman of the Polish Sejm and also some ministers: Kot

Stanisław Kot, minister of internal affairs of the Polish government in exile, 1939–41; ambassador to the Soviet Union, 1941–42.

(home affairs), Stronski

Stanisław Stronski, deputy prime minister of the Polish government in exile, 1939–43.

(propaganda) and someone else whose name I don’t remember. We introduced ourselves and shook hands. Then Eden’s secretary came and ushered us into the foreign secretary’s office.

Eden met us at the door. He was smiling, and it was obvious that he was very pleased. There were film cameras in the room and thick cables on the floor. Some people were walking to and fro – they turned out to be cinema men and photographers. Also present were Cadogan, Richard Law (he has just replaced Butler as parliamentary undersecretary of state for foreign affairs) and, of course, the ubiquitous Strang, carrying a heap of papers and documents.

The routine of introductions and handshakes was repeated. When this was over, Eden glanced at his watch and said rapidly: ‘The prime minister has not yet come…’

Then, as if to apologize, he added: ‘You know, the prime minister likes to take an hour’s nap after lunch. Such is his habit. He will be here any moment.’

Then Eden laid his hand on Sikorski’s shoulder, led him aside and whispered a few words to the Polish prime minister. After that he came to me, laid his hand on my shoulder in similar fashion, and said in a subdued voice and with slight embarrassment: ‘Please forgive my foolish question. During the signing at the table, I’ll sit in the middle… Do you mind the general sitting to the right of me, and you on the left? He is the prime minister, after all…’

I laughed heartily and replied: ‘No, I don’t mind. It’s not the place that makes the man…’

Eden sighed with relief and added cheerfully: ‘Thank you so much.’

Still no Churchill. Those present wandered about Eden’s room rather aimlessly. Strang and Novikov fussed around the table where the signing was to take place. This table, which was long and covered with a cloth, stood to one side, to the right of the table at which Eden usually received his guests, along the wall displaying Pitt’s bust.

‘Who,’ Colville thought, ‘looked down, rather disapprovingly’ at the proceedings; Colville, Fringes of Power, p. 422.

Sikorski addressed me in French. He was delighted that we were signing the treaty. He came to the conclusion long ago that Poland could not balance between its neighbours in the west and in the east for ever. It had to choose: either with Germany against Russia, or with Russia against Germany. Sikorski himself has always thought that Poland must be with Russia against Germany. He began to pursue this line back in 1925, when he was minister for military affairs. Unfortunately, other currents came to prevail in Polish politics, and their results are manifest today. Sikorski felt a sense of deep satisfaction at the thought of signing a treaty which, he hoped, would prove a turning point in the history of Poland and relations between Poland and Russia.

Sikorski further announced that he had decided to appoint General Anders,

Władysław Anders, Polish army general who commanded the Polish armed forces in Russia, 1941–42.

whom we are currently holding prisoner, as commander of the Polish army in the USSR, and Kot, his minister of internal affairs and a radical leader of the Peasant Party, as ambassador to Moscow. Sikorski beckoned Kot and started talking to him about his future work in the USSR. The general mentioned, by and by, that one of Kot’s tasks would be to set up a committee in Moscow to aid Polish citizens who were to receive amnesty under the treaty. Kot, for his part, said that first of all he intended to dispatch two or three men to Moscow, his future assistants in the embassy, while he himself would depart later (in a couple of weeks or so). Kot complained of his poor health and, in this connection, expressed his anxiety about the future.

Suddenly, it was as if a gust of wind had swept through the room. Everyone fell silent and turned their gaze to the door: the prime minister had appeared in the doorway. Eden’s warning proved apposite. Churchill really had just got out of bed. This could be seen from his sagging face, his red, somewhat watery eyes, and his generally sleepy appearance. Dressed in a black coat and striped trousers, broad-shouldered, thickset, his head obstinately lowered – a real English bulldog – the prime minister inspected the scene with a furtive smile. Eden hurried to greet him and led him into the middle of the room. Sikorski introduced his ‘retinue’ to Churchill, and I introduced mine.

Retinger, too, remarked that ‘Churchill looked tired, and he was deeply and visibly moved. There were quivers in his voice, and tears in his eyes’; J. Retinger, Memoirs of an Eminence Grise (London, 1972), p. 120.

We then got down to business. It was already half past four. We took our seats at the table for the signing of the treaty. Eden sat in the middle and Churchill on his left. I sat further to the left at the corner, while Sikorski took his seat to the right of Eden. The Polish Pan had schemed in vain, for fate had tricked him: he may have sat to the right of Eden, but I sat next to Churchill. I smiled to myself. Sikorski’s secretary passed him the texts to be signed; Novikov did the same for me.

The camera-men got to work, and the photographers started clicking. The press was not admitted – I don’t know why (all managements [sic] were in the hands of the Foreign Office). A shame. From the point of view of Allied propaganda, it would have been advantageous to make a fuss over the act of signing. The FO, it seems, has not yet mastered the art of propaganda.

While Sikorski and I were signing (it was necessary to sign six times: the treaty, two protocols, and their copies), Churchill sat grinning and smoking his customary cigar. Every now and then he exchanged a few remarks with me. He repeated once again: ‘Night and day I’m thinking about the best ways of helping you!’

The PM had already told me this twice: at the reception in the Palace on 16 July, and afterwards in Chequers on the 19th. Also: ‘Things are going well at the front. You are fighting magnificently.’

Also: ‘The rubber I promised you is being loaded in England and will be shipped to Arkhangelsk within days.’

Finally: ‘Hopkins has arrived safely in Moscow. I’m very glad he is there. I hope he will be able to see Stalin often. That can only be of benefit.’

At last, the signing procedure is complete. Eden rises, and, looking at a piece of paper, utters congratulations, prepared in advance, to both parties. The camera-men and photographers are clicking fast.

Relieved, I assume that the ceremony is fini. But no! What’s that?

Sikorski rises from his seat and strikes the pose of the orator. Is he going to make a speech? But we had agreed to do without speeches! And yet! Sikorski delivers a political speech. He speaks in Polish and his secretary translates his words into English. I have to speak, too. Counting on our agreement, I have not prepared anything. I have to speak off the cuff. Fortunately, I consulted with Moscow in advance about the general direction of a speech, should it be required. My impromptu turns out all right. Better than I expected. Churchill rises to his feet after me and also says a few bracing words. Bracing words addressed to the Germans. How he hates Hitler! I do not envy the ‘Führer’ if he loses the war.

At last, it’s over. We shake hands and say goodbye to one another. The camera-men want to film Sikorski and me shaking hands. We do as they ask. On parting, Churchill says to me: ‘I’m ready to help you however I can. If you have any thoughts on this score, come and see me. We’ll have a talk.’

I thank him and promise to take advantage of his invitation.

Eden stops me and Sikorski: he may make a statement on the treaty in parliament now – if so, perhaps we could be present. We remain in Eden’s office while he embarks on negotiations with parliament over the phone. He asks for the order of the day to be disrupted and to be given 15 or 20 minutes to make the statement. Alas! Today is the Scottish day, and the stingy Scotsmen flatly refuse to lose a quarter of an hour from the time allotted to them. Eden strives in vain to persuade someone over the phone. With disappointment etched on his face, Eden turns to Sikorski and me – nothing doing. He explains the situation and asks us to come at twelve o’clock tomorrow, when he will make a statement on the Soviet–Polish treaty in the House.

We say goodbye to Eden. I linger for a minute and ask what will happen in parliament tomorrow. He understands me and replies with a smile: ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll keep my word.’

I head home. It’s still raining, but the weather is clearing up a little. I have barely crossed the threshold of the embassy building when Iris runs out towards me and informs me: ‘Eden’s secretary has just called. Eden will speak today after all. If you want to listen to him, you must go to parliament right away.’

I fetch Agniya and we rush to the House of Commons. Race along the corridors and into our seats. Too late! Eden has already finished speaking. Questions and answers follow. I catch McEwen’s

John McEwen, junior member in Churchill’s Cabinet and a Conservative MP.

question and Eden’s answer. OK! Eden has kept his word. Everything is all right.

The Soviet–Polish treaty has come into force. What will it bring now and in the future? Is it a turning point or isn’t it?

Time will tell.

Needless to say, those Poles, in spite of their apparent acquiescence with me at that meeting, did not content themselves with my proposals, but began ‘improving’ them. These ‘improvers’ do more harm than good! They always confuse and complicate matters.

To begin with, they suggested ‘improvements’ to the four main points:

(1) It was stated in my first point that the 1939 Soviet–German agreements ‘with regard to Poland’ were considered null and void. This was not enough for the Poles. They tried to push through, in various guises, an at least indirect recognition on our part of the 1921 borders. Naturally enough, we categorically objected against this intention and although we finally accepted the formula ‘the treaty… concerning the territorial changes in Poland’, we did not accept even the vaguest recognition of the old borders.

(2) It was stated in my fourth point that the USSR gives its consent to the formation of a Polish army on its territory. The Poles started ‘improving’ here as well. They refused to accept the appointment of the army commander by the Polish government in agreement with the Soviet government. They also wanted to limit the subordination of the Polish army to the Soviet supreme military command only to those hostilities that took place on the territory of the USSR. This would mean that as soon as the Red Army and the Polish army crossed the Soviet borders during a counteroffensive (and Sikorski was inclined to interpret the Soviet borders along the lines of the Riga treaty of 1921), the Polish army would cease to fall under our command. Finally, the Poles demanded the conclusion of a special convention concerning the command, organization and engagement of the Polish Army. There was a long tussle over this point, and the Poles finally agreed to appoint the commander with the Soviet government’s approval, and removed the clause concerning the subordination of the Polish army to our command only on the territory of the USSR. We, for our part, agreed to conclude a military convention regulating all matters related to the existence of the Polish army.

(3) The third point, which my scheme did not contain, but which caused a great dispute, was the question of releasing Polish prisoners held in the USSR (not only prisoners of war but also civilians). Here we met the wishes of the Poles and promised to declare an amnesty after the resumption of our diplomatic relations.

(4) Finally, the fourth point, which also caused controversy, albeit of a less serious kind, was the wish of the Poles (particularly of Zaleski, who lost his estate in that part of Poland which was claimed by us) to guarantee consideration in future of material claims – public and private. We agreed in the end, but proposed that this point be entered in a secret protocol, as was then done. Initially we proposed inserting the words ‘reciprocal claims’ into the protocol. The Poles objected furiously. Then Eden suggested a compromise, ‘various material claims’, which we accepted, because this formula makes it possible for us, too, to present counterclaims to the Poles so as to settle scores both old and new.

The disputes on the ‘improvements’ dragged on for three weeks. There were some dramatic moments. When the Poles persevered in their desire to push through indirect recognition of the 1921 borders, for example, I became angry and asked Eden on July [date missing] to tell Sikorski that if he dug his heels in, I would inform the Soviet government that it was useless continuing negotiations and I would recommend a return to the idea of a Polish National Committee, which we had abandoned in view of the Poles’ opposition. My threat had its effect, and Article 1 of the treaty was passed in a version we could accept. Likewise, when towards the end of the negotiations Sikorski excelled himself in devising more and more amendments to Article 4 (the army) and the protocols, Moscow could not stand it any longer and declared: if the Poles do not accept the wordings that have already been agreed, they may go to the devil. We can do without them. This also had its effect and Sikorski immediately withdrew his amendments.

Eden certainly played a major role in the negotiations. I incline to the view that we could hardly have come to an understanding with the Poles without him, or, even if we had finally reached an agreement, it would have happened much later. Eden tried to hold the middle ground, but sometimes he veered off course and became excessively attentive to the wishes and demands of the Poles. He likes Sikorski very much (as do all the leading English politicians, for that matter), and this was reflected in the negotiations. But Eden must nonetheless be thanked.

A strange thing happened just before the signing. On 25 July, I told Eden of Moscow’s refusal to make further concessions (the Poles could ‘go to the devil’ if they didn’t like it). On 26 July, Eden told me the Poles were ready to accept the previously agreed text. The signing of the treaty was scheduled for Monday the 28th. On the morning of the 27th, Novikov, Strang and ‘Count Mniszek’, the Polish representative, finalized the text. All of a sudden, in the afternoon of the 27th, a telegram came from Cripps in which he reported that he had seen Stalin and Molotov the day before and agreed with them a text of the Polish treaty, which slightly differed from the text that had been drawn up with such difficulty in London. The most important difference consisted in the fact that a complete amnesty for all imprisoned Poles had been promised to Cripps in Moscow, while we in London had agreed only that ‘all practical questions relating to the release of Polish citizens imprisoned on the territory of the USSR will be considered favourably following the resumption of diplomatic relations’. Besides, according to the Moscow text, the protocol about the prisoners was to be made public, while earlier Moscow had insisted on its secrecy and it had been very hard for me to get Moscow’s consent to make a muffled allusion to the forthcoming revision of prisoners’ cases in the communiqué the Foreign Office was to issue in connection with the signing of the treaty. Likewise, in the second protocol (about claims), the word ‘reciprocal’ had been removed, although Moscow had stubbornly insisted on it earlier. On the other hand, the Moscow text restored the clear statement that the Polish army commander was to be appointed by agreement with the Soviet government, while in the text agreed in London this condition had been removed in view of Sikorski’s promise to include it in the text of the future military convention.

I was in a fix. The Foreign Office also found itself in a state of confusion. Cadogan summoned me urgently from Bovingdon (Eden was out of town) and asked whether I had confirmation of Cripps’s communication from Moscow. I did not, so I hastily called Moscow to ask if Cripps’s communication was accurate. When, on returning to the embassy, I was composing my ciphered message, Eden called from the country and asked me not to object to the new version, which looked better to him. He promised, by way of compensation, to somewhat modify the text of his note to Sikorski in terms more favourable for us. I replied that I did not intend to object; I was simply asking what to do.

At three in the afternoon on the 28th, I received a reply from Moscow which threw me into great confusion. Yes, Cripps’s communication was accurate, and I should bring the newly agreed text to Eden’s notice. Nevertheless, the Soviet government liked my ‘London’ text more than the ‘Moscow’ one. After chewing this over, I finally decided to confirm the authenticity of the ‘Moscow’ text to Eden. My chief consideration was this: since we had agreed to an amnesty for the Poles, we should at least make political capital from this in England, America and Poland. So it was precisely the effective word ‘amnesty’ that should be used, while the relevant protocol should be made public. I saw Eden at about 3.30 p.m. and informed him about the telegram I had received. Eden informed Sikorski about the new ‘Moscow’ text immediately. They both grabbed at it with both hands. In conversation with Eden, Sikorski said he was greatly moved by the Soviet government’s magnanimity and was now 100% ready to cooperate. Eden called me at about 10 p.m. He related Sikorski’s words to me and thanked the Soviet government and me once again for our good intentions and wise statesmanship. At about one o’clock another telegram arrived, which said that Molotov had seen Cripps on the 28th and told him that the Soviet government preferred the ‘London’ text after all. Cripps had not objected and promised to telegraph Eden about it immediately. It was apparent from the telegram that in fact Moscow wanted very much to conclude the treaty on the basis of the ‘London’ text. I replied rightaway that now it was too late and explained in detail what had happened during the day of 28 July. I emphasized that I considered it politically advantageous to publish the protocol on the amnesty for the prisoners.

On the 29th I met Eden at a lunch at the Foreign Press Association, where he was making a speech. I told Eden about my nocturnal telegram. It turned out that Eden had already received a ciphered message from Cripps in the morning, in which Cripps gave him an account of his talk with Molotov.

‘He did not object to keeping the London text!’ Eden exclaimed, referring to Cripps, with half-feigned irritation. ‘No wonder! He has no idea of the difficulties involved in these negotiations. I’ve wired Cripps to say it’s too late to change anything.’

Late at night on the 29th I received Moscow’s authorization to sign the ‘Moscow text’. That is how the ‘Moscow text’ became the text of the treaty. However, it’s still not quite clear to me what happened in Moscow on the evening of the 25th and why Comrades Stalin and Molotov agreed with Cripps on the ‘Moscow text’. I was placed in a difficult position during my talk with Eden. As soon as I made an attempt to defend the ‘London text’, Eden immediately took refuge behind the authority of Stalin. What could I say to this?

The speeches at the signing of the treaty were also a strange story. Telling me of his conversation with Sikorski on the evening of the 28th, Eden said, among other things, that Sikorski wanted to make a speech at the signing, adding that the Foreign Office would send it to me the following day so that I could familiarize myself with its content. But in the afternoon of the 29th I got a letter signed by Strang which informed me that Sikorski had decided, on second thoughts, not to make a speech. I, of course, had no objections, and although, just to be on the safe side, I had telegraphed the theses of what I was going to say to Moscow late at night on the 28th, I now relaxed and did not prepare a speech. I was unsure, however, of what would actually happen. Doubts crept in during a lunch for the foreign press on the 29th, when towards the end, quite contrary to the programme, the general suddenly asked for the floor and made a speech in which he foretold the conclusion of a Soviet–Polish treaty. I gained the impression that Sikorski ‘loves to talk’. Having my doubts, I called Strang on the morning of the 30th and asked him once more: would Sikorski be speaking at the signing or not? His reply was: no, Sikorski would not make a speech! On the basis of this reply I prepared nothing in advance.

Maisky was informed by Strang on 29 July that Sikorski had assured Eden that he did ‘not intend to make a speech at the time of the signature of the agreement’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1596 l.5.

But in the end the general could not contain himself and spoke all the same! A real chatterbox! I kept my head, though, and said a few words off the cuff in keeping with my theses (which, by the way, had been approved by Moscow).

One more detail. So as to compensate Sikorski somewhat for our refusal to recognize even obliquely the 1921 borders, Eden had promised, upon the signing of the treaty, a note from the British government in which the latter would declare that it did not recognize the territorial changes that had taken place in Poland in the course of the war. This, of course, did not mean a recognition of the 1921 borders, and Eden told Sikorski in no uncertain terms during the negotiations that recognition of the old borders by the British government was out of the question. Nonetheless, I insisted that Eden should make a clear-cut statement of non-recognition. At first I suggested to Eden that a corresponding sentence should be included in his note, but Sikorski bristled and Eden capitulated. Then I suggested including such a sentence in the text of Eden’s parliamentary speech on the Soviet–Polish treaty. Eden sent me the text of his speech on the afternoon of the 29th. I read it and returned it to him with my draft amendment. However, on the morning of the 30th, the day of the signing, Eden phoned me and said he could not accept my amendment as the text of his speech had already been approved by Cabinet and any change would require fresh approval from the Cabinet, not to mention more lengthy talks with Sikorski. Eden could not agree to this. I then proposed the following solution. Let some MP ask Eden after his speech if the treaty implies a guarantee of the old Polish borders, to which Eden will give a clear answer: ‘No!’ Eden accepted this proposal and even promised to ensure that such a question would be asked. Indeed, McEwen, a Conservative, asked the question I needed, and Eden gave him the reply I was after. Now the Poles will not be able to claim under any circumstances in the future that England guaranteed the 1921 borders, even indirectly. That’s useful. The question of Poland will be one of the most complicated and difficult issues in establishing the post-war order in Europe, and it is better to be well prepared on this matter.

Hopkins met Comrade Stalin twice, on 30 and 31 July. Their talks were long and detailed. Hopkins stated on behalf of Roosevelt that the United States would provide all manner of aid to us without concluding a special agreement. Comrade Stalin thanked Hopkins for his statement and then set out to him the list of our requirements (mostly heavy machine-guns and small anti-aircraft guns). Comrade Stalin also asked that the $500 million loan granted to us by the US government be expedited. This would also serve to demonstrate openly the existence of the bloc of the United States, the Soviet Union and Great Britain. Hopkins agreed to this and promised to telegraph Roosevelt promptly in the same vein. Comrade Stalin also gave Hopkins firm assurance that our victory is inevitable and that Hitler and his gang must be removed from power, because they lack ‘gentlemanliness’ and violate all agreements. The observance of such agreements is especially important in view of the existence of different systems of government in different countries.

Comrade Stalin made a very strong impression on Hopkins. Winant, who saw Hopkins on his return to Scotland (Hopkins departed for America without coming to London), told me that Roosevelt’s special envoy left Moscow having drawn the following conclusions. Comrade Stalin has an exceptionally clear mind and is most realistic. He knows what he wants and is a true master of the situation. He knows the front like the palm of his hand. He is wholly confident of victory. Stalin does not ask for the impossible, and he did not lose heart when Hopkins told him that there was not much the USA could give the USSR at the present moment. On the contrary, he began calmly discussing with Hopkins a programme for the future and various possibilities for supplying the USSR by the spring of 1942. This gave Hopkins the impression that the Red Army has a sufficiently solid base of its own and that in general the USSR is a trustworthy partner with whom the USA can do business.

Together with Steinhardt, Hopkins also went to see Molotov (31 July). Hopkins put two questions to Molotov:

(1) What would the Soviet government like the US government to do in respect of Japan? Molotov answered that it might be useful if the US government made clear to Japan its negative attitude to Japan’s advance not only in the southern, but also in the northern direction.

(2) What effect will the Soviet–German war have on relations between the USSR and China? Molotov replied that the Soviet government has an understanding with Jiang Jieshi, but owing to the current situation the Soviet government lacks the means of providing China with much help. It would be good if the United States could increase its aid to China.

Hopkins’ reaction to Comrade Molotov’s explanations was not very well defined. He merely remarked that the USA does not like sending notes of disapproval to Japan concerning the latter’s actions. Such notes bear little fruit.

Hopkins’ general impression of the USSR is that all, from top to bottom, are fully resolved to annihilate German fascism and are fully confident of victory.

On 10 May, the Soviet government asked the Norwegians to close their mission in Moscow. At the beginning of the war, the Soviet government decided to restore normal relations with the Norwegian government. The latter also gave us to understand, through Eden, that they would like to adjust relations. I opened the talks through Colban. On 24 July, I visited Lie,

Trygve Halvdan Lie, foreign minister of the Norwegian government in exile, 1940–41.

the Norwegian foreign minister, who was once a communist, lived in the Lux in 1921/22, and is now a member of the Norwegian Labour Party.

At first I thought about concluding the same treaty with the Norwegians as with Czechoslovakia, and even gave a draft of it to Colban. But Lie said the Norwegian government would not want such a pact at the present time (in view of its difficult relations with the Finns and the Swedes) and proposed that we confine ourselves to a simple exchange of envoys plus a tripartite Anglo-Soviet–Norwegian agreement concerning Spitsbergen. Lie suggested framing the normalization of relations in the form of an exchange of letters about the reciprocal appointment of envoys. Lie also said that the Norwegian government would be happy to see Agniya as the Soviet government’s envoy in Norway. I stared at him in astonishment and asked: ‘But why specifically my wife?’

Lie then explained that Norwegians nurtured the fondest memory of Kollontay’s work in Norway and consequently were of the mind that the role of envoy in Norway would be well suited to a Russian woman. Moreover, Lie sees that my wife understands the spirit of the Norwegian people: she likes Vigeland very much. Here I recalled that three months ago, at a dinner given by Admiral Evans (he is married to a Norwegian), Lie was seated next to Agniya and they had an extensive conversation about Norwegian literature and art. After this conversation Lie exclaimed: ‘If only your wife were the envoy in Norway!’

At the time I took this to be a joke. Now I saw that it was all much more serious. I tried to introduce a note of levity into our conversation, but Lie continued treating it with true Scandinavian gravity. In general, he is as Scandinavian as they come: tall, quite heavy and phlegmatic, though his hair is not blond but brown.

Lie admitted by the by that he was against us during the Finnish war, but now he had to concede that the ‘statesmen in the Kremlin’ saw farther than he. Well, better late than never!

Lie expressed his ardent hope that Soviet troops would enter northern Norway in the near future and told me in this connection that the Norwegians have 27,000 merchant seamen, 3,000 in the navy, 1,500 pilots (some are being trained in Canada, some work in Iceland), and up to 1,500 men in the army (currently training in Scotland).

Moscow agreed to Lie’s proposals, and today Lie and I exchanged letters about the envoy swap. The exchange took place in my office in the embassy. Afterwards we drank to friendship between the Soviet and Norwegian peoples and to our common victory.

Two weeks passed. Spaak kept silent and so did I. Blume told me that Spaak was still ‘pondering’ the best way to resolve the matter (I think he was simultaneously seeking the Vatican’s blessing for such a step). Spaak was of the view (as Blume told me) that since the Belgian mission in Moscow had been closed at the Soviet government’s initiative, the Soviet government should now take the first step. I, however, failed to see any grounds for this and patiently waited for Spaak to conclude his ‘pondering’. Finally the Belgian foreign minister decided to ask Eden to act as intermediary.

Today, at 11 a.m., Spaak and I met in Eden’s office. It wasn’t difficult to come to an agreement. At first I proposed to Spaak that we exchange letters, as Lie and I had done two days before, but for some reason Spaak was evidently against this. I did not insist. Spaak proposed a simpler method: simply to release a short communiqué in which it would be said that today, 7 August, he and I had met in Eden’s office and agreed on the exchange of diplomatic representatives. I did not object. So that’s what was done. The text of the communiqué was produced there and then.

Right now the Belgians are appointing a chargé d’affaires for us (some counsellor who is presently in California). Spaak told me he would need some time to find a suitable envoy. Perhaps. My impression, however, is that Spaak will be in no particular hurry to appoint an envoy (have the talks with the Vatican not been conclusive?). But this does not matter. It is safe to say that starting today relations between the USSR and Belgium have returned to normal.

The future is hidden, of course, but some very important things are clear even now. The main thing is that the Red Army has held firm against the Reichswehr [sic]. The Hitlerite war machine proved unable to overrun, overthrow and grind down the Red Army as it had done to all other armies, including the French. It was unable to do so in the first 2–3 weeks of the war, when it had every advantage on its side. It has even less chance of achieving such an outcome now. If this is so, Hitler’s Germany is effectively beaten, although the realization of this defeat might still take some time and cost us considerable sacrifice in human lives, arms and territories. How to reduce the losses, and bring them down to the absolutely inevitable minimum? That is the task. To accomplish it we need the full assistance of England and the USA. Do we have it? Not yet. Will we have it? I don’t know. My mood on this score is rather sceptical.

Let’s start with the USA. I read Brailsford’s report from Washington in the current issue of the New Statesman (8 August). What does it say? It says that actually the United States continues to live almost entirely in a peace-time atmosphere. The war and the war effort hardly make themselves felt as yet despite the Lease and Lend Bill and all Roosevelt’s speeches. Brailsford reports that car sales increased in the USA by 35% in the first six months of this year, compared to the first half of 1940, refrigerator sales by 42%, and sales of electric ovens by 51%! Military production in the USA currently amounts to not more than 15% of total production. The remaining 85% relates to peace-time industries. And any attempt to curtail peace-time industries in the interests of military production is met with bayonets – not only by the manufacturers, but also by the public at large. Things are especially bad with aluminium. Is it possible, in such circumstances, to count on fully-fledged aid from the USA in the upcoming months, or even in the upcoming year?

Things are no better in England. True, everyone, beginning with Churchill, keeps saying that they are ready to give us the most active assistance. But how is this aid realized in practice?

The idea of a second front in the west, which Comrade Stalin proposed to Churchill, has been rejected in view of the difficulties involved in its attainment. The idea of a joint front in the north has been accepted in principle, but its implementation is going on so slowly and sparingly that our navy and army men are falling into despair. Air attacks on Germany from the west are carried out, but, first, they cannot have a strong impact on the withdrawal of forces from the eastern front and, second, they too are somewhat anaemic. Even in the sphere of supplies, the English try to limit themselves to the absolute minimum. They don’t want to grant us sufficient loans, and they don’t want to provide us with the weapons we need most badly (small-calibre anti-aircraft guns, fighters, etc.). I wrested 200 American Tomahawks from them with the greatest difficulty – now they can’t forget about it and boast about it as a symbol of their generosity at every opportunity, suitable or otherwise. They all say: we ourselves don’t have them! It’s a lame excuse as often as not. The point of the matter is that (a) the British, following their long tradition, want to shift the main burden of the war onto us and to keep out of things whenever possible, and (b) members of the government, including Churchill, still keep to the course of that ‘defensive strategy’ which they have pursued for the last year and which was quite natural and reasonable before we entered the war, but became an anachronism after 22 June.

As a result, a mood of complacency is widespread in the country, infecting the workers as well to a certain extent. On 2 August, a Bank Holiday, there were huge crowds of people at the railway stations bound for the country, just as in peace time. More than 300 extra trains left London, carrying ‘holiday-makers’. Does one need any further proof of widespread complacency?

That is why I do not expect full-fledged aid from England in the near future either, with the possible exception of the Middle East. In the main we must rely on ourselves.

Highly dangerous sentiments are to be observed in Belgian governmental and military circles in England. It is said that the government and the army will return to Belgium right after the end of the war and, before the people recover their senses, will swiftly establish a military dictatorship headed by Leopold. I don’t know whether such a venture will succeed, but these sentiments serve as a good reminder of the complex problems we shall encounter the day after Hitler has been eliminated.

Autumn is already in the air at Lloyd George’s manor. Grey skies. Rain. The first touch of yellow on the trees. The wind rustles the branches and tears off leaves. There is a sense of emptiness in the house. Some rooms are closed and are evidently not in use. Even the presence of Mrs Stevenson,

Frances Stevenson, private secretary to Lloyd George, 1913–43, became his second wife in 1943.

the secretary (and probably not only a secretary), who takes care of the old man and his domestic affairs, does not bring warmth and cosiness to a house grown cold. Or perhaps the approaching end is casting its icy shadow?…

I’m not sure. Lloyd George still looks well, although it is noticeable that he has aged greatly and let himself go over the past year, especially since the death of his wife. But only in relative terms. Only in comparison with how he looked two or three years ago, when he was already 75.

We talked a lot – about the war, the government and future prospects. Lloyd George is full of admiration for our resistance. He is proud to see that the Red Army and the whole of the USSR have entirely justified the predictions he made a long time ago in his talks with the leading British politicians.

‘I told Chamberlain in early 1939: sign a treaty with the USSR, and you can put your mind at rest. There won’t be a war, but if war does still break out, the USSR will deliver a tremendous blow to Germany. But no! That idiot, that manufacturer of iron beds was set dead against it. He shrugged his shoulders and scoffed: “The Russian army? It will collapse at Hitler’s first attack.” To think that such people stood at the head of an empire!’

Lloyd George berated Churchill in the fiercest terms. He was indignant that the British government is not providing the USSR with any real aid. How come? The greatest battle in the current war is being fought, the greatest battle in history, the battle on which the outcome of the war depends – and what is England doing? Nothing. The current raids on Germany don’t count as ‘doing’. They say it’s impossible to establish a second front in France. They say such an attempt will end in failure. I’m not so sure, but suppose it will. It doesn’t matter! Samsonov’s

Aleksandr Samsonov, a tsarist general who fought in the Russo-Turkish War and was commander of the forlorn invasion of Prussia; responsible for the disaster at the Battle of Tannenberg, he committed suicide rather than face the tsar.

campaign in the past war ended at Tannenberg, but it did its job: Paris was saved and the war was eventually won. Even if England were now to lose 100,000–150,000 men in France, this would only do for the eastern front what the Russians did for the western front in that war.

The old man was also angry about the prime minister setting off to meet Roosevelt at such a critical moment in the war, abandoning the helm for a whole fortnight, and in addition taking Dill, Pound and other army and navy chiefs with him. The result? A toothless declaration which leaves one neither hot nor cold. Declarations were made during the last war – did anything come of them?

Lloyd George asked me about the assistance we receive from the British and American governments in terms of supplies. I had nothing reassuring to tell him. The old man once again displayed the greatest vexation and cursed the ministers for their narrow-mindedness. Today everything – the fate of the war, the fate of Europe, the fate of the British Empire – is decided on the eastern front, yet they haggle over every plane, every engine! Incredible!

I observed that, according to the impressions I have formed, Eden understands the significance of events in the east better than the other members of the government. Lloyd George agreed with me and mentioned that a recent conversation with Eden had led him to believe that Eden supports the idea of a second front. As for Churchill, the old man is extremely hard on him. I asked Lloyd George why he refuses to enter the government.

‘I would have entered a small authoritative war cabinet,’ the old man replied, ‘in which all matters were collectively discussed and decided upon. But I would never agree to put my signature under the prime minister’s decisions, which he discusses with nobody and merely imposes on the Cabinet. I’m against such a dictatorship. And that is the kind of dictator Churchill is. He does and decides everything by himself. Other members of the government are simply rubber stamps.’

According to Lloyd George, behind Churchill there stands Professor Lindemann.

Frederick Alexander Lindemann, personal assistant to Churchill at the Admiralty, 1939; scientific adviser to the Cabinet and paymaster general, 1942–45; privy counsellor, 1943.

Churchill listens to him and takes his advice on board. This is a real ‘…’

The word, obviously not a complimentary one, is deliberately omitted in the original manuscript.

The ministers are just pawns in the prime minister’s hands.

Our conversation shifted to the impact of our resistance against Germany.

‘Believe me,’ Lloyd George exclaimed, ‘your resistance has been the very greatest surprise to many people, far too many people…’

‘And an unpleasant one to some,’ I added with a laugh.

‘Yes, yes,’ Lloyd George gurgled back, ‘most unpleasant to some… Not only among the Conservatives, but among Labour as well.’

‘And no wonder!’ I guffawed. ‘I’ve heard that the most unhappy man in England today is Citrine.’

‘Just think!’ Lloyd George exclaimed. ‘The magnificent resistance of the USSR is vivid proof of the vitality of your system. A war like this is a severe examination for any regime, for its politics, economy, transport, and for the population’s morale. Russia has passed the test with flying colours. Communism will benefit everywhere. How could one expect people from “…”

Word left out in the original.

to be pleased about that?’

In fact, the current events on the Ukrainian front have occurred on other fronts more than once in the past. The initiative is still in German hands. They attack. They choose the moment and the spot for a fresh attempt at a ‘breakthrough’. And, of course, they choose the weakest point in the long front line and the most inconvenient moment. Naturally, they have some success in the first days of their attack. Then we bring up reinforcements to the vulnerable point, mount a counterattack and plug the gap. The ‘breakthrough’ fails. A decisive victory slips from German hands. I think we shall lose some territories in the Ukraine now as well, but we will keep a strong front and a battle-worthy army. But we must avoid the surrender of very important regions! Fingers crossed.

Two elements have played and continue to play a major role in Hitler’s calculations for victory:

(1) The speed of the operations and

(2) Their decisiveness.

So far we have succeeded in parrying both. The Blitzkrieg has clearly failed. Eight weeks have already passed since the beginning of the war, but there is no victory on the horizon. We have also prevented the Germans from encircling us or destroying our army’s major formations. In general, we have avoided a ‘decisive’ battle in which the chances would have been on the German side. Instead, we have gradually retreated, fighting, counterattacking, and inflicting colossal losses on Hitler. Another 6–8 weeks of the same tactics and – assuming we hold on to the areas of paramount industrial and military importance – victory will be ours (even if not right away).

Eden asked me about the mood in the USSR.

I replied in my private capacity (not on behalf of the government).

Britain’s conduct arouses growing bewilderment and disappointment among the broad Soviet masses. We’ve been waging a terrible struggle against the most powerful war machine in history for ten weeks. Alone! The people and the army are fighting bravely, but the losses are huge: 700,000 people, 5,500 tanks, 4,500 planes, 1,500 guns, as well as territories, some of which are valuable and important.

And what has England been doing all this time? Our proposal – a second front in the west – was declined in July.

I don’t want to discuss the reasons. Supplies? Should be easier, one would have thought, if England is not fighting… Transfer to the active sections of the front… Thanks for the 200 Tomahawks, but what is that compared to our losses? We asked for large bombs; the Air Ministry agreed after prolonged talks and gave us… six bombs! They say: we help with our air offensive against Germany. Something is happening, sure. Thanks. But… it’s not enough to pinch the rabid beast’s tail; it must be hit round the head with a club! The British bombers haven’t forced the Germans to withdraw a single squadron from the east… Much enthusiasm, admiration, etc. It’s pleasant, but platonic. I often think: ‘I’d swap the admiration for more fighter planes!’ No wonder the Soviet citizen feels disappointed and bewildered. As the ambassador, who is… etc. I deem it necessary to warn Eden about such sentiments.

Strong impression on Eden. A half-hearted defence (he himself an advocate of a second front): England is not prepared for invasion, USA lingers with supplies. Britain pursues an air offensive, cooperation of Britain and USSR in Iran. Good prospects in the Middle East. Forthcoming operations in Libya.

I replied: Iran and Libya are secondary tasks.

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Britain had long had an interest in Iran, due to its vast oil fields and its strategic position safeguarding the gateways to India and the Orient. When the German armies invaded Russia and approached the Caucasus, fears arose that the Germans might turn southwards towards Iran, thus threatening the entire British position in the area. To counter such a threat, a joint Anglo-Russian invasion of the country was launched on 25 August. The stated objectives of the operation, to counter German ‘Fifth Columnists’ in the country and to open a supply line to Russia, thinly veiled the genuine sole objective of forcing a division of Persia on the 1907 Anglo-Russian partition lines. Churchill told his son Randolph that the ‘questionable’ operation was ‘like taking a leaf out of the German book’, while Colville, his private secretary, referred to it as ‘an aggressive and not really warranted act’. Eden, according to his private secretary, was ‘ashamed of himself’, and like the PM, regarded the invasion as England’s ‘first act of “naked aggression”’. M. Gilbert (ed.), The Churchill War Papers (New York and London, 2001), III, pp. 1132–3; Colville, Fringes of Power, p. 430; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, p. 36. Molotov briefed Maisky that the Soviet Union had no territorial claims, but wished to develop a transport route through the country to facilitate the transfer of British supplies to Russia. AVP RF f.059 p.422 d.3778 l.152 and TNA FO 954/24 SU/41/53, 26 and 28 July 1941.

The main one: how to beat Germany?

What is Britain’s overall strategy? Churchill told me in early July 1940: ‘My overall strategy is to live through the next three months.’ Eden told me then, when he was secretary for war, that Britain must be turned into an unassailable fortress, it must manoeuvre, build up forces, etc. In theory: building up forces in the winter of 1940/41, general advance in 1942/43, dominated by growth of air fleet supremacy with the aid of USA. It was unclear to me how Britain could win (not how it could avoid defeat). While Britain fought alone, there was no other way out… But now? The war situation has been revolutionized since 22 June. Britain has acquired a mighty continental ally in the east. What effect has the change had on British overall strategy? Has it had any? How does Britain plan to defeat Germany now? Explain this to me.

Eden’s answers confused and weak (Libya, Turkey, air aid to USSR in the area of Black Sea in future, etc.). My impression Eden promised to talk with Churchill about the whole range of matters. General impression: Eden does not have an overall strategy. Does Churchill? I doubt it.

In conclusion Eden thanked me for my words. It is very important for him to know the true sentiments in the USSR. He wants rapprochement. ‘Believe me, the prime minister and I want to assist the USSR in every possible way, although it is not always easy to do so for various reasons. But the desire is there. We are not responsible for the policies of previous governments.’

I said: ‘If the British government really wants to improve relations, here is some good advice: don’t make important declarations (deus ex machina) in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s not about the content (that’s OK), but the way they originate. The impression has been created that Britain and the USA imagine themselves lords and masters, judging the rest of the sinful world, including the USSR. You can’t forge friendship on such a basis.’

Eden embarrassed. The allusion to Roosevelt – that’s his initiative. Churchill didn’t even know about the declaration when he set off.

Maisky’s harsh report ‘left a very strong impression on Eden’, visibly embarrassing him. He made a ‘faint effort to defend the British Government though one felt that he did so without conviction and out of duty’; TNA FO 954/24 SU/41/72 & 74, Eden on meeting Maisky, and Maisky reports in AVP RF f.059 op.1 p.412 d.3729 l.50, ll.62–3, ll.87, 96 & 102, 21, 22 & 26 Aug. 1941. See also Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, pp. 64–5.

D.I. gave me some information about the situation at the front. Lately, the situation in the Ukraine and near Leningrad has worsened. The reason: the Germans have transferred 30 more divisions from the west. If we include the 20 Finnish and 22 Rumanian divisions, we now face close to 300 divisions. The Germans consider the threat in the west to be a bluff, so they are quite happy to remove from there every half-decent unit. Where does the Germans’ confidence come from?… Unless the English rouse themselves very soon, our situation will become critical. Will the British gain from this? No, I think they will lose.

D.I.’s conclusions are very gloomy: if a second front is not established in Europe within 3–4 weeks, we and our allies may lose everything. It’s sad, but it may become a reality.

Having received such a message, I paced my room back and forth for a long time and pondered. D.I., of course, knows the situation better, but I nonetheless find it difficult to believe that we may suffer defeat. I have been firmly convinced of our ultimate victory since the very beginning of the war. For me, it was only the cost of victory that was uncertain. I still stick by my conviction. But D.I.’s words attest to the fact that the situation has become extremely strained. Efforts must be made to relieve the tension, or at least to exploit it in order to ‘rouse’ the English. Reckoning more on the latter, I immediately replied in that spirit.

I explained that if the situation was so serious, one more attempt should be made to urge the British government to open a second front in France or in the Balkans. At the same time I added: I don’t want to create any groundless illusions. At such a moment as now, you need more than ever to know the facts as they stand. So let me tell you in advance that, to judge by my own impressions, the atmosphere in governmental quarters (but not among the masses) is hardly in favour of a second front. This was confirmed, in particular, by my conversation with the prime minister at lunch on 29 August. A complicated knot of motives underlies such attitudes: the hypnotic effect of Germany’s invincibility on land; the growing complacency caused by our powerful resistance (many say: the Russians are fighting well, so we can mark time and steadily fulfil our plans for a decisive offensive in 1942 or 1943); the desire to weaken the USSR (a significant wing of the Conservatives definitely has such a wish);

On 6 September, Maisky reported that Moore-Brabazon, the minister of aircraft production, had told representatives of the Trades Union Congress in Edinburgh over breakfast: ‘Let Germany and the USSR weaken each other … at the end of the war England, with its powerful aviation, will command the mastery of Europe’; AVP RF f.059 p.415 d.3729 l.197, 6 Sep. 1941.

the ill-preparedness of the British for large-scale landing operations; and the fear of a new Dunkerque (which might undermine the government’s position from the inside and damage its prestige in the USA). This is an analysis of the afore-stated mood, not its justification. Proceeding from the given situation, it seems to me that we stand a better chance of ‘rousing’ the British in the area of supplies.

Nevertheless, considering the menace to the USSR, the question of a second front could be put before the British government once more. Churchill and others must understand at long last that if the USSR leaves the stage, the British Empire is finished. And, even if our second attempt on the issue of a second front ends in failure, we shall nonetheless be vindicated before our own people and before history: we have done everything possible to open the eyes of the British to the impending danger and to prevent the worst. However, we must also consider the other side of the coin: if the British do not open a second front and we reveal to them the critical nature of our situation, this may have an adverse impact on issues of supply. The British may decide: since it is useless helping the Russians, we’d better keep the available tanks and planes for ourselves. All the pluses and minuses of the démarche which I am proposing must be weighed. If it is undertaken, two forms are possible: (1) a personal message from Stalin to Churchill, and (2) an extensive conversation between me and Churchill about the current situation. To my mind, the first form would be better and more effective.

Churchill was determined to deter Cripps from carrying out a fait accompli, instructing the Air Ministry that ‘the Catalina due to return from Archangel … should not leave without further instructions, because I did not want it to bring the Ambassador home’.

Page 1515

TNA PRO CAB 120/678, 5 Sept. 1941; see also Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 405.

However, no longer able to ignore Cripps’s challenge, Churchill addressed him personally with a lengthy recitation of the arguments against direct assistance to the Russians and ridiculing his call for a superhuman effort, which he took to mean ‘an effort rising superior to space, time and geography’.

TNA PRO FO 371 29490 N5105/78/38, tel. to Cripps, 5 Sept. 1941. Typically, Churchill, The Grand Alliance, pp. 409–11, fails to mention Cripps’s coup. A detailed account of the events as seen from Churchill’s vantage point is to be found in Gilbert, Finest Hour, pp. 1182–6.

The letter heralded a long and acrimonious correspondence between the two, culminating in Cripps’s bid for power after his return from Moscow.

See Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps in Moscow, pp. 5–18.

Churchill’s estrangement from Cripps on the eve of the Moscow conference coincided with a growing crisis on the Russian front. On 8–9 September, the Germans resumed their thrust on the outskirts of Leningrad. In the critical situation which ensued, General Zhukov was rushed to Leningrad on 13 September to replace Voroshilov and ordered that the city must be held at all costs. Meanwhile, much against the opinion of his generals, Hitler had decided on 21 August to halt the advance on Moscow, while making a dash southwards and maintaining the siege of Leningrad. After a fierce but swift armoured battle, Guderian

Heinz Guderian, colonel general, architect of the German armoured corps’ doctrine and victory in the west and in the early stages of the campaign in Russia. A critic of the conduct of the war in the east, he was dismissed by Hitler in the winter of 1941 but reinstated in command in 1943.

succeeded on 7 September in ripping apart the Russian defences of the Bryansk and south-eastern fronts. On 11 September, the legendary General Budenny found himself trapped in the Kiev salient; his request to withdraw saw him immediately relieved of command and Marshal Timoshenko appointed in his place. A few days later, Guderian and Field Marshal Ewald von Kleist linked in a pincer movement some 100 miles east of Kiev, trapping Timoshenko’s troops. Shaposhnikov cabled the general staff on that day: ‘This is the beginning as you know of catastrophe – a matter of a couple of days.’ Kiev indeed fell on 18 September, and the bulk of the Soviet army on that front was either annihilated or captured. The situation on the southern front seemed just as bleak, with the German forces encircling Odessa and threatening the Crimea.

J. Erickson, The Road to Stalingrad (New York, 1975), pp. 196–210.

]

I came to Cadogan’s office at about 4 p.m. to discuss the Iranian affair. I informed him that I must hand Stalin’s personal message to Churchill and asked to arrange a meeting with the prime minister in the evening, if possible, or tomorrow morning. Cadogan called Churchill’s secretary right away, and the latter promised to find out with all haste and report instantly. She warned, though, that it would be impossible to see the prime minister in the morning, as he would be leaving London early for an important engagement of long standing.

I also asked Cadogan that Eden be present at my meeting with the prime minister.

‘I’m very sorry,’ I added, ‘that it is necessary to disturb the foreign minister’s rest, but the matter is quite serious and I think he will bear no hard feelings towards me on this score’…

Eden had left a few days earlier for a week in the country, for his holidays.

Cadogan thought he would get a reply from the prime minister’s secretary while we were discussing Iranian affairs, but the response was somehow delayed. I decided to go home and asked Cadogan to inform me by phone about the time and place of my meeting with the PM. The telephone rang as soon as I got back to the embassy. Cadogan said the PM would receive me at ten o’clock in the evening at 10, Downing Street and that Eden would be present at the meeting.

I left home a quarter of an hour before the appointed time. The moon shone brightly. Fantastically shaped clouds raced from west to east. When they blotted the moon and their edges were touched with red and black, the whole picture appeared gloomy and ominous. As if the world was on the eve of its destruction. I drove along the familiar streets and thought: ‘A few more minutes, and an important, perhaps decisive historical moment, fraught with the gravest consequences, will be upon us. Will I rise to the occasion? Do I possess sufficient strength, energy, cunning, agility and wit to play my role with maximum success for the USSR and for all mankind?’…

I entered the hall of the famous house in a heightened mood, filled with a kind of resonant, inner tension. Prosaic life immediately brought me down to earth with a crash. The porter, a most ordinary English porter in livery, bowed low and took my hat. Another porter, indistinguishable from the first, led me through a poorly lit corridor along which dashed young men and girls, probably the prime minister’s secretaries and typists. This entire, ordinary routine, so familiar to me from the experience of many years, felt like a tub of cold water poured over my soul.

I was then ushered into the PM’s office, or, to be more precise, the government’s meeting room. Churchill, wearing a dinner jacket and with the habitual cigar between his teeth, was sitting halfway down a long table covered with a green cloth, amid a long row of empty chairs. Eden, dressed in a dark-grey suit of light material, sat near the PM. Churchill looked at me distrustfully, puffed at his cigar and growled like a bulldog: ‘Bearing good news?’

‘I fear not,’ I replied, handing the prime minister the envelope with Stalin’s message.

He took out the letter, put on his glasses and began to read it carefully. Having read a page, he would hand it over to Eden. I sat beside the prime minister, keeping silent and observing his expression. When Churchill finished reading, it was clear that Stalin’s message had made a powerful impression on him.

I began to speak:

While I spoke, the prime minister sucked on his cigar and listened, merely responding to my words every now and again with gestures or facial expressions, while Eden pored over Stalin’s message and made some notes in the margins.

Then Churchill started responding. Yes, he is well aware of the fact that we have been fighting alone for 11 weeks. He fully understands the difficulties and the dangers of our position. He is perfectly aware of the catastrophic consequences that would follow from our defeat. Of course, in this case India would be temporarily lost to England… Temporarily, because even then the remaining members of the British Empire would continue fighting for 10, 20 or however many years, until victory was secured. But what is to be done?

‘I have no doubt,’ Churchill exclaimed, ‘that Hitler still wishes to pursue his old policy of beating his enemies one by one… I would be ready to sacrifice 50,000 English lives if in so doing I could draw even just 20 German divisions from your front!’

Unfortunately, England currently lacks the strength to establish a second front in France. Here, Churchill repeated everything he had told me on this matter in July and which he had then set out in his reply to Stalin’s July message.

‘The Channel, which prevents Germany from jumping over into England,’ the prime minister added, ‘likewise prevents England from jumping over into occupied France.’

Churchill considers a second front in the Balkans to be impossible at present. The British lack the necessary troops, aircrafts and tonnage.

‘Just think,’ Churchill exclaimed, ‘it took us a full seven weeks to transfer 3–4 divisions from Egypt to Greece in the spring. And this on the basis of Greece being not a hostile, but a friendly country! No, no! We can’t walk into certain defeat either in France or in the Balkans!’

I replied: ‘Sometimes defeat is no less important than victory. Recall the last war. When General Samsonov entered East Prussia, he, too, was not yet ready for such an operation. He also risked defeat. Moreover, he actually suffered defeat and committed suicide. But this defeat saved Paris. This defeat rescued the war for the allies.’

Maisky is using the ammunition provided to him by Lloyd George in his tirade against Churchill in their conversation on 16 August.

My remark made a strong impression on Churchill. His historic sense (which is strong) was aroused. It was clear that this reminder had disrupted his train of thought. But he soon recovered and went on defending his point of view. As if seeking justification, he proposed that I should meet the chiefs of staff tomorrow and see for myself by talking to them that the opening of a second front is impossible.

‘We, the British, are poor allies on land,’ Churchill openly admitted. ‘Could it be otherwise? We are strong at sea, we are not bad in the air, but on land… We have neither the traditions, nor the experience, nor the taste for it. Our army is still weak and insufficiently trained. It needs experience and time. Give it 4–5 years and it can become a serious force!’

I couldn’t help thinking: ‘Is Churchill seriously thinking in terms of a five-year war?’

Clearly, a second front in the west or in the Balkans was out of the question for now. So I tried to approach the same problem from another angle: how could the German pressure on our front be alleviated?

‘If you do not deem it possible,’ I said, ‘to get 20 or 30 German divisions off our back by opening a second front, perhaps you could at least help us relieve the pressure exerted by 20 Finnish divisions? Couldn’t you use your influence and that of America to facilitate Finland’s withdrawal from the war? As far as I know, a major internal conflict on this matter is under way in Finland itself at the present time.’

Churchill liked this idea very much. His face seemed to light up. Turning to Eden, he exclaimed emphatically: ‘Do whatever you can, without fail! Use every means possible, even if it means declaring war on Finland. Appeal to Washington.’

Eden promised to do this the very next day.

Seeing that there was no point arguing any further on the question of a second front, I fell back on my ‘second line’, putting special emphasis on matters of military supplies. Here the PM was far more amenable, as I had expected. He promised to consider Stalin’s request concerning tanks and planes with the utmost goodwill and then to give a definite answer.

‘Only don’t expect too much from us!’ Churchill warned. ‘We, too, are short of arms. More than a million British soldiers are still unarmed.’

Like a schoolboy boasting of how skilfully he has tricked his classmate, Churchill told me with a twinkle in his eye how, at the Atlantic conference, he had managed to wangle 150,000 rifles out of Roosevelt – 150,000! So these are the kind of figures we have to argue about today. As for tanks, 500 a month is out of the question. The entire output of tanks in England does not reach this number!

‘I don’t want to mislead you,’ Churchill concluded. ‘I’ll be frank. We’ll not be able to provide you with any essential aid before the winter, either by creating a second front or through abundant supplies. All we are capable of sending you at present – tanks, planes, etc. – are trifles compared with your needs. This is painful for me to say, but the truth must come first. The future is a different matter. In 1942, the situation will change. Both we and the Americans will be able to give you a lot in 1942. But for now…’

And Churchill concluded with half a smile: ‘Only God, in whom you don’t believe, can help you in the next 6–7 weeks. Besides, even if we sent tanks and planes to you now, they would not arrive before winter.’

‘Suppose that is so,’ I objected, ‘but if we knew for sure that certain quantities of arms would be arriving from England, we could dispose of our reserves more freely now.’

‘That is a serious point,’ Churchill responded. ‘I’ll try to do all that is humanly possible to satisfy Stalin’s request for arms.’

The prime minister warned me against placing excessive hopes on the United States. They’re forever letting you down. They’re always slow to do what they promise. The British have yet to receive all the arms they ordered in America for cash at the beginning of the war. Neither have they got anything yet under Lease and Lend. A serious influx of arms from America can be expected only in the second half of 1942.

Here I turned to another question that has long been weighing heavy on my heart. ‘The USSR and England,’ I said, ‘are allies. They are waging a common war against a common enemy. This, one might have thought, would assume the existence of a joint strategic plan for the war (if only in its basic outline). Do they have such a plan? No, they don’t. We don’t know how the British intend to defeat Hitler, and the British don’t know how we envisage doing the same. There are no military negotiations between the chiefs of staff. Nor even so much as a suggestion of serious military cooperation. This is not normal. Couldn’t the parameters of the forthcoming Moscow conference be extended to discuss not only matters relating to supplies, but also those relating to a common strategy?’

Churchill agreed with me in principle, albeit without much enthusiasm. He declared that he was ready to develop a general strategic plan together with us.

I asked how the prime minister perceives the further course and outcome of the war.

Churchill’s reply boils down to the following.

Until 22 June he was confident of England’s ultimate victory, but could not say how and when this would happen. He simply believed in the resilience of the British nation, and counted on the gradual effect of the blockade, the attainment of air supremacy with the help of the USA, and the growth of internal difficulties in Germany. Subconsciously he also relied on the ‘good luck’ which has fallen England’s way over the entire course of her history (here I recalled the fable of the two frogs which Churchill recounted to Prytz).

‘But I must confess,’ Churchill added, ‘that the paths leading to victory were not clear to me at the time.’

The situation changed drastically after 22 June. Now the paths leading to victory are clearly visible, but the prospects, nevertheless, are far from rosy. The war will be long. Hard, exhausting.

I interrupted Churchill at this point and asked: ‘All this is as you say, but tell me, do you have a war plan, or at least a draft of a plan, for at least 1942?’

‘My plans for 1942 are very modest,’ Churchill replied. ‘Here they are: to keep a firm hold of the mother country and not permit an invasion, to hold the Nile valley and the Middle East, to win back Libya (and take Tripoli, if we can), to secure supplies to the USSR via Iran and other routes, to draw Turkey onto our side, to bomb Germany incessantly, and to conduct a relentless submarine war. For the rest: to prepare the army, strengthen the air force, develop arms production, reinforce the Middle East. I plan to have 750,000 troops in that part of the world by the end of this year (there are about 600,000 now), and about a million by the spring of 1942.’

What Churchill was saying, essentially, was that 1942 should be merely a ‘preparatory’ year. No major landing operations. No attempts to bring the war to a conclusion. Then 1943 may be the decisive year, when England, aided by the USA, will raise the number of its tanks to 20,000. However, this, too, is merely hypothetical. One cannot exclude the possibility that the denouement may have to be postponed until 1944.

‘I see a striking analogy,’ said the prime minister, ‘between our time and the time of Napoleon. The war, if you recall, lasted a long time, and for many years we suffered one failure after another. But how did it all end for Napoleon? It ended with Saint Helena. The same will happen to Hitler. Only Saint Helena is too good a place for him.’

Churchill spat these words out with true disgust, almost fury. One could sense the extraordinary hatred that seethes in his soul towards Hitler… and towards Germany.

It was a quarter to twelve when I left the prime minister. We had talked for nearly two hours. The moon had set, and the London streets, plunged into ‘black-out’, were filled with an ominous silence. Summing things up, I wondered: ‘What will the result of it all be?’

When the military conference ended, I remained behind with Eden for a short while. He told me that Churchill had cancelled the trip to the country which he had planned for today and was spending the whole morning working on his reply to Comrade Stalin. The reply would most likely be ready by the evening, and I would receive a copy.

I asked Eden: ‘As I understand it, the British government is considering expanding its aid to us in the way of supplies. On what basis will this be done? For cash? On credit?’

My question took Eden unawares and he said he would ask the prime minister. I added: ‘Since you are going to talk with Churchill on this matter, couldn’t you raise the question of the supplies being granted to us on the basis of Lease and Lend? In other words, couldn’t England and the USSR establish the same relations in this sphere as have been established between the USA and England? It strikes me as only logical and natural to approach the issue in this way.’

Eden livened up and said he agreed with me. It was evident that he liked my idea. He promised to mention my proposal during his talk with the prime minister.

At six o’clock I was expected to make a short speech at the civil funeral ceremony for Tagore. As I left, I took the precaution of telling people at the embassy that they should immediately come and find me at the ceremony if anything happened. It was just as well I did.

The ceremony took place in Caxton Hall. About a thousand people attended. All shades of left-leaning, literary, artistic and political circles were represented. The faces of Indian men and women stood out like bright spots. The mood was elevated, solemn. My appearance on the platform was greeted with tumultuous applause. Negrín sat behind me and Agniya to my right.

The chairman made an opening speech and then asked me when I would like to speak. Considering the possible contingencies, I asked to be given the floor first. This proved very wise. I had barely finished speaking when a message from the embassy was handed to me: Churchill asked me to come immediately to 10, Downing Street. I had to make my apologies to the chairman and the gathering and leave.

I sat for some ten minutes in the prime minister’s reception room. Eden put his head round the door at one point and said: ‘Sorry for the delay. The reply is being typed up.’

Then he added with a half-apologetic smile: ‘We couldn’t satisfy you fully, but we did what we could… You’ll see for yourself.’

Eden left and I began speculating what the British concessions might be.

Eventually, they ushered me in. The same long room with a table covered by a green cloth. Churchill and Eden sat at the table, with a bottle of whisky on the table and some soda water. The prime minister, with his customary cigar between his teeth, made a cordial gesture inviting me to sit down and poured out a whisky and soda. Then he grinned and said: ‘The text of the message will be brought in a minute… In the meantime I’d like to touch upon another matter.’

It transpired that Churchill had seen Lloyd George just the other day. The old man criticized Churchill’s policy toward the USSR and mentioned in passing that the British government was not even supplying us properly: it was sending planes without machine-gun belts (this actually happened, and I once told Lloyd George about it). Churchill became more and more furious with every word. I don’t know what happened between the former and the present prime minster, but Churchill is under the impression that I complained about the British government to Lloyd George. This stung him to the quick.

‘If you’re unhappy about something,’ the PM said, ‘come to me, to Eden, or to Max (Beaverbrook), and we shall try to do what we can. But why appeal to the opposition?… After all, Lloyd George represents the opposition to the government. It is more advantageous for you to work with the government. The opposition now is nothing…’

To ‘celebrate’ the successful conclusion of this round of exchanges, Churchill insisted on dragging Eden and Beaverbrook to the Ritz for a dinner of ‘oysters, partridge etc.’ and launched a tirade against Lloyd George, suggesting that if he had played his cards right with the Tory Party, he would have been the prime minister in the First World War. Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 276–7.

Churchill sniffed, shrugged his shoulders and said with a superior smile: ‘There is no opposition!… Should it come to a vote, no more than 20 MPs would vote against me.’

One could detect in the PM’s tone both contempt for the opposition and sensitivity to its criticism.

I also shrugged my shoulders and replied that I understood Churchill’s feelings, but could not give up meeting and talking with my old friends in political and social circles. The prime minister did not object. He even considered my reasoning to be ‘fair’, but I could see that he was unhappy all the same. What can I do!…

Experience has taught me that an ambassador in England must have good contacts in both governmental and oppositional quarters and, depending on the situation, press this or that button. I don’t plan to depart from this rule, 1162even if it means displeasing Churchill. The future is uncertain, and – who knows? – perhaps we and the Churchill government will, at some point, have to go our separate ways.

Eventually, they brought in a copy of the PM’s reply to Comrade Stalin. Churchill handed the document over to me and said with a slightly conceited grin: ‘This is what we can do now. I think it will be of some help to you after all.’

I quickly glanced through the reply. I found my proposals reflected in it: the agreement in principle to discuss joint war plans and the agreement to apply the lend-lease principle in the sphere of supplies. This was pleasing. What was not pleasing was the categorical rejection of a second front. I was also interested by the paragraph in the reply where Churchill expressed his opinion that the German onslaught on the USSR appeared to have already passed its zenith. I asked the PM: on what grounds was this conclusion based?

‘On the general impression derived from all the secret and non-secret information which passes through my hands,’ replied Churchill.

Is his impression correct? It would be good if it were. But is it? I’m afraid to believe it.

In the evening, I was pacing my office once more from one corner to the other and thinking: ‘What’s the outcome? Has a clear-cut and definite decision been taken about the future? Was my meeting with Churchill yesterday a turning point in world history? And, if so, in which direction?’

I could not find a fully satisfactory answer to these questions. Things turned out differently from how I had expected. There was no great, decisive ‘either/or’. Instead, we had a kind of compromise. Who knows what it will lead to. My sense of logic was offended. But am I right to be dissatisfied? Some practical things have been achieved… Or perhaps the English, who call themselves an ‘illogical people’, who do not like logic and do not believe in it, are right after all?

I asked for Eden to be present at the meeting. This was agreed, and my meeting with the prime minister was fixed for 6.30 this evening. That suited me well, as I was scheduled to meet the American delegation to the Moscow conference headed by Harriman at about 4 p.m. in Hendon, together with Umansky, who has arrived from the USA. There was plenty of time.

Suddenly, everything changed. Churchill moved our meeting forward to 4.30. I wondered: should I go to Hendon? Finally I decided to go nonetheless and as a result was a couple of minutes late for the meeting with the prime minister. In Hendon I saw Eden, who, together with Beaverbrook, had also come to greet Harriman. Eden knew nothing about the change in the PM’s plans. When I told him about it, he rushed to the telephone to check his schedule. It turned out that Eden had an engagement at 4.30 which he could not think of cancelling at this stage. As a result, Eden was not present at the meeting and my conversation with the prime minister was conducted tête-à-tête.

Having read Comrade Stalin’s message, Churchill began ‘thinking aloud’. His ‘thoughts’ boiled down to the following.

In principle, Churchill would be willing to carry out Stalin’s request and send British troops to the USSR. He would even consider it a matter of honour to do so. But he must discuss this question in advance with his colleagues and advisers.

The prime minister envisages two difficulties in fulfilling Comrade Stalin’s request. The first: from where should he draw the troops for such an expedition? The British have about 600,000 troops in the Middle East and hope to bring their number to 750,000 by Christmas. Churchill had already told me about this. The number of trained and armed troops at home does not exceed 1 million (excluding the Home Guard, anti-aircraft defence, coastal defence, etc.). An offensive in Libya is currently being prepared. Is it possible under these circumstances to allocate serious forces for an expeditionary corps in the USSR? Of course, 25–30 divisions are out of the question – that is beyond England’s capability today – but can anything substantial still be found to send to the USSR? Churchill was uncertain.

I objected, saying that this problem did not strike me as quite so intractable. It was unclear to me why the British government should keep such a large force in the Middle East. Part of the force for an expeditionary corps, it seemed to me, could be taken from the Middle East, and the other part from England. After all, with the Germans being engaged up to their eyes in the east, the danger of invasion to England has receded. The first part of the troops could be brought to the USSR through Iran, and the second through Arkhangelsk.

The prime minister agreed that the danger of invasion is in fact unreal today, but… An offensive in Libya is in prospect… The troops stationed in the Middle East consist mostly of divisions sent by the dominions, and if they were to be dispatched to the USSR delicate talks with the dominion governments would be inevitable… All this makes the problem more complicated.

Lack of tonnage complicates things still further. Things are so bad with shipping that the British government cannot send more than 40–50,000 men each month to the Middle East, and even that only thanks to the covert assistance of the United States. What a joke: everything has to be sent around South Africa! From the point of view of shipping, the transportation of troops to the USSR through Arkhangelsk would be more convenient: the distance is shorter. But there is a catch, too: British soldiers are not accustomed to the cold climate. It would be better if they were to fight somewhere in the south – in the Ukraine, near the Black Sea, etc. Churchill would willingly send British forces by sea through the Straits, but the Turks would not allow it. At this point, Churchill remarked in passing that Turkey is extremely important and that British and Soviet diplomats must set themselves the task of drawing Turkey onto our side. ‘We mustn’t skimp on it,’ the prime minister added with a smile.

Returning to the question of an expeditionary corps for the USSR, Churchill started complaining about the poor means of transportation in Iran. He then asked: could the troops brought in through Arkhangelsk be sent to the Ukraine? I replied that I saw no obstacles to this. Churchill then put the question: wouldn’t it be better to launch a landing operation in Norway and thereby rescue Sweden for the Allies as well? I disagreed, saying that we shouldn’t scatter our forces, and that if Stalin is asking for troops to be sent to the USSR, he obviously knows what he is doing.

Then I asked: may I assume that the British government agrees in principle to meet Stalin’s request? If that is the case, practical military negotiations could be opened in Moscow or in London without delay. The prime minister avoided a direct response to my question and only repeated that he would urgently discuss this question with his advisers and would notify me promptly. This sounds suspicious to me. The ‘advisers’ (I immediately imagined the faces of Pound, Dill and Portal) will, of course, be against Comrade Stalin’s suggestion or, even if they don’t say so openly, will raise a barbed-wire fence of unfeasible conditions around its implementation – will Churchill be able to stand his ground? I fear that little will come of it all. But we shall see.

Churchill summed up the situation in the following way: ‘I repeat what I told you at our last meeting: I don’t want to mislead you. Even if the British government decides to send an expeditionary force to you, it will not arrive before winter. I am afraid the next six weeks will be a hard time for you, but I won’t be able to help you with anything substantial in this period. This is sad, but, unfortunately, that’s how it is.’

The prime minister glanced through Comrade Stalin’s message once again and added with a contented smile:

Maisky was determined to convince Stalin of Churchill’s good faith. His telegraphed version of the conversation states more emphatically Churchill’s satisfaction with Stalin and their common strategic goals; AVP RF f.059 p.423 d.3789 ll.180–4.

‘It is very good that Mr Stalin has at last come to believe in our good intentions vis-à-vis the USSR. Yes, we want your victory, for it will be our victory, too. And I’m prepared to do all I can for your victory. The trouble is that there is a limit to what I can do. Please understand this!’

And then, after a moment’s thought, Churchill added: ‘I believe in our cooperation. I believe Mr Stalin. I believe for two reasons. First, because our interests coincide: we face mortal peril from one and the same enemy. Second, because I know that so far the Soviet government has always kept its word.’

I supported the prime minister on both accounts.

Churchill also touched upon that part of Comrade Stalin’s message where he speaks about Cripps’s memo of 12 September. He, Churchill, fully agrees with Stalin that Germany should compensate the USSR for the damage it has inflicted (in particular, for the ships the Soviet government was forced to blow up in Leningrad), and it goes without saying that at the end of the war the USSR will have prior claim for the replacement of its losses, provided that any German military vessels remain at that stage. Nevertheless, the PM would consider it a question of honour for England also to support us in the matter of compensation, even at the expense of British military vessels, because the sacrifice we would have made in Leningrad would be a sacrifice made on behalf of the common cause.

Churchill is concerned about the Germans’ advance toward Kiev, but he thinks Kiev can hold out even if it is ‘cut off’. It’s an outdated point of view that a city must surrender if the enemy envelops it. Take Tobruk. Take Odessa. Churchill speaks warmly and at length about Odessa, calling it a Tobruk on a colossally magnified scale.

On parting, I asked Churchill to hurry in dispatching the British and American delegations to Moscow. He promised to do so. He also promised, before the delegations leave, to settle the question of the ‘American quota’ in the delivery amounts agreed upon with us 10 days ago.

I spent about an hour with Churchill. When I came out of his room I found nearly all the members of the Cabinet waiting in the reception room: Anderson, Attlee, Kingsley Wood and others. They all greeted my appearance with laughter and a sigh of relief: it turned out that my talk with Churchill had delayed the War Cabinet meeting for nearly half an hour!

Sargent handed Novikov the British government note, which is addressed to Finland through the Norwegian government. – My telephone conversation with Sargent (Eden is in Scotland inspecting the Poles): to cut out the last phrase in the note and publish it. To defer the presentation of the note till Eden’s return on 22nd. My letter to Eden in this spirit, as I’m leaving for Birmingham on 22nd. Communication from Eden on 23 September: he agrees with me, but the note had been already presented. – An abrupt statement over the wireless. – My question: what’s to be done if Finland doesn’t reply or gives an unsatisfactory reply? Must wait 2–3 days and declare war. Eden agrees.

From platform in front of the tanks. ‘Stalin’ is the first to roll out.

The crowd’s mood like at our meetings in the years of the revolution.

Shop stewards’ meeting – all promise ‘not to let us down’.

Crafty Beaverbrook. He organized everything, including shop stewards’ meeting. He’s not afraid.

Is it worth helping increase production in England? On condition that a firm percentage goes our way.

My broadcast on 27 Sept.

‘Russian tank week’ brought a 20% rise in production.

Beaverbrook initiated the ‘Tanks for Russia Week’ propagated by his Daily Express. Maisky launched the event at a factory in Birmingham, where Agniya ‘pulled a string to release the red flag that covered a part of the tank’, revealing the name given to this first

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offering (by Maisky in advance) – ‘Stalin’. In his speech, shown on newsreels all over the country, Maisky castigated the British government, suggesting that ‘These good machines will not rust in idleness. They will go into the battle line against the Nazis.’ New York Times, 22 September; Bell, John Bull and the Bear, pp. 54–5. The soaring sympathy towards the Soviet Union is manifest, for instance, in a letter from Harold Nicolson: ‘You should know how deeply we all feel for you at this moment. It must be irritating for you to receive so many expressions of sympathy and so few tanks’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1495 l.7, 13 Oct. 1941.

De Gaulle – against Syria’s independence, friction with the British in the Middle East. – de Gaulle’s anti-English interview in American press (‘letting the USA use our colonies without demanding destroyers’, etc.) – de Gaulle’s circle: openly fascist and anti-British. – Squabble among de Gaulle’s supporters. De Gaulle and Muselier

Émile Henry Muselier, admiral, commander of the Free French Naval Forces during the Second World War.

in FO, 1.5 hours in two offices. Eden and Alexander the go-betweens. – Churchill refused to see de Gaulle for 10–15 days after his arrival in London. Finally received him. Upbraiding de Gaulle for his anti-British sentiments and inability to unite people. – As a result the National Committee was set up on 26/9. – Eden is not confident about its future. Give them a chance – recognition of ‘NC’ out of the question. – ‘If any change in relations with de Gaulle is possible, then only a row, but this is undesirable.’ – Eden approves of our exchange and considers the letters a success.

It was a propitious moment to recognize de Gaulle in the hope that he would join the Russian demand for a second front; TNA FO 371 28568 Z8308/5538/17. On Maisky’s ambivalent attitude to de Gaulle, see Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, pp. 84–6.

Then we spoke about other affairs. Simopoulos finds himself in a strange and awkward position. His king and his government are in London. This creates a strange situation for him as ambassador. Apart from anything else, it upsets his usual routine. The king lives in Claridge’s. The prime minister Tsouderos

Emmanouil Tsouderos, succeeded Alexandros Koryzis as prime minister of Greece in April 1941, then leader of the Greek government in exile in London and Cairo until 1944.

is at the Dorchester. Various ‘young men’ are flooding the mission and the consulate. ‘Flooding’ is only the half of it: they treat the mission and the consulate like their own homes. Doors are always banging, telephones ringing and people running about. Poor Simopoulos is quite crushed. His ‘MADCm’ is in a panic. The government is in search of premises. Seems they have found some. If that’s so, Simopoulos hopes to get rid of the ‘young men’ and the unnecessary telephone calls. But is that so? Simopoulos doesn’t know for sure. The search has been continuing for a while, yet has yielded no results. He is afraid to believe that his happiness is at hand.

We recalled Subbotić. He found himself in a similar situation to Simopoulos, only it was a few months earlier (the Yugoslavian government arrived in London in June). Subbotić could not take it and has now received a post in Washington as the representative of the Yugoslavian Red Cross. Not so long ago, Subbotić and his wife came to us to say goodbye. Over tea Subbotić slapped my knee and exclaimed: ‘Lately, I honestly can no longer say who I am: an ambassador or a butler?’

One would have to flee from such a life, and not only to Washington.

Simopoulos thinks that Subbotić retired for two reasons: (1) he was ‘ousted’ because he had been too closely connected with Prince Paul in the past and (2) he insisted strictly on following protocol, which led to inevitable clashes with members of the government.

‘Who cares about protocol today?’ exclaimed Simopoulos with a wave of his hand. ‘Now’s the time for war, not protocol!’

Goodness, what progress! The war is, at least, gradually putting the brains of the narrow-minded to rights.

This same Simopoulos expounded to Agniya his view as to ‘what should be done with the Germans’ after victory. They will need to be ‘sterilized’, and it is Jewish doctors who should be entrusted with the operation.

Similar thoughts were recently aired by the wife of Colban, the Norwegian, in a conversation with Bogomolov.

Aleksandr Efremovich Bogomolov, general secretary and head of the first western department of the USSR People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, 1939–40; counsellor to the mission then Soviet ambassador in France, 1940–41; Soviet ambassador to the Allied governments in London, 1941–43; Soviet ambassador representative to the French National Liberation Committee, 1943–44; Soviet ambassador in France, 1944–50.

That is how the solution of the ‘German problem’ after the war presents itself to the enraged, narrow-minded European.

The following should be added in this connection. The Poles and the Czechs demanded in their declaration at the Inter-Allied Conference on 24 September that the Germans be deprived of the ‘means with which they might be able to commit new acts of aggression’. I asked Raczyński how he interpreted this formula. Raczyński answered: ‘The German military industry must be destroyed.’

This evening Bogomolov informed me that Sikorski has decided to go to Moscow immediately. Why? Because the Polish army is not yet ready to take an active part in the crucial battles now under way on the eastern front. That general thinks that he should at least be present in Moscow in order to emphasize his allied sentiments at such a difficult moment for the USSR.

Daudet once wrote the novel Les rois en exil. A new Daudet is badly needed today to collect material in London for a future novel, Governments in Exile!

Some inner feeling tells me that we shall be able to hold Moscow, albeit by dint of great effort and immense losses. But inner feelings are a poor guarantee. Time will tell. My expectations with regard to the south are far gloomier. Will we hold the Donbass? I don’t know. Some feebleness can be sensed in our resistance on the Ukrainian front. Perhaps it is the strategic weakness of this front, deriving from its geography (the plain steppe and the absence of natural boundaries), or the defective command, or the character of the Ukrainians. The reason are unclear, but the bitter fact remains. Will we be able to stop the Germans west of Donbass? Time will tell.

A hard week! The next one will yield something. It may prove decisive. Either the Germans will break through to Moscow in the next seven days and smash our armies – then we will have lost this year’s campaign and the revival of our resistance will become a long and laborious process fraught with all kinds of danger, or we will further slow the tempo of the German advance or even bring it to a halt entirely – and then we shall actually have won this year’s campaign and during the winter we will be able to develop and strengthen not only our defence, but also our offensive capabilities. Yes, the next week will yield something! We shall live from one day to the next, from one communiqué to the next. Hitler will surely throw all he has into the battle. He will go for broke. I won’t be surprised if he uses gas…

The events on our front elicit a complex reaction in England.

First, rapidly rising alarm in all walks of life, from Churchill to the common worker. The mood of the masses has undergone three main phases over the 16 weeks of the war in the east. The first phase, covering the initial stages of the war (roughly until the middle of July) was marked by extreme pessimism in respect of Soviet chances. It was expected that the Red Army would be beaten in 3–4 weeks and that the USSR would be out of the war. The War Ministry, as is well known, subscribed to this view. The second phase, covering approximately the next two months (from mid-July to mid-September), was marked, on the contrary, by excessive optimism. It was thought that the Red Army had ‘unexpectedly’ emerged as a formidable force, that all Hitler’s plans had been overturned, that the Germans would inevitably get stuck ‘in Russia’ or even beaten, and that the winter of 1941/42 would complete their rout. The case of Napoleon was endlessly cited in this connection. It seemed that the British should just sit and wait, provide us with some weapons and supplies, make plans for a ‘general offensive’ in 1943 and hope that these plans would never have to be implemented. Everything would be done for them by ‘those brave Russians’ and ‘that freezing Russian winter’. The mood in the country became more and more ‘peaceful’, all the more so as the air raids on England practically ceased with the beginning of military operations in the east. Two curious facts testified to the vigorous growth of such a mood: the mass return of ‘evacuated’ families to London and the colossal exodus from London during the Bank Holiday weekend at the beginning of August. According to the newspapers, as many people were leaving London as in peace time and the railways had to provide the public with 300 additional trains.

The third phase, beginning approximately in the middle of September (and especially since the fall of Kiev), is marked by growing disappointment and anxiety. Disappointment at the inability to bring the war to a convenient conclusion, without huge and arduous efforts on the part of England itself, and anxiety about the course of events in the east and the course and outcome of the whole war. These feelings have intensified during the past week. Thursday, 9 October, was the worst day. The newspapers came out with panicky headlines. The whole Soviet front, it seemed, was collapsing like a pack of cards. A wave of pessimism rose high in social circles. Rumours (surely emanating from German sources) were abroad in the city that ‘Russia’ had actually withdrawn from the war and that negotiations between Berlin and Moscow on an armistice were already in progress. Many could find only one, rather dubious, consolation: ‘How lucky that Hitler’s diabolic machine, the entire might of which we’ve only seen now, fell not on us but on Russia!’

Beneath this lay the thought: if it had fallen on England first, then she would have been done for a long time ago, but now, after Hitler’s machine had taken a good few blows in the USSR, England might somehow survive. But this thought lurked somewhere at the back of the brain. Anxiety and pessimism dominated. The last three days have brought news of a certain slowdown in the German advance and of enhanced Soviet resistance. This has somewhat improved the atmosphere; but only a little. The general mood remains tense, uneasy and primed for a tragic outcome.

That is one facet of the English reaction. There is another, running in parallel to the first. I mean the colossal growth of goodwill and compassion towards the USSR, especially (but not solely) among the lower classes. Since 22 June, the wave of friendly feelings towards us has been consistently rising. In the press, at meetings, in workshops, at factories, at home, and in pubs – the democratic layers of the population everywhere express their admiration for the heroism of the Red Army and the Soviet people. I’ve been quite inundated with letters and resolutions of solidarity from numerous meetings, trade unions, labour organizations, cooperative societies, sports clubs, etc. I receive as many as a hundred such documents daily (and I should reply to all of them). Financial donations pour in from all sides as well – from individuals, workers’ organizations, all sorts of societies, schools, research institutions, even children. The other day, for instance, I received a touching letter written in an unsteady child’s hand with a good many grammar mistakes – five little boys aged between 6 and 10 were sending me 10 shillings they had collected for the ‘tank fund’. Another case: a young girl sent me the 5 shillings her parents had given her for her tenth birthday…

Everything ‘Russian’ is in vogue today: Russian songs, Russian music, Russian films, and books about the USSR: 75,000 copies of a booklet of Stalin’s and Molotov’s speeches on the war, published by Coates, sold out instantly. An unprecedented event in the annals of the ARPC.

Anglo-Russian Parliamentary Committee.

Our bulletin Soviet War News is selling like hot cakes (we began with 2,000 copies, and have raised it to 10,000); the print-run increases daily. One hundred thousand copies of Polyakov’s

The diary of A. Polyakov, under the title With a Soviet Unit through the Nazi Lines, was published by Hutchinson, with a preface by Maisky.

Diary have been printed and it looks as if that number will have to be doubled. Lawrence and Wishart have published graphs of the USSR: 25,000 copies have been sold in three days and a second edition is in press. It’s the same with everything.

Goodwill towards us has grown particularly strongly over the last 2–3 weeks. ‘The Russian Tank Week’ organized by Beaverbrook prior to his departure for Moscow was a brilliant success. The mayor of Kensington arranged a special reception for Agniya and me: some 500 guests attended, including many diplomats, political and public figures, the clergy, and all sorts of aristocrats. Sir William Davison

William Henry Davison, Unionist MP, 1918–45.

himself (MP for Kensington), the bane of our life for so many years with his demands about the Lena Goldfields, shook my hand warmly and showered me with friendly sentiments. My speech at the American Chamber of Commerce on 23 September was a great success, and all the London papers dedicated editorials to it. The same with our declaration at the Inter-Allied Conference on 24 September. Stalin’s appearance on the screen always elicits stormy applause. A film devoted to the USSR in which I say a few words brings in excellent donations to the Soviet Red Cross. Ten thousand pounds has been collected in London in a week; the provinces will give even more. On 10 October I was invited as a guest of honour to the Livery Club, the City’s holy of holies: they gave me a real ovation. The Athenaeum and the St James’s Club have elected me their honorary member.

The Times described the event on 18 August 1941: ‘The glass eyes of the slightly moth-eaten stuffed bear on the staircase of London’s St James’s Club should have bugged out last week. The ghost of suavely arrogant, egg-domed ex-Member George Nathaniel, Marquess Curzon of Kedleston and British Foreign Secretary of the 1920s, must have

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shivered in its shroud. Founded in 1757, St James’s is famed for its claret, its caricatures by Sir Joshua Reynolds and the exclusiveness of its membership, mostly confined to diplomats from the topmost social drawer. A Tsarist prince once lost £10,000 in its card rooms. Last week’s tradition-shattering new member was short, thick, athletic Ivan Mikhailovich Maisky, 57, Soviet Ambassador to the Court of St James’s, whose moon face, chuckling dark eyes and ragged imperial whiskers make him look like a small-time conjurer of the old school.’

My greetings to the large international youth demonstration in the Albert Hall on 11 October were met with loud applause, while the welcomes given by the king, Churchill, Beneš, the archbishop of York

William Temple, archbishop of York, 1929–42; archbishop of Canterbury, 1942–44.

and others were met with deathly silence. Shvetsov, who spoke on behalf of Soviet youth, received a stormy ovation. Grand demonstrations of sympathy and goodwill for the USSR were arranged in Glasgow and London (St Pancras) on 5 October. I could provide many similar examples.

Yes, the wave of friendly feelings toward our country stands high at present. Above all, of course, amidst the democratic strata, their strength decreasing as one goes up the social ladder. To be fair, it must be said that there are many people also among intellectuals and the middle and even upper bourgeoisie who are suddenly inflamed with goodwill towards us (but for how long?). Even the archbishop of Canterbury has begun to express sympathy for us. Even Bevin came up to me at yesterday’s youth demonstration, shook my hand and expressed his admiration for our stand. People’s feelings change, of course, and perhaps little will remain of the current wave in a month or two. But presently – I repeat – the wave is high and strong. This is making life difficult for Agniya and me: everywhere we are greeted with cheers, everyone wants to photograph and film us and have our autographs. We are always receiving invitations to open something, to make speeches on this or that occasion…

Along with this goodwill and sympathy, a disturbing question sounds louder and louder among the broad masses: ‘Has England done everything it can to help the USSR?’

And many, not without foundation, find this to be far from the case. In connection with this, the question of a second front has become the focal point of acrimonious debate among the masses. The Sunday newspapers devote a great deal of space to the question, discussing it in one form or another. The temperature is clearly rising.

Will the campaign for a second front bring practical consequences?

I doubt it – at least as far as the immediate future is concerned. True, there are advocates of armed support to the USSR in the British government (Beaverbrook, Eden and others), but there are opponents as well (Margesson, Halifax, Moore-Brabazon, Samuel Hoare and others). The opponents represent what’s left of the Chamberlain gang. Halifax has demonstrated recently how far they are prepared to go: his speech in Washington, in which he announced to the whole world that the British government is not intending to undertake an invasion of the continent at the present time, represents, in essence, an act of state treason. Yet he is a member of the War Cabinet!

Worse still, Churchill himself is against a second front in Europe. Why? He set out his reasons to me more than once, and to Comrade Stalin in his personal messages. Is that the whole point? I don’t think so. It seems to me that Churchill is simply afraid of the might of the German war machine and, besides, he listens too much to his ‘military advisers’, particularly Admiral Pound.

Can pressure from below change the government’s line? I don’t know. For now it does not seem so.

‘I won’t say no,’ I replied.

It was about eight in the evening. Eden’s office was only dimly lit. The atmosphere lent itself to intimacy and heart-to-heart conversation.

The topic of the intimate conversation was triggered by Maisky’s complaints about a statement made by Halifax in Washington that he did not expect Britain ‘to attack on the continent of Europe’; TNA FO 371 26144 A8293/2/45.

Eden took two bottles from a handsome cabinet by the window and put them on his desk. I filled two glasses with the classic English mixture. Eden moved his armchair closer to the fireplace and said: ‘Yes, it’s a terrible time we are living through! The whole world is in a state of chaos and war.’

He thought for a moment and added: ‘We have our share of the blame, too… I mean my country… Our policy has not always been wise or successful.’

I took a sip of whisky and soda and replied: ‘Yes, I agree. There are two men who bear especially great responsibility for what is happening today. I am convinced that history will judge them harshly.’

‘Who are they?’ Eden asked with obvious interest.

‘Baldwin and Chamberlain.’

I paused and added: ‘To my mind, they bear even more responsibility than Hitler. For they nurtured Hitler with their policy.’

Eden thought for a moment and said: ‘Perhaps you are right, with just one reservation: less Baldwin than Chamberlain. I knew both well. The difference between them was this: Baldwin understood and acknowledged that Hitler was not a man with whom things might be settled amicably, but he was too apathetic and lazy to draw the appropriate, practical conclusions. Chamberlain, on the contrary, was firmly convinced that it was possible to come to an agreement with Hitler, and that only people like me could not and did not want to do so. That is why he decided to take foreign policy into his own hands.’

‘Let it be so,’ I responded, ‘but those two men do bear the main responsibility for this war.’

I took another sip of whisky and soda and added: ‘Such a pity that our negotiations in 1939 about an alliance collapsed! Things would look very different today had they been successful. There would probably be no war.’

‘And you think agreement was possible?’ Eden asked a little doubtfully.

It seemed to me, though, that Eden did not really have any doubts on the matter: he merely wished to hear me confirm his own thoughts.

‘Of course it was possible,’ I replied with conviction.

‘I also think so,’ Eden confessed. ‘Do you know what I did during the talks?… When I learned that Halifax was going to send Strang to Moscow, I came to him and said: “Don’t do it! No good will come of such a move!” I must confess I was indignant. Why? After Chamberlain and Halifax had been to Rome, after the prime minister and the foreign secretary – both! – had “gone to Canossa”, to send Strang to Moscow after all that… It would be tantamount to an insult! I understood all this, I understood what feelings such a decision might raise in Moscow, and I wanted to prevent the negotiations collapsing. So I asked Halifax not to send Strang but to go himself. Halifax objected, saying he could not go, he was very busy, etc. Then I proposed myself as a special envoy to conduct negotiations. I told Halifax this would be better and that, as far as I could judge, Moscow’s attitude to me was not unfavourable – so let me test myself in this exceptionally important matter! Halifax promised to think it over. A few days later he told me it would be difficult to implement my plan. I understood what the matter was: Chamberlain, of course, was against my going to Moscow. Strang went in my place.’

‘So you think it was all Chamberlain’s doing?’ I asked Eden, before continuing: ‘I think a great deal of the blame should be shared by Halifax, too. I’ll tell you why.

Maisky continues to misconstrue the narrative of the meeting in his attempt to exonerate the Soviet Union from the blame of signing the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact. See entry in diary of 12 June 1939 and the following commentary.

On 12 June 1939, on the very day of Strang’s departure for Moscow, I visited Halifax and, after we had dealt with various routine matters, I asked him here in this room: “Lord Halifax, don’t you think the difficulties with the negotiations might be eased considerably should you yourself go to Moscow? I have serious grounds to suggest that the Soviet government would welcome your visit to us.” True, I did not tell Halifax at the time that I had instructions from Moscow to say what I said, but that was not required. If an ambassador of a foreign state makes a statement such as mine, what minister of foreign affairs would not understand that there must be a good reason behind it?’

‘Did you really say all this to Halifax?’ Eden exclaimed in great agitation.

‘Yes, of course I did,’ I replied, ‘and with great emphasis at that. To misunderstand me would have been impossible.’

‘I never heard that story,’ Eden went on. ‘And how did Halifax react to your statement?’

‘Halifax replied that my idea was very interesting and he would bear it in mind. That was all. Halifax never returned to the question. So Halifax’s visit to Moscow never happened. I consider 12 June, when I suggested to Halifax that he visit Moscow, to be the turning point in the entire history of the negotiations. Or, to be more precise, not 12 June, but the following few days. I understood, of course, that Halifax could not take such a decision at his own peril. I expected, therefore, that he would raise this question at a Cabinet meeting and give me the answer in two or three days in approximately this vein: your idea is interesting, I’ve thought it over and arrived at the conclusion that it should perhaps be implemented, but will your government give its consent?… Then I would have been able to arrange a formal invitation to Halifax from the Soviet government. It would not have been a problem that Strang had gone first. It was always possible to say that Strang had been sent to put the final touches to the text of the agreement and that within a couple of weeks the foreign secretary would come to sign it. But Halifax “forgot” about my proposal. What impression could this produce in Moscow? Only one: that the British government did not want to conclude a pact. And such a conclusion was quite correct.’

Eden was highly agitated. He took a few quick gulps of whisky and soda and exclaimed: ‘What a tragedy! What a tragedy!’

I went on: ‘This is the reason why I’m inclined to add a third name, that of Lord Halifax, to those whom, as is my strong conviction, history will condemn most severely.’

Eden did not protest. We each drank another gulp of whisky and soda. I moved my armchair closer to the fireplace and said: ‘Over all these twenty-something years British policy toward the USSR has been imbued with a deep internal contradiction. The state interests of Great Britain urgently called for rapprochement and cooperation with the USSR, but the class feelings and prejudices of the greater part of the ruling elite hindered this throughout. The result has been a zigzagging course, where attempts at improving relations have alternated with conflicts and friction. Your statesmen and politicians, furthermore, have always been of two types: the first group embodies first and foremost the state interests of Great Britain, while the second embodies primarily the class feelings and prejudices of the ruling elite.’

I glanced at Eden with a smile and added: ‘You, for one, embody state interests above all; that is why we can work together.’

Eden grinned and replied: ‘There is much truth in what you say. But then in the Soviet Union you, too, have different people. People who, being guided by interests of state, are prepared to make a compromise with the wicked capitalists, and people who object to it.’

‘Let’s assume that this is the case,’ I rejoined, ‘but the difference is that the Soviet government has never pursued and does not pursue Gefühlspolitik. The Soviet government is utterly realistic in its foreign policy. When state interests and feelings collide, state interests always win.’

‘You are right about that,’ admitted Eden. ‘You are more realistic than us.’

‘And now,’ I continued, ‘your state interests are more than ever bound up with Soviet victory. If the Soviet Union is defeated, the British Empire will come to an end. For who will then deter Hitler from marching on to India, Egypt and Africa?… If the Soviet army fails to stop him, will the 750,000 British troops stationed in the Middle East be able to stop him? The very idea is absurd.’

Eden nodded his head and said: ‘I quite understand.’

At this moment, the telephone on Eden’s table rang. It was his wife. She was calling from the ‘foreign secretary’s private residence’ where Eden presently lives, and asked what he was doing. Having heard that I was with Eden and that the official part of my visit was over, Beatrice invited both of us upstairs (the ‘private residence’ is two storeys above the foreign secretary’s office). There we met the famous author of light comedies Noël Coward,

Sir Noël Coward, popular playwright and producer of a series of wartime films.

who has just staged his new work, […].

Probably Blithe Spirit.

Eden’s wife was dressed in a short crimson dress and looked very striking. I had not seen her for a long time, since for the past year she has been driving up and down the country with her military Canteen and appears in London quite rarely.

We talked about the stage, literature and art. It was a pleasant break from war and politics. I posed the question: whom did they consider to be the greatest playwright, the greatest novelist and the greatest poet of all time and all nations?

All agreed on the playwright: Shakespeare. And on the novelist: Leo Tolstoy. But opinions about the poet differed. Coward said he held Shakespeare to be the greatest playwright and also the greatest poet (I disagreed with him). Eden, after a moment’s hesitation, named Dante. Eden’s wife refused to commit herself at all. My preference went to Goethe. This was met with objections from Eden and Coward. They do not like Goethe. I replied that I do not like Goethe all that much myself, and that my favourite German poet is Heine; but, without fear or favour, I must name Goethe as the greatest (albeit not the most loved) of the poets I know. We argued for a good while, without finding anyone whom we could all consider to be the greatest poet of all time and all nations.

Curiously, the same thing happened when I put the same question to Priestley and Winant when we once had lunch together in the Pen Club. Both named Shakespeare as the greatest playwright and Tolstoy as the greatest novelist, but they did not have a definite opinion about the greatest poet.

Our conversation turned of its own accord to War and Peace. Here there was complete unanimity. Eden, his wife and Coward – they all had been rereading the famous novel recently and their impressions were still vivid. The general feeling was expressed by Beatrice. ‘I’ve never read anything as great or as wonderful,’ she exclaimed. ‘Tolstoy has no poorly drawn characters. They are all fine and alive. And what scope: from a duchess to an ordinary peasant – he understands them all superbly, feels and depicts them in such a way that you see and hear them. And how timely this novel is!’

Suddenly the doorbell rang and Eden’s secretary entered the room. He brought some urgent papers. Our literary conversation was interrupted.

I said my goodbyes and left.

One more week has passed. It has not proved to be decisive. But the situation has not improved; if anything, it has deteriorated. True, the resistance of our armies is somewhat stronger, but the Germans keep moving ever closer to Moscow. Reports came in yesterday that we have recaptured Orel and Kalinin from the Germans. If we’ve beaten them off decisively, then that’s a significant success. But is that the case? Regrettably, everything in this war so far has gone otherwise: the Germans have tended to capture our cities and territories decisively, and we’ve then repelled them at certain points for a short while. This pattern has reflected the general trend of the war at a certain stage of its development. How will it go now? We shall see, but frankly speaking I am quite prepared for reports to arrive in the next couple of days saying that both Orel and Kalinin have once again been seized by the Germans.

In the south we have evacuated Odessa. This did not come as a surprise to me. Beaverbrook told me that Stalin was weighing up the possibility of abandoning Odessa if the Crimea needed strengthening. Evidently, this moment has arrived. One feels sorry for Odessa, but it can’t be helped.

However, I consider the main deterioration of our position to lie not so much in events at the front as in events in international politics. The Konoe

Fumimaro Konoe, Japanese prime minister, 1937–39, 1940–41.

Cabinet has resigned and has been replaced by the Cabinet of General Tōjō,

Hideki Tōjō, general, Japanese minister of war, 1940–44 and prime minister, 1941–44.

a notorious militarist and a friend of Germany. So a strike from the Far East is to be expected. True, it seems a bit late now to launch a large-scale campaign in Manchuria, but who knows? I myself, only a month ago, scoffed at the faith placed by amateur strategists in General Winter. Of course, for Japan this winter still bears the ‘general’s stripes’, but we can’t be fully confident about Japan’s behaviour.

I saw Eden several times on the 16th and 17th and enquired about the possibility of England and the USA ‘warning’ Japan that any attempt to attack the USSR would mean war between Japan and the English speaking democracies. Eden sent a telegraphic message to this effect to Washington and spoke with Winant. I have no idea what the outcome will be, but I am not very optimistic.

General Tōjō, who became Japanese prime minister, told his cabinet that ‘The attack must take place at a time when the Soviet Union is ready to fall to the ground like a ripe persimmon …’ See A.A. Koshkin, Krakh strategii ‘speloi khurmy’ (Moscow, 1989), pp. 139–40. Maisky told Eden on 16 October that ‘Japan’s waiting game is now at an end’, but thought that ‘General Winter’ was fiercer in the Far East than in Europe and therefore expected Japan to strike in the south; TNA FO 371 27884 F10915/12/23 and SAO, I, no. 56.

In his talks with me, Eden kept emphasizing that America should play first fiddle in this matter, but America… America is near-sighted and fears war more than anything else. Well, we shall see.

In the course of the last week another important event happened: the Soviet government moved from Moscow to Kuibyshev. This event is both positive and negative at the same time. Positive as an indicator of firm belief in final victory and negative as an indicator of the fact that Moscow is in great danger. No official statement concerning this change has been made yet, and on the whole the situation looks somewhat confused and unclear.

The first hints of the possible evacuation of the Soviet government from Moscow appeared in British newspapers on the morning of the 16th. After lunch on that day, Eden read to me a telegram from Cripps, in which the latter said that at 4 p.m. on the 15th he had been summoned to see Molotov, who told the British ambassador about the evacuation of the Soviet government and the diplomatic corps to Kuibyshev. At approximately the same time, a telegram arrived through trade-mission channels saying that all communications with NKVT [People’s Commissariat for Foreign Trade] should be addressed from now on to Vneshtorg, Ulyanovsk. On the morning of the 17th, I received a telegram from Molotov in Moscow in which he informed me that on the night of 15–16 October most of the government departments and the diplomatic corps had left for Kuibyshev, but he himself was remaining in Moscow. Molotov also promised that an official statement about the evacuation of the Soviet government would ‘probably’ appear on the 17th. However, no such statement has yet been made. In the last two days I have not received any telegrams, either from Moscow or from Kuibyshev. The trade mission has not had any telegrams since the 16th.

What is happening? Most likely, the top leadership is being transferred from Moscow to Kuibyshev, and our communications with the government are temporarily interrupted. This, of course, will not last long.

Maisky’s report to Eden in TNA FO 371 29492 N6040/78/38, 17 Oct. 1941.

From the artistic point of view, the performance was average, but the British seemed to like it. So much the better. Mrs Churchill repeated several times: ‘How fascinating!’

We had tea during the interval, and Mrs Churchill disclosed a few interesting details about her husband’s way of life. Before the war, in peace time, he used to go to bed at midnight and get up at eight. But now there’s no chance for him to sleep his usual eight hours. He almost always goes to bed at two or three in the morning and has to get up at eight, as before. Which means no more than 5–6 hours of sleep. It’s not enough. The prime minister makes up for it after lunch: he undresses, lies down in bed in complete darkness, and sleeps for an hour or an hour and a half. Experience has shown that this short daytime rest gives him a lot of strength, and he values it highly. If Churchill does not have any meetings or more or less official engagements in the morning, he stays in bed until lunch, summons his secretary and works with him.

What’s this? The collapse of the gigantic offensive announced by Hitler three weeks ago? Or just a temporary pause brought about by the need to bring up reserves and arrange transport facilities in the newly captured places?

Once bitten, twice shy. I am therefore rather inclined to accept the second explanation, despite the onset of late autumn with its rains, dirt, snow and cold. We shall see.

I do not like the situation in the south. The Germans have taken Taganrog and battles are raging in the region of Stalino (Yuzovka). The entire Donbass is under direct threat, and then you’re already in the pre-Caucasus. A certain lethargy can still be felt in the defence of the southern front. What is it? A weakness of leadership? A shortage of forces? Or the Ukrainian character? The war there is again approaching Russian regions. A stiffening, one feels, must begin soon. Time, once again, will tell.

I had a serious talk with Eden today – about activities in the occupied countries. We divided the countries into three categories: (1) ‘soft’ – France, Belgium, Holland, Denmark – where it is still too early to speak of insurgent warfare at this stage and where attention should be focused on propaganda, sabotage and individual terrorist acts; (2) ‘hard’ – the Balkans, and primarily Yugoslavia, where insurgent warfare is already under way. The struggle should be fully supported with weapons, supplies, leadership, etc.; and (3) ‘moderate’ – Czechoslovakia and Norway – where there is no open insurgent movement as yet, but all the prerequisites are in place for its early emergence. Here, clearly, all measures must be taken to form the cadres for such a movement, to prepare it to act at the appropriate moment, etc.

I laid special emphasis on the Balkans. There are some 150,000 partisans in Yugoslavia already, scattered in groups throughout the country. In Montenegro they even have control over part of the coast. Should these flames be fanned (and the quantity of weapons and so on required for this is, in absolute terms, very modest), then it will be easy to kindle fires in Albania, Greece, Bulgaria and Rumania as well. From there the flames would sweep over the whole of the Balkans. Since partisan warfare is in the blood of the Balkan peoples, why not use this in the struggle against Germany? Something like a ‘second front’ could very well be established there towards spring, thereby also facilitating the landing of the Allied forces. In short, the prospects are good. The situation must be exploited.

‘I am a former partisan myself,’ I concluded with a grin, ‘and my nose tells me that the Balkans can be set ablaze.’

Eden liked my idea. He remarked that the British had already made some investigations in this area, but so far only on a very small scale. He will try to get things moving. Eden promised to talk to Churchill and then return to the question I had raised.

Well, let’s see what will come of it. I’m afraid the British government might get scared: partisan warfare is so ‘unorthodox’!

It was Noel-Baker who started it all. Fairly cautious yet firm, he expressed the concern and dissatisfaction of the broad masses with the British government’s inertia in providing active military assistance to the USSR. He demanded that a large British army be sent to the Ukraine. That set the tone. Those speaking after Noel-Baker argued about the same matter – some attacked the government, others defended it. The attack was stronger and more effective than the defence. The government bench (on which I saw Eden, Alexander, Grigg, Grenfell, Greenwood, T. Johnstone

Harcourt Johnstone, Liberal politician, appointed by Churchill in 1940 as secretary to the Department of Overseas Trade, although he was not an MP.

and others) showed some signs of nervousness.

Aneurin Bevan was particularly harsh, delivering a truly belligerent speech in which, inter alia, he attacked Halifax for the public statement he made in America that an ‘invasion of the continent’ was now impossible because of the lack of shipping and arms. Bevan called Halifax’s conduct ‘all but high treason’ (particularly so because he said all that just as Hitler was preparing his full-scale offensive against Moscow). Addressing the government, Bevan shouted several times: ‘If you can’t change your policy, then step down!’

Bevan was not as blunt, calling for the government ‘to be wholly reconstructed’; Hansard, HC Deb 23 October 1941, vol. 374, col. 1982.

It all had a powerful effect: such words had not been heard in the Commons since the time of the crisis which brought about Chamberlain’s resignation in May 1940.

Then it was Gallacher’s turn, who had been given the floor only after exchanging a few harsh words with the Speaker. But his speech was as ineffective as always. No, parliament does not suit him. He is a typical man of the masses.

Eden had to reply to the critics. I didn’t envy him his situation. Eden was in agreement with much of what the critics said, but he had to defend the official point of view of the British government. He was trying to reconcile them all and smooth things over. He repeatedly swore that the government was doing all it could to provide maximum assistance to the USSR and fiercely rejected Bevan’s accusations that the British government was withholding aid from the USSR because of class prejudices. Alas, on this occasion Eden was unable to calm the raging passions and after he took his seat Bevan demanded that he denounce Halifax’s statement, which Eden had preferred not to mention in his speech. Eden had to wriggle his way out, and did so rather awkwardly. But he said nothing either to defend or excuse Halifax.

This failed to satisfy the opposition. Clement Davis jumped to his feet and demanded he be given the floor. He spoke even more sharply than Bevan. He attacked the government furiously and eventually framed the question as follows: either a restructuring of policy or a restructuring of the government.

That marked the end of the debates. They made a decent impression on me. Such stinging and passionate words against the government have not been heard in the House for a long time. True, so far they are being uttered by inveterate ‘critics’ and cheered only by members of the ‘unofficial opposition’ (although today’s cheers emanated from a significantly broader base), but still… I do know the House of Commons a bit. Today I sensed a ‘mood’ in it that I have not observed for a good while. The very fact that both Bevan and Davis dared call – without protests from the others! – for the resignation of the Churchill government, or at least its serious restructuring, is highly significant.

I lunched in the Commons with the family of Lloyd George (father, son and daughter). This became a kind of ‘sensation’: all heads in the restaurant kept turning in the direction of our table. H. Morrison came up to us, nodded at me and said with an ironic smile: ‘Well, well… A new member of the family?’

I answered in the same tone: ‘Why not, it’s not a bad family!’…

The Conservatives don’t like my friendship with Lloyd George. That’s understandable. And that is exactly why (regardless of any other considerations) it should be sustained.

The ‘family’ feared that Beaverbrook was plotting against Churchill and might push Lloyd George aside, were Churchill to be ousted; Sylvester papers, diary, A50, 23 Oct. 1941. Frances, Lloyd George’s secretary and lover, told Sylvester that Lloyd George did not want to join the government, as ‘he was really anxious to see Winston get into a mess, even lose the war, in order that he might be brought in to conduct the peace negotiations’. He would ignore invitations coming from all over the constituency to speak ‘even on the same platform as M. Maisky’, as he was ‘so angry when Russia came into the war … because this gave this Govt another chance to win’; Sylvester papers, diary, A50, 30 Sep. & 2 Oct. 1941. Despite Churchill’s warning that the result of his continued association with Lloyd George ‘would be rough reaction and recrimination’, Maisky continued to seek guidance from Lloyd George. ‘Let me say quite frankly,’ he wrote to him in September 1941, ‘how much I owe to you in my work here. Your opinions, your judgement, your talks and advice in the course of these ten years greatly helped me to see things as they really are, and to steer the proper course’; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 276; Lloyd George Papers, LG/G/14/1/21, 29 Sep. 1941.

The old man is in a pessimistic mood. Evidently, he does not have much faith in our chances of holding out. He scolds Churchill and the government.

As I was leaving parliament, some young man in soldier’s uniform approached me and said with pain in his voice: ‘Mr Maisky, I would just like to tell you I’m ashamed of my country, of its conduct at this time.’

I gave the youth a firm handshake.

The Times editor wants to get acquainted with me – Mrs Churchill is in charge of the Aid to Russia Fund. – Agniya and I are photographed, cheered, asked to act as patrons, etc. Vanity of vanities… We wriggle out, but…

See, for example, a letter of invitation from E.H. Carr to Maisky, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1371 l.5, 22 Sep.; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1267 l.15, Vansittart to Maisky, 26 June. In September, Maisky wrote to Beatrice Webb: ‘Since June 22nd we have found many new friends – too many – but I am always glad to see that the turn of events has brought recognition and popularity to the people who were our friends before that date’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.878 ll.20–1.

Second front? Mass movement in favour, but the government… Sitting of parliament 23 Oct. Strong feeling against Churchill. For the first time. Bevan demands resignation of the government. Tories keep silent. Confusion on the Treasury bench (Eden, Alexander, Johnstone and others). Bevan’s demand would have been met with scornful laughter two months earlier, but now… Churchill’s ‘Russian policy’ at the bottom. A soldier came up to me as I was on my way out and said: ‘Mr Maisky, I just want to tell you that I am ashamed of my country.’

Practical results concerning the second front? I doubt it. (1) There is no alternative prime minister even from our point of view. (2) The governmental ‘machine’ is strong and crafty. I suspect one of the objectives of the Libyan campaign is to divert the attention of the masses from the second front.

The position of the British government? Eden, Beaverbrook, Cranborne and others are for the second front, immediate military aid, even if it entails risk. The Chamberlain crew (Margesson, Moore-Brabazon and others) want to wait and see, build up forces, etc. Sinclair, Attlee, Alexander and others are neither fish nor fowl. Churchill hesitates with the final word. The reason for such a position by the British government? Doesn’t want the weakening of the USSR – too dangerous. But fear of the German war machine is revealed especially clearly in the ‘Russian campaign’.

Conclusion: no hope for second front. The chances for a BEF [British expeditionary force] in the USSR increase.

Everything is quiet around Leningrad.

But things are bad in the south. The Germans have taken Stalino, they are approaching Rostov and most probably have occupied Kharkov. Thus, the whole of the Ukraine is lost. The Caucasus is in imminent danger. All this is very alarming. If we were to lose the Caucasus, I don’t know how, without oil, we could continue to fight effectively. Moreover, the links with the outside world through Iran would be severed. The Germans must be stopped at all costs! I hope we succeed. I expect much from Timoshenko, appointed just two days ago as commander of the southern front. Budenny’s task now is to form new armies. Evidently, commanding the Ukrainian front was too much for him. It is not entirely clear why Voroshilov has also been assigned to assume Budenny’s task. He did not seem to have any particular drawbacks.

We visited the Webbs yesterday. I listened closely and received answers to the following questions:

(1) I asked: Is any kind of agreement between England and Hitlerite Germany conceivable?

The Webbs’ answer: No, it’s absolutely inconceivable. Not only because Churchill will never agree to it (the ruling class could replace the prime minister if need be), but also because the majority of the ruling class understands perfectly well that the British Empire and Hitlerite Germany cannot co-exist.

(2) My question: What lies behind the British government’s reluctance to provide immediate military assistance to the USSR in the west or on our own territory? Is it not that the British ruling class wishes to see the USSR weakened?

The Webbs’ answer: What the British ruling class would like more than anything is for the USSR and Hitlerite Germany to destroy one another. But it certainly does not want Hitler to crush the USSR. Because in such an event Hitler would bring all his might down on the British Empire. Since the Soviet Union now finds itself in a grave situation, and there is the danger of German victory in the east, the British government simply cannot desire the further weakening of the USSR. On the contrary, it desires the strengthening of the Soviet Union. If the British government is nevertheless reluctant to provide immediate military assistance to the USSR, then there are other reasons for this. The Webbs cannot formulate these reasons explicitly, but they think that the core of the matter is most probably the British government’s awareness of its military inferiority as compared with Germany.

(3) My question: In the country the masses’ demands for a second front, etc. are growing – will these demands exert any influence on the policy of the British government?

The Webbs’ answer: It’s doubtful. Many are dissatisfied with the ‘Russian policy’ of the British government; yet no sound and well-grounded proposals can be expected from the crowd. The government has all the advantages in this respect.

How time flies! How much water under the bridge! An infinite quantity!…

Arriving here, I was psychologically prepared for a stint of five years or so. I reckoned that since I’d worked a little more than three years in Finland, I’d have to spend five years in England. Just five years. Now the second five-year period of my stay in London is coming to an end, and I’m still here. I keep imagining my dear, beloved country. Who knows, maybe the tenth anniversary will have to be celebrated on this island as well. In better circumstances, I hope, than the ninth.

I asked Cecil how he imagined the world of the future and the political structure of Europe after the war.

He was very glad to hear my question and started to expound his thoughts in detail.

There are now three main trends in British political circles concerning the future of Europe and the world:

(1) The supporters of Anglo-American understanding. These two powers (which may be joined, of course, by some others) will regulate all international affairs and, in effect, impose their will. Here an important, if not central, role is played by the group led by Simon, who, despite having little influence at present, can, Cecil thinks, regain it if the situation changes.

(2) The supporters of a so-called Federal Union who conceive the Europe of the future as a federation of states with a certain amount of internal autonomy but subject to a single central authority – a federal parliament, a federal government, etc.

(3) The supporters of a middle line between these two extremes, who believe in the inevitable emergence of a powerful international organization which will exert a very strong influence on relations between states and will guard against possible acts of aggression.

‘I, personally, do not agree either with the first or the second group,’ Cecil told me. ‘The supporters of “Understanding” do not take into account the USSR, without which no peace in Europe is possible, thus rendering the organization of the world after the war vague and ineffective. The USA will hardly be willing to take upon itself any obligations with regard to the maintenance of European peace. For words and declarations alone will not suffice any longer. All must be ready to take up arms against an aggressor at short notice. Will the USA be willing to do this? I doubt it. The result will be permanent uncertainty as to how the USA will act in the event of an act of aggression in Europe. This uncertainty will keep corroding the very foundation of European peace. Finally, within 5–6 years, relations between England and the USA may sour, mutual estrangement will follow and any chance of maintaining peace with the help of Anglo-American ‘understanding’ will turn to dust. No, this concept leads nowhere.’

Nor is Cecil fond of the idea of a Federal Union. He deems it utopian. Neither England, nor the USSR, nor any other big state will ever agree to surrender their sovereignty to an extent that could render a real European federation feasible in the near future.

Cecil has reached the conclusion that, in the final analysis, the third way is the best. But what kind of an international organization should be set up? Should it resemble the old League of Nations?… Of course not. But how exactly should it differ from the Geneva of old? And how should it resemble it? For not everything about the old League was bad. It had its good aspects, too. How to separate the wheat from the chaff? What are the moulds into which the future organization guaranteeing European peace should be poured? Cecil does not have very clear answers to these questions as yet, although he has been thinking hard about all of them.

I started asking leading questions and finally it emerged that Cecil conceived the future international organization in two concentric circles, so to speak.

The first, wider, circle will cover all or almost all European states (maybe non-European countries as well). It will be a sort of renewed League of Nations and will regulate various economic, political and other international issues, including boundaries, between various states. The obligations of the countries of the first circle will be comparatively light and will not include joint armed struggle against an aggressor.

The second, narrower circle inside the first will cover only those countries which have committed themselves to immediate armed resistance against any aggressor.

When I tried to find out which powers Cecil regarded as possible members of the second circle, he confessed after a few equivocal utterances: ‘After victory over Germany there will remain only two powers in Europe which are really worth something – you and us. So peace-keeping shall mainly fall to England and the USSR, with friendly support from the USA.’

So, in essence Cecil considers the solution to lie in an Anglo-Soviet military-political alliance which will maintain peace in Europe (possibly in Asia, too – in cooperation with China) in the name of the new League of Nations. Hence the exceptional importance of consolidating the most cordial relations between the USSR and Great Britain.

I asked Cecil: ‘Suppose England and the Soviet Union split – what then?’

Cecil shrugged his shoulders and answered hesitantly: ‘I don’t know… Then everything will be lost.’

In view of Cecil’s general position, I related to him the history of the question of a second front and of the sending of an expeditionary corps to the USSR.

‘What do you think,’ I asked, ‘can this history facilitate the strengthening of cooperation between the two countries, so important not only during the war but after victory as well?’

Cecil was very upset. He said he could not pass judgement without knowing all the facts, but I saw that my information had made a considerable impression on him.

We then spoke about the fate of Germany. In Cecil’s opinion, Germany must be totally disarmed, but breaking it up into parts would not be expedient. He also thinks that Germany must compensate (in one form or another) for the damage done by it to the occupied countries. Such is Cecil’s general reasoning, but some particulars are still unclear to him.

‘I don’t go as far as Vansittart,’ he remarked, ‘but I still acknowledge that the German nation is poisoned with the venom of militarism and the theory of world domination to a far greater extent than all other nations. A lot of time will be needed to remove this poison from her consciousness.’

Cecil enquired about our views on matters of peace and the future arrangement of Europe. I referred him to the declaration I made at the Inter-Allied Conference on 24 September. Our basic principles remain the same: self-determination of nations and collective security. We shall construct our policy on these principles. The exact forms of their application are presently hard to define. It goes without saying that Germany must compensate in one form or another for the damage done by its actions to other nations.

Cecil was satisfied with my answer and said: ‘It will not be difficult for us to reach an understanding.’

I listened to Cecil, thinking to myself that the capitalist world has definitively decayed. Cecil is a vivid example. Personally, he is a fine and noble man. He really is ‘the conscience of the British nation’, as he is often called. But how utterly feeble are his ideas about war and peace!

But I did not consider this a good moment to expound my view of how to do away with war. I’ll tell him some other time.

Like Beatrice Webb and others who met Maisky at the time Cecil gained the impression, as he reported to Eden, that Maisky was ‘very deeply in earnest himself, and very conscious of the tremendous sufferings that are being endured by his fellow-countrymen’. From those conversations it could not be ruled out that Russia might find herself out of the war if immediate help was not forthcoming from Britain; TNA FO 371 29470 N6385/3/38, 31 Oct. 1941.

Pipinelli, the Greek minister, asked Vyshinsky the other day about the Soviet government’s thoughts regarding the future of the Balkan and Central European countries that were drawn into the war on the side of the ‘Axis’.

Vyshinsky answered that after getting rid of the governments that dragged them into the war, the peoples of these countries will decide their fate for themselves. The fate of the peoples that had not managed to get rid of such governments would have to be decided by the victorious democratic countries.

I don’t know. But I rather tend to think that the Germans have not yet abandoned their plan of capturing Moscow. Therefore, a new and desperate attempt is to be expected from Hitler – perhaps even with the use of gas. Such an attempt will almost certainly find support in the German military: the forests and the fields are now devilishly nasty, and the German soldiers might regard Moscow as something like ‘the promised land’, or at least a decent winter shelter. Hitler is undoubtedly staking on that.

Things are still bad in the south. Having broken through at Perekop, the Germans reached the Crimea three days ago. Sevastopol is now in danger. The Germans might also force a crossing over the Kerch Strait and gain the rear at Rostov. Kharkov has been evacuated. Stalino, Makeevka and Kramatorsk are also lost. The Germans reached the Donets, but seemed to be stopped at the approach to Rostov. There are signs that Rostov will defend as fiercely as Moscow and Leningrad. But who can vouch for anything in this war?… The Caucasus must be defended at all costs! Otherwise our position may become absolutely critical.

Yes, the picture is far from rosy. But we must not lose heart. Our army is intact, our government is intact, and the unity of nation is firm. The party and Stalin lead us. All the elements are in place for eventual victory. All we need is courage, endurance and patience.

It all started on 29 October with the appearance of more or less similar information in a number of newspapers (Daily Telegraph, News Chronicle, The Times and others, but not Beaverbrook’s) that Beaverbrook had a serious case of asthma, that he was not feeling well, and that the possibility of his resignation could not be excluded. This information worried me. Beaverbrook’s resignation at present would be most inconvenient for us! I visited Eden that same morning and at the end of our conversation asked him what was behind the above-mentioned information. Eden shrugged his shoulders and said he knew nothing about it. He was inclined, however, to assume that Beaverbrook was in one of his moods, which usually coincide with bad attacks of asthma. I did not hide from Eden my own view on the matter of the minister of supply’s resignation.

The same day, after lunch, I paid a visit to Beaverbrook and asked him right away: ‘What does this mean?’

Beaverbrook was in a bad mood. On hearing my question, his face turned sallow and he suddenly banged the table viciously with his fist.

‘I will not resign if the Cabinet says I ought not to!’

He turned towards me sharply and shouted: ‘The public will not let me resign!’

Later in the conversation it became clear to me that while Beaverbrook was still on excellent terms with Churchill, he had been at loggerheads with a number of other ministers recently. Beaverbrook would not reveal their names, but remarked: ‘Right now I’m on bad terms with Eden.’

‘Why?’ I asked in surprise.

‘Why?’ Beaverbrook repeated my question and replied: ‘He hasn’t got the guts! He often deserts me in my hour of need.’

From everything Beaverbrook said it became clear to me that he was not contemplating resigning, that he himself had initiated the above-mentioned newspaper articles and that he wanted to play the part of Boris Godunov

Boris Godunov, the Russian tsar, 1585–1605; subject of Mussorgsky’s opera based on Pushkin’s play.

in order to strengthen his position vis-à-vis his colleagues in Cabinet. So I did my best to convince Beaverbrook that his resignation would have the direst consequences for England and Anglo-Soviet relations, especially now, right after the Moscow conference. It would be interpreted in the USSR as the abandonment or, at the very least, the weakening of the policy of cooperation between our two countries that alone could lead to victory. In saying that, I was of course aware that I was putting a trump card in Beaverbrook’s hands, but I had nothing against this. On the contrary, I had privately decided to do all I could to support Beaverbrook, for at the present time we couldn’t have a better minister of supply. Beaverbrook was very glad. My words were a balm to his soul.

From Beaverbrook I went to a reception given by Aras to mark the anniversary of the Turkish Republic, and met Eden there.

‘Have you seen Beaverbrook?’ Eden asked me, pulling me aside.

‘Yes, I saw him and we had a talk,’ I replied. ‘I think his resignation can be prevented. It would be good if you and Churchill persuaded Beaverbrook that he should remain in this post.’

‘I will talk with the prime minister about it today,’ Eden reacted quickly.

I thought to myself: ‘Very good. Boris Godunov will get what he needs.’

The next day Eden confirmed that he had visited Beaverbrook on the evening of the 29th on Churchill’s instructions and that their conversation had left him with the impression that Beaverbrook would not resign.

Meanwhile I started making inquiries through other channels. I found out that lately Beaverbrook had had a number of sharp disagreements with his colleagues in Cabinet on the matters of assistance to the USSR and the expansion of the war industry. He had a quarrel with Sinclair (Beaverbrook dislikes him altogether) because of the 200 (American) Air-Cobra fighters which he had borrowed from the Air Ministry for delivery to us in December. Then there was a quarrel with Moore-Brabazon (minister of aircraft production) about aluminium supplies to the USSR. There was also a row with Bevin because Beaverbrook wanted to appeal to the shop stewards for the purpose of boosting military production. Beaverbrook also quarrelled with a number of his colleagues because of his support for active military assistance to the Soviet Union in the west (for instance, in the form of a large raid on the Brittany peninsula where two German battleships were sheltering). One must add to all this Beaverbrook’s difficult nature, as well as his marked aversion to red tape.

‘I can’t stand committees,’ Beaverbrook told me once. ‘I always decide everything myself.’

Eventually the atmosphere around Beaverbrook in the Cabinet became such that he had to contemplate the methods of Boris Godunov. My impression, however, is that the ‘crisis’ has passed and that my ‘intervention’ played a significant role in this happening.

The situation seems to be somewhat better. True, the Germans have captured the greater part of the Crimea and are approaching Sevastopol and Kerch, but they have not had any success in the past week either at Rostov or in the Donetsk basin. On the contrary, it seems that our defence in these regions is becoming stronger and stronger. Evidently, Timoshenko is gradually wresting the initiative. The main thing, however, is that the Germans have been stopped on the Moscow front. For a while or forever? I don’t know. In any case, not only have they not made any progress during the last week, they have even lost a bit of ground. It looks as if the German offensive on this front is running out of steam – particularly with the advent of winter. Still: once bitten, twice shy. I am afraid to draw any conclusions. I’m inclined to think that the Germans will try to come up with something else to surprise us with. For their situation becomes increasingly difficult. Five weeks have passed since Hitler’s boastful declarations (3 October), yet Moscow stands firm and, what’s more, gives as good as she gets.

The past week brought me two joyful events. The first – the main one – was Stalin’s speech on the occasion of the 24th anniversary. It was awfully pleasant that on the evening of 6 November Stalin spoke at a ceremonial public meeting in the Bolshoi Theatre, and that on the morning of 7 November there was a splendid military parade on Red Square, which was made so much more brilliant by Stalin’s short second speech. It is said that Hitler had reckoned on reviewing his troops on Red Square on 7 November. He couldn’t do it if he tried! What is not hearsay but a fact is that on the evening of 6 November more than 500 German planes tried to bomb Moscow, but couldn’t break through our air defences. How fine it is that Stalin decided to hold the public meeting in the Bolshoi and the military parade on Red Square as usual this year! It is a gesture of strength and confidence, a gesture of contempt for the enemy.

Stalin’s speeches, on the whole, have had a ‘good press’ in England, even though he politely scolded the British government for its refusal to open a second front. Simultaneously with Stalin, on 6 November, Roosevelt delivered a most ‘belligerent’ speech (by American standards). Thus, fists were shaken at Hitler from both east and west.

The second joyful event, albeit on a much smaller scale, was the appointment of Litvinov as ambassador to the USA. My telegram sent 10 days ago, stressing the necessity of immediately sending an ambassador to Washington, obviously played its part in hastening the resolution of this matter. Umansky has been appointed director of TASS (a very good appointment for him). M.M. will surely be in the right place in America. Today more than ever before, we need a reliable, strong and influential figure there. Who knows, maybe I’ll be lucky enough to see M.M. soon? His route to America lies through London both politically and geographically – more so politically, of course. Well, I’ll try to arrange something in this respect. On the evening of 6 November, when the news about M.M.’s appointment became known, I got a call from Winant. He expressed his delight and asked me to convey his congratulations to Litvinov and to arrange a meeting should he happen to stop in London on the way to America.

Our colony celebrated the 24th anniversary by reading Stalin’s speech, which Izvekova managed to copy down from the radio. I had been thinking of making a speech, but decided that our comrades needed Stalin’s speech much more than my personal considerations. I read the speech aloud myself and added a coda on the topic of a second front.

So, we have entered into the 25th year of our Republic. Let it be the year in which we see, if not full victory, then at least a decisive turning of the tide in the course of the war!

Today I handed the prime minister Stalin’s reply to his message of 4 November. Churchill received me in his office in parliament. Eden was also present at my request. We had come together from the Foreign Office, where I had had a preliminary talk with Eden on various issues of the day. When we entered the prime minister’s office, Churchill stood up to greet us and, shaking my hand, said with a friendly smile: ‘Let us have a good talk.’

We sat down at the long table covered in green cloth at which Cabinet meetings are usually held, and I handed Churchill the package I had brought with me. He took out the letter and began reading. I observed his facial expression: it became increasingly dark. Churchill reached the last line and passed the document to Eden in silence. Then, also in silence, he jumped up from his chair and quickly paced the room a couple of times. It was difficult to recognize the prime minister: his face was as white as chalk and he was breathing heavily. He was obviously enraged. Finally, having gained a measure of control over himself, Churchill uttered: ‘Grave message!’

Churchill had informed Stalin on 4 November of the government’s decision not to declare war on Finland and Hungary, whose troops were fighting the Russians. Stalin was also bitter about Churchill’s failure to respond to his request for British troops to be deployed on the Russian front and his decision to send General Wavell to Russia, most probably to make further excuses. He further complained about the lack of trust between the two

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countries, which he ascribed to a failure to discuss a common military strategy or post-war cooperation. The harsh tone of Stalin’s message may have been sparked by a letter which Maisky received from H.G. Wells, whom Stalin had met in 1934 and admired. Referring to the ‘second front’, Wells suggested: ‘If Russia asks very plainly “when are you going to raid” you will get these raids. If you don’t you won’t … 80% of the country is on your side. But if you do not express your wishes plainly the Government here will have the excuse: “Oh the Russians never asked for that”’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1628 ll.26–9.

And added icily: ‘I don’t want to answer this message now! I have to consult my colleagues.’

It was said in such a tone that I thought it better to rise and take my leave. But Eden held me back and I remained.

Churchill did not maintain his outward restraint for long. He again paced the room a couple of times, getting more and more worked up. Eventually, he could keep silent no longer: ‘So, Stalin wants to know our post-war plans? We do have such plans – the Atlantic Charter! What else can be said at the present moment?’

I objected that the Atlantic Charter was too general a document and that within its framework (for we also recognize the Atlantic Charter) a number of points could be usefully clarified. Just one example: about three weeks ago Eden, referring to the question Stalin had asked Beaverbrook during the Moscow conference, told me that the British government would like to build post-war relations between England and the USSR on the basis of friendly cooperation. Couldn’t this matter be profitably solved within the framework of an agreement about the post-war plans of both powers?

‘It’s true that I spoke with you about it,’ Eden commented, ‘but I asked Mr Stalin to express his own thoughts on this matter.’

‘I am inclined to interpret point (a) of Stalin’s wishes,’ I countered, ‘as a reply to the message you conveyed to me.’

Eden smiled sceptically.

Churchill suddenly flared up again and exclaimed: ‘If you want to turn England into a communist state in your post-war plans, you should know you’ll never succeed!’

‘What makes you think so!’ I protested with a suppressed laugh. ‘Stalin’s last speech should have quite reassured you in this respect.’

The prime minister again took Stalin’s message in his hands and glanced at the second sheet. It was as if he had been scorched.

‘Hm!’ Churchill cried out in fury. ‘I send two of my chief commanders to him but he can’t find the time to see them unless they are authorized to conclude those agreements…’

And the PM poked his finger in vexation at the passage where Stalin mentions the absence of agreements between England and the Soviet Union on mutual military assistance and post-war plans.

‘No, I am not going to propose any more military negotiations!’ continued Churchill in the same tone. ‘Enough!’

The prime minister rapidly paced his office once more and added: ‘And why was it necessary for Stalin to assume such a tone in our correspondence? I am not going to stand for it. I could well say things, too! Who will profit from it? Neither we, nor you – only Hitler!’

I remarked that I could see no grounds for such excitement. What Stalin is now suggesting is essentially what I discussed with Churchill more than two months ago – a joint strategic plan for the conduct of the war. Is that so unreasonable?

‘What strategic plan can there be today?’ Churchill exclaimed with irritation. ‘We are still on the defensive, you are still on the defensive, and the initiative is still in Hitler’s hands… What joint strategic plan can there be under such circumstances? Only to hold out until the moment arrives when we can snatch the initiative from our enemy’s hands – that is our plan!’

‘I agree that for the moment both you and we have to think about defence,’ I interjected, ‘but even defence requires a plan. What will we do in 1942, for instance – you and us? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to agree on that?’

Churchill made a vague gesture in reply. Turning to Eden, he asked: ‘How did it happen that information about the talks on declaring war on Finland has appeared in the press?’

Eden shrugged his shoulders and said that the publicity had begun in America. I objected that the first report appeared in The Times.

‘In The Times?’ bellowed Churchill in a sudden access of anger. ‘First the diplomatic correspondent’s report, then the editorial… Yes, yes, The Times took a stand against the government!’

It was obvious that the prime minister was taking the stance of The Times very much to heart and that in general he was extremely sensitive to any criticism of his government.

‘We have nothing in common with these publications!’ he exclaimed with irritation. ‘They were made specially against us… To force the hand of the government… This will not succeed! I also have an opinion of my own! And anyone who thinks that public clamour can influence my policy is gravely mistaken. I am not going to commit stupidities just because somebody demands it. We do not have sufficient troops today to help you in any serious way…’

It was obvious that Churchill’s thoughts had returned to the question of mutual military assistance between the Allies and a second front.

I asked how matters stood with regard to the possible declaration of war against Finland and other countries.

Churchill answered heatedly that he thought such a declaration would be a mistake, that Sweden objected to it strongly, that Norway was not pleased about it, that the opposition in Finland against the continuation of war was growing, and so on. By way of proof, the PM read me a long telegram from the British ambassador in Stockholm in which the latter described the attitude of the Swedish public to the possibility of England declaring war on Finland.

I replied that this was not very convincing. People have been talking about Finland’s anti-war sentiments for a long time, but Finland keeps fighting all the same. In my opinion, Finland has gone beyond the point of no return. Adequate conclusions should be drawn. I am also surprised by the following fact: the British government reckons with Sweden, with Norway, with the USA, and even with Finland itself, but not with the USSR! After all the publicity given to this matter, the situation has become really ‘intolerable’ and must be resolved at once.

Churchill flared up again as if he had touched white-hot iron, and shouted bitterly: ‘It was me who acted without hesitation on 22 June and offered you my hand, although only a few weeks earlier I had had no idea what you would do! Perhaps you were going to go with Germany?… Who needs all these disputes and disagreements?… After all, we are fighting for our lives and will keep on fighting for our lives whatever happens!’

‘We’re fighting for our lives too,’ I replied. ‘And not badly at that.’

‘You’re fighting superbly!’ exclaimed Churchill with passion.

He thought for a minute, glanced at Eden, who had kept silent throughout, and finally added: ‘Right now I don’t wish to respond to Stalin… I might say a lot of undesirable things in the heat of the moment… I’ll consult our people, calm down, and then write… You will be duly informed.’

‘Whether or not you like Stalin’s message,’ I remarked in conclusion, ‘there’s little sense in excessive excitement. One must keep a sober and cool head. We have a common cause and a common struggle. If I can help in building bridges, I am entirely at your service.’

We bid farewell and I left. There was a large group of MPs from different parties in the lobbies. They all greeted me warmly. Sir Percy Harris

Percy Harris, Liberal MP, 1922–45; deputy leader of the Liberal Party, 1940–45.

(the Liberal whip) exclaimed with laughter: ‘It’s nice to see you looking so happy.’

‘Happy?’ I responded, ‘That’s a misunderstanding. I’m confident but not happy.’

They all laughed.

We shall see what the outcome of today’s meeting will be. In theory, it could be both good and bad. Time will tell.

When I entered Beaverbrook’s office I found Bennett (former prime minister of Canada) sitting there. He gave me a firm handshake and expressed his great admiration for the Red Army and the resistance of the Soviet people. He then left and Beaverbrook and I remained alone.

‘What has made Stalin so angry?’ Beaverbrook asked straight off. ‘Finland?’

‘And why do you think he is angry?’ I replied, repeating his question.

‘Well, you tell me!’ Beaverbrook exclaimed. ‘I know what he’s like! I can see he’s angry, that he’s peeved with us… Is it because of Finland?’

Beaverbrook, under fierce attack for having concealed from Cabinet the rancorous side of his dealings with Stalin, was trying to pin the blame for Stalin’s telegram on the Cabinet’s handling of the Finnish issue. His own political interests required the tension to be relieved and for reconciliation with Eden by encouraging him to proceed to Moscow.

I answered that the British government’s behaviour on the question of Finland and other German vassals could hardly put Stalin in a good mood. Neither could he be cheered by the evasive behaviour of the British government in the matter of sending an expeditionary corps. Stalin is a true realist. He does not care much for words and understands only deeds. And what were the deeds of the British government in both cases?

‘Yes, but when it comes to supplies,’ Beaverbrook protested, ‘we are doing so much right now. I’m prepared to do anything to fulfil my promises. You’ll receive everything. If you have complaints or requests regarding supplies, don’t hesitate to come straight to me. Tell Stalin to wire me directly. I chair the committee for supplies to the USSR. I’ll not feel offended by anything. I have a thick skin… Stalin is my friend. I’ll do anything for him. Have you read my Manchester speech?’

I confirmed that I had read it and that I found it very good.

‘But of course!’ Beaverbrook brightened up, pleasantly flattered by my words. ‘I’ve provided such a good advertisement for Stalin, haven’t I!… Ha-ha-ha!’

And Beaverbrook burst into satisfied laughter. Then he became more serious and added: ‘We shouldn’t upset our prime minister with complaints about broken aircraft or missing ammunition! He takes it too much to heart! Let Stalin wire me directly. I’ll sweep away with an iron broom all those saboteurs who fail to pack our cargos in the proper way.’

Beaverbrook paused for a moment.

‘Having said that,’ he continued expressively, ‘we must do all we can to settle this disagreement between the heads of our governments!… Stalin’s letter is, after all, rather harsh… This must be admitted. Churchill is awfully touchy and stubborn. How can we smooth things over?’

Beaverbrook cast me an inquiring look.

I answered that, in my view, it was not so difficult to settle the matter. First of all, we must remove the problem of Finland, Rumania and Hungary…

‘Do you still want us to declare war on them?’ Beaverbrook interrupted me.

I confirmed that we did. Then I asked him what it was that he found unacceptable about Stalin’s proposals concerning agreement on post-war matters and strategy. Both these proposals seemed quite natural and reasonable to me. Beaverbrook objected: ‘The problem is that Stalin wants negotiations of both questions to be conducted by the generals… What sort of post-war problems can generals discuss? This is not their sphere. Here, people say: if Stalin wants it done this way, it means he doesn’t want negotiations at all.’

I laughed and said that this was a false conclusion. Of course, the generals are not best placed to discuss matters concerning the post-war reconstruction of Europe, but why couldn’t politicians and diplomats discuss them here in London, or in Moscow?

Beaverbrook jumped at the idea and exclaimed: ‘I’ll definitely support the holding of such negotiations in London.’

‘As for military negotiations,’ I went on, ‘you really ought to make up your mind. If you want to send an expeditionary corps to the USSR – very well. Then it makes sense for the generals to go to Moscow. But if you still don’t know yourselves whether you want to take such a step or not, then Stalin is absolutely right: there is no point in the generals wasting their time and that of Stalin.’

Beaverbrook shook his head and answered that he himself was in favour of sending an expeditionary corps and that he would do his best to persuade the prime minister of the need to take a final decision on this matter.

I stood up to take my leave. Beaverbrook saw me to the lift and, shaking my hand, said: ‘All this was off the record, of course. I trust you and share my thoughts and feelings with you. But nobody should know about it.’

I swore complete secrecy.

At seven in the evening I was in Eden’s office at his request. The foreign minister obviously felt ill at ease and, having invited me to sit down, said he wanted to make the following official statement to me:

Eden was instructed by Churchill ‘to be fairly stiff with Maisky’; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 412.

‘Mr Stalin’s message is being considered by the Cabinet. At the present moment I am not in a position to respond to it, as it raises such serious questions. However, I can’t conceal from you the fact that the prime minister as well as the members of the Cabinet were surprised and put out by the tone and content of the message.’

Eden delivered the statement aloud, while glancing at a piece of paper in front of him. I asked Eden to repeat it and wrote it down word for word.

‘That is all I can tell you officially for now,’ he added.

This was said in such a way for me to understand: ‘And now, if you are inclined to speak unofficially, I’m at your service.’

According to Eden, Maisky hinted that he realized Stalin’s message ‘was unfortunate’ and asked for an ‘off the record’ conversation, begging Eden not to divulge its contents. Maisky favoured the holding of political and strategic negotiations in London (obviously through him), and was not yet aware of Eden’s decision to proceed to Moscow. In his history of the war, Churchill seized upon the exceptionally biting telegram from Stalin which he claimed epitomized the Soviet leader’s ungrateful attitude to the West. At the time, even the Foreign Office was forced to admit, after a thorough study of Britain’s assistance to Russia since June 1941, that Stalin’s criticism was justified, despite its grating tone. Churchill, The Grand Alliance, pp. 469–70; TNA FO 371 29470 N6288/3/38 & 29471 N6654/3/38, minutes, 18, 19 & 21 Nov. Likewise Cripps quickly grasped the artificial nature of the crisis; TNA FO 418/87, 15 Nov. 1941. Churchill, however, had put on the show of anger to justify postponing a response to Stalin until the middle of the month, when the long due Operation Crusader was launched in Libya, thus achieving a fait accompli of giving priority to the Middle Eastern strategy; see Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 62–3, and Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 280–1.

I responded to Eden’s unspoken invitation, and we embarked on a lengthy discussion about Anglo-Soviet relations, in which I maintained approximately the same position as I did in my recent conversation with Beaverbrook. Eden acknowledged that there was nothing unacceptable or unreasonable in Stalin’s proposals as such. He merely expressed some doubts as to the possibility of saying anything specific at the present time on the question of the organization of the world after the war. Eden, however, had no objection to this matter being discussed – not by generals, of course, but by politicians and diplomats. Eden also said that Beaverbrook had helped him a great deal in dealing with the situation that had arisen, but kept emphasizing the touchiness and stubbornness of the prime minister. It was obvious – and Eden did not try to conceal it – that he was very upset by the incident and that he felt very troubled by Stalin’s mistrust of the Churchill government. ‘I understand perfectly well that your government could not trust the Chamberlain government, but it seems that it hasn’t changed its attitude even towards the Churchill government. That is what’s distressing.’

I protested that this was not so. However, we cannot help noting the fact that Chamberlain’s supporters are very well represented in the present government as well, and that they are backed by very influential elements. Eden denied the significance of Chamberlain’s supporters in the Churchill government, but I could not fully agree with him. On parting, Eden said: ‘Please help me patch up this unpleasant incident. I, for my part, will do all I can to achieve this.’

I answered: ‘You may be sure of my goodwill.’

Citrine dropped in. He told me a lot about his trip to Moscow and Kuibyshev. Most of it is set out in his articles for the Daily Herald. Citrine has a special type of mind: it registers what he sees like a photosensitive plate. Citrine’s head is always full of facts, figures and details. When Citrine is writing or telling a story, he likes to reproduce all these details. Which often turns him into a bore. When it comes to generalizations, concepts or big ideas, Citrine is rather weak. He is a true ‘secretary’ by nature and seems to have found his place in life.

Among other things, Citrine told me that upon returning from the Soviet Union he had a conversation with Churchill about active military assistance to the USSR – the result of his meeting with Molotov in Kuibyshev. The PM showed Citrine the instructions given to General Ismay when he and Beaverbrook were leaving for Moscow. They said that, if we so wished, the British government could send 6–8 divisions to the USSR, in which case the supply of arms, etc. would have to be reduced due to transport difficulties. The Soviet government was being offered a choice.

Ismay had been forbidden by Beaverbrook from presenting the offer in Moscow.

Churchill told Citrine that for reasons which he had not quite understood, General Ismay’s meeting with our military men had not taken place. Moreover, Beaverbrook was under the impression that the Soviet government was very interested in supplies, but showed little enthusiasm about a British expeditionary corps being sent to the USSR.

So, the British conceive of a corps of 6–8 divisions (at least to begin with)!… I was not so mistaken when I informed Moscow that the 25–30 divisions which Stalin wanted were out of the question at present, but that something in the region of 10 divisions was feasible.

Čubrilović told me a funny story. Peter, the young Yugoslavian king (he is 18 years old), studies at Cambridge. He has acquainted himself with the leftists and was even elected chairman of the students’ communist club (there is no communist club in Cambridge as far as I know; perhaps there is a workers’ club or a socialist club in which communists play the leading role). Peter told his mother about this. She gasped and sighed, but Peter brushed her disapproval aside and exclaimed: ‘You’re an old woman, you don’t understand! One must learn how to be a modern king.’

The situation on our front has improved. The Germans have failed to break through to Moscow. It looks like they’ll never be able to break through – this year at any rate. Leningrad holds firm. The situation in the Donetsk basin is better. The resistance there, particularly at Rostov, is increasingly stiff. Things are worst in the Crimea. The Germans are trying to break through to Kerch and to cross the Kerch Strait in order to gain the rear of Rostov and thereby threaten the Caucasus. Whether they will be able to or not is another matter. I think Timoshenko will make his presence felt in due course. Overall, one senses that the coming winter is gradually freezing the blood of the German army, making it less mobile, less energetic, less dangerous. This doesn’t mean, of course, that combat operations will cease entirely in the coming months. But their scale and intensity will decline for sure. One also feels that our resistance all along the front is becoming more confident, more resolute and more effective. The Red Army has learnt much during these months of war; it has gained experience; it has found and continues to find ever more successful methods of fighting the ‘panzer divisions’ and other novelties of the German military technology. The Germans, on the other hand, display increasing exhaustion in resources and strategy. Besides, their morale ought to gradually fall, both at the front and at home, for it is clear that there is no end in sight. True, Hitler has had victories – many victories, major victories – but he has not achieved that single decisive victory which would bring the war to a happy conclusion. Therein lies his tragedy. Therein lies the guarantee of his downfall and our triumph. Had I not been taught by the bitter experience of the past, I would be prepared to say that Germany has already passed the zenith of its war efforts and capabilities, while ours is still far off. Hence, the future seems clear. However, in view of the events of the past 27 months, I prefer to be cautious and will only say: ‘Time will tell.’

Where do the Germans get all their reserves and reinforcements from? Where do all these never-ending panzer divisions come from? When will they reach the bottom of the barrel?

What we need is patience and self-control. Our day shall come! The Germans are so stretched out, their forces so dispersed and so deep into our country, that when the turning of the tide begins they will simply be unable to run away. Their destruction will be terrible. All the more so as the population of the occupied areas will simply cut their throats.

Last week (18 November) the British finally started their long-awaited offensive in Libya. Eden claims that they have great superiority over the Germans and Italians there in both land and air forces, not to mention the fleet. In particular, the correlation of mechanized troops is 3:2 or perhaps even 2:1 in favour of the British. According to the information of the British government, there are two German and one Italian mechanized divisions in Libya, i.e. only 800–900 tanks (Germany’s African divisions are somewhat weaker than the European ones). So the British must have something like 1,600–1,800 tanks or 4–5 mechanized divisions there.

Eden is in an optimistic mood. If the British manage a successful Blitzkrieg in Libya, it may have serious consequences for the general course of the war, because this time they will surely not stop at Bengasi but will go on to Tripoli and possibly even Tunisia. This would be of immense importance for North Africa, would ease the shipping situation in the Mediterranean and would open routes for attacking Sicily, Sardinia and Italy. A second front in Europe could be opened before spring. But can the British launch a Blitzkrieg? I am not sure. Well, we’ll see.

Developments on the front are taking a turn for the better. Hitler continues to tread water near Moscow. Suffers massive losses. The general impression is that the Germans are not strong enough to break through to Moscow. All the better. We continue our counterattack near Leningrad. We’ve had no great successes there, but the Germans are apparently on the defensive. Even this is not bad for the present. The best news, however, has come from the south of all places. Timoshenko unexpectedly attacked the Germans in Rostov, dislodged them from there with heavy losses and is now driving them west along the northern shore of the Sea of Azov. General von Kleist’s army has been fully destroyed. That’s a big fish we’ve caught. It’s our first major offensive success. The first but not the last.

What’s this? Turning of the tide? I don’t know. I’m afraid to believe it. Maybe it’s just a serious success of local significance. But one thing is clear: the threat to the Caucasus has been seriously reduced and perhaps (as subsequent events will show) even eliminated. One other thing seems indubitable to me: the Germans have neared the limit of their force and capabilities. This does not necessarily mean the beginning of their collapse across the board – oh, no! Fierce fighting and many hardships still lie ahead of us. And yet… And yet, the first ray of light has broken through the heavy dark clouds.

I am going to Moscow. To accompany Eden and take part in the negotiations! Hurrah!

The reasons: (1) situation at the front. Imminent threat of losing Singapore and Dutch Indies, invasion of Australia and India. Turning point in the Pacific no earlier than the end of 1942. Libya – Rommel

Erwin Rommel, German field marshal nicknamed ‘Desert Fox’ by the British for his leadership of German and Italian forces in the North African campaign, 1940–43.

not destroyed, but advancing. Even if the English allow Rommel no farther than Bengasi (or even throw him out of there), Tripoli can’t be taken… The enemy holds Tripoli, the Mediterranean is closed, French North Africa follows the lead of Vichy, second front in Europe unthinkable. Life for the government won’t be easy. (2) Production: 30% of resources are not used. According to Shvernik

Nikolai Mikhailovich Shvernik, a leading Soviet trade unionist and economist; architect of the ‘scorched earth’ strategy which led to the evacuation of Soviet industry to the east following the German invasion of Russia.

and others. In essence: private ownership, poor organization, multiple authorities squabbling with each other, bureaucracy. Production is organized worse than under Lloyd George. Churchill’s personality: politician, orator, writer(?), historian, …, but not an economist, not an economic planner. Rooted in the landed aristocracy. Poor links with the City (unlike Chamberlain). Churchill doesn’t understand and doesn’t like economics. He brushes production problems aside, delegates them. A minister of food is required, but so far Churchill resists. Made vague concessions at the end of the debate. The likely outcome? A fight. (3) The reconstruction of the government: 100 members, 37 ministers. War Cabinet of 10. Declarations have been made (Churchill’s speech). Churchill against, but conceded. Australia, New Zealand will send; Canada, South Africa not yet. The party balance in the government. No way to wage a ‘total’ war. An efficient centre is called for. High time. A struggle ahead. (4) India. War at the gates of India. British government’s position …. Churchill’s personality gets in the way (the ‘revolt’ of 1934 against ‘revolutionary’ Baldwin). Will Churchill shift? Who knows. Doubtful. Troubles.

Conclusion: government will have to contend with stormy weather in near future; many of the present ministers will be thrown overboard, but Churchill will stay. The bourgeois elite does not like or trust him, but can’t do without him while war with Germany is still on. No other figure on the British political horizon of Churchill’s quality and popularity.

Harriman.

Lunched tête-à-tête.

Moscow negotiations – difficulty – ‘not a diplomat’, etc.

Question of religion in USA.

Roosevelt’s programme will be implemented with a 3-month delay.

Moscow protocol – 4–6 weeks late.

… 50 ships for USSR.

Distribution of American products.

Hopkins committee – Britain and USA.

USSR? No. Reasons:

(a) No intimacy of intelligence.

(b) Specifications (military mission)

Litvinov – OK

Harriman’s plan – meeting of Roosevelt and Stalin in Iceland or in the vicinity of the Bering Strait.

The Soviet government and Mr S. personally express their conviction that relations between the USSR and the USA, which entered upon a period of steady improvement and which are being strengthened on the basis of the struggle against common foe, will show further improvement. The Soviet government will do its best in this direction.

On the whole everyone is pleased. Particularly against the backdrop of the failures in Libya, Malaya, etc. How pleasant it is to have good news, at least from one front – the front of fronts! It is gradually sinking in: it’s on our front that the fate of the war will be decided, and from there that salvation will come. The prestige of the Red Army is growing. Rapturous admiration. The myth of German ‘invincibility’ has been destroyed. We’ll crush the German army soon. The question is asked half in jest, half in earnest: ‘Couldn’t we borrow a couple of your generals?’ Cripps has raised the prestige of the ‘young’ Soviet generals. Gratitude to us for the absence of air raids for nine months. Invasion – paled. The USSR is most popular. So long as I’m not strangled by friendly embraces. A hundred invitations in January!

Analysis. The masses are pleased and have no reservations. The ruling class have a few. Two souls in the breast of the English ruling class: Churchill’s and Chamberlain’s. Churchill’s position: Germany encroached upon the Empire and Britain’s global positions. She must be crushed. The Russians are beating Germany and will possibly destroy her. Good. The Russians will do the dirty work and once the show is over the English will march ceremoniously into Berlin having suffered no great losses. At the peace conference, England, together with the USA, will provide a ‘healthy counterweight’ to the Moscow Bolsheviks. Everything is in our interests. We will gain a cheap victory. Just let the Russians do their job. Chamberlain’s position: What if the Russians reach Berlin alone? If they become too strong? If the Red Army becomes master of the continent? The Bolshevization of Europe? An enforced ‘Soviet peace’? Who will be able to stop them?…

The Churchill group (Eden, Beaverbrook, Bracken, Cranborne and others) hates Germany with a passion and is ready to join forces with the Bolsheviks in order to crush her. The Chamberlain group (Margesson, Anderson, K. Wood and others) hates communism with a passion and is prepared to reach a compromise with Germany (the German generals and landlords in particular) in order to avoid this danger. Labour’s position is undefined (spineless, hates communism).

For as long as our successes remain reasonably modest, the reserves of the ruling class will keep silent. But what if the Red Army starts approaching Berlin? And on their own to boot? A nightmare! Cold sweat!

And such a situation is possible: 1942, 1943. If our calculations prove justified (there are good grounds for them), the Red Army might reach Berlin alone, before England and the USA. To avoid this, the English might race to open a ‘second front’ at the end of this year. Can they do it? I doubt it. The sabotaging of our supplies is conceivable in order to put off a ‘decision’ till 1943, when Britain and the USA will be better prepared.

Which soul has the advantage? If a proletarian revolution happens in Germany, the Chamberlain faction will triumph. If not, Churchill will remain on top till the end of the war. The reasons: (a) The British masses hate fascism. This is Churchill’s chief support. (b) The loss of occupied Malaysia, Singapore (things are bad), and probably the Dutch Indies – ‘the pledge that Britain will stand firm in the struggle against Germany’. (c) The desire to strike a balance between the USSR and the USA so as to avoid the ‘annexation’ of the British Empire by the United States. American talk before 22 June 1941 about the post-war reorganization of the ‘English-speaking world’. Washington as the centre and England the European outpost. Now, perpetual ‘balancing’ is a possibility. Theory: England as ‘a bridge’ between capitalist USA and socialist USSR. (Bracken).

Conclusion: Excluding a ‘proletarian revolution’, England will stick with us till the end. And after the war? Gallup in News Chronicle: 86% would like to cooperate with the USSR after the war, 53% are sure this will happen. Reflects the apprehension of the masses that after the war the English and American bourgeoisie might wish to oppose themselves to the USSR. But until then – OK.

From parliament I went to see Beaverbrook on supply matters. Beaverbrook was irritated and alarmed. Unhappy with the post of ‘food minister’: ‘As Beaverbrook, I can do something, as food minister – nothing.’ Hardly surprising. We talked about the breakthrough by the German vessels. My diagnosis: ‘flagrant incompetence or treason’. Beaverbrook rejected ‘treason’. I said: one or the other. General political topics. Evident that Beaverbrook expects a crisis soon.

Highly probable. The general situation is clear. The role of Churchill personally: he makes it ever more difficult even for his friends to support his government. ‘I answer for everything!’ This means that one can’t criticize the ministers, generals, etc., although no shortage of fools, mediocrities and potential representatives of the ‘fifth column’ have gathered under his protective umbrella. ‘The War Cabinet is good, no changes are called for!’ (high time for a War Cabinet of the Lloyd George type). Criticism is growing as a result. Parliament, the press, the masses. The role of defeats. Yesterday’s session has shown: the wave of discontent is high. If Churchill continues to be stubborn, he may be engulfed. But I think Churchill will yield: he will make a compromise.

Who could succeed Churchill if he resigned? Two names are widely touted: Eden and Cripps. Eden has been touted for some time. Cripps’s star has risen meteorically of late (particularly after his speeches over the wireless and in Bristol). The reasons: the common man is convinced that Cripps ‘brings luck’ (‘Russia has entered the war’), that he is ‘fresh’ and ‘outside the parties’ (the people are sick and tired of parties), progressive, clever, a good orator and, most importantly, has bet on the right horse – the USSR. The symptoms: Cripps received 3,000 letters of sympathy after his radio speech. On the morning of the 18th, Cripps spoke at a private meeting of MPs about Eden’s proposals concerning the USSR. Only 20 MPs remained at the official session; Cripps had 400. Cripps got an ovation (from members of all parties). Will Cripps’s popularity last? Doubtful. As for now, if not PM, he’ll become a member of the War Cabinet at the earliest reshuffle.

Personally, I’m for Churchill as PM. He is reliable: against Germany. Strong-willed: he rules on his own. Neither Cripps nor Eden is strong enough. Churchill has his feet firmly on the ground. Seems to be ready to compromise. Churchill told me that he had an eight-hour talk about India with Cripps last week. Churchill accepts: the legislative assembly of the provinces will elect delegations which together will form an all-India consultative parliament. After the war it becomes the constituent assembly. The British government undertakes in advance to accept the constitution that the assembly will devise. The viceroy’s council will turn into an all-India government. India is being mobilized for war on this basis. It is possible that after yesterday’s sitting of the House, Churchill will make concessions both on the question of the government and on the question of the military command. The need for this becomes ever more obvious. When I was leaving parliament yesterday, an MP I know stopped me in the lobby and asked: ‘What could lead to an outburst of enthusiasm in England today?’ – ‘What indeed?’ – ‘If Marshal Timoshenko were to be appointed commander-in-chief of the British army!’

(1) Government reshuffle sooner than…

Churchill has agreed to a compromise on the matter of the Cabinet… Remained…

Skilful tactician.

A sharp attack in the forthcoming debates … But…

Response in the press: a step forward, but…

First … India. Subsequent reshuffle of the government. Production … Changes ahead.

(2) Details.

By the evening of 18th and on 19th: symptoms of restructuring.

Beaverbrook’s visit – what’s got into him?

Agitated. ‘More than before’.

… Wearing the robe. Line in favour of the USSR.

King’s … lit up…

‘Old tough guy’ is still useful.

The same in England …

Eden – 10.30 – what’s it all about?

Beaverbrook? Supply?

My proposal …

K. Wood, Margesson, Cranborne.

On the whole, reshuffle is a plus. Beaverbrook – minus. Will Cripps replace him?

Cripps played a good hand. Became member of the War Cabinet and ‘leader of the House of Commons’ (a good post for him + lime light). Has ironic satisfaction of leading the Labour Party (together with the others) which expelled him three years ago. A man without a party is the leader of the House of Commons (under Lloyd George there was Bonar Law). Cripps’s story over the last couple of years is an English political fairy tale. His strong position is all thanks to the reflected light of the USSR’s power and the Red Army’s heroism.

Grigg – a new precedent, treated with suspicion by parliament: a civil servant turned minister. Grigg used to work for the finance department (in India in particular), and was appointed undersecretary for war in 1939. He is tough, resolute and a good organizer. What sort of war minister is he? Time will tell.

Results: Chamberl. … in the gov. less decisive; more for struggle. But half-heartedly. The reaction of the country and parliament: ‘Give him a chance!’ Churchill was more composed and assured in the Commons on the 24th than on the 17th, and the MPs more satisfied and obedient. Content, but waiting. Loud applause at the mention of the Red Army, China’s joining the Pacific War Council, and Cripps’s appointment to the War Cabinet.

Churchill defended himself in the Commons (military failures and so on). Not a word about India. The air has not yet been cleared. Further complications are likely, especially due to the unsatisfactory situation at the fronts.

I pose the question of additional supplies in March–April to those stipulated by the Moscow protocol: the spring offensive and the danger for lines of communication (ships breaking through). Eden promises to do all he can.

Eden says he handed Winant, who flew off today, a memorandum for Roosevelt in the spirit of my conversation with Winant (although we hadn’t agreed on this). Eden is all for speeding up the signing of the treaties. Gives it a month. I said: if he doesn’t sign it very soon, the effect of Eden’s visit to Moscow will evaporate.

Eden is satisfied with the restructuring of the government: it has become more amicable and competent. Great hopes for Cripps. His first speech in parliament was a success.

I voice my impression: the country and the parliament are ready to give the government ‘a chance’, but without much enthusiasm. Eden agrees.

Before dinner – in the billiard room… Portrait of Stalin between those of Roosevelt and the king on mantelpiece.

Agitated. He wants Stalin to know the truth.

The reasons for his resignation.

Note of resignation. Reasons (15 Feb.).

Period of 25 Jan. – 25 Feb. 1942.

Minister of food – many obligations without rights.

Duncan against Beaverbrook’s direct contacts with the controllers.

(Churchill first against, then for).

Alexander – Shipbuilding (minister of shipbuilding).

Chief of staff.

Bevin – labour. [indecipherable] (fight because of shop stewards).

Churchill’s position – wavers, squabbling with Beaverbrook.

Beaverbrook against Cripps as Leader of the H.

(Eden)

Against Attlee as ….

(Clashes with A.)

Not ‘the Russian question’ at bottom.

Afraid of becoming a scapegoat.

When re-entering the gov.

Future prime minister?

For Russia! Always!

In the Atlantic (American and British military gave you three weeks!). – Promise of aid to the USSR.

Conference in Moscow.

Meeting their commitments – (December and January!).

Now – questions in the House of Lords. The press.

Came in the evening.

Utmost support to the USSR. It’s easier outside than inside the government. Stalin will see this. If there’s anything Stalin wants, Beaverbrook is always at his disposal…

Concentrating on supplies… Second front.

Concept: England could not win until the USSR entered the war. Even with the USA. It can after the USSR entered, but the USSR will play the major role. England and the USA – not armies, generals, etc. Hence – assistance to the USSR in every way possible. ‘Our hope’.

Unprecedented popularity of the USSR in England (unlike France in 1914–18). Stalin’s prestige is very high…

Understands Stalin’s resentment: ‘I’m fighting alone’ (order 23 Feb.).

Military situation in the Pacific – Dutch Indies lost. The Japanese will go on … to India, not to Australia.

Sikorski suggested Spaak go to America and make a statement about the war, its objectives, etc. Spaak consulted with Eden. The latter dissuaded him. Who needs another declaration? The crucial thing is not declarations, but the struggle against Hitler. Now Spaak won’t go. The trouble is that all these statesmen in exile have nothing to do, but they still want to be in the limelight. That’s why they fuss and fume. Strang and Makins must have had a hand in it somehow.

Cripps dined at mine.

Cripps is trying hard to conclude arrangements for the treaty. The Cabinet has accepted the 1941 borders, albeit without much enthusiasm. Eden and Cripps in favour, Attlee and Bevin sabotage, Churchill agrees unenthusiastically. Churchill’s mood can be explained by his desire for close military cooperation with the USSR, but he is not sure this will be achieved even after signing the treaty. What a fine thing it would be for us to show that this is possible! My dispute with Cripps. Cripps’s grievances (the story of the northern operations which was discussed in Moscow, Evstigneev, difficulties between MacFarlane and our general staff, etc.). In the end Cripps acknowledged that the British military mission is not living in such bad conditions.

‘Unfortunately, about a year ago, when England was fighting alone and wanted to involve the USA in the war, the British government promised the Americans not to recognize changes in the European borders without prior consultation. England became wholly dependent on the Americans. It’s awkward, but what can be done?’ The Americans are in no hurry (the proposal for the treaty was sent three weeks ago). Cripps’s plan to send Eden to the USA failed. Internal crisis. They sent Winant.

Churchill will make a statement on India next week. Cripps considers the planned referendum a major step forward. Hopes for a good reception in India (not sure). Asks for sympathetic treatment from the Soviet press and radio.

Military situation: (1) Libya. The English have good defensive positions and hope to hold them. They have 600 tanks and 800 more have been shipped. Superiority in the air and in artillery. Rommel has 600 tanks. The Germans have the upper hand in armoured fire power and tactics. English objective – to take Bengasi (important to relieve the situation in Malta and disrupt communications between Italy and Tripoli). We’ll see what happens. England found a good commander there – Ritchie

Sir Neil Methuen Ritchie, general, replaced General Cunningham as the commander of the British Eighth Army in the North African campaign; dismissed by Churchill in June 1942, after the defeats by Rommel.

(40 years old). Eden is glad we sent a military mission to Libya. (2) Far East. Dutch Indies are considered lost. Now it’s Burma’s turn. The British government will be defending her, but not sure of holding her. Unlikely the Japanese will proceed to Australia. Japan may strike at India, but it’s a big country and the Japanese may well get stuck. Moreover, next week Churchill will make an important statement on India in parliament, which will radically change the situation. The British government thinks that after Burma the Japanese will hardly be willing to extend their lines of communication further. The balance of power at sea will begin to change in favour of the Anglo-American navy in May–June (the ships damaged in Pearl Harbor will be repaired, supplemented by new ones).

M-B feels outraged. He has been slandered. Last August he had to speak unexpectedly, without any preparations, at a lunch chaired by A. Simon in Manchester. About 100 people were present. He said: there was a time when many in England were saying: ‘Let the Germans and the Russians cut each other throats, that will help us.’ The Russians were saying at that time: ‘Let the British and the Germans cut each other throats, that will help us.’ But everything changed on 22 June. The Russians are now our allies and our friends, etc.

What happened then? Blackburn (of the Manchester mechanics’ union) sent a protest to Simon, in which he blamed M-B for allegedly saying: ‘Let the Germans and the Russians cut each other’s throats, while we, the British, wait until they all get weak before establishing our rule in Europe.’ Blackburn relayed the same to Jack Tanner

Jack Tanner, president of the Amalgamated Engineering Union, 1939–54.

and the latter made it public at the Trades Union Congress in Edinburgh in September. M-B has had no peace since then. His name has been associated everywhere with the enemies of the USSR and he’s been hounded at meetings and in the press. And now Churchill has been forced to drop him. Out of concern for his good name, M-B came to assure me that Blackburn had slandered him. He was the opponent of Munich, Baldwin and Chamberlain. He has always been a friend of the USSR, especially now. He did all he could to supply us with aircraft. He asked me to restore his reputation in left circles. I made do with some noncommittal phrases.

How typical this incident is! A symptom of the strengthening of leftist sentiments in the country and our growing prestige.

Two new candidates for the premiership have emerged: Qavām Saltaneh

Ahmad Qavām os-Saltaneh, served five times as Iranian prime minister between 1922 and 1952.

(an English agent who plays at being a democrat) and Tadayon

Mohammad Tadayon was the Iranian minister of education during the war.

(a reactionary Muslim and enemy of the USSR). Tadayon is under the patronage of Bullard.

Sir Reader Bullard, British ambassador to Tehran, 1939–46.

Without consulting Smirnov,

Andrei Andreevich Smirnov, Soviet ambassador in Iran, 1942–43.

Bullard expressed to the Persians his wish to see Tadayon as head of the Iranian government. He then informed Smirnov, leaving it to him to advise the Persians about his own wishes. We supported Forughi, and then, when he resigned, gave our backing to Soheili.

Smirnov saw the shah, at the latter’s invitation, on 7 March. The shah informed him that Soheili would be forming the Cabinet, that the Majlis supported him, and that Soheili’s Cabinet would most probably hold out. The shah said that in its foreign policy the new government would take a more explicitly friendly line towards the USSR. The shah would give instructions to this effect to Soheili. The shah said that Iranian troops should be kept in various places to maintain order. Smirnov replied that we were ready to discuss bringing a Persian garrison into the area where our troops are deployed.

On the intricacies of Iranian politics under occupation, see M.G. Majd, August 1941: The Anglo-Russian occupation of Iran and change of shahs (Lanham, MD, 2012).

Roosevelt summoned Litvinov and spoke about the Baltics. He agrees in essence, but is against any open or secret agreement because of public opinion. R. said bluntly that if the British government were to conclude a secret agreement in secret from him, he would not object. – Moscow had informed L. earlier that it was no longer interested in an agreement.

Willkie is for the second front and activity. Success of L.’s speech.

In the Savoy – Garvin with Beav. – Garv. left the room … waited till we finished our conversation (40–45 min).

(1) ‘Things are better’. Churchill sends a message to Stalin. A good one. The first paragraph – telegram … recognition of ‘41 borders. Saw Churchill’s telegram to Roosevelt. OK.

The crucial thing – Churchill is prime minister, mutual understanding and trust between Churchill and Stalin.

(2) Supplies. Letters and talks with Eden. Fulfil and exceed the protocol. 500 extra planes! – 50% increase in supplies from 1 June 1942 and 100% from 1 Jan. 1943. Promised by Beaverbrook. On the basis of British government ‘guidelines’ to Moscow conference … promised Stalin. Committed. Harriman the same. – I: is it true? My conversation with H…. – Telephone conversation between B. and H. in my presence. – H. accepts! – I: could it be documented? – B.: I’ll announce it in the House of Lords tomorrow!

(3) B.’s disagreements with the government: (a) declaration of war on Finland, Rumania and Hungary – promise must be kept … USSR. Stalin’s message. – Draft of Churchill’s reply. – Attlee and Bev. oppose. – Delay. (b) Second front – B. has long been for it (memo to Cabinet in late summer). (c) 1941 borders – must be recognized. Attlee. 10/20 Jan. threatened to resign on account of the Baltics.

My questions: (1) When did Ch. send the telegram to Roosevelt and what reaction? Telegram sent 7 March. No reaction so far. Halifax communicated today that R. wants to talk with Litvinov on this matter. Halifax protested in conversation with Sumner Welles, but R.’s decision is firm. Eden reminded me that he is also against R.’s intervening in our talks on the treaties. (2) What is meant by ‘other means’ to alleviate USSR’s situation (item 3 of the message)? Eden replied that in the first place – air offensive and raids. I asked: And in the second? Could it be a second front?… Eden neither rejected nor supported a second front.

The evasive nature of the response was succinctly described by Cadogan: ‘P.M. sending a good telegram to Stalin about maintaining quotas [of supply] – nothing else for the moment. We are going to study possibility of a “second front” in West!’; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 440. In drafting his message to Stalin, Churchill agreed with Eden that it was ‘better not to give this bitter medicine to Russia at this juncture’, though he wondered whether they had not ‘found out for themselves what is going on’; TNA CAB 120/678, minute by Churchill, 4 March 1942.

The situation has changed. ‘Wavering in the enemy’s ranks.’ I pressed on. Spoke in earnest about a second front. Recalled last year’s arguments. Added a new one: an attack-minded spirit must be inculcated in the army (a burning issue now in both the War Ministry and the War Cabinet). Easiest to do this on the battlefield. The second front – a school. My argument hit home. Eden started talking about the army’s morale. It suffers from inactivity. If this summer goes like the last one, who knows what will happen. Loss of morale. Promised to talk it over with Ch.

The British government has accepted the 1941 borders. Approached Washington on the 10th. The question was formulated in such a way as to get a positive reply if possible, i.e. no objections on the part of the USA. Winant supports the British government but he doesn’t know whether he expresses the opinion of the US government: he hasn’t been to the USA for a long time; going in a few days. Promises cooperation.

Talked about the military situation. Eden is depressed by the events in the Far East. The loss of Singapore will be a heavy blow. The Singapore garrison was ordered to fight to the last. Not to retreat. Evacuation impossible. The British government will do its utmost to hold Dutch Indies, but will they succeed? I’m not sure.

The ‘Pacific War Council’ has been set up in London, although Australia wanted it in Washington. (Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Holland, but not the USA and China.) The military staffs are beneath it. Wavell commands military operations. In Washington a ‘war committee’ chaired by Roosevelt and including Dill. Tasks of the committee unclear. So too relations between London and Washington on this matter. Muddle and confusion so far.

Bruce expounded the Australian point of view: Australia is a profoundly democratic country, far more so than England. The Australians are British, but they are dissatisfied with England in the military, economic and social spheres… England is too conservative and inert, and too aristocratic. England takes little interest in post-war reconstruction and dreams of the return of the old world. But the world will be different (e.g. India and Dutch Indies will cease to exist as colonies). Economic problems will play a decisive role. The USSR will be more important than Britain and the USA in solving them. Australia would like to be in close contact with the USSR, all the more so as both are Pacific countries. Bruce would like to maintain close contact with me.

Bruce doesn’t count on effective aid from England. He counts on the USA (aircraft and troops). The USA cannot permit itself to lose Australia, the only base in the south-eastern part of the Pacific.

Half-diplomat, half-scholar. Professorial manners combined with the cunning of a Persian bazaar. In 1922–23 concluded trade agreements in Moscow. Envoy in London in 1929–30, then in Paris. Resigned, scholarly research on the history of Persia, Islam, the calendar, etc. Published books in Engl. and Pers. Last few years in England. Appointed envoy three months ago. Regrets having to tear himself away from research.

Taqizadeh disapproves of the Anglo-Soviet occupation of Iran. He said ‘there has been no German threat to Iran whatsoever’. The reason for the Anglo-Soviet actions: the desire to secure transit through Iran.

Having the impression that Taqizadeh was inclined to believe in and spread false rumours about the behaviour of our troops in Iran, etc., I started poking fun at such stories and said that if the Iranian government had any complaints, it should address the Soviet government directly (bypassing third powers) in Tehran or Kuibyshev.

Taqizadeh understood what I meant (I didn’t name him directly) and agreed that I had indicated the correct course of action, but noted that there are ‘restless elements’ in Iran who initially thought that the Soviet authorities would support them, but are now convinced that this is not the case. Very well. Only the Soviet government should not seek to defend its every last agent in Iran, no matter whether he is right or not.

I explained to Taqizadeh that the Soviet government is guided by the principle of justice and has no expansionist tendencies. Iran has nothing to fear. Taqizadeh thanked me for the clarification, said he would ‘clear the air’, and promised to remain in close contact with me.

So today, at around one o’clock, I arrived at Chequers. Eden, whom I had asked to be present during my conversation with Churchill, appeared a few minutes later. Upon entering the room where I sat waiting, Eden took me aside and said anxiously: ‘I’ve just received a telegram from Washington that conveys the essence of Roosevelt’s statement to Litvinov… A very unpleasant statement. We must discuss it.’

That very moment the prime minister’s adjutant arrived and called us into the dining-room. It was, in fact, not exactly a dining-room, but a small corner room on the first floor with a very private feel to it. A small table was set for the three of us: Churchill, Eden and me. The PM, dressed in his habitual siren-suit, greeted me in jovial, friendly fashion and apologized for his domestic appearance. Having undergone a minor operation today, he had been unable to return to the city and was obliged to receive me at home.

When we sat down at the table, I handed Churchill the message from Comrade Stalin. He quickly read it through and was evidently satisfied. Then it was Eden’s turn to read the message. At first our conversation revolved around the latest war news. Then Eden touched upon the question of the treaties. He spoke once again about the telegram from Washington and expressed his fear that the attitude of the USA could complicate the situation.

‘This does not mean, of course, that we will not sign the treaties with you,’ Eden added, ‘but you must understand how important it would be to have America on our side.’

Churchill intervened and defined his position: ‘I have, since the very beginning, been reluctant to recognize the 1941 borders, but, as Stalin was so insistent, I eventually agreed to do so… Maybe it’s a prejudice, but I’m a great believer in the principle of the free self-determination of nations which was also included in the Atlantic Charter, while here…’

‘But a broad democratic plebiscite was held in the Baltics,’ I interrupted, understanding full well what Churchill was driving at.

Churchill grinned slyly and rejoined: ‘Yes, of course there was a plebiscite, but all the same…’

He concluded his phrase with a vague gesture.

‘Frankly speaking,’ I retorted, ‘I don’t quite understand the position of the British government on this issue. As far as I know, the British government undertook to “consult” the USA, and I stress “consult”, on issues relating to European borders, not to seek the USA’s permission. As I understand it, “consultation” has already taken place. You made a démarche in Washington which showed there to be a marked difference of opinion between the American and the British governments. Very well. What next? I think you should have told the Americans: “We have informed you of our intention to recognize the Soviet borders of 1941. You don’t like it, but we maintain that the move is in the interests of our victory over the common enemy. We are taking this step in the hope that you will come to understand and appreciate the correctness of our policy.” Our treaties should have been signed right after such a statement was made. In general, the British government should appeal to its “American uncle” a little less often, and think a bit more about the independence of its policy.’

Churchill and Eden heard me out, but would not commit themselves to anything right away. Churchill merely said: ‘Talk with Eden and find an acceptable solution.’

So it was decided: tomorrow, the 17th, I am to meet Eden and discuss the current situation.

Then I mentioned Comrade Stalin’s message and drew Churchill’s attention to the paragraph where Comrade Stalin expresses his confidence that 1942 will be the decisive year. I asked Churchill: what were his thoughts on the subject?

Churchill’s countenance darkened immediately. He shrugged his shoulders and uttered with slight irritation: ‘I don’t see how 1942 can become the decisive year.’

I was about to protest, but Churchill cut me short with a sharp question: ‘Tell me, how do you feel yourselves to be today – stronger or weaker than in 1941?’

‘Stronger, of course,’ I answered without hesitation.

‘Well I feel weaker,’ Churchill retorted.

And then he added by way of clarification: ‘Last year we had to fight against two major powers, this year – against three.’

‘But now,’ I responded, ‘you have two mighty allies.’

Churchill, however, would not agree with me and started raising additional domestic problems, such as India, the press, parliament, production…

So then I decided to take the bull by the horns and said to Churchill:

Churchill, who had been listening to me with a frowning countenance and his head bent to one side, suddenly straightened up with a jerk and exclaimed in great agitation: ‘We would rather die than reconcile ourselves to such a situation!’

Eden added: ‘I quite agree with the ambassador. The question is exactly that: now or never!’

I continued:

Once again Eden was in total agreement.

Churchill sat sunk in thought. Finally, he raised his head and said: ‘Perhaps you are right. All the information I have at my disposal testifies that the Germans are preparing an attack in the east. Countless trains are heading east, carrying men and weapons. Anti-aircraft batteries, removed from the centre of Germany, are being sent to the east in order to protect the railways in Poland and the occupied part of Russia. Yes, you will have to withstand a terrible blow this spring. We must help you in every way possible. Do all we can.’

It was clear, however, that arriving at this conclusion had not been easy for Churchill.

Having thus gained victory over Churchill on this matter of principle, I shifted our conversation onto more practical ground. I said that since the USSR would have to engage once again in a life-and-death battle with Germany in the spring, it was very important for the Soviet government to know in advance what aid it could count on receiving from England during these critical days.

There followed a long, animated, at times even heated, exchange of opinions, the results of which may be summarized as follows:

(1) The British government guarantees the fulfilment of the Moscow protocol. The British will take the necessary measures to guard the convoys against Tirpitz, etc. In this connection the monthly number of convoys may have to be reduced to two beginning from April (three are scheduled for March), but we will not lose out: all the convoys will be larger than the present ones. Churchill promised to consider exceeding the requirements of the Moscow protocol in March and April. Responding to my question as to whether the British government recognized Beaverbrook’s oral promise to Stalin to increase supplies by 50% from 1 July, Churchill replied, a little uncertainly, that it did. I felt at once that all was not yet clear on this point.

(2) The British government also guarantees to maximize the air offensive against western Germany and the occupied countries. The aim of the offensive is to draw at least half of the German air force to the west. The offensive should strike not only military facilities (experience shows precise targeting to be virtually impossible), but civilian districts as well. The pilots’ previous restrictions have been lifted: the German population will suffer and that’s that. It can’t be helped. What’s more, this will affect the population’s morale. Essen was ‘Coventrified’ the other day. Other German cities will share the same fate.

(3) The British government guarantees that if the Germans use gas on the eastern front, it will use gas against the Germans in its air raids. There are huge gas stocks in Britain. Should Stalin desire, one could issue a public warning beforehand (Churchill will send a telegram to this effect to Stalin).

(4) The British government guarantees that it will carry out raids on a broad scale against the shores of the occupied countries (France, Belgium, Norway, etc.).

(5) The British government will discuss the question of transferring part of the air force from Libya to the USSR, provided offensive operations are not resumed in Libya (Cripps and Nye

Sir Archibald Edward Nye, lieutenant general, vice chief of the imperial general staff during the Second World War.

will examine the situation in Libya on the way to India and send their report to London).

(6) The British government expects to draw the Japanese to the south, as it plans to resume its offensive in the Pacific against the islands of the Dutch Indies within the next 3–6 months. Besides, Burma and Australia will be defended energetically (Australia and New Zealand will be defended mostly by the USA), as will Ceylon. The latter is being reinforced and its garrison is being strengthened. Churchill hopes that it will be possible to detain the Japanese in Burma: the British are sending reinforcement units and aircraft there and have even assigned the command to General Alexander,

Harold George Alexander (1st Earl Alexander of Tunis), general, was appointed commander-in-chief of the Allied forces in Burma in March 1942, and in August was appointed as commander-in-chief of the Middle East, overseeing the successful campaigns at El Alamein and in Tunisia.

one of their best. Bad roads and long distances work against the Japanese. Should Burma be lost, however, it is not yet known where the Japanese would go – to China or to India. Churchill disclosed the following data concerning the disposition of Japanese forces: 20 divisions in Manchuria, 14 in China, 29 in south-eastern Asia and 9 in Japan – 72 divisions in all. It would seem to follow from this (if the figures are accurate) that the Japanese do not intend to attack the USSR just yet.

(7) Finally, Churchill said he was now studying the question of a second front in Europe. It was clear from this that Eden had already spoken with the PM on this matter, following my conversation with him on 12 March. I tried to develop the matter further and pushed the argument in favour of a second front which had worked so well on Eden (the need to train the British army in an attack-minded spirit). Churchill responded to my argument no less positively than Eden. He even remarked that technically it would be easier to open a second front now, as compared to last year, because the English are currently in possession of a large number of vessels fit for landing operations. Nonetheless, the prime minister resolutely avoided making any specific promises. I noticed just one change: last year, I seemed to run into a brick wall every time I raised the question of a second front in conversation with Churchill. There was no such wall now. I felt he was ready to discuss this question in earnest and, moreover, with the intention of doing something, if, according to his calculations, he deemed it feasible.

Considering the outcome of this part of our conversation, I felt that something had been achieved. Not everything I had wanted – far from it – but something nonetheless.

As ever, our conversation was by no means systematic. Parts of it were entire and complete, but there were others where we jumped from one topic to another. I’ll cite the more noteworthy instances.

India. I mentioned this problem in passing. Churchill responded with considerable anger and irritation.

‘Cripps won’t be able to do anything there,’ he uttered curtly. ‘The Indians won’t agree between themselves… From the military point of view it is not so important. From the military point of view, the Caspian–Levantine front is far more important than India. Politics and emotions are another matter. We shall see.’

Churchill made an abrupt gesture with his hand and continued: ‘In general, the Indians are not a historic nation. Who has not conquered them? Whoever came to India from the north became her master. Throughout their history the Indians have barely ever enjoyed true independence. Look at the Indian villages: each stands on a hill. Where did the hill come from? Each village has been building its mud huts for centuries, for millennia. Every year the rainy season washes the huts away. The old ones are replaced by new ones from the same earth. In turn they too are washed away. And thus from one generation to another. As a result, the hills have grown higher and higher. What kind of people is it that has not been able to invent something better over the course of millennia?’…

Churchill took a sip of wine and continued with still more irritation:

Churchill took another sip from his glass and, eyes sparkling, concluded his speech: ‘I don’t care what happens in India now… Committees, councils, whatever… We are leaving in any case. But then why on earth should we shed our blood? Let the Indians defend themselves!’

It was obvious that Churchill was annoyed, that the mere thought of India affects him like the touch of red-hot iron. It was clear that he had made some of his comments in the heat of the moment. Yet still, how typical were the prime minister’s statements concerning a matter of the greatest historical significance!

Churchill’s attitude to Iran is absolutely different. Already last August, when our troops and English troops were entering Iran, the prime minister spoke to me with great enthusiasm about the improvements he was going to make on the trans-Iranian railway, about how many locomotives and carriages he would send there, and how this neglected railway line would turn into a first-class communications route between Britain and the USSR during and after the war.

Today he returned to this topic once more. During lunch, his secretary brought him a thick folder of documents. Churchill looked at it with satisfaction, put it beside his plate, nodded to the secretary, and said: ‘Yes, yes, this is precisely the material I want to discuss with the ambassador today.’

Churchill opened the folder and, looking at the long columns of tables, began to inform me in detail about everything that had been done on the trans-Iranian railway over the last seven months, how many locomotives and carriages had been delivered, how the route’s capacity had increased, etc. All this was important and interesting, of course, but compared to the Indian problem the trans-Iranian route was a mere trifle. Meanwhile, the prime minister spoke of it with gusto, even delight, chewing over every figure and emphasizing every success. I listened to him and couldn’t help thinking: ‘Of course, Churchill is a considerable man and a major statesman. And yes, he is 67 years old. But nonetheless, something of the small boy lives on in him: Iran is a toy he likes, while India is a toy he dislikes.’

The PM spoke of Beaverbrook and Cripps with great sympathy and respect. According to him, Beaverbrook’s resignation was a big blow to the Cabinet and to him personally. But Churchill still hopes that ‘Max’ will return to the government. He is also thinking of sending Beaverbrook on some kind of official mission to Moscow. Evidently, Churchill is still impressed by Beaverbrook’s ‘friendship’ with Comrade Stalin.

As for Cripps, the PM said he is awaiting his return from India with impatience. Cripps is badly needed here in Britain, and Churchill consented to the trip only because Cripps himself wanted to go.

Churchill spoke about the Red Army with admiration, saying that good-will towards the USSR had grown immensely in England, along with its prestige. He added with a laugh: ‘Just imagine! My own wife is completely Sovietized… All she ever talks about is the Soviet Red Cross, the Soviet army, and the wife of the Soviet ambassador, with whom she corresponds, speaks over the telephone and appears at demonstrations!’

He added with a sly sparkle in his eye: ‘Couldn’t you elect her to one of your Soviets? She surely deserves it.’

The USA. Churchill asks us not to underestimate her significance and role. True, the Americans talk too much and do too little. True, they are devilishly bad at keeping their promises for supplies. Yet, they are a tremendous power, and they are capable of learning. By way of illustration, Churchill recalled the history of the Civil War in America, when the armies on both sides resembled disorganized rabbles in the first year of the war, yet attained a high degree of perfection by the third.

I replied that we fully understand the significance and role of the USA in this war, but the thought of the Americans having a perfect army in 1945 hardly suits us.

During today’s conversation with the prime minister, I was struck by one feature which I had not observed before: Churchill is in a ‘twilight mood’. He even let slip the remark: ‘I’m not long for this world… I’ll be ashes soon…’

The same note sounded in a number of other statements. But every time Germany was mentioned Churchill flared up and his eyes flashed with sparks of fury. My general impression is that Churchill has an acute sense of being on the wane and is harnessing his remaining strength and energy in pursuit of one fundamental and all-exclusive goal – to win the war. He looks and thinks no further than that.

Seeing me out on to the porch, Eden quickly whispered into my ear: ‘You managed to get a lot out of the prime minister today. He was in a good mood. He is being needlessly irritated – parliament’s criticisms and the suspicions of the press exasperate him… Meanwhile, you can see that much is being prepared, though it’s too early to speak about it openly… You have many friends here… If you could do something to ease the PM’s situation, we’d all gain from it.’

Returning from Chequers I thought: ‘How times change!… Moore-Brabazon came to me not long ago to defend himself and to ask for my assistance in restoring his reputation. Now Eden asks me to prop up the prime minister’s slightly shaky position… All this reflects one basic fact: the might of the USSR, which has now become evident to the whole world.’

We conferred on the treaties. Halifax has sent the record of Roosevelt’s statement to Litvinov; it had been passed on to him by Sumner Welles for his information. The statement is long (two single-spaced pages). Main points: in view of prevalent American public opinion Roosevelt was ‘alarmed’ to learn about Anglo-Soviet negotiations concerning the 1941 borders, he would like to study the matter more intensively, could in no way approve a secret treaty, and could not now sign any treaty concerning future borders. However, Roosevelt understands that the USSR needs a border which would guarantee it against a new German attack in some 10–15 years. Roosevelt is 100% committed to helping us obtain such a border, but after the war. Referred to the Atlantic Charter (Germany’s unilateral disarmament), but stresses that mutual trust between the USSR and the USA is of paramount importance. Hopes to receive a reply from Stalin. Halifax did not disclose the details of the talk between Roosevelt and Litvinov.

Eden asked: what should be done now? In spite of the USA pouring cold water on them, the treaties must be signed quickly. It was obvious, however, that Halifax’s telegram had upset him. I set about reassuring him. The British government must be courageous. Roosevelt’s statement is more of an insurance policy than a protest. He is shooting at non-existent targets. Nobody is speaking about a secret treaty, and nobody is inviting him to sign anything. Besides, to all intents and purposes he acknowledges the correctness of our demands. Eden calmed down a bit and cheered up.

After our discussion Eden reached the following conclusion: let Stalin reply (the statement is addressed to him), then Eden will reply in the same spirit. Then we shall get down to drafting the treaties. Stalin’s reply, according to Eden, should be based on the following ideas: there is no question of a secret treaty, no one has invited the USA to sign; the security requirements of the USSR call for a recognition of the 1941 borders now in order to establish trust between England and the USSR.

I’m asking Moscow to send me a copy of the reply to Roosevelt and details of the talk between Roosevelt and Litvinov.

On parting, Beaverbrook emphasized that one must stake on 1942, not on 1943. Every kind of assistance should now be given to the USSR. Beaverbrook champions the idea of a second front in governmental circles. Being a free agent, he has greater possibilities than before. I set about thanking him for the line he had taken. Beaverbrook brushed my thanks aside, saying: ‘I’m doing all this not because I love the USSR, but because I love the British Empire. But one can’t love the British Empire today without staking on the USSR.’

Lord Mottistone came to see me. A diehard retired general who held high posts in the past (including secretary of state for war in 1914). Seventy-four years old. An anti-Soviet hero who supported the ‘Zinoviev letter’ campaign. The purpose of his visit: M. is indignant at the Home Office’s instructions recommending that the population ‘remain in place’ and ‘keep calm’ in the event of an invasion (the men in uniform will fight). He says the instructions have been written by English quislings. M. is going to raise the question in the House of Lords and protest to the prime minister. He would like to know what our ‘instructions’ would be for such an event. I gave him Stalin’s speeches. He promised to quote them. M. fully shares our view of 1942 and is for a second front. In conclusion, he exclaimed: ‘Really, you Bolsheviks are magnificent! You are fighting superbly! You’ve saved us and civilization. Just to think that I once opposed you!’

I asked him with a smile: ‘Maybe you recognize now that there is something healthy about our system?’

‘Of course I recognize it. I’m a soldier. If you’ve created an army like that then there must be something healthy about your system.’

There was a fight between de Gaulle and Muselier a fortnight ago. They had not been getting on for some time. Eden and Alexander patched things up between them last September–October. It worked to some extent, but not for long.

De G. sent M. to take St Pierre and Miquelon (Newfoundland). During the operation, he sent instructions to M. which he claimed to have agreed with Ch., but which in fact he had not. M.’s chief of staff in London got to know Ch.’s real instructions and wired them secretly to M., but he was too late. The admiral had already undertaken some acts of which he disapproved and which had brought him into conflict with the Admiralty. Back in England, M. demanded an explanation from de G. A fierce argument followed. M. left de G.’s National Committee. After that de G. dismissed him from his post of fleet commander. Many sailors left with M. Several of de G.’s ships could not go to sea because of absent or disorganized command. De G. gathered his naval officers in the navy club and demanded an oath of allegiance. M. came too and spoke against de G. There was a scandal, both left the club, the officers almost came to blows. The Admiralty knew nothing about it. When they learned about it, they took M.’s side and asked Eden to make de G. reinstate M. as commander of de G.’s fleet. Aware of the relationship between the two, Eden refused to impose M. on the general, but invited de G. for a talk.

De G. demanded as a precondition that Eden recognize M.’s dismissal. Eden said he wouldn’t. So de G. said he wouldn’t go to see Eden.

De G. stuck to his position for a few days. Eventually went to see Eden. A long and heated conversation. One moment they both jumped up, stood opposite one another like fighting cocks, and started shouting. De G. drew himself up to his full height and exclaimed, while beating his breast: ‘I’m Joan of Arc! You can burn me at the stake like the English once burned Joan of Arc, but you can’t make me change my views!’ De G. demanded that M. be locked up in a fortress. Eden refused. The British government decided to seize the fleet from de G. and subordinate it fully to the Admiralty. Eden thinks this is not enough: de G’s entourage must be purged. He asked me to help him. Wanted to send Peek (the liaison officer between FO and de G.) to me for a talk.

I didn’t object as I was in agreement with Eden. It’s high time to carry out a purge. De G.’s milieu are all Cagulards

French fascist organization in the 1930s.

and rascals. There are almost bound to be German agents among them. De G. himself understands nothing about politics, sympathizes with fascism of the Italian type, and doesn’t know how to lead (he argues with everyone). He is not leadership material. This makes his entourage all the more important. There’s work to be done.

Churchill told Hopkins that he was disappointed and ‘bitter’ about de Gaulle, who considered himself ‘a modern Joan of Arc’ but that he felt it difficult to ‘eliminate’ him, as he saw no substitute, while his name had become the symbol of resistance in France; NA SD 740.0011 European War 1939/20906, 9 April 1942.

Eden expressed his great satisfaction with Clark Kerr’s first conversation with Molotov.

Clark Kerr expressed his regret at leaving China and said he was proud of being posted to the USSR.

Molotov remarked that Cripps’s work in the USSR had made a good impression on us and hoped Clark Kerr would be as successful. – We consider 1942 to be the decisive year in the struggle against Germany. Germany is preparing a spring offensive. We are doing all we can to obstruct the organization of the offensive. Soviet troops are incessantly attacking along the entire front, so as not to give a respite to the Germans anywhere, to frustrate the German offensive plans. If Britain and the USA do the same where they can land blows on the Hitlerites, the aim of reaching a turning point in 1942 will be achieved. – But this means mobilizing all forces. Only under such circumstances will the main aggressor, Hitlerite Germany, get what it deserves. – Molotov hopes that Clark Kerr, while understanding English interests, will also understand the interests of the USSR. Squabbles may occur, but the essential interests of the two countries now coincide to such a degree that this has a decisive significance.

Clark Kerr agreed. Counts on Molotov’s support. Will make every effort. There are suspicions and misunderstandings, but they can easily be overcome. Churchill and Eden have an interest in post-war problems being resolved by the ‘big three’. The British government is ready to second Soviet proposals on this matter wherever possible.

Clark Kerr delivered Churchill’s message of 20 March to Stalin.

Became particularly acute since the Japanese attacks: Malaya and Singapore are lost. Burma is soon to be lost. Australia and New Zealand placed under US military protectorate. India is ‘leaving’ the British Empire (Churchill admitted as much in our conversation of 15 March 1942). South Africa cold-shoulders England, many pro-Germans there. German and Italian missions still present in Ireland. Channel of German espionage. Canada is loyal, but did not wish to be addressed as a dominion in her agreement with us on the establishment of consular relations. US influence in Canada growing. USA ousting Britain from its commanding economic heights in North and South America. The British government was forced to cede a number of important military bases in North and Central America to the USA. The loss of Singapore posed the question starkly: how strong is British rule in other colonies?

What is the meaning of all this? The disintegration of the British Empire? Premature. We face a ‘crisis’. It can end in disintegration or transformation. This depends on a number of conditions, primarily on the behaviour of the British ruling class. It still has cards in hand, but will it be able to play them well? We shall see. If it restructures in time, there will be transformation. If not, there will be disintegration.

What does transformation mean? The bottom line of conversations, readings, etc.: (1) The dominions become independent states after the war, but a military-political alliance of these states with a mother country is established. (2) India becomes independent de jure or de facto, but the British government concludes economic and military agreements with it (modelled on the example of Egypt). (3) The rest of the Empire (mostly Africa): reforms, involvement of the population to a greater or lesser extent in various forms and relations of self-government. This is how transformation is seen by such men as Eden and Beaverbrook, Attlee, Greenwood, Sinclair and Lloyd George. Should transformation occur, the ruling class would still be left with something, even if a large chunk of the British Empire is lost.

The likelihood of transformation being implemented? It’s difficult to say, but the signs are that routes for transformation are being sought. Chamberlain was the Empire’s grave-digger, but Chamberlainian influence in the government is declining (especially in the wake of the February reshuffle), while the Churchillian wing grows more powerful. Churchill himself is not fit to be the leader of a transformation (old, stuck in the old imperial tradition), but he gives Eden, Cranborne and others their head. Cranborne is the secretary for the colonies. Symptomatic. Cripps’s visit to India. Discussion of colonial reform in official quarters. The trend is clear. Is the tempo sufficient? Facts will provide the answer.

What is the matter?

It is often suggested that the problem lies with Greenwood, who was entrusted with matters of post-war reconstruction in the War Cabinet, but is a weakling and a drunkard. It is suggested even more frequently that Churchill is not interested in post-war problems. He says: ‘My job is to win the war. Someone else can clear up the post-war mess.’

There is a grain of truth in such explanations, but no more than a grain. The main reason for the fruitlessness of efforts towards post-war reconstruction is different. The main reason is this: the bourgeoisie likes contemplating the future and making plans for the future when it’s on the up. It does not like contemplating the future and making plans for it when it’s on the slide. The British bourgeoisie is indeed sliding downhill, and rather quickly at that. Is it so surprising that it shies away from problems relating to the post-war order? Not at all. For, to judge by all the available signs, the future has nothing good in store for England’s ruling elite.

What are these signs?

They are starkest in the ‘imperial’ sphere. A number of facts show that all is not well there. In early 1940, I happened to write that (at that moment) the Empire had successfully passed the test of war: all the dominions, excluding Ireland, and even many of the colonies had sided with the mother country without any hesitation and embarked on the broad mobilization of their resources to support the war. Today, two years later, the situation is very, very different. Here are the crucial facts.

Malaya and Singapore are lost. Burma is on the verge of being lost. Australia and New Zealand have been entrusted with a US military protectorate because the British government acknowledges its inability to render them effective assistance. The fate of India is presently in the balance: no matter how Cripps’s mission ends, it is absolutely clear that the old India is lost to the English. Churchill admitted this unequivocally in his last conversation with me (16 March). South Africa has always maintained cold relations with the mother country – today this is especially obvious. It is enough to recall our talks with the South Africans on the procedure of appointing the consul-general to Pretoria. Canada is more loyal than South Africa, but it did not want the Canadian government to be named ‘the Government of the Dominion of Canada’ in the Soviet–Canadian agreement on the establishment of consular relations, and insisted that it should be named simply the ‘Government of Canada’ (which indeed is what was done). The catastrophe in Malaya and Burma cast the following question in sharp relief: are the foundations of British rule stronger in other colonies, especially in Africa? In South America, and particularly in Argentina, England is definitely losing out in economic terms to the USA.

What is the meaning of these and many other similar facts? The disintegration of the Empire?

For the time being I would hesitate to draw such a conclusion. The situation is unclear. The facts I enumerated may signify the beginning of the disintegration of the Empire, but they may also simply signify a transitional phase in the transformation of the Empire. All will depend on the English ‘spirit’, and primarily that of the ruling class. If the leaders fail to show the necessary flexibility and fail to make sufficient concessions in various parts of the Empire in good time, its disintegration as a result of the war will become inevitable. If, on the other hand, the leaders succeed in showing these qualities, the transformation of the Empire is possible. One example: India may become a dominion or even formally an independent state after the war, but if the British government succeeds in signing proper trade, political and military agreements with her in advance, as well as with Egypt, England will still be able to maintain a significant number of its advantages there. The same goes for other parts of the Empire.

In which of the two directions are events unfolding? My general impression is that events are advancing more in the second direction, i.e. that the leaders are making considerable efforts to save whatever can be saved of their position in the Empire and inside the country. The latest government reshuffle clearly testifies to this. So does Cripps’s visit to India. And so does the heated debate under way in the press and in political quarters about the need for urgent and radical reforms in the colonial system of Great Britain.

So much for the imperial sphere. Curious symptoms are also discernible on the domestic front. One of these is the change in the office of the archbishop of Canterbury: the reactionary and anti-Soviet Dr Lang has retired on grounds of old age (78) and Dr Temple (60), a progressive social reformer and formerly the archbishop of York, has taken his place. Richard Acland, a left (and somewhat wild) Liberal, told me the other day about a speech he made recently in front of 200 priests in Liverpool on the subject ‘Christianity and Politics’. Acland defended the argument, in the spirit of last year’s ecclesiastical conference in Malvern, that private ownership of the means of production contradicts Christian doctrine. At the end Acland posed the question: which of those present were in favour of calling a conference that would make a clear and firm statement to this effect? Ninety per cent of the audience raised their hands. A few days ago, The Times published a letter signed by several of the City’s largest magnates demanding that the government make better use of its right, granted back in the spring of 1940 for the duration of the war, to subordinate private interests to public ones. One could quote many similar facts.

If we add to the aforesaid the fact that along with Singapore there are Tobruk and Malta, that throughout the war the merchant seamen have given a fine example of modest but genuine heroism, and that in the difficult days of the Battle of Britain the entire British population displayed exceptional courage and resilience, then the possibility of a transformation of the British Empire as a result of war cannot be excluded. The possibility! For the speed of change plays a colossal role here, and when it comes to speed the English are not so good. The future alone can show whether the current pace of restructuring is fast enough to prevent the disintegration of the British Empire and to bring about its transformation.

Even if transformation does take place, what would its impact be, as seen from the point of view of the British ruling class?

At best, transformation would mean a drastic scaling down of exploitation and, as a consequence, a sharp decrease in profits. The financial and economic consequences of the colossal war expenditure should be added to this, as should the complete dislocation of the global market that will follow the war. It is perfectly clear that the English ruling class is heading toward impoverishment with all the ensuing consequences. It is sliding downhill fast. To some extent, its representatives are consciously aware of this; but they also sense it instinctively. That is why they are so reluctant to give any thought to the future. That is why, when drawing up plans for post-war reconstruction, they will only do as much as pressure from the lower classes and the USSR compels them to do. That is why Greenwood’s work went so badly, and why his successor Jowitt,

William Allen Jowitt, solicitor-general, 1940–42; paymaster general, 1942; minister without portfolio, 1942–44.

who on top of being paymaster general is now in charge of matters relating to post-war reconstruction, will also have a rough time of it. Churchill may nurture a purely personal aversion to such problems, but in this instance subjective and objective attitudes are in perfect harmony: the prime minister’s resistance is a good reflection of the spirit of his class.

And the mood of this class is now very troubled and gloomy. Not long ago I attended a lunch arranged by Rothschild, the banker. There were 7–8 people from the City, including Sir Auckland Geddes.

Campbell Auckland Geddes, president of the Board of Trade, 1919–20; British ambassador to the USA, 1920–24; chairman of the Rio Tinto Company, 1925–47.

I gently pushed the conversation in the direction of post-war prospects. It soon became apparent that I had touched a nerve. A sharp debate developed. The guests were divided into three groups: the first held that after the nightmare of the war everything would more or less revert to the old order, and the City would flourish once again; the second, including Geddes, argued the contrary: capitalism as people knew it before the war had died and would be replaced with ‘planning’ (though no one could specify what he meant by that term); the position of the third group lay somewhere between those of the first and second. The host closed the debate with a characteristic remark: ‘To avoid sleepless nights my wife forbids me to think about the future.’

What a fine illustration of the current mental state of the representatives of the ruling class!

One further example: nearly three months have passed since I handed the British government and the other Allies our project for the reorganization of the ‘Inter-Allied Committee on post-war raw materials and food’ (the so-called Leith-Ross committee), a project which ought to make this committee more serious and business-like. No reply has come from the British government.

No, the English bourgeoisie does not want to think about the future!

What will the world look like at the end of the war? An end, of course, which we desire and are counting on.

Germany, Italy and Japan will be crushed and weakened for a long time. France will be in the process of a slow and painful recovery, having lost its status as a great power. The British Empire will be significantly weaker (I choose the optimum scenario for her: not disintegration, but transformation). China will be triumphant, but licking her wounds and regaining her strength with great difficulty.

Against this background, two powers will present a somewhat different picture – the USSR and the USA.

The USSR will also have to tend to its wounds, but, emerging from the war with a powerful army, a vast industry, mechanized agriculture and a wealth of raw materials, it will be the mightiest international power. The socialist system will help the USSR to overcome the grave consequences of the war faster than other countries.

The USA, in its turn, will become the second largest power because it will, by all appearances, suffer least from the war and maintain its strength to a greater degree than anyone else. The American army will probably be ready for serious battle only once the war is over. Together with the mighty navy, air force and military industry, this army will make the USA very powerful.

The USSR and the USA will represent the two social and international poles of socialism and capitalism in the post-war period. For in the USA capitalism will have preserved infinitely more of its vital juices by the end of the war than in England. The USA will become the citadel of capitalism. That is why the post-war period will most probably be marked by a contest between the USSR and the USA rather than between England and the USA. That is also why it is not in our interest to go out of our way to strengthen the USA and in particular to allow the handover to it of Australia and New Zealand.

Today is the 6th of April. A year ago to the day Hitler attacked Yugoslavia. Almost on the same day two years ago (on the night of 8–9 April) he attacked Norway. All is calm for the time being. Obviously, the situation in 1942 is far more difficult and complicated for Hitler than in previous years.

I certainly do not rule out the possibility that Hitler may mark the month of April with novelties of one kind or another. But it is also possible that this will not happen. Everything depends on the conditions, on the speed with which Hitler manages to prepare for the spring offensive, on the weather on our front, especially the Ukrainian front. Time will tell. I, in any case, think it most probable that Hitler’s aim this year will be to conquer the Caucasus, with all the ensuing consequences. It is on this region that his plans will focus, and he will use various methods to fulfil them, stopping at nothing. Might Hitler have some new military invention? Might he have some kind of gas which nobody else knows of?

As we approach the spring–summer campaign, what kind of shape are we in?

The winter offensive had major significance. It gave a big boost to the morale of the Red Army and of the entire Soviet population. It gave the Red Army very valuable experience of war. It returned to us a number of our territories. It deprived Hitler of the possibility of calmly waiting out the winter while preparing a tremendous reserve force for the spring. It compelled the Germans to fight through the whole winter, sustaining heavy losses. It consumed a significant quantity of the German reserves that were being kept for the spring. It demolished the myth of the ‘invincibility’ of the German hordes and dealt a heavy blow to their morale, as well as to that of the German population at home. It facilitated the growth of discontent and anti-German activity in the occupied countries.

These, of courses, are all pluses. But I am somewhat disappointed that our territorial gains have fallen short of my expectations. I had thought that by the end of winter we would at least have taken Smolensk, driven the Germans from Leningrad and liberated the Crimea. But it hasn’t happened and there’s nothing you can do about it now.

What are the prospects? It’s hard to predict, especially in the absence of any kind of accurate information from the USSR. But this is what strikes me as probable (or, to put it more precisely, this is how I would go about devising a strategic plan were I to be assigned such a task).

Hitler has evidently recovered somewhat from the initial confusion sown in the German ranks by our December offensive. By February it was clear that it was too early to speak of the disintegration of the German army. The German troops did not retreat in disarray and panic. On the contrary, their stubbornness intensified as they fell back. Clearing the regions and cities seized by the Germans became a laborious and costly business. Our leaders must have decided that there was no point expending too many men and too much matériel on regaining territories in winter. They decided only to maintain heavy pressure along the whole front so as to deprive the Germans of the time and opportunity to prepare systematically for the spring offensive, to make sure they sustained heavy losses, and to undermine their morale. Of course, we recaptured this or that point, city or region whenever we could. The main aim, however, was not to win back some territories, but to destroy the German army’s manpower and equipment.

Meanwhile, we got on with preparing the Red Army for the spring. Reserves were called up, extensive efforts were made to expand military production, and we imported as much as we could from abroad. We know that the Germans are preparing a spring offensive. What is the best way of confronting them? Evidently, by launching a counteroffensive before the enemy attacks himself. It seems to me that this is indeed our plan now. Using the men and matériel saved during the winter, and the reserves who have been mobilized over that time, we must strike hard before the Germans make their first move in spring. Perhaps it was to some extent intentional that we left in German hands the points which have long been ‘ripe’ for recapture, such as Rzhev, Vyazma, Orel, Kursk, Kharkov and the Crimea. It is possible that we will regain them within just a few weeks. And at the same time we may see muddle and confusion descend on Hitler’s plans for the spring. Who knows?

We will find out soon.

And so he did. I complimented him on his performance. The old man was pleased.

Lloyd George then recalled his negotiations with Krasin in 1920–21. They were discussing the possibility of a trade agreement. The attitude of the British government was cool, to say the least. Many ministers were against it. Curzon, the foreign secretary, categorically refused to conduct the talks. But Lloyd George was not discouraged. He decided to carry out the negotiations on his own, with the help of Sir Robert Horne,

Robert Stevenson Horne, president of the Board of Trade, 1920–21; chancellor of the exchequer, 1921–22.

president of the Board of Trade.

When Krasin arrived in the spring of 1920, Lloyd George received him in his official residence at 10, Downing Street. After a preliminary, semi-official exchange of opinions, they got down to official negotiations. They went reasonably well. Krasin made a good impression on Lloyd George: he seemed to be a clever, adaptable and business-like man, who was blessed with a good dose of common sense. Rapid success, however, was hindered by various attendant circumstances, such as the Polish–Soviet war, the arrival of Kamenev

Lev Borisovich Kamenev was deputy chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars, 1923–26 and member of the Politburo in the 1920s. A victim of the show trials, he was executed in 1936.

and his propaganda among the workers, etc. Nevertheless, progress was made. When Curzon realized that despite his boycott the talks were advancing, he changed his tactics: he started attending the meetings without taking part in the negotiations. He just sat there in silence, stiff as a poker. The first meeting between Curzon and Krasin is etched in Lloyd George’s memory. Curzon arrived first and instead of taking a seat at the table, he remained by the fireplace in the prime minister’s office. He stood facing away from the hearth, his hands behind his back. Krasin came in and started shaking hands with all those present. Finally, Krasin approached Curzon and held out his hand. The foreign minister maintained his pose, with his hands clasped behind his back, and gazed straight past Krasin. Everyone was embarrassed. Lloyd George flared up and snapped: ‘Curzon, be a gentleman!’

Curzon gave a start, came to his senses and reluctantly stretched out his hand to Krasin.

It was a good lesson. In the following meetings Curzon behaved better.

The Swedish ambassador Prytz told me a funny story.

Not long ago, he paid a visit to princess Helena Victoria and conveyed greetings to her from King Gustav. The king had recently had a bout of pneumonia, and the princess was very anxious to know how he was. Prytz, obviously forgetting whom he was talking to, answered very casually: ‘Oh, the king feels just fine! He is a remarkable old chap!’

The princess was shaken and shocked.

‘Old chap?’ she echoed, half in surprise and half in reproach.

Only then did Prytz realize that he had committed a faux pas.

A few days later Prytz related this minor incident to the Dutch ambassador.

‘Imagine,’ Verduynen

Edgar van Verduynen, Dutch ambassador to London, 1939–42; minister without portfolio, 1942–45.

exclaimed, ‘almost exactly the same thing happened to me!’

And the Dutch ambassador told him that just the other day he had gone to play a round of golf and met an English acquaintance, who asked after Wilhelmina’s health: ‘How is your remarkable old girl?’

Verduynen calmly answered that the queen was quite well. One of the Dutch courtiers was present at the scene and described it later to Wilhelmina. The old lady was indignant at such ‘disrespect’ towards her lofty title and reprimanded Verduynen at the first opportunity: ‘Does my ambassador not know that the queen is the queen, and not an old girl?’

Prytz fairly trilled with laughter as he told me all this. Yes, the era of royalty has passed! Kings and queens are living out their last days, yet they still put on airs and play at their trivial monarchic games.

On 29 August of last year I arranged a grand ‘Allied’ lunch, to which I invited the prime ministers and foreign ministers of all governments in exile resident in London, along with the ambassadors of other Allied governments (USA, China). A few days earlier I decided to sound out the Dutch as to whether or not I should invite them. On the one hand, the Dutch were rather like allies; on the other, we have never had diplomatic relations with Holland. I didn’t wish to offend them, but nor did I want to invite a refusal. I made a ‘private’ inquiry through Feonov, our liaison man on economic matters with the Dutch. The Dutch took the matter very seriously: they even discussed it at a government meeting! Their reply was: better not… lest the government’s behaviour be ‘misunderstood’ both in Holland and the Dutch Indies and merely go to serve Goebbels’ propaganda. So the Dutch thanked me through Feonov for the kind thought, but asked me to refrain from sending an invitation. That was stupid, but it was not for me to answer for the idiocy of the Dutch sages. They were not invited, and the lunch was held without them. At that time, though, Queen Wilhelmina still had the Dutch Indies…

At the end of February this year, the Dutch foreign minister, Van Kleffens,

Eelco Nicolaas Van Kleffens, minister for foreign affairs of the Dutch government in exile, 1939–45.

went to America on an official visit. Singapore had fallen. The Dutch Indies had been lost. Queen Wilhelmina had been ‘orphaned’, having neither kingdom nor empire. Van Kleffens thought it an appropriate moment to probe the possibility of establishing diplomatic relations between Holland and the USSR. He came to Litvinov and proposed mutual recognition, but…

‘Oh, not full recognition, of course,’ Van Kleffens explained. ‘We can’t recognize you fully as yet… Our public is not quite ready for that… It’s a complicated and difficult matter… With time, of course…’

In short, what Van Kleffens was suggesting as ‘a first stage’ was the exchange not of ambassadors but of diplomatic representatives. Litvinov responded to that, of course, with the diplomatic: ‘Go to hell!’

Moscow later approved his stance.

Today I had a visit from the Dutch ambassador in London, who bears the elaborate name Van Verduynen.

On behalf of his government he proposed that diplomatic relations be established between Holland and the USSR. I asked, not without irony: ‘Full relations? Including the exchange of ambassadors?’

Verduynen took the hint and hastened to assure me: ‘Yes, of course.’

Then, without any encouragement on my behalf, Verduynen told me about Van Kleffens’ talk with Litvinov and tried to explain his strange behaviour. His explanations were boring and uninteresting.

I reported the Dutch proposal to Moscow. I doubt we shall be in any particular hurry. Holland does not deserve it: it has been ignoring the existence of the USSR for 25 years and its behaviour today strongly suggests political cretinism. Let it wait.

I can’t help recalling the thoughts, feelings and sensations that engulfed me on the eve of the German attack on the USSR. Much has changed since then. The main change, it seems, is this.

A year ago the Germans were convinced they would win – the only question was: When? Now they have lost that belief. They don’t yet perceive their defeat as inevitable, but its terrible spectre already troubles their minds. It is no accident that, to judge by the latest information, the main topic of conversation in Germany this summer is: How to avoid defeat? And not: What will we do once we win?

A year ago we still did not know what the war held in store for us. We had a profound faith that the USSR could not perish, that we would save our country one way or another. But how? By what means? Within our ranks there also prevailed a certain inferiority complex: the myth of the ‘invincibility’ of the German army had some impact in the USSR as well. ‘Tank phobia’ among the troops was also observed in the first months of the war. Today things are different. The experience of the past 12 months, and especially the experience of the winter offensive, has changed the entire mood of the country. The myth of the ‘invincibility’ of the fascist hordes has been destroyed. The inferiority complex has vanished. On the eve of the first anniversary of the war we know that we will prevail. We can even envisage, more or less, how this will happen. The only question is: When and at what price?

In essence Hitler has already lost the war. That much is clear today. But how much more blood and effort will be required to kill the mad beast!…

Contemplating the immediate prospects for the war, I recalled my recent conversation with Lloyd George. The old man’s train of thought goes like this.

The nature of the war on the Soviet front this summer is not as it was last year, when German superiority was overwhelming, thanks to the surprise element in their attack, their numbers, better weapons and greater experience of waging ‘total war’. As a result, they managed to gain a number of major and serious victories. True, they did not succeed in conducting a Blitzkrieg in the full sense of the word, and the Russian campaign was not completed in 10 weeks, as Hitler had planned. But still, this was a war that never stood still, and the Germans managed to seize vast territories at a relatively (only relatively, of course!) low cost and to approach the gates of Moscow and Leningrad.

The situation in 1942 is entirely different. The Germans have grown weaker over the winter, and the Russians have strengthened. Now the Russians boast numerical superiority over the Germans. Parity has almost been attained in terms of arms and aircraft. The Red Army has received its baptism of fire and learned the techniques of ‘total war’. Consequently, the morale of the German army has fallen, while that of the Soviet army has risen. The myth of the ‘invincibility’ of the German army has been destroyed. At the same time, the front line has been reinforced on both sides, and every attempt at a breakthrough has entailed an extremely arduous and costly operation. The result is that the situation on the Soviet front this summer has come to bear some resemblance to the situation on the French front in 1914–18. The front has become less mobile, more static and fixed. Not quite what we saw in the west in the last war, but not entirely different either.

The Germans, of course, can scarcely fail to grasp the change. And, if that is so, then can all the talk about Hitler’s ‘big summer offensive’ have any basis in reality? How can he launch an attack? All right, it is possible. But a general, crushing, decisive offensive to compare with that of last year?… No, most unlikely. Hitler doesn’t have the guts anymore! Goebbels, of course, will be in favour of attacking, but Hitler… I doubt it. If that is the case, then what does Hitler’s strategy amount to this year?

It seems to Lloyd George that Hitler will probably choose to remain on the defensive in the USSR (which of course does not exclude isolated offensive operations on a modest scale) and try to exploit the occupied territories to the utmost, first and foremost the Ukraine. The Ukraine, after all, is Hitler’s long-cherished dream, and he now has almost all of it in his hands. The Ukraine cannot give him much this year, of course, but what about next year? In 1943, the Ukraine may well be able to render significant results in terms of food and industry… if the Germans manage to hold onto it, that is.

Will they? The answer to this question depends on the answer to another question: what are the Red Army’s chances in 1942?

Lloyd George is not overly optimistic. Of course, there can no longer be any question of the Red Army being routed. That much is obvious to everyone. But, on the other hand, can one really expect the Red Army to crush the German army this summer? The old man thinks not. Since hostilities on the Soviet front increasingly assume the character of trench warfare, both sides would require an enormous numerical advantage (3:1 or at least 2:1) to execute a successful offensive. The Red Army cannot boast such superiority as yet. An effective second front in the west would be helpful here, but Lloyd George doubts that it will be created in 1942 (not a second front in general, but an effective one). So the offensive capabilities of the Red Army are also limited for the time being.

The conclusion that Lloyd George draws from all this is that the situation on the Soviet front in the summer of 1942 is very close to stalemate, making it possible that autumn will set in, and even winter, without the front undergoing any crucial changes to its current shape. So the old man does not consider 1942 to be the decisive year. The war will be protracted. One must put one’s hopes on Germany’s exhaustion, the sapping of morale at the front and at home, and Germany’s internal disintegration. But this is a very lengthy process.

I demurred. We had a long dispute. Eventually, Lloyd George exclaimed: ‘Please don’t misunderstand me! The picture I am sketching may strike you as excessively pessimistic, but this is certainly not what I would like to see occur. This is what I’m afraid will actually occur. As for me, I dream of just one thing: a second front and victory in 1942. But will this happen? I doubt it.’

I keep turning this conversation over in my mind. Is Lloyd George right or wrong? Undoubtedly there is much truth in what the ‘Old Wizard’ says. But not the whole truth. What will actually happen?

Only events can tell us that.

But the masses have spoken. A wave of big meetings dedicated to the anniversary and the Anglo-Soviet treaty swept across the country. Everyone in unusually high spirits. The idea of a second front in 1942 dominated proceedings.

I myself attended a 10,000-strong mass meeting in the Empress Hall, where Cripps was the main speaker. His speech was fairly decent on the whole. He drew most applause when he let it be understood that the British government was preparing a second front this year. Very energetic clapping also accompanied the moment when, to my embarrassment, Cripps showered me with praise. The English just can’t do without compliments! Agniya and I were sitting on the dais in the front row and the audience gave us a real ovation. When Cripps finished his speech I reprimanded him for his indiscretion, but it was hard to get through to him.

‘Just what was needed!’ he replied innocently.

Then he asked me somewhat anxiously: ‘Do you have the full text of my speech…for Moscow?’

I said I did not. He then pulled the original copy of his speech out of his pocket and gave it to me.

Leaving aside my personal involvement, I should say that the meeting was quite astonishing: the atmosphere, the speeches, the greetings and telegrams. Greetings arrived, incidentally, from Timoshenko, General MacArthur

Douglas MacArthur, general, commander-in-chief of Allied forces, South-West Pacific Area, 1942; commander-in-chief, US forces, Far East Command until 1951.

and the archbishop of Canterbury. As they left the meeting, some of our comrades were saying: ‘Almost as if we were in Moscow.’

An exaggeration, of course, but a revealing comment none the less.

Similar events were held in other cities. I sent Novikov to Birmingham, Graur to Manchester, and Zonov to Cambridge. The meeting in Birmingham, where Beaverbrook was the main speaker, was especially interesting. Held in the open air, it drew some 50,000 people. Spirits were high. Beaverbrook delivered a very good speech (he had consulted me about it two days before), posing the question of the second front in the sharpest terms. It was met with thunderous applause. The words of the lord mayor of Birmingham, Tiptaft,

Norman Tiptaft, lord mayor of Birmingham, 1941–42.

who chaired the meeting, were even more interesting. In his opening address, he remarked: ‘Speaking of communism… Were we to hold a vote on this matter today, most of the country would probably turn out to be communist.’

The crowd responded with a vociferous ‘Hear! Hear!’ and drowned the lord mayor’s voice in cheers.

Who’d have thought we would live to see this! Tiptaft’s words may also contain some exaggeration, but still: to hear such statements from the lord mayor of Birmingham, that stronghold of metallurgy and lair of Chamberlainites… It speaks of great shifts in the country’s mood!

The past ‘weekend’ has clearly shown the idea of a second front to be ripe among the masses. I’ll bear it in mind. It’s useful to know this in my negotiations on the matter with the British government. What about the British government, incidentally? I wonder what Churchill will bring back from America…

Yes, there are shifts in England, and big ones at that. National patriotism is mixed up with socio-political radicalism, and all this is clothed in fervent Sovietophilia. We shall see what comes next.

Then we spoke of British affairs. I asked Citrine why all industry controls, introduced by the government for the duration of the war and placed under the Ministry of Supply, are in the hands of the big owners of the corresponding branches of production? Why don’t the trade unions and Labour demand some ‘controls’ for themselves, or at least their participation in the existing ‘controls’.

Citrine replied: ‘The “control” of industry is a complex and difficult business. We don’t have men of sufficient competence.’

I expressed my doubts as to whether this was really the case. Citrine reluctantly agreed and added: ‘Of course, it might be possible to find people among the trade union leaders who would be up to the task, but who would take it on? This is a temporary engagement for 2–3 years, and one would have to leave one’s life job in the union. Who would agree to that? I for one have been offered various high positions in government, but I have always refused. For that same reason. My colleagues act in the same way.’

I expressed my amazement and asked why he considered ‘control’ work short term? Wouldn’t many branches of industry be nationalized after the war?

Citrine said he was doubtful. It was possible, of course, that some branches (coal, the railway, etc.) would leave private hands, but would they be nationalized? Citrine is inclined to think not. The government will probably act in the same way as it did in the matter of the coal industry. In other words, the usual ‘English compromise’. Why? For the same reason, according to Citrine: because there are no men among the workers sufficiently qualified to run industrial enterprises. In general, this lack of expertise seems to weigh heavily on Citrine’s mind.

‘Fifteen years ago,’ he concluded, ‘I happened to give a speech in a summer school in Bristol. We were discussing the forms of transition from capitalism to socialism. Even then I was making the argument that it was senseless to go over to socialism while the working class still lacked leaders trained to manage socialized industry. And it is very difficult to obtain such training in a capitalist society. I see no reason to change the views I expressed at that time.’

What an astonishing inferiority complex! With such leaders it will take British workers a long time to eliminate capitalism.

Mersa Matruh, which had been considered the main British stronghold in Egypt, fell in the course of some three days. Rommel outflanked it from the south. The British beat a hasty retreat to Fukah, where they are now engaged in desperate delaying action against the Germans. Further east, 60–70 miles from Alexandria, there is one more fortified position, El Alamein. Its advantage lies in the fact that here, between the coast and the Qattara Depression, there is a narrow ‘neck’ some 40 metres wide. It offers a relatively narrow front which is easier to defend. That’s where the British intend to make a firm stand. Will they succeed?

I don’t know. The British defeats on land (and they have already had plenty) render me sceptical. Particularly after learning the details. Among the cipher messages from Cairo there was one which truly appalled me. The commanders in Cairo gave their assessment of the situation and drew provisional plans for the immediate future – what a terrible document! Not a word about an attack or an offensive, nor even of their determination to hold one or other position at all costs! Quite the reverse: constant talk of evacuation, retreat, and the abandoning of positions… ‘We shall defend El Alamein… If it proves impossible to hold on to El Alamein, we shall retreat in two columns: one towards Cairo and another towards Alexandria… We are forming special units for the defence of the Nile delta… If they fail to check Rommel we shall make a fighting retreat to the Suez Canal’, etc. etc. That’s more or less the spirit of the thing… The devil knows what! Sheer defeatism! And it’s all set out so evenly, so calmly and methodically, as if these were the calculations of a land surveyor…

As I read the message I couldn’t help recalling the Austrian General Weyrother in Tolstoy’s War and Peace, who, on the eve of the Battle of Austerlitz, monotonously reads out his ‘disposition’ for the next day to the war council: ‘Die erste Kolonne marschiert’ … ‘Die zweite Kolonne marschiert’… At least Weyrother was planning to march forwards; Auchinleck is planning to march back… Contemptible!

With the high command in this sort of mood, you’re not likely to win!

That much is clear. Tobruk fell within 24 hours. What happened? The details are not yet known, but it is clear from the Cairo cipher messages that keeping Tobruk was part of the plan of the British command; that an entire South African division had been stationed there since the very beginning of hostilities; that it had plenty of supplies and munitions; and that the fortifications were all in order. The decision to hold on to Tobruk was not a local commander’s sudden wheeze, thought up at the last minute. So what happened? There can be only one explanation: panic and cowardice. There are allusions to that effect in the cipher messages. But the general picture, it seems, is not yet entirely clear.

Eden added a revealing detail. This morning he received a telegram from Cairo with the request: ‘What to do with the Egyptian government?’ To where should it be evacuated, should the need arise?

I expressed my feelings in the frankest terms. Eden did not even try to defend Cairo (where, it should be said, there are some 160 British generals!). On the contrary, he set about assuring me that Churchill would deal a crushing blow to the defeatist attitudes of Auchinleck and Co. Eden also said that he had already sent a very sharp telegram in reply to the inquiry concerning the Egyptian government, making it clear that he refuses even to discuss the matter… So much the better!

But where does the root of the Libyan disaster lie? For, as far as I know, the forces on both sides were more or less even at the beginning of the battle; indeed, the British even had a certain preponderance over the Germans.

Among the cipher messages from Cairo, I found a quite interesting one which shed some light on the matter. It turns out that a few days ago the War Cabinet sent Auchinleck a detailed questionnaire about the events in Libya, and he submitted his replies. The documents are long and detailed. But in essence they boil down to the following: at the root of the disaster, according to Auchinleck, lie two critical elements – the ‘greenness’ of the British army and the inferiority of its arms.

On the first point, Auchinleck states quite plainly: ‘Our army of amateurs is up against an army of professionals.’ A valuable admission! And a justified one if it refers also to the lack of an ‘offensive’ spirit.

As for the second point, Auchinleck emphasizes in particular the weakness of British tanks (2-pound guns against German 88mm guns) and affirms unequivocally that the Crusader, Stuart, Valentine, and Matilda operating in North Africa are entirely useless. The American Grant is good, but there were few such tanks (just over a hundred) in Libya. Further on, Auchinleck states that although the British air force surpasses the German one in number, the technical characteristics of the Messerschmitt 109 surpass those of the planes at the disposal of the English: the Tomahawk, Kittyhawk and even the Hurricane.

In short (this is my conclusion): it’s the commanders, generals and senior officers who are to blame, as ever in the past.

I asked Eden: ‘So what are the British government’s plans?’

Eden shrugged his shoulders and replied: ‘To hold El Alamein and defend Egypt. We are bringing up reinforcements. A fresh armoured division (350 tanks with 2-pound guns) has just arrived.’

I argued that the British government must revise its strategy: it must switch to active defence in the Near East and concentrate all its offensive energy in Europe. We had a long talk on this subject. Eden agreed with me on the whole, but what about Churchill? At bottom, everything depends on him.

It seems unlikely that Churchill will agree. Today I asked Eden about the results of the Roosevelt–Churchill meeting, particularly on the issue of a second front. Eden said that everything was as it was, that is, as it was during Churchill’s talks with Molotov on 9–10 June. Events in the Middle East do not affect the British government’s plans for a second front in any way. The prime minister asked Eden specially to convey this to me.

I inquired: ‘No date for opening a second front was set during Molotov’s talks with Churchill. Are you able to tell me anything more definite in the wake of Churchill’s visit to Washington?’

Eden could not and suggested that I should go and see the prime minister myself. I agreed. But this all sounds bad. I fear that a second front will not be opened in 1942 and that Churchill, together with Roosevelt, will try to make 1943 the ‘decisive year’.

Conclusions?

The main and essential conclusion is that the country is very alarmed and vexed about the disaster in Libya. The mood is close to that which followed Dunkerque. True, England has been astonishingly unsuccessful on land throughout this war. It’s enough to recall Norway, France, Greece, Crete, Malaya, Singapore and Burma. But none of this made as strong an impression on the country as the current defeats. Why? Partly, of course, because at a certain stage quantity is expected to be translated into quality. But that’s not the main point here. The main point is that in all previous cases there were always some ‘extenuating’ circumstances that cushioned the impact: either the English did not bear the brunt of the blame (in France, for example), or they were fully aware that they were not ready for the fight, but were forced into it for reasons beyond their control (Greece, Crete, Malaya, etc.). In Libya, there were no ‘extenuating’ circumstances. This was the best British front, the PM’s very own ‘darling’, which was never refused anything and was built up stubbornly and systematically over the last two years. Churchill spoke openly about this today: in the period in question, the British government dispatched to the Middle East 950,000 troops, 6,000 aircrafts, 4,500 tanks, 5,000 guns, 50,000 machine-guns, and so on. What more could have been done?

Yet it was on this very ‘darling front’ that in the last few days the British suffered their most decisive defeat! They were defeated in spite of the fact that not only were they not at a numerical disadvantage at the beginning of the battle, but even had a certain superiority (100,000 British and 90,000 Germans, British superiority in the air, a 7:5 advantage in tanks and 8:5 in artillery). How to explain this?

It’s hard to find any sort of adequate explanation. That is why the prevailing mood in the country and in parliament is anxiety, anger, agitation and the growing suspicion that there is an intrinsic defect in the British military machine, one fraught with the gravest of consequences. For if Rommel is not beaten now, or at least stopped dead in his tracks, the whole Middle East will be under threat, as will be both India and the British Empire in Africa.

Such are the circumstances under which the parliamentary debates were held.

The situation in parliament in itself, however, did not pose any danger to Churchill. Party discipline played its role here. So, too, did the MPs’ fear of revealing any internal discord to the outside world (to the enemy, in particular) at such a trying time. Lastly, one should note the disparate and feeble character of the official opposition. Among these 21 could be found the most diverse elements – such as the diehard Wardlaw-Milne, the left Labourite A. Bevan, and the offended careerist Hore-Belisha. Even their speeches took off in different directions. Wardlaw-Milne demanded that the duke of Gloucester be appointed commander-in-chief, while Bevan demanded the appointment of political commissars in the army! What a wide spectrum! It was all too easy for a masterful parliamentary strategist and speaker such as Churchill to see off his opponents. And that’s precisely what happened. The prime minister’s closing speech was very forceful and imposing, and the voting went as follows: 476 for the government, 25 against, about 30 abstentions.

So, Churchill has won a brilliant victory in parliament. But he shouldn’t get carried away. In fact, the overwhelming majority in the House is in a very anxious and critical mood, blaming the government for the long chain of military defeats that has ended, for now, in Libya. This feeling is yet stronger among the masses. I have the sense that the country would be ready to replace the government or to reshape it radically, but is stopped short by the baffling question: who would be any better? In particular, who would be better than Churchill as prime minister?

There is no satisfactory answer to this question. Personally, I consider Churchill, for all his failings, to be the best of all possible prime ministers today. That is why I take a ‘pro-Churchill’ line. However, it should be borne in mind that today’s voting in no way relieves the prime minister of his enormous responsibility for how events unfold in the immediate future. After all, what is the meaning of today’s vote? It is this: ‘We are putting our trust in you once more, but you must put your house in order.’

What does this really mean? It means: hold on to Egypt and stop all the defeats.

How can such a result be achieved? These, in my view, are the minimum requirements: (a) establish a single general staff, (b) replace the secretary of state for war, (c) undertake a thorough purge of the senior officers and generals and boldly promote young cadres in the army irrespective of their social origin.

If Churchill does not follow this route, he will prove Bevan right for saying today: ‘You win parliamentary debates, but lose battles.’

Bevan was more eloquent than Maisky suggests: ‘…the country is now more concerned with the Prime Minister winning the war than with his winning a Debate in the House of Commons. The Prime Minister wins Debate after Debate and loses battle after battle. The country is beginning to say that he fights Debates like a war and the war like a Debate’; Hansard, HC Deb 2 July 1942, vol. 381, col. 528.

Will Churchill implement the minimum programme indicated above? I don’t know. I can’t say I’m overly optimistic in this respect. But we shall see.

He asked me to come at 12.45. When I arrived, the Cabinet was still in session. I was kept waiting in the reception room for some 20 minutes. Soon after one o’clock Churchill summoned me at last. He apologized for the delay, glanced at his watch, and said: ‘You know what?… Let’s have lunch together! I’ve kept you waiting so long. Are you free?’…

It was a bit awkward for me as I was meant to be seeing Vansittart, Lobkowicz

Maximilian Lobkowicz, 1941–45, ambassador to London for the Czechoslovak government in exile.

and others for lunch today, but when a prime minister invites you, you can hardly say no. Besides, I very much needed to talk to him. I called Agniya at home, told her I couldn’t come to lunch with Vansittart, asked her to represent me there, and remained at 10, Downing Street.

Before sitting down to lunch, I congratulated the prime minister on his victory in parliament yesterday. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face before he replied with emphatic modesty: ‘Such victories are not the hardest things in our life.’

Nonetheless Churchill willingly continued the conversation on the topic I had raised. He recalled with pleasure various details of yesterday’s sitting of parliament, the speeches of various MPs, the adroit gestures and comments. In short, he was reliving and savouring a debate that had only just concluded. Churchill’s countenance, the tone of his voice, and the glint in his eye made one feel what an old, very old parliamentary hand he is; that it’s precisely in parliament that his soul and his life reside; that he sees the entire world and all its events primarily from the parliamentary point of view; and that he is interested first and foremost in how those events are reflected in parliament and in the reactions or attitudes they elicit there. I remember how I used to be astonished by Martov years ago: he saw everything in the world through the lines of a newspaper editorial. Churchill sees the world in terms of the effect of a parliamentary performance. And is it any surprise? Parliament is in the blood of every Englishman, and Churchill has been warming the benches of Westminster for more than 40 years.

The prime minister asked what impression the debates had made on me. I replied that the current opposition presented no danger to the government for the simple reason that it was such a motley crew. Thus, Wardlaw-Milne could propose that the duke of Gloucester be appointed commander-in-chief, while Bevan could demand that political commissars be appointed to the army. Such was the diversity of opinions among the members of the opposition!

Churchill liked my remark very much, and he exclaimed with a laugh of approval: ‘Precisely!’

But then I added: ‘Still, the situation is grave. In spite of your victory yesterday.’

The prime minister immediately turned red and frowned. Rising abruptly from his seat, he said: ‘Let’s go and find Mrs Churchill! She must be fed up with waiting for us.’

We found Mrs Churchill seated in the garden beneath the broad branches of a tree. She was writing something in pencil in a notebook. Her cousin was with her. The PM left us for a minute, and Mrs Churchill started talking to me about the recent events in parliament. She was most perturbed. Yesterday’s vote was a victory for the government, of course, but…

‘If the situation at the front does not improve,’ Mrs Churchill continued, ‘who knows what may happen?’

There were four of us at the table: Churchill, his wife, his wife’s cousin and myself. Entering the dining room, the prime minister asked somewhat anxiously: ‘And where is Mary?’

‘Mary is lunching out,’ answered Mrs Churchill.

The PM said nothing, but his disappointment was obvious: Churchill certainly loves his younger daughter!

The conversation over lunch was of a more general nature. Someone happened to mention Lady Astor. Churchill laughed and said that this lady voted in favour of the government yesterday.

I remarked that of late the Astor couple had been doing their best to represent the fifth column. She, in particular, is spreading anti-Soviet propaganda wherever she can.

‘Where? When?’ Churchill suddenly flared up.

I told them about the behaviour of the Royal Institute for International Affairs and about those of Lady Astor’s speeches which were known to me. This made an impression.

Mrs Churchill backed me up and told us, in her turn, that an acquaintance of hers who worked at the Royal Institute had to leave as she couldn’t bear the political atmosphere there.

‘Excuse me!’ Churchill suddenly roared. ‘The government subsidizes the Royal Institute from the tax payer’s pocket. It is a public, state institution, not a private one. We have the right to take an interest in its activity. Yes, we do!’

Then the prime minister turned to me and added: ‘Send me a letter on this subject – I’ll take the appropriate measures.’

I promised to carry out the PM’s request.

Excellent! Let’s sock it to the representatives of the English fifth column! I can fully understand Churchill’s zeal: during the Chamberlain years, the Astors were a constant thorn in his side. Now he has a chance to settle his score with them.

Churchill turned to Stalin’s proposal to send three Polish divisions, which are being formed in the USSR, to the Near East to assist the British.

‘I’m very touched by Stalin’s action,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll write to him myself.’

Then the prime minister remembered about the convoy which recently left Iceland carrying a valuable cargo and which he feared might be attacked by the Tirpitz. In this connection I asked Churchill whether he had replied to Stalin’s question, posed a fortnight ago, concerning the scale of England’s possible participation in the so-called ‘northern operation’ (i.e. in northern Finland and Norway). It transpired that the prime minister had not yet replied. Somewhat embarrassed, he promised to send the reply in the next couple of days. In principle, the British government is ready to employ all three arms of its military in the northern operation – its naval, land and air forces.

I enquired about the British government’s latest information concerning the quantity of Japanese forces in Manchuria. Churchill replied: 24 divisions and a relatively modest quantity of aircraft. Only six divisions are presently stationed in Japan itself.

After lunch Churchill and I retired to his office. And there our conversation started in earnest.

I asked Churchill what news he had brought back from America about the second front.

Churchill replied that he had none. Everything is as it was at the moment of Molotov’s departure, i.e. as set out in the memorandum of 10 June.

This did not satisfy me, of course, and I tried to make the prime minister shift from his position. I reasoned in the following way.

After the collapse of France, when England was left to fight on her own, the Middle East naturally became her main front on land. As far as I know, the initial plan for Libya set far-reaching objectives. The intention was not only to secure Egypt, but also to capture all of Libya and reach Tripoli. Had it been executed successfully, the effect would have been considerable: the Mediterranean would have been opened for the Allies, French North Africa would probably have broken with Vichy, and a base would have been established to move the war over to Italy. Unfortunately, two years of immense effort failed to yield this outcome. The British government made three attempts to drive the Axis out of North Africa, and all of them came to nothing. I shall not set about analysing the causes for this failure now, but there’s one thing I can say: Libya’s remoteness from Britain, with all the ensuing problems of transportation, has played a very major role.

We must face the facts. It is absolutely clear that for the moment one must abandon all notion of the British government fulfilling its original, wide-ranging plans for North Africa. They are beyond its power for now. So those plans must be jettisoned and Britain must go on to the defensive – not static defence, of course, but active defence which does not exclude but, on the contrary, presupposes offensive operations on a more limited scale. For instance, to guarantee the security of Egypt it is essential to win back Mersa Matruh, or better still Sollum, from the Germans. It is also necessary to establish more effective control over the central part of the Mediterranean. On the whole, though, it would be advisable for the British in the Middle East to dig in and to reduce the quantity of troops and matériel sent out there accordingly. The forces and reserves currently available in the Middle East are quite sufficient for defensive operations (I am not speaking, of course, about the inevitable but limited reinforcements which will be needed in any case). This would immediately yield a great saving in the sphere of shipping.

Instead of large-scale plans in North Africa, it would be better to focus attention and efforts on major objectives closer to home – aims which would have a more direct and more decisive effect on the general course of the war than operations in Egypt and Libya. I consider a second front in Europe, and specifically in France, Belgium and Holland, to be just such an objective. It would hit the target directly and it would also yield many considerable advantages: shipping difficulties here would be minimal (the distance from England to the second front would be measured in dozens of marine miles instead of the many thousands separating her from the Middle East), commanding the front would be easier, frequent visits to the front from London would be possible, and the psychological effect in Britain would be massive. The country would immediately feel that it was really fighting.

‘In a word,’ I concluded, ‘I believe Egypt must be defended now not in Egypt but in France.’

Churchill listened to me attentively, then set about making his case.

It is, of course, quite possible that Britain will have to curtail its operations in North Africa and dig in, but this has no direct bearing on a second front. Preparations for the latter are in full swing. Trial landing operations are being undertaken and will continue to be undertaken. But there is neither sense nor profit in plunging into an adventure that is doomed to failure.

Churchill spoke to Roosevelt a lot about a second front. Roosevelt is entirely in favour of it, but US troops in Britain still number less than 80,000, while US aircraft arrive only after great delays and in small quantities. Owing to the shipping situation, the more or less regular transfer of US troops to Britain can begin only in September, and even then in quantities of no more than 90,000 a month. Major air forces may be expected from the USA no sooner than in September–October. And the British deem it impossible to launch a second front without the Americans.

‘I repeat once again,’ Churchill added, ‘that I’ll do all I can to expedite the opening of a second front. Should the possibility present itself in any form, we shall open a second front in 1942, but I can’t make you any firm promises. I told Molotov and I tell you once again: one has to deceive one’s enemy, one can sometimes deceive the general public for its own good, but one must never deceive one’s ally. I don’t want to deceive you, and I don’t want to mislead you. That is why I refuse to make pledges which I am unsure of being able to honour.’

Eden was more truthful, though, telling Bruce Lockhart: ‘We are in a jam over this second front business. We have to try to “bluff” the Germans; to do so we must deceive our friends at the same time’; Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 15 July 1942.

I indicated, in a somewhat veiled form, the psychological impact which the failure to open a second front in 1942 might have in the USSR, but the prime minister remained unmoved.

Then Churchill spoke of the Middle East. He immediately came to life. It was obvious that the Middle East is his ‘darling’, that it dominates his mind. Churchill set about explaining to me in detail the strategic situation at El Alamein and the arrangement of the British and German forces. Large British reinforcements from Egypt and Palestine (up to 60,000) are on the way to El Alamein, as well as a brand-new armoured division that has just landed from England. Rommel has no more than 40–50,000 troops at present. The British will soon boast a significant numerical advantage, for the Germans do not appear to have sent any major reinforcements yet to Rommel. Nevertheless, Churchill is anxious: once bitten, twice shy.

‘I constantly expect bad news from Egypt. I’m ready for it.’

I asked what the British government would do if the Nile Delta were lost.

‘Fight, fight at all costs!’ exclaimed Churchill.

Churchill pursued the theme further. The Nile Delta is all marshes and canals. Such terrain is not fit for tanks. The English have every chance of detaining the enemy there. But even if the Germans were to penetrate into the Delta, the British army would continue to loom over their right flank. The British fleet, having lost Alexandria, can operate from Haifa and Beirut: there haven’t been any battleships in the Mediterranean for many months, while cruisers and other small ships can make do with the above-mentioned harbours. The British also have many aircraft, including American Liberators, with the help of which they will be able to control the Mediterranean quite effectively and to bomb harbours not only in North Africa, but also in Sicily and Italy.

‘Yes, we shall fight,’ Churchill continued. ‘We shall fight for El Alamein, we shall fight in the Delta if need be, and beyond the Delta, in Sinai, Palestine, Arabia… We shall fight!’

Then the prime minister added emphatically: ‘We shall protect your left flank at all costs! We are defending it now in Egypt. If necessary, we will defend it in Asia Minor and in the Middle East.’

I asked Churchill how he explains the British failures in Africa.

‘The Germans wage war better than we do,’ Churchill answered frankly. ‘Especially tank wars… Also, we lack the “Russian spirit”: die but don’t surrender!’

I enquired about the circumstances leading to the fall of Tobruk. Churchill turned a deep shade of red, as always happens with him when he is very angry, and said that Tobruk was a shameful page in the history of the British military. In Tobruk there were sufficient troops, ammunition and supplies (enough for three months!). Tobruk could have resisted no worse than Sevastopol, but the Tobruk commander, the South African General Klopper, got cold feet and waved the white flag 24 hours after the German attack began.

‘I’d have shot a general like that on the spot!’ I blurted out.

‘I’d have done the same,’ Churchill responded. ‘But just you try!’

I looked at the PM in bewilderment. He understood me and explained that Klopper was South African and that the South Africans (including Smuts) raise hell whenever anyone tries to call Klopper’s action by its real name: ‘Hands off the heroes of Tobruk!’

Churchill angrily snatched his customary cigar out of his mouth, as if he wanted to say: ‘See how difficult it is to conduct a war!’

So what are my conclusions from my conversation with Churchill today?

Less than rosy. Churchill’s visit to America has not yielded a favourable outcome with respect to a second front. If anything, the opposite is the case: Churchill has convinced Roosevelt not to be in too much of a hurry about this. At the same time, the spell of the Middle East still holds the PM in its grip. He still hopes for a sudden turn of events which will provide England with the opportunity to realize its initial ambitions in North Africa.

I met Churchill on this same day two years ago, on 3 July 1940, and we talked about the military situation. It was a tragic moment. France had just collapsed. Britain was left alone – without allies, without friends, without an army, and without weapons. In the immediate wake of Dunkerque there was only one well-equipped and trained division in the whole country. The spectre of a German invasion of the island pervaded the atmosphere. People were digging trenches, constructing anti-tank barriers on the roads, making ditches and stationing wrecked cars on clearings that could be used by German planes for landing. Government buildings in London were surrounded with barbed wire, and there was even an entire fort erected by the entrance to 10, Downing Street.

It was at that moment that I had my conversation with the prime minister. I remember asking him: ‘What fate awaits the French fleet?’

Churchill answered with a grin: ‘The French fleet?… To use the diplomatic jargon, “we are very much alive” to the importance of this matter and are taking due measures.’

Churchill added nothing more to help me decipher these enigmatic words but, as it turned out later, it was during those very hours that British battleships were shelling French ships in Oran.

Yes, that episode in Oran will remain forever the highpoint of Churchill’s career: there he showed himself to be a statesman of great resolve and great courage!

Then I asked the prime minister: ‘What is your general strategy in this war?’

His face broke into an even broader grin and he uttered: ‘My general strategy is to survive the next three months.’

How the situation has changed since then! There can be no comparison with England’s present position – it has improved immensely. But even if we take a general overview of the war and compare the balance of forces between the fascist and anti-fascist camps, then, notwithstanding all our present problems, the future looks infinitely better and brighter than in 1940!

This is our source for hope in victory and confidence in the future.

And another one: ‘Hitler has victories but he has no victory’, and that’s all there is to it.

Verduynen strikes me as a sensible and educated man, but his worldview is nevertheless confined by Dutch limits. Today’s document is of course ‘historic’ for him – both as a representative of Holland and for Verduynen personally. I nurture considerable suspicion that he exploited Van Kleffens’ departure for the USA (Van Kleffen was accompanying Wilhelmina) so as to inscribe the establishment of diplomatic relations between Holland and the USSR in his own personal history. Well, let him satisfy his ambitions. So long as it’s good for us.

Today I am in just such a mood. And this is what I have been thinking.

In the twenty-first or twenty-second century, when fully developed communism will be established everywhere, the problem of creating a unified humanity will come to the fore. It’s not that national distinctions should be entirely eliminated – no, that would be difficult and even, perhaps, undesirable. Let there be diversity in the world. Let there be different characters, different faces, different songs, different tastes. Life would be very dull without this, and human progress would be hampered.

At the same time, it will be necessary to find a way of merging those motley national streams in a single, bursting river of humanity. It will be necessary to create forms of life whereby national distinctions enrich the common life of mankind instead of dividing it into mutually hostile elements. Communism, of course, will forge a solid economic foundation for the edifice of a unified humanity, yet ‘vestiges of the past’ may still persist in people’s minds. Perhaps we will have to think of some special measures to accelerate the process of creating a unified humanity. What measures?

Measures aimed at mixing up the various nationalities more vigorously. For instance, why not send Russian children to study for a while in Spanish schools, and vice versa? Why not send Chinese students to study in English universities and English students in Chinese ones? Or how about setting up international high schools in appropriate locations, where young people of both sexes could enrol regardless of nationality? Why not arrange extensive population exchanges between countries (though not in the style of the Nazis)?

How distant is all this from the present day!

What next?

I am disinclined to think that the Germans will dare move further east from Voronezh. That would expose their flanks far too much. The Germans are more likely to try to ‘straighten’ the front line between Voronezh and the Azov Sea, shifting it some 100–150 miles to the east (the distance from Kursk to Voronezh is about 130 miles). This seems to follow from today’s communication that the Germans have launched an attack at Lisichansk. A serious German offensive in the centre (against Moscow) or in the north (against Leningrad) is scarcely possible. It is no longer 1941, and a coordinated offensive along the entire length of the front is now beyond the Germans’ strength. However, the experience of the past two weeks has shown that the Germans can still be very dangerous on individual sections of the front.

We shall certainly do our utmost to prevent the Germans from advancing. We are in a much better position to do so than we were a year ago. We shall exhaust and weaken the enemy with rear-guard actions, inflicting as many losses in men and matériel as possible. In all probability we shall follow the 1294tactics of last summer and wait for more favourable conditions to present themselves for a counteroffensive. Perhaps this will happen in winter once again. Perhaps earlier. Everything suggests that we do not intend to deal the Germans a serious blow (i.e. try to break through their front line as they broke through ours) in the next 2–3 months. But this does not rule out counterattacks and limited offensives from our side, as an important method of active defence.

This policy has been forced on us by the general situation that has emerged this summer.

Indeed, were the Allies to establish an effective second front in the west this summer, we could risk a major strategic offensive in 1942 (or, to be more precise, in the summer of 1942) with the aim of breaking Hitler’s backbone now and ending the war in Europe in 1943. Unfortunately, no effective second front is to be expected in the west either in summer or in early autumn. My conversation with Churchill on 3 July made this quite clear. From everything that I see, hear and read here, there seems little doubt that the British and the Americans have no serious intention of opening a second front before 1943. Why? For two main reasons.

First, because the ruling groups in both countries are banking on the exhaustion of both Germany and the USSR, which, each in her own way, threaten their dominant position. This feeling may be stronger in the USA than in England because the USA, fearing less for its existence than England, is freer to play big political games; but such sentiments are fairly strong in England, too. These ruling circles would be terribly put out if Germany were to be defeated by the Red Army this year, while the British–American forces were unwilling or still unable to take an active part in the operation. On the contrary, those ruling circles are very keen for Germany to be beaten by Anglo-American forces. Then Britain and the USA would have the decisive say at the future peace conference, not the USSR. Then capitalism, not socialism, would have every chance of winning out in Europe. To secure such an outcome it is necessary to bleed the USSR white and to postpone the ‘settling’ of the war until 1943, when Anglo-American forces will be in a better position to launch serious operations on the European continent. That is why Churchill and Roosevelt are so reluctant to consider a second front in 1942.

The second reason is in much the same vein: the Anglo-American elite is terrified of the might of the German war machine. Their experience in this regard has been lamentable… Norway, France, Greece, Crete, Libya… When I raise the possibility of a second front with the prime minister, Eden, Pound, Brooke or others, they immediately become uneasy. They become afraid. They lose confidence in themselves. They reveal a genuine inferiority complex. ‘Let this cup pass’, they think, and if that is already impossible then they wish to delay its arrival for as long as possible. Hence their very pronounced psychological predisposition to drag things out, to put off the second front, to find thousands of obstacles for its realization, and to ensure, whatever happens, that such an operation is not launched before the Anglo-American army can claim manifest and significant preponderance over the enemy in the air and at sea – i.e. before the enemy has become a good deal weaker. And they’re more than happy to allow us, the Soviet Union, to do the weakening and to perform all the dirty work necessary for victory.

One way or another, there are no grounds to expect an effective second front in 1942 (unless something entirely unexpected happens). Naturally, this imposes certain limitations on us.

Above all, we must save our resources. For the prospect of a much longer war than could have been anticipated now looms on the horizon. I have not yet lost all hope that 1942 will be the decisive year. But I must say frankly that this hope (now that the intentions of Britain and the USA concerning the second front have become clear) has become a good deal fainter than it was, say, in March, when I made a speech at an award ceremony for English pilots.

If the war is going to drag on, we cannot take too great a risk in the summer of 1942, fighting alone against the entire might of the German war machine. We must save our strength so as not to bleed ourselves dry, so as not to cross the finishing line in total exhaustion (as the Americans and the British would be so keen for us to do).

Hence the conclusion: we cannot risk a major offensive against Germany now. We have to remain in an essentially defensive position. This has its advantages: fewer losses in men (but not arms). It has its disadvantages, too: the initiative remains in the hands of the enemy and we have to lose ground and resources.

Is it in our interests to pursue these tactics? That all depends on how the advantages and disadvantages balance out. If our loss of life really is much lower than the enemy’s while we remain on the defensive, then the tactics indicated are the right ones. If not, they are not.

It’s difficult for me to assess this balance from London. It can be better judged from Moscow. If Moscow finds it necessary to remain on the defensive, then it must be advantageous for us to adhere to these tactics. Or perhaps we simply have no alternative for the time being.

I was greatly disturbed by this and asked Eden whether a meeting could be arranged before a decision was taken, to be attended by himself, Alexander, Pound, me, Kharlamov and Morozovsky. Eden agreed, and promised to speak with the people concerned about the date and time of the meeting. Eden, as if thinking aloud, observed that it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Churchill to attend the meeting as well. I, of course, had no objections.

Eden also told me that the British government was ready to embark on more detailed negotiations concerning the preparations for the northern operation. I promised to inform Moscow.

I then asked Eden what he knew about the current arrangement of the Japanese forces, about Japan’s intentions towards the USSR in general, and also about Germany’s intentions to use gas on our front. Recently I received information suggesting that the Germans ceased their preparations for using gas in the east following Churchill’s warning on 10 May. But they have now resumed their preparations. Was this true?

Eden was unable to give me a reply right away, but promised to make enquiries and then inform me.

Maisky’s objective was to impress on Eden the ‘very grave’ situation on the Russian front. Russian manpower, he warned ‘was not inexhaustible’. He was bitter about the withdrawal of the British promise to launch the second front and warned that the effect of a suspension of convoys ‘on Russian resistance at this time must be very serious’; TNA FO 371 32910 N3692/30/38. Maisky was completely distraught at an urgent meeting he sought with Winant two days later, after his meeting with Churchill, at which he still hoped the Americans might force the British hand; FRUS, 1942, III, pp. 714–15.

Churchill spoke first. He mentioned Convoy 17 and related those details about its fate which I had already heard from Eden in the morning.

‘What shall we do now?’ Churchill went on. ‘The seamen advised us not to send Convoy 17. They took the view that the danger was too great. The War Cabinet disregarded their advice and ordered that the convoy depart. We thought that even if a mere half of the ships reached Arkhangelsk the game would be worth the candle. It came out worse than we had expected: three-quarters of the convoy perished; 400 tanks and 300 planes lie on the sea-bed!… My heart bleeds.’

The prime minister emitted an angry wheeze and banged his fist on the table. Then he continued: ‘But all the same, what should we do? There’s no sense in sending tanks and planes to certain ruin. We might just as well sink them in the Thames. It seems that we will have to stop sending convoys for the time being and wait for the nights to draw in in the Arctic… True, Arkhangelsk will be ice-bound in winter, while Murmansk is too close to German airfields and has suffered terribly from air strikes… Nonetheless…’

I strongly objected. What’s that? Stop supplying the USSR? When? At the very moment when it is fighting for its life? When it needs arms more than even before? What effect would such a step have on the fate of the war? What impact would it have on the psychology of my country?… Stopping the convoys is out of the question. They must continue. But the protection of the convoys must be organized better. That can be done. The big ships should keep closer to the convoys than was the case with Convoy 17 (when they were 400 miles away), and they should be accompanied by an aircraft carrier. Then convoys would be feasible even now. Later, when the nights draw in, it will become even easier.’

At this point Pound butted in and asked with a superior air: ‘Do you consider it possible to bet against certainty?’

‘Certainty,’ I replied, ‘is a relative term. What may be deemed certainty under some conditions may not be so under others.’

‘Well,’ Pound continued with the same air of superiority, ‘take it from me: if we send Convoy 18, it will fare no better than its predecessor. Perhaps even worse. That is a certainty. Were I at the helm of the Tirpitz, not a single vessel would make it to Arkhangelsk. I guarantee it. The fact that we may have managed to get 16 convoys through in the past is simply a “miracle”. The Germans did not yet know how to fight against convoys. Now they have learnt and we must reckon with that. We cannot risk our big ships. The situation at sea is now much too delicate. The loss of 2–3 big ships would be sufficient to tip the entire balance of the war at sea against us. We would not be able to maintain our superiority even in the Atlantic. We would not be able to transport the American army to Britain… And the threat to the major vessels in the region of northern Norway is very real – both from the German coastal air force and from the German submarines with which the Barents Sea is teeming.’

Scowling, Churchill came to Pound’s support.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘It’s all too easy to lose 2–3 major vessels, and what then? No amount of crying will bring them back.’

I began disagreeing once more. I said that the story of Convoy 17 had left me with many puzzling questions. Why, for instance, did the escort comprise, in the critical moment, only destroyers, corvettes and submarines, with no big ships anywhere in the vicinity? We know that two battleships, one aircraft carrier and 17 destroyers were cruising 400 miles from the site of the catastrophe. Why, once it became known that the Tirpitz had left the Norwegian fjords and was moving north, was the weak escort accompanying the convoy hastily withdrawn, to say nothing of the failure to send a powerful fleet to intercept the Tirpitz? Why was the slow-moving convoy ordered to scatter, when it was quite obvious that effective dispersal was no longer possible?

The convoy was first ordered to disperse and then to scatter.

Why doesn’t the Admiralty block the exits from the fjords where the Tirpitz and other German ships are moored with mines and submarines? Why doesn’t the Admiralty carry out special reconnaissance expeditions while the convoy is on the move? Why aren’t aircraft carriers deployed to accompany the convoys?… These and many other questions arise when one analyses the fate of Convoy 17. I, of course, am not a seaman and am prepared to admit that answers of one kind of another may exist to all these questions, but I’m convinced of one thing: that the protection of the convoys can be organized better than has been the case hitherto. One merely needs the will and requisite courage to do so.

Pound set about answering my objections once again. The problem, don’t you see, is that the British have only one aircraft carrier in northern waters, and they cannot risk it. Besides, the carrier’s planes are greatly inferior to those of the German coastal air force. The escort was withdrawn because it was no match for the Tirpitz and would have been sunk to no purpose. The major fleet was 400 miles away from the site of the catastrophe so as not to fall victim to German bombers. The order was given for the convoy to ‘scatter’, as otherwise the Tirpitz would have sunk every single vessel within an hour or so. As it happened, the submarines and aircraft needed at least two days to do their work and nearly a quarter of the convoy survived. The other explanations of the gallant admiral were in the same vein.

The PM supported Pound, though without much enthusiasm. Then, adopting a philosophical tone, Churchill said: ‘Just think: the Germans assembled about 300 planes in the region of Nord Kapp and three or four divisions to guard them… As a result, they cut off communication between 130 million Americans and 47 million British on the one side and 180 million Russians on the other. This is what aviation means!’

As this philosophizing was leading nowhere, I asked the PM what, after all, was to happen with Convoy 18.

Churchill thought for a moment and then, as if making a concession, replied that he would ask the Americans about it. As more than 22 ships in Convoy 18 are to be American, let them decide: if they want to take the risk, the British government will provide the escort.

The situation was quite clear to me: Pound, of course, would give the Americans a good fright and that would be the end of Convoy 18.

‘So,’ I concluded, ‘you are ceasing the delivery of military supplies at the most critical moment for us. In that case, the question of a second front becomes all the more urgent. What are the prospects here?’

Churchill replied that we were familiar with his position on this matter. It was stated in the memorandum of 10 June handed to Molotov. He reaffirmed it during our conversation on 3 July.

‘I know this,’ I rejoined, ‘but the situation has dramatically changed not only since the 10th of June, but also since the 3rd of July. The last ten days have been of momentous significance. They have shown that Hitler has succeeded in assembling more forces for his offensive than had been anticipated. Also, our failures at the front were far greater than we had expected. The situation on the Soviet–German front is now perilous. The Red Army will of course fight heroically, as it has done throughout, but there is a limit to everything. Who knows what may happen? If the USSR does not receive prompt support from the west in the form of a second front, a retreat far to the east cannot be excluded. In that case the USSR will lose a vast and valuable territory with a large population, important communication lines, and major resources. This fact, of course, would inevitably affect the morale of the population and the army. Eventually, the USSR would become weaker, and Germany would become stronger than she is today. What does this mean? It means that in the spring of 1943 Britain and the USA would have to face far greater German forces than today. And although Britain and the USA will feel stronger in 1943 than in 1942, they will gain nothing if the USSR weakens at the same time. As a result the quantity of divisions which you and Roosevelt are planning to prepare in order to invade the continent in the spring of 1943 would turn out to be insufficient. It would have to be doubled. Where will you get additional forces from?… My conclusion: better 25 divisions in 1942 than 50 divisions in 1943! It’s just a simple, sober calculation.’

Churchill listened to me attentively. Then he said: ‘Yes, I agree with you. I have already heard those arguments during Molotov’s visit. It’s quite possible that you‘ll have to retreat further to the east. It’s quite possible that in the spring of 1943 we’ll face on the continent not the 25 second-rate divisions that are presently protecting France and Belgium, but 50 or 60 first-line German divisions… I understand all of this… But what is to be done?… In 1942 we are simply in no condition to undertake serious operations in order to open a second front. There is no sense getting involved in an absurd adventure which is bound to end in disaster. This will help neither you nor us. Only the Germans will profit from it.’

Pound, grinning in self-satisfaction, hastened to take the prime minister’s side. I took the greatest exception to him. This gouty 65-year-old, who has won not a single battle in his entire life but has proved very adept at winning high positions and decorations in ministerial quarters, had stretched my patience to the limit. Churchill intervened in our dispute and said: ‘We are ready to assist you any way we can. For instance, we are ready to take part in the northern operation with every kind of weaponry at our disposal.’

‘Including the army?’ I asked. ‘In what numbers?’

‘Including the army,’ Churchill affirmed. ‘I ordered General McNaughton,

Andrew George McNaughton, general, commander-in-chief of the First Canadian Army, 1942–43.

commander of the Canadian corps, to work out the plan in its entirety. He is a good man. We could allocate 3–4 divisions to this operation. Northern Norway must be cleared of German brigands. I’d go a long way to do it.’

Churchill took a sip of wine and continued: ‘We’ll spare no efforts to expand the transfer of arms to the USSR through Persia… If things go well in Egypt, I’m prepared to shift a large number of our aircraft to your southern front.’

Churchill went on to describe the situation in Egypt. Everything is turning out well: reinforcements are reaching Rommel at a trickle, the English are outnumbering him again not only in infantry, but also in tanks and cannons, to say nothing of aircraft. Decisive developments are to be expected any day now.

‘If we can’t achieve a big success even now,’ the PM concluded, ‘then I don’t know what to think of our army.’

As I listened to Churchill, my anxiety grew. How many times has the prime minister’s optimism portended England’s defeats on land! Won’t it happen again now?…

I asked Churchill why big air raids on Germany had ceased in the last couple of weeks.

The PM replied that this was partly due to the weather and partly because of a change in the policy of the British government: air bombardments are now targeted first and foremost at submarine construction sites and bases. ‘Submarines are the main thing,’ Pound hastened to interject. ‘The outcome of the war depends on them.’

‘But don’t you think, Admiral,’ I retorted crossly, ‘that the outcome of the war depends to a far greater extent on tanks?’

Churchill intervened and said in a conciliatory tone that British planes will bomb not just submarine bases but other targets as well. I am far from convinced, however, that this correction on the part of the PM will have any serious practical consequences.

Churchill then said: ‘My worries may be arranged in the following order. In the first place, the battle in Russia. That is the main thing. In the second place, the situation at sea. Then finally, after a significant, indeed a most significant interval, the battle in Egypt.’

After dinner we moved to a small, neighbouring room. We smoked. Pound puffed away haughtily at his cigar, releasing rings of smoke into the air. Eden arrived. He looked embarrassed. He asked Churchill: ‘So, shall we discuss the convoys and the northern operation?’

‘We already have,’ Churchill muttered gloomily.

Conversation stalled. Mrs Churchill, who was not herself during the dinner, was striving heroically to keep the conversation alive. Poor Mrs Churchill! She was very upset and made several cautious attempts over dinner to support me. But the PM would roar and she would fall silent. Churchill himself was in a gloomy mood. He had to force the words out and spoke roughly, indistinctly, with obvious irritation – either at himself or at the circumstances that were forcing bad acts upon him.

Agniya asked Churchill: ‘So how can you help us now?’

Churchill’s reply was sullen and carefully measured: ‘Unfortunately we can do very little, Mrs Maisky, very little.’

Then he added with sudden animation: ‘But we shall still celebrate victory together!’

It was evident that the PM felt ill at ease.

Only Pound felt on top of the world – smoking, laughing, telling jokes. No wonder: he’d done his job!

It’s people like Pound, these top bureaucrats tied by thousands of threads to the top bourgeoisie, who rule England, not the ministers who come and go! Yesterday’s dinner was a fine illustration of this fact…

I returned home full of oppressive thoughts. I felt troubled and uneasy.

After lunch, I went to see Beaverbrook and talked to him, too, about the convoys.

Beaverbrook promised to make inquiries and do what he could. Then we talked about the second front and the general political situation. I acquainted Beaverbrook with the content of my conversation with the prime minister on the evening of the 14th and summed up my view of the second front as follows: better 25 divisions in 1942 than 50 in 1943. Beaverbrook remarked that, in his opinion, the operation could be embarked upon even with just ten divisions. He displayed great anxiety about the situation on our front (‘I never expected the Germans to reach the Don valley by July’) and, assuming a mysterious air, added that developments in the USSR could have major repercussions in England. Imitating his tone, I asked whether the rumours of his imminent return to the Cabinet were true.

‘Churchill is asking me once again,’ Beaverbrook replied with the same air of mystery. ‘His invitations have been particularly persistent ever since Russia’s luck began to change, but I don’t want to return to the government … I think it is probably in the public interest for me to wait… The moment may come when I’ll be able to do something, but it has not yet arrived.’

Beaverbrook’s ploy is clear enough: he aspires to be prime minister and is waiting for Soviet failures, along with Churchill’s reluctance to open a second front immediately, to create a situation in the country such that Churchill will have to go. Churchill’s ploy is also obvious: he wants Beaverbrook in the government so as to tie his hands. Personal designs against the background of a global tragedy.

In the late afternoon I visited Cripps in his official lodgings (Tudor House, Whitehall). We talked about the convoys. Cripps defended Pound’s and Churchill’s position. I heard something from him which helped explain the prime minister’s conduct. It turns out that the British government is seized by fear at present: the Germans have just finished work on the Graf Zeppelin aircraft carrier and are testing it in the Baltic Sea. The Germans are developing a programme: 500 submarines by the spring of 1943. What should be done? What will happen to Britain when the aircraft carrier and 500 submarines are launched? What will happen to Anglo-American naval communications?… Hence the conclusion: look after your big ships as if your life depended on it!

How the English have lost all semblance of fighting spirit! There’s the Tirpitz in Norwegian fjords, yet instead of mustering all their energy to destroy or at least inflict some serious damage, the English discontinue the convoys. The Germans are preparing an aircraft carrier and a pack of submarines, yet instead of active resistance to the impending danger we see moaning, fear and lamentations.

We then spoke about the second front. Here, too, Cripps adheres to the official standpoint, emphasizing that there is still hope for a limited landing operation in 1942. The British government is preparing it…

By now I was at the end of my tether and I said not very politely: ‘Oh yes, preparing… But when it comes to making the landing some pretext or other will be found to postpone the operation… I know your Pounds!’

Cripps just shrugged his shoulders in puzzlement.

The situation at the front is extremely grave. True, Voronezh is still in our hands, and we have even started putting the squeeze on the Germans there. This is very important. But the situation in the south looks ever more threatening. We’ve lost Kantemirovka, Boguchary and Millerovo. The Germans say they have also taken Voroshilovgrad (Lugansk). I don’t know the truth of this. There has been no confirmation from our side. At any rate, the German offensive in the Don valley has made rapid and successful progress over the past week, and Rostov is clearly under threat. It is quite obvious that the Germans are headed for Stalingrad, with the aim of breaking through the Volga line and tearing the Caucasus from the rest of the USSR. If they were to succeed, the situation would become critical. Will they succeed? Some inner feeling tells me they will not. This inner feeling is reinforced, strange as it may seem at first glance, by the speed and ease of the German eastward advance. The general impression is that instead of putting up serious resistance we are merely conducting rear-guard actions in order to hold up the enemy. In the meantime, the main forces must be retreating according to plan. If this is so, it means we shall make a strong stand somewhere. And if we do, it will obviously be somewhere closer to Stalingrad, and in conditions that give hope of success. We shall see. But in the meantime we must acknowledge the fact that we stand before a deadly danger to our country, to the revolution, and to the entire future of humanity.

But it was not only at the front that this past week proved difficult. It was also hard here in London. My talks with Churchill, Eden, Cripps, Beaverbrook and others, and everything I heard, saw and read here, lead me to the following conclusions:

(1) There will be no second front in 1942.

(2) Supplies to the USSR from Britain and the USA will be reduced (because of the difficulty of continuing with the northern convoys).

Churchill informed Stalin on 15 July that the convoys would be suspended.

(3) Possibilities include: a northern operation (Petsamo, etc.), a landing across the channel, as discussed during Molotov’s visit (though I would make no guarantee of its implementation), the intensification of air bombing over Germany and of raids on the French coast (provided we exert serious pressure), and the transfer of part of the British air force from the Middle East to our southern front (provided the situation in Egypt changes in favour of the British).

Translated into plain language, this means that we can only count on ourselves during this year’s campaign. In other words, our allies have abandoned us to the mercy of fate at the most critical moment. This is a most unpleasant truth, but there is no point in closing our eyes to it. It must be taken into account in all our plans and calculations. And it must be remembered for the future.

Turning these questions over in my mind, I strolled around the garden and lay down on the grass, gazing into the blue and distant sky and exposing my face, neck, arms and chest to the hot sun whose appearances in England are such a rarity. And I came up with the following plan:

(1) Stalin should confront Churchill with the matter of the convoys and the second front, stressing the fact that our people fail to understand Britain’s passivity at a moment of such terrible danger for our country, and that if a second front is not opened in 1942 the war may be lost or, at the very least, the USSR will be weakened to such an extent that it will not be able to take an active part in the struggle.

(2) Once Stalin sends such a message to Churchill I shall speak in the same vein at an informal meeting of MPs and before the editors of the London newspapers (without referring to the message, of course).

I have suggested the plan to Moscow and am waiting for a reply.

My calculation: this plan could have a certain impact on the situation and help hasten a second front. At the very least, it could facilitate the implementation of secondary measures, such as the resumption of convoys, the intensification of air raids on Germany, etc.

Finally, if the worst comes to the worst, my plan will serve as a vindication of the Soviet government before our people and history in so far as it will show that the Soviet government did all that was humanly possible to rouse the British ruling circles from their lethargy, and that it was not our fault if this did not happen.

Late in the evening today I handed Stalin’s message to Churchill. It is somewhat gentler than I had expected, but strong and resolute enough.

Stalin’s brief message contested the reasoning of the British naval experts for suspending the convoys and expressed his opinion ‘frankly and honestly … in the most emphatic manner’ that in view of the critical situation at the front his government could not ‘acquiesce in the postponement of a second front in Europe until 1943’; TNA PREM 3/393/3, 23 July 1942.

I wanted to hand the message to the prime minister in Eden’s presence, but Eden had to deliver a major speech this evening in Nottingham, so he was out of town. As Churchill did not want to postpone receiving the reply to his message of 18 July until tomorrow, I came to 10, Downing Street at 10.30 p.m. and handed over the document.

Churchill was in his siren suit and in a bad mood. As I was soon to learn, he had just received disheartening news from Egypt. The British attack, on which the PM had pinned so many hopes, came to nothing. True, Rommel was forced back a bit, but he was not crushed – and the aim was precisely to crush him! If the English fail to do this now, when the Germans have their hands full in the USSR and when it is extremely difficult for Rommel to obtain reinforcements, then what is to be expected in the future? In his distress, Churchill must have had a drop too much whisky. I could tell from his face, eyes and gestures. At times his head shook in a strange way, betraying the fact that in essence he is already an old man and that it won’t be long before he starts sliding downhill fast. It is only by a terrific exertion of will and mind that Churchill remains fit for the fight.

Stalin’s message produced the impression I had expected on the PM. He was depressed and offended at the same time. The PM’s self-esteem was seriously wounded (especially by Stalin’s charge that he had failed to fulfil his obligations) and the thought even seemed to flash through his mind that the USSR might withdraw from the war, because he said out of the blue: ‘Well, we have been alone before… We still fought… It’s a miracle that our little island survived… But…’

‘Drop this nonsense!’ I interrupted Churchill brusquely. ‘The thought of laying down arms has not crossed the mind of any of us. Our path has been defined once and for all – to the bitter end. But the present situation must be taken into account: in 1942 we are, in all probability, stronger than we shall be in 1943. Neither we nor you should ignore this fact!’

Churchill calmed down, but he continued to argue for a good long while that he was doing all he could and that, as far as the matter of the second front was concerned, the memorandum of 10 June remained in force…

In conclusion the prime minister said that he would report Stalin’s message to the War Cabinet and only then might he be in a position to say something.

In the course of the conversation, I took advantage of the impression which Stalin’s message had produced on Churchill to raise the issue of the resumption of convoys and the intensification of the air bombardment of Germany. It proved a good ploy: Churchill was now ready to agree that Convoy 17 should not serve as a precedent for the future, for the Admiralty’s actions may not have been the best in this instance, and he was inclining to the idea of sending the next convoy in September. I argued in favour of August, but to no avail. The reason is Malta: the British government must supply Malta with provisions and equipment in August, otherwise it might not hold out, and such an operation requires a tremendous concentration of forces. Since a convoy to Arkhangelsk also requires a great number of forces in the current circumstances, it is impossible to carry out both operations at the same time. Hence the conclusion: Malta in August and Arkhangelsk in September. I had, I felt, come up against a brick wall.

Churchill was much more lavish with his promises when it came to the air bombardment of Germany. Since I had heard these same promises from him more than once (but without their subsequent complete fulfilment), I asked whether I might participate more closely in the elaboration and supervision of the bombing plans for August and September. These months are especially important from the point of view of the events unfolding in the USSR.

Churchill did not object and suggested that I speak to Air Marshal Sir Arthur Harris,

Sir Arthur Travers Harris, ‘Bomber Harris’, marshal of the Royal Air Force; deputy chief of air staff, 1940–41; commander-in-chief Bomber Command, 1942–45.

commander-in-chief of Bomber Command. I took good note of this.

‘After all,’ Eden added, ‘you expect a response from us not in words but in deeds. Let’s wait for the deeds.’

Then he remarked with a faint smile: ‘Two great men have clashed… They’ve had a tiff… You and I need to reconcile them… Too bad they’ve never met face to face!’

This all sounded fine. So far everything is going as I’d expected.

Churchill is hot-tempered, but he is easily appeased. After his initial emotional reaction, he begins to think and calculate like a statesman, and, even more so, a parliamentarian. And in the end he arrives at the necessary conclusions. The stronger the shock, the greater the chances that Churchill will do the right thing. I remember the case of Stalin’s missive of 8 November last year. First Churchill flew into a rage – right in front of me. Then Eden and Beaverbrook tried to calm him down. Then he himself began to think and work things out. As a result, Churchill made the suggestion to Stalin of sending Eden to Moscow, and peace was restored. This led to Eden’s visit in December 1941, talks in the Kremlin, Molotov’s visit to London, and the signing of the Anglo-Soviet treaty.

What will be the outcome this time? I don’t know. My calculations, at any rate, have proved correct so far. We shall see.

I promised Eden my assistance in restoring ‘peace’ between the two great men and then turned to the convoys and the bombing of Germany, referring to my conversation yesterday with the prime minister. Eden responded positively. We agreed that a meeting would be held next week on the subject of the convoys, as would a meeting between myself and Harris.

At the same time, I’m taking steps to organize my speech to members of parliament.

Our troops continue to retreat. The Germans continue to capture one region after another. Rostov has fallen. The enemy crossed the lower reaches of the Don near Tsimlyansk. The fascist hordes are drawing ever closer to Stalingrad. Ever closer to the Caucasus. Will we really prove unable to contain the Germans? Will they really cut us off from the Caucasus and gain a firm footing on the Volga? It seems like a nightmare from a horrifying fairy tale.

No! Both intuition and cold calculation tell me that this cannot happen. It seems increasingly certain that our retreat in the last two weeks was planned. It was, of course, a forced retreat, dictated by the enemy’s superiority in numbers of tanks and planes, but there was no flight, no panic. The troops endured a hard and painful march, stubbornly fighting off the advancing enemy, but they were doing so in accordance with instructions worked out by the general staff. The moment must come when the retreat will end, when fresh reserves will be brought in, when we shall be able to move onto the offensive and attack an enemy weakened by losses and a long line of communication. This moment, to all appearances, is not far off.

I spent all Sunday at the typewriter, preparing my speech to MPs scheduled for 30 July.

Eden (who was in the chair) made the opening remarks, suggesting that as we had gathered to discuss the question of the convoys, it would be desirable to hear Pound first. This appeal to Pound was quite typical. For throughout the conference it was only Pound who spoke and made decisions on behalf of the English. Eden and Alexander either kept silent, leaving everything to Pound, or permitted themselves brief comments while looking timidly into the admiral’s eyes. It was as though Pound were the teacher and Eden and Alexander his pupils, who desired nothing more than to receive a good mark. A fine illustration of the theme: the relationship between ministers and civil servants in Great Britain! Alexander spoke only once. With a certain amount of ardour. But to what end? To defend Pound against my and Kharlamov’s criticism. I’ll come back to it later.

Before Pound had even managed to get a word out, however, I charged in: ‘The question is: when can the next convoy be sent? It would be desirable to receive a reply from Admiral Pound to this question!’

This formulation was not to Pound’s taste. So, playing for sympathy, he said that in his latest message to Stalin (of 18 July) the prime minister had proposed sending a top air force officer to Moscow to examine the possibility of protecting the convoys, but unfortunately Stalin left this point without reply. He simply ignored it. This point, however, is of exceptional importance since, according to Pound, the possibility of sending convoys depends entirely on the possibility of halting the operations of the Tirpitz in the Barents Sea. To achieve this, one must ‘render the Barents Sea dangerous for the Tirpitz’. And to achieve that one must have strong air defences at Murmansk. The officer mentioned in the prime minister’s missive was expected to come to Moscow, acquaint himself with the entire situation and report on the possibilities of organizing the necessary air cover. Only after that would it be possible to discuss the resumption of the convoys. Pound’s conclusion was as follows: let us send an officer to Moscow and then we shall see.

The intentions of the honourable admiral were absolutely clear: he just wanted to delay a decision on the convoys question for many weeks, perhaps even months.

I replied that the method proposed by Pound did not suit me at all. We have to act quickly. There is no time to lose. So, seizing the bull by the horns, I suggested: ‘Tell me now: how many planes and what sort of planes are needed, in your opinion, in order to make the Barents Sea dangerous for the Tirpitz. I’ll send a telegram to the Soviet government and within 2–3 days we shall know whether the Soviet government is able to provide the necessary cover. Why drag it out?’

Pound did not like my proposal. He continued to insist on sending an officer to Moscow. In so doing, he mentioned the Air Ministry, saying that it was very keen to send its man to the USSR.

I replied that there is a British military mission stationed in Moscow, headed by Admiral Miles and with Air Vice-Marshal Collier on its staff. Why couldn’t Pound delegate these men to get all the necessary information and documents? A telegram is all it would take; the reply would be in London within a few days.

But Pound did not like this suggestion either. He continued to insist that unless somebody was sent no progress would be made.

So then I made another suggestion. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘send your man if you wish, but don’t tie his mission to the sailing of the next convoy. As for the latter, let’s use the telegraph – you use your channels and I’ll use mine.’

But Pound dug his heels in, muttering something under his breath. I could stand it no longer and exclaimed with irritation: ‘I implore you, Admiral, to tell me how many planes are needed in Murmansk? Or do you not know?’

This touched a nerve. The admiral, turning red, answered sulkily: ‘Six bomber squadrons and four squadrons of torpedo carriers.’

‘Very well,’ I responded, ‘I’ll send a request to my government today and as soon as I receive the reply it will be possible to fix definitively the departure date of the next convoy. So as to pose the question as precisely as possible, I would like to know what share of the necessary air cover England could take upon herself?’

Pound frowned, shrugged his shoulders and finally said that the English could provide one squadron of torpedo carriers.

‘Not a lot!’ I noted ironically, but I didn’t start pressing for more. This could wait until the entire matter had been agreed in principle.

Eden was in favour of the method I had suggested for clarifying the question, Alexander did not object, and Pound had to accept it, however grudgingly.

With this the meeting could have ended. Kharlamov, however, wanted to speak to Pound about the best way of navigating convoys through the dangerous zone. He set forth his considerations and naturally touched upon Convoy 17 and the reasons for its destruction.

Pound listened to Kharlamov with growing impatience, the colour rushing to his face. His entire appearance said: ‘Don’t teach a chicken how to lay eggs! Ha! Some Soviet admiral, still wet behind the ears, wishes to give advice to me, a British admiral! Impossible!’

When Kharlamov cautiously suggested that the order to detach the escort from the convoy and for the convoy itself to scatter may not have been the right one, Pound exploded: ‘What do you mean, not the right one?’ he very nearly screamed. ‘I gave that order! That was me! What else should have been done?’

I objected that the order had been given in anticipation of an attack by the Tirpitz on the convoy, but in fact the Tirpitz made no such attack. However, the removal of the escort allowed the submarines and planes to sink our transport ships unhindered. The submarines were especially ferocious: they sank 16 out of 21 ships. Had the convoy scattered in groups, accompanied by the destroyers and corvettes, the vessels would at least have been protected from the submarines.

Pound became quite furious.

‘I’m not a clairvoyant,’ the admiral exclaimed angrily. ‘I could not know what the Tirpitz was going to do!’

It was now Alexander’s turn to intervene. He made a passionate speech in defence of Pound and the Admiralty. They are working superbly. They have saved England from hunger and continue to do so. They make it possible for British industry to function and for troops and supplies to be dispatched to the various theatres of war. They have rendered great services to their country, etc., etc.

I listened calmly to Alexander’s flight of eloquence and said: ‘Nobody denies the great services rendered by the Admiralty and the British fleet in this war, but does it follow from this that the Admiralty can never, in any circumstances, put a foot wrong?’

Eden set about trying to make peace between the parties and to cool everyone down. But Pound was still seething and snorting to himself. This provoked me and I said, with emphasis: ‘Even British admirals err!’

Eden tapped me on the shoulder and said in a hurry: ‘There’s no use arguing! So, the ambassador will send a request to his government and then we shall see what can be done.’

Red stains continued to appear on Pound’s face.

And here the meeting ended. Eden saw me off to my car. We walked for a good while along the corridors of parliament. I made no attempt to conceal my feelings.

‘All your civil servants are like this! Arrogant, haughty, convinced that they know everything and that the ministers understand nothing.’

Eden tried to defend civil servants, insisting that they are excellent workers.

‘I’m reminded,’ I remarked, ‘of Clemenceau’s words: “War is much too serious a business to be entrusted to soldiers.” Quite right. When you listen to the Pounds of this world, you begin to realize what a wise man Clemenceau was.’

Eden laughed and said: ‘Clemenceau may not have been entirely wrong.’

I’m not entirely sure.

At three in the afternoon, I delivered my speech in parliament (the text is appended). There were about 300 people present, and the ‘old-timers’ assure me that this is unprecedented in the history of such meetings. Sir Percy Harris (a Liberal) presided. There were quite a few big names: Elliot, Hore-Belisha, Mander, Aneurin Bevan, Erskine-Hill

Alexander Galloway Erskine-Hill, chairman of the Conservative 1922 Committee, 1940–44; Edinburgh North MP, 1935–45.

(president of the notorious ‘1922 Committee’), the three ‘chief whips’, and others. The main thing, though, was that old Lloyd George was sitting in the presidium. At first he didn’t wish to come: Sylvester, who had seen Lloyd George over the ‘weekend’, conveyed his master’s blessing for my speech, but couldn’t promise that he would appear. It seemed unlikely: I had the distinct impression that for whatever reason the old man wished to steer clear of the meeting. At the last moment, however, Lloyd George changed his mind and decided to attend. This caused a stir and ‘set the mood’, as Sylvester put it.

I was well received. Harris’s Introduction was actually a statement to the effect that I did not need an introduction. These words from the chairman were met with loud applause. While I spoke you could have heard a pin drop, and the audience hung on every word – which was also an unusual thing at such meetings, if the elders are to be believed. I felt that my words were ‘hitting home’. At times my speech was interrupted by loud applause – when, for instance, I said that what the Allies need above all is a joint strategy. The same thing happened when I noted that putting one’s trust in the enormous quantities of potential Allied resources is one of the most dangerous forms of complacency. My figures and facts produced a very strong impression and even scared many listeners. When I mentioned that we first raised the question of a second front in July 1941, it was as if an electric current coursed through the audience. But when I suggested that the only remedy for saving the situation was to open a second front in 1942, there was not a single cheer. The chamber simply froze in tense silence.

My speech was followed by questions. Quite a lot of them, but hardly any were hostile. Only the Right Honourable Hopkins tried to ride his anti-Soviet hobby-horse, saying that the demand for a second front came from the communists. He was shouted down. Dozens of voices yelled: ‘That’s a lie!’

Hopkins had to beat a rapid retreat.

After the meeting, Lloyd George led me into his room in parliament. Megan dropped by. It was already 4.15 (the meeting had lasted just over an hour). Tea was served. We drank and talked. The old man said that among the many meetings he had attended throughout his long life in parliament he remembered few like today’s, in terms of the numbers present, the attentiveness of the audience, and the impression made by the speaker.

‘Very powerful statement,’ was Lloyd George’s assessment. ‘Very powerful! It’s good you were blunt, nearly brutal. This had an effect. You were in a difficult position, but you coped with your task very skilfully: you went quite far but you didn’t overstep diplomatic boundaries.’

‘Though I was right at the edge,’ I laughed.

‘Perhaps so,’ Lloyd George agreed. ‘But the main thing is that the MPs understood and sensed the gravity of the situation. It’s from you that they have learned the truth. The government, after all, feeds them with syrup.’

Lloyd George expressed his opinion that such a meeting cannot fail to exert some influence on the government.

‘But what practical outcome can follow?’ I asked, before adding: ‘Of course I am pleased with the success of my speech, but oratorical skill is not the point here. The point is to push the British government towards concrete actions to help the USSR. Will this happen? Will the meeting hasten the opening of a second front?’

Lloyd George shrugged his shoulders. He himself understands perfectly well the significance of a second front in 1942. This is the Allies’ sole chance of victory. But Churchill is displaying a strange, incomprehensible passivity. It seems to Lloyd George that Churchill currently finds himself in a mental state that precludes him from taking a major decision. This happens to Churchill now and then. It’s a great shame.

‘He has,’ Lloyd George continued, ‘some sort of inferiority complex when it comes to offensive operations. He was “bruised” already in the last war by the Dardanelles. He’s not had much luck in this war either: Norway, Greece, Libya… Churchill fears offensive operations. He does not trust himself. Just think: to go to Greece, where it was clear from the very beginning that we had not a dog’s chance of winning, and not to go to help Russia, where there is every possibility of routing Hitler!’

The old man shook his shoulders again. He’s sceptical enough about a second front being opened in 1942, that’s for sure!…

At 12.30 a.m. a call came from the prime minister’s office. His secretary asked me to come to 10, Downing Street right away. What’s the matter? What’s happened? All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind. An inner voice was telling me that this midnight invitation to see the prime minister was connected one way or another with today’s meeting. But in what way? I had no doubt from the very beginning that my speech to the MPs, in which I demanded the opening of a second front, would cause displeasure and perhaps even irritation in the government, to Churchill in particular. I knew exactly what I was doing, believing that at moments like the present one should not be worrying about a prime minister’s moods. Was the PM going to reprimand me for today’s speech? And was this such an urgent matter as to require the summoning of an ambassador at midnight?

I admit that I racked my brains over this all the way to the PM’s residence, without coming up with anything satisfactory.

Churchill’s secretary met me in the corridor and we were joined by Bracken a few seconds later. The three of us sat in the reception room, chatting about various issues of the day. Eventually, Bracken said: ‘I would like to hear your predictions for the future. You have often proved right. What do you expect to happen in the next two months?’

I had no time to answer him for at this very moment I was ushered in to see the prime minister. Churchill was sitting at the government’s conference table. He was wearing his customary siren suit on top of which he had thrown a gay, black and grey dressing gown. Eden was sitting next to him in slippers and the green velvet jacket which he wears ‘at home’ in the evening. Both looked tired but excited. The prime minister was in one of those moods when his wit begins to sparkle with benevolent irony and when he becomes awfully charming.

‘Take a look. Is it any use?’ Churchill asked with a smile, passing me a sheet of paper.

It was the text of his message to Stalin. I quickly ran my eyes over the document.

‘But of course! It’s worth a great deal, a very great deal!’ I responded after reading the message.

And how! A meeting between Churchill and Stalin could have very important consequences. I supported the prime minister’s intention in every possible way. He smiled, drank whisky and puffed away at his irreplaceable cigar. I was looking at him and thinking: ‘My calculations have been fully vindicated. Not a trace has remained of the irritation Churchill displayed upon receiving Stalin’s message of 23 July. The PM has cooled down. Now he is preoccupied with thoughts about his trip to the USSR and his meeting with Stalin. So much the better.’

I inquired whether Churchill would come to Moscow should Stalin be unable to travel to the south, as Churchill requests? The PM dithered, and would not commit himself. He mentioned Tbilisi as a possible location a couple of times. Eventually, though, he let it be understood that he would be prepared to agree to Moscow in the last resort.

I was also satisfied with the decision to send the next convoy in early September. Ha, ha, ha, Sir Dudley Pound!

I promised to wire the news to Moscow right away. As Churchill was planning to fly overseas on 1 August, he asked for Stalin’s reply to be handed to Eden in his absence.

Eden saw me to the door. On parting he said casually: ‘It would be so good if you could go with the PM!’

I answered that I would very much like to go but that was for the Soviet government to decide.

As for today’s meeting, neither Churchill nor Eden said a word about it.

Yet I was left with the vague feeling that Churchill’s message was connected with the meeting in some way. But how?

I thought about this on my way back to the embassy, but could not come up with any definite conclusion. Time will tell.

It turned out that Beaverbrook was acquainted with the content of my speech down to the last detail, that the audience had been particularly struck by my information concerning our 5 million dead, the loss of half of our iron production and three-quarters of our aluminium output, and the possible weakening of our resistance in 1943, and much else besides.

I asked Beaverbrook what practical consequences could be expected to follow from my speech?

Beaverbrook shouted again: ‘Major consequences! They have already begun!’

I wondered what he had in mind. Was Beaverbrook already in the know about my nocturnal meeting with Churchill and Eden?

Eden summoned me at 12.30. He expressed great satisfaction about the prime minister’s decision to visit the USSR, although the PM would be flying off to Egypt before the reply was received – for a few days, possibly a week. The Air Ministry will have a plane at the ready for me.

I thanked Eden and said I had nothing to tell him as yet about the matter that interested him. Everything depends on Moscow.

Speaking about the prime minister’s forthcoming visit, Eden expressed his hope that Churchill and Stalin would get on well and understand each other.

‘It would be so good if you could be their interpreter! One must be able to translate not the words, but the spirit of a conversation! You have that gift! The prime minister was telling me that when you interpreted during our talks with Molotov he had the impression that the language barrier between him and Molotov had fallen, that it no longer existed.’

I repeated once again that the decision on this matter rested with Moscow…

We welcomed the New Year with good cheer. The mood was quite different to a year ago. The main difference is this: over the course of these 12 months we have tested ourselves against the enemy in every department, we have sensed his strength and we have sensed our own, we have compared our strength with his and are firmly convinced that ours is the greater. True, much time and effort will still be needed to crush the enemy, but the outcome is certain. The crucial thing now is to ensure that in the course of beating the enemy we do not overstrain ourselves and reach the finishing line in a state of complete exhaustion. For this, skilful tactical manoeuvring is required – on the battlefield and in the sphere of diplomacy. Will we succeed in this? I think we shall. Stalin has shown that he has a superb understanding of the art of the calculated manoeuvre.

My thoughts involuntarily run ahead.

First of all, when should we expect the war in Europe to end.

I stand by the opinion which I first expressed back in October that the end of the war in Europe can be expected no earlier than 1944. And even then only if things go well for the Allies, if, that is, there is no split between them, no frictions which might paralyse the effectiveness of their joint operations, and if a proper front is established in Europe in 1943. It is difficult to forecast precisely when in 1944 the end of the war may be expected, but I’m inclined to think it will be in the spring or summer of 1944.

And the prospects for 1943?

I hope that in the course of the winter we shall liberate the Volga, the Don, the northern Caucasus and perhaps the Donets Basin, and lift the Leningrad blockade. I also hope we shall recapture Rzhev, Vyazma and perhaps Smolensk. I’m not certain of the latter, though. I think the capture of northern Finland and Norway, jointly with the British, would be helpful, but will it happen? It seems unlikely. No more can be expected during the winter, and anyway it would be undesirable to set ourselves any greater tasks – considering the need for prudent manoeuvring mentioned above. What we intend to do this summer and autumn is not yet clear. To me, at least. Much will depend on the conduct of Britain and the USA.

What can be expected from our allies in 1943?

Here, all is still fuzzy. It seems as if Churchill and the British government are currently in favour of establishing a serious second front in France in the spring. Roosevelt and the American government are evidently not so keen on the idea at present.

The hopelessly optimistic Maisky looked ahead to 1943, convinced that Britain and the Soviet Union had become ‘ever closer “allies”’. He was misled by Churchill, as well as by Stalin, into believing that the Americans were the genuine obstacle to a cross-channel attack. However, aware of the ‘potholes’ on the road ahead, he set out to galvanize into action his own allies in the government, in order to ensure closer collaboration; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 l.34, Maisky to Kollontay, 28 Dec. 1942; see, for instance, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 l.36 & d.854 l.31, letters to Eden and Beaverbrook, 1 Jan. 1943.

It seems that London and Washington have swapped positions in comparison with 1942. As the British won’t open a second front in France without the Americans, it would be risky to count on an effective second front being established this spring. It may be opened, and it may not. Of course, were the Red Army to start approaching Poland’s borders this winter, the British and the Americans would positively race to open a second front in France. No extra encouragement would be needed from our side: after all, one can’t allow the USSR to enter Berlin before England and the USA! But I doubt that the Red Army can get that far by spring.

If no second front is opened by May or June, what can be expected then?

Then, in all probability, the Allies will concentrate their attention on the Mediterranean, that is, on Italy or the Balkans. For now I believe that Italy, being nearer to the English and the Americans, is the likelier target. This is particularly true for the Americans. The Allies would head for the Balkans only if they were joined by Turkey. This can’t be excluded, but everything seems to indicate that Turkey is disinclined to abandon its policy of ‘sitting on the fence’ so lightly. But time will tell.

In any case, if the Allies do indeed establish an effective second front in France this spring, it will be to our advantage to mount a general offensive in the east so as to finish Germany off and reach her borders, or perhaps even advance into her territory, by the end of the year. If the Allies fail to open an effective second front, but choose to undertake operations in Italy or in the Balkans, it would be more advantageous for us to postpone the general offensive and confine ourselves to limited offensive operations so as to retain the initiative, prevent a German offensive in 1943, and win back certain particularly important regions or sites from the Germans. This is what the principle of careful manoeuvring is telling me.

I wonder what will actually happen in 1943.

Now to politics. One must expect political issues to come ever more prominently to the fore in 1943. For two reasons. First, because the world increasingly recognizes that the tide is turning in the war, with the Allies’ eventual victory becoming more and more obvious; so post-war problems are becoming a good deal more tangible. Second, because the outcome of the war for the Germans is less and less a question of warfare (they can’t win by military means) and ever more one of politics (to avoid defeat by concluding a separate or compromise peace).

From the political point of view the most important thing is to consolidate the alliance between the USSR, Britain and the USA. I hope this objective will be achieved. However, there are dangers here, too. The weakest link is the USA.

I don’t expect any serious complications in relations between the USSR and Britain at this stage. We have an alliance treaty and, which is yet more important, England is more dependent on us in matters of war and peace, while its bourgeoisie possesses enough experience and flexibility to recognize the need for cordial relations with the USSR. Churchill, as head of the British government, and Eden, as head of the Foreign Office, represent the embodiments of this tendency.

The USA is a different matter. This country is, to all appearances, entering a period of frenzied imperialist expansion. Lloyd George told me the other day that as a result of this war the USA hopes to seize (de facto or perhaps de jure) western and northern French Africa, the Dutch Indies and possibly Australia as well. In addition, the USA wants to play a major role in Europe. With this in mind, it is already preparing a political base for itself in Europe through various Conservative-Catholic elements. Hence we see Washington flirting with the Vichy government, extending patronage towards Franco and Salazar,

António de Oliveira Salazar, Portuguese prime minister, 1932–68; minister for foreign affairs, 1936–47.

making a deal with Darlan, allowing Otto von Habsburg to form an Austrian legion in America, and lending a solicitous ear to Sikorski’s complaints about the threat of ‘Bolshevization’ facing Poland from the USSR. The fact that the November elections to Congress weakened Roosevelt’s position considerably

The Republicans won nine additional seats in the Senate and 47 in the House of Representatives in the mid-term congressional elections of November 1942. Roosevelt nonetheless won the 1944 presidential elections. The Russians, as is clear from Maisky’s conversations with Beaverbrook, acted on the premature assumption that ‘power has already passed from the President to the Congress’; Beaverbrook papers, BBK\D\140, report on a meeting with Maisky, 7 Jan. 1943.

and that a Republican leader may well become US president in less than two years should also be taken into consideration. Willkie would not be so terrible, but what if it were to be Dewey?

Thomas Edmund Dewey, US special assistant attorney-general, 1934–45; governor of New York, 1942–54; Republican candidate for US presidency in 1944 and 1948.

If one adds to this the USA’s limited dependence on the USSR and Britain and the American bourgeoisie’s inexperience and inflexibility in its conduct of international affairs, then one can easily concede the possibility of serious frictions arising between the USA and its allies this year and further down the line.

Take, for example, the war. The USA is still in the initial stages of its formation as a military power. It is particularly weak on land, having no experience, no training and no tradition. This explains (at least partially) the strange conduct of the Americans in North Africa. Moreover, there are reports that the USA is little inclined to open a second front in France (after the completion of operations in North Africa), preferring instead to pursue the Italian course. Why? First, I think, because Italy is easier than France and, secondly, because the ‘liberation’ of Italy ties in well with notions of creating a conservative-Catholic bloc in Europe. Here the pope will also lend a helping hand, and some Italian Darlan is sure to be found.

And that’s not all. I’m increasingly convinced that, contrary to the grandiloquent Atlantic Charters, the ‘war aims’ of the USA are to establish a Great American Empire in Africa and Asia. The more so since, as is well known, the Americans are very passionate when it comes to the struggle against Japan and very cool when it comes to the struggle against Germany. Roosevelt and Co. see things differently, but I’m referring here to the broad circles of the bourgeoisie, to the petty bourgeoisie, the workers and farmers. Why should the USA invest so much effort in the European war? Leave it the European powers, and the USSR in particular. This is advantageous for the Americans for another reason also: the ‘Bolsheviks’ may exhaust themselves and become weak.

This is the basis of tension and disagreements among the Allies, especially between the USA and the USSR.

At the same time there are areas of friction between the USA and Britain as well. In fact, the differences between these two powers are even more clear-cut at the current moment than those between the USA and us. I’ll list the most important bones of contention: (1) North Africa: the Darlan affair in the political sphere and operations in Tunisia in the military sphere. (2) Djibouti: the British government favoured giving the colonies to de Gaulle, the US government was against. The British government pushed through its point of view. (3) Air bombardment of Rome: the British government is in favour, the US government against. The matter is still in the balance. (4) The merchant navy: the British receiving practically nothing from the American shipbuilding industry. (5) The military navy: the Americans flatly refuse to help the British in the Atlantic. They are sending all their new military vessels to the Pacific (60 destroyers, for example). Of course, all these disputes (there are others) are not serious enough to render cooperation impossible. Bridges are being found and will continue to be found to span the areas of tension. Nonetheless, we must keep a close eye on these disagreements. Moreover, we can even gain from them directly, since they hinder the formation of a solid Anglo-American bloc which under certain conditions (especially after the war) might turn against the USSR. But the same disagreements would become dangerous if they threatened the stability of the Anglo-Soviet–American coalition. It’s a dialectical process.

As for the future peace conference (if there is going to be one at all), the USSR will come to it possessing the most powerful army in the world, provided we manage to pursue tactics to avoid total exhaustion. The reason for this is that the British army, despite being stronger, will still be a far less effective military machine than the Red Army, while the US army, despite its size and equipment, will be too ‘green’ and ‘raw’ to undertake serious, large-scale operations.

The prospect is not bad. But the key to it is skilful manoeuvring.

Certainly, things are very, very different from how they were in summer and autumn, when the Germans were advancing and I had to record our failures every week with bitterness and a heavy heart. Stalin was right when he said that our turn for celebrating will come. Our turn has come, though this is just the beginning. There may be pauses and interruptions, but still: our turn has come. The crucial thing is that you sense in every fibre of your being that the scales of history are tipping in our favour – slowly but surely. It’s quite clear: Hitler has already lost the war. Historically and in principle, the matter is already resolved. But his defeat in practice will take some time yet and demand many sacrifices.

Nonetheless, the first sunrays have broken through the dark heavy clouds on the horizon.

(1) Our aim is to prevent the renewal of German aggression. The guarantees for this may be either internal or external. Internal guarantees can be established only by means of a full-blooded and profound proletarian revolution as a result of the war and by the creation in Germany of a sustainable Soviet order. Poisoned by fascism, the psychology of the German masses must melt in the furnace of such a revolution, while the present German ruling classes must be completely destroyed. We can’t trust anything less than that. Soviet power on shaky legs will not do. Will such a revolution happen in Germany? I don’t know. But I am full of doubts because I cannot yet see those forces and conditions which could lead to the birth of robust proletarian rule in Germany (the Communist party in particular is not strong enough). In the absence of internal guarantees, external guarantees of non-aggression are indispensable: in other words, the severe and long-lasting weakening of Germany, enough to render any act of aggression a physical impossibility.

(2) The major components of the external guarantees ought to be the following:

(a) The breaking up of Germany into several more or less independent states. This would lead, of course, as Cripps suggests, to the growth of a national movement among Germans for the unification of Germany, but at least it will raise colossal obstacles to any joint action by the German states for a long period of time. Besides, it will divert the Germans’ national energy towards the struggle for unification rather than towards preparations for a new war. Comrade Stalin discussed the breaking up of Germany with Eden during their talks in December 1941.

(b) ‘Economic decentralization’ (as mentioned by Cripps): i.e. the industrial disarming of Germany. This is perhaps even more significant than military disarmament because without its military industry Germany would pose no threat even if the Anglo-Soviet–American coalition were to dissolve, something which is quite possible, even probable, soon after the war (history shows that wartime coalitions dissolve quickly and that their members can even start fighting one another).

(3) We shall, of course, demand reparations from Germany, but in what form? I heard from Comrade Stalin in December 1941: ‘40,000 machine-tools from Germany – these are our reparations!’ Quite right. But how can we get these 40,000 machine-tools? Obviously either by ordering their manufacture at German plants after the war and then receiving them by instalments over several years, or by removing the machine-tools already available in German factories. Which is better? In my view, the latter. First, because we would gain time, second – and this is much more important – because we would thereby facilitate the liquidation of the German military industry. Should we order the machine-tools, we would lose time and contribute to the preservation of German machine-tool construction, which might be switched at any moment to the production of arms. In this way, ‘economic decentralization’ follows logically from Comrade Stalin’s statement on reparations.

(4) I think we must demand one additional form of reparations – German labour. Let the Germans themselves restore what they have wrecked. The significance of this would be considerable in practical terms and massive politically. Practically speaking, it would facilitate the restoration of innumerable ruined cities, villages, factories, plants, etc. Politically speaking, it would give immense moral satisfaction to our masses and would knock it into the heads of the German masses that aggression does not pay and that you must return all you have destroyed. This would also have a major effect in other countries, particularly the occupied countries. It would be useful to arrange it so that the Germans who participated, say, in the destruction of Stalingrad, were sent to rebuild this very city. German labour should be organized in a military way: the Germans should live in concentration camps and not be paid, or receive a negligible sum. Of course, reparation labour will not be terribly productive, but it can achieve much all the same, especially if a system of incentives is developed, etc. Reparations by labour, using prisoners of war, could be started before the war is even over.

(1) The British government wants to bomb Rome. The American government objects. That is why the British government has decided for the time being to refrain from responding to the pope’s démarche (that Rome should not be bombed on condition that Italian military institutions, etc., leave the city). They don’t want their hands tied.

(2) The situation in Tunisia: the Axis has 55,000 men (two-thirds are Germans), 250 tanks and 190 aircraft (155 German). Reinforcements: 1,500 men daily (by sea and by air). Rommel is heading for Tunisia: 50,000 men, 340 aircraft, 100 tanks. Soon there may be some 100,000–120,000 in total. In Sicily and Sardinia: 1,100 aircraft (385 German). The English, Americans and French currently have four divisions in Tunisia, with another 2–3 arriving from Algeria. Aerodromes are being built. Rain. Mud. Delays. Eden doesn’t anticipate the end of the campaign before March.

(3) Macmillan arrived in North America. Had a talk with Eisenhower. De Gaulle’s meeting with Giraud

Henri Honoré Giraud, general, commander of the 7th and 9th armies; escaped from France in a British submarine; commanded French forces in North Africa and served as high commissioner; temporarily shared with de Gaulle the chairmanship of the French Committee for National Liberation after the Casablanca Summit, but remained commander-in-chief until spring 1944, when the post was abolished.

was a failure. De Gaulle’s visit to Washington has been postponed at the request of the US government. Eden sighs: ‘One must be careful with the French: it’s easy to burn one’s fingers.’

(4) Monteiro told Eden that Jordana

Francisco Gómez-Jordana Sousa (count of Jordana), general, Franco’s prime minister, 1937–38 and foreign minister, 1942–44.

has been to Portugal to discuss measures to protect the ‘neutrality’ of the Pyrenees. Franco is inclined to switch from ‘non-belligerent’ to ‘neutral’. He is concerned about the course of the war. Hints that he is prepared to ‘make peace’ with ‘communism’.

(5) Eden is concerned about the weakening of Roosevelt’s position and growing isolationism in the USA. He says: ‘It would be tragic if the history of the last war were to be repeated and isolationists were to gain power just at the moment when the position of the USA in world politics was becoming especially important. This makes cooperation between our two countries all the more valuable. This is our only hope, the only anchor for our countries, for Europe, for Asia.’

The question of operations in the Balkans is not yet on the table: it would be relevant only if Turkey were to join, but Turkey, by all appearances, is not about to change her position.

According to Eden, Churchill has a definite preference for the French option, while Roosevelt and his advisers seem inclined to gamble on Sicily and Italy.

The opposite was true, as may be seen throughout the commentaries; also W.F. Kimball (ed.), Churchill and Roosevelt: The complete correspondence (Princeton, 1984), II, p. 121.

I fear the question will be resolved in favour of the second option, as it is easier from the military point of view; what’s more, the British and Americans have various political reasons for postponing an effective second front in Europe.

(1) Roosevelt’s position is weakening. The Democrats have a negligible majority in the new Congress. Taking into account the presence of conservative Democrats, Roosevelt may find himself in the minority. If Roosevelt had the time to deal with domestic policies, he might have been OK today and might even have got re-elected in 1944, but he has a war to run. His re-election is therefore doubtful. Assuming, that is, that there is no split among the Republicans. A split is possible. Willkie, who is not trusted by the Republican ‘machine’, which instead is backing the unremarkable Ohio governor Bricker

John William Bricker, US attorney-general, 1933–37; governor of Ohio, 1939–41, 1941–43 and 1943–45.

(Dewey is too odious), may nonetheless run for president. Then Roosevelt would win. But all this is mere speculation.

(2) War aims. For Roosevelt and others: the Atlantic Charter. But the Republicans and a considerable section of the Democrats think differently: we’ve been drawn into the war and we must get something out it. More concretely:

(i) The Dutch Indies, West Africa and maybe North Africa should become American in one form or another (‘Are we really fighting for the Dutch brokers to get a monopoly on rubber once again?’ – ‘The French were unable to defend their empire; so they don’t deserve it.’)

(ii) The Americans must be the main players in air and naval communications after the war.

(iii) The USA’s food resources should contribute to the ‘strengthening of American world influence’ after the war.

(iv) When it comes to Europe there is a split: some are in favour of the introduction of an ‘American order’ in Europe, while others support the policy of ‘keeping out of European quarrels and squabbles’.

On the whole, Martin thinks that all manner of surprises are to be expected from the USA in the near future – mostly unpleasant ones.

First, the air bombardment of Berlin. I raised this matter once again and enquired about the reasons for the recent severe slackening of air raids on Germany? Why, in particular, is Berlin not being bombed? After all, Churchill promised Stalin he would do so. He promised back in September–October. Now it’s January and still, nothing doing. What’s wrong? Are Eden and the prime minister fully aware of the harm thus inflicted on relations between the Soviet Union and Britain in general, and on relations between Stalin and Churchill in particular?

Eden was embarrassed, blamed the weather, referred to the absence of American aid, and promised better things in the future. I simply shrugged my shoulders and remarked that promises were not enough for me. I have heard too many of those. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I needed deeds, not words. Eden’s embarrassment grew all the while and finally he said: ‘I’ll spare no efforts to fulfil your and Stalin’s wish… Just wait a little more… I hope you won’t have to wait long.’

We shall see. I have somehow lost all faith in English promises.

Second, Eden and I had a serious conversation about the convoys. It seemed we had only just settled that matter, but suddenly: stop, once again!

The December convoy (two groups of 16 and 14 ships) arrived safely in Murmansk and Arkhangelsk. True, there was a battle en route, near Medvezhy island, in which the British lost one destroyer, but the Germans also lost a destroyer and on top of that their heavy cruiser was damaged. Most importantly, not a single ship in the convoy was sunk. All reached their destination. A new convoy was scheduled to sail in January, also in two groups comprising up to 30 ships. Churchill made a definite promise to this effect in his message to Stalin of 30 December. And suddenly, barely a week later, everything has changed: the Admiralty has decided to send only one group in a convoy of 15 ships in January and attach the second group to the first group of the February convoy. Why? Because, you see, the Admiralty does not have enough ships to provide proper cover for two groups and can’t include more than 15 ships in one group during the season of the long Arctic nights: the ships might get lost in the dark.

I learned all this on 8 January. I heard about it from Kharlamov, and a crooked version at that: Firebrace

Roy Firebrace, British army officer, 1908–46; military attaché in Moscow until 1940.

had told Kharlamov that the second group of the convoy could not set sail in time because the tanks and planes it was to carry were not yet ready. This struck Kharlamov and me as a peculiar explanation. I decided to check it and called Sinclair and Grigg, asking whether they really were unable to deliver the tanks and Hurricanes on time. Both made inquiries and replied that this was not the case: the tanks and planes were ready – the delay was nothing to do with the War Office and Air Ministry. Sinclair added: ‘Talk to Alexander.’

I then called Alexander and discovered the truth as to why the dispatching of the second group had been postponed. I decided to appeal to Eden and phoned him at his country house (he was out of town). Eden confirmed the reasons given by Alexander. I protested resolutely and demanded the reversal of the Admiralty’s decision, referring specifically to Churchill’s promise of 30 December. Eden found himself in a tricky situation. He promised to contact the relevant offices and informed me on the phone from his country house on the morning of the 9th that the first group of the convoy would be enlarged to 20 ships (the absolute maximum to which the Admiralty could agree). Nothing more could be done at present. But a convoy of 30 ships would be sent in the first half of February. That would be our compensation. I expressed my displeasure with this solution over the phone and announced that I would discuss the matter in detail with Eden on Monday, 11 January.

That conversation took place today. We argued at length. Eden kept referring to the difficult position of the British navy. It loses one destroyer a week, but doesn’t get a new one each week. The Americans are not assisting the English in the Atlantic. They have already sent out 60 new destroyers, but all to the Pacific. Meanwhile, the British navy’s obligations are immense – in the Atlantic, the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean. The submarine war is very intense. The British don’t have sufficient forces for all this. That is why the convoys to the USSR are being delayed.

I objected that there was another side to the story: the USSR is locked in a desperate, essentially solitary fight with Germany and badly needs arms and raw materials. Can the Allies, who help the USSR so little on the field of battle, really refuse to help with supplies? We can’t accept such a situation. England must find a way out of the current difficulties.

Eden again started repeating the same old story. I finally lost my patience and asked: ‘If that really is the true state of affairs, then why did Churchill promise Stalin just a few days ago that he would send 30 ships in January?’

This hit the mark. Spreading out his arms, Eden replied: ‘I fully agree with you here. The prime minister made a mistake in giving such a definite promise. You know what he’s like: he often makes promises without thinking and weighing up the real possibilities. It ends up badly. That’s the case now. But the actual state of affairs is such that we can’t send the second group of the convoy in January.’

I shrugged my shoulders and said that I hardly found Eden’s explanations satisfactory.

In conclusion, Eden said that Churchill had sent a message to Stalin yesterday explaining why he was unable to fulfil his promise. Eden gave me a copy.

According to Eden, Maisky appeared on the whole ‘to understand the position, though he said that it was difficult to explain our point of view to the authorities in Moscow’; TNA FO 954/3 Cosu 43/8-10, 11 Jan. 1943.

‘What is this money spent on?’ I asked.

‘The peasants,’ Elmhirst replied, ‘who also have a lot of money, buy cattle and women. Egyptians are Muslim, as you know, and polygamy is permitted… Meanwhile, the wealthy class – all those landowners, merchants and industrialists – spends its money on three things: jewels, women and tombs…’

‘Tombs?’ I asked in bewilderment. ‘I can understand the Egyptian upper crust spending a lot of money on jewels and women, but tombs? What does it mean?’

‘I shall gladly explain,’ Elmhirst responded. ‘West of Cairo there is a big city called the City of the Dead. I’m not joking. When you enter it, your first impression is of an ordinary, well-planned and well-arranged city: beautiful houses, wide streets, little street signs on the walls, little lanterns above the house numbers… But this is a phantom city. Nobody lives in it. It is a city of ghosts, or rather a city of tombs. Every wealthy family in Egypt deems it essential to have its place in the City of the Dead: its own house in which to bury its dead. The richer the family, the bigger and better the house. In the very wealthiest and noblest families each member has an entire house for its tomb. Families one rung beneath them bury several members in one house, but each has a separate room. On the next rung down, two or three members are buried in a single room. House-tombs are now an essential attribute of social rank in Egypt. A man’s status is judged by the dimensions and magnificence of the house. How much envy and jealousy surrounds these houses-tombs, how many fights and intrigues!’

Elmhirst gave a cheerful laugh and was about to move on to another topic.

‘But tell me,’ I stopped him, ‘what does a house-tomb look like? Have you been inside one?’

‘Yes, I have,’ he replied. ‘What do they look like? They look just like ordinary houses… There are large ones, smaller ones, and ones that are very small indeed… Corresponding precisely to the various strata of the social pyramid… The first thing you see on entering such a house is a spacious reception room beautifully decked out with furniture, rugs, columns… Doors lead into adjoining rooms… Each room is equally well presented: furniture, rugs, divans… And in the middle of the room stands a tomb with a stone slab or an obelisk… The house is empty… No one lives in it… The family gathers there once a year to remember the deceased. That’s all. But a lot of money is spent on these houses-tombs, as much as on women and jewels.’

A strange custom! The genuine Orient. Well actually, not so genuine. Tainted with the present day. Just like the pyramids of the ancient pharaohs, but clothed in the garb of democratic modernity: not only for pharaohs, but for all men with means.

When I asked Elmhirst what Cairo was like, he answered with a smile: ‘A cross between Paris and Baghdad.’

Be that as it may, I learnt something interesting from Dobbie: apparently the people of Malta are direct descendants of the Phoenicians and Carthaginians. Their language is of Phoenician origin. There are some admixtures of course (Arabic, Italian, English), but basically it’s the same language once spoken by Salammbô.

Carthage has risen in my esteem! The Maltese have fought heroically in this war. My enthusiasm for Salammbô

Page 1534

A historical novel by Gustave Flaubert set in Carthage during the 3rd century BC.

(which I reread with pleasure in Bovingdon three months ago), grows keener still…

(1) Establish a single administration for those parts of the French Empire lost by Vichy. Preferably with de Gaulle at its head and Giraud as commander-in-chief (state this in my private capacity).

(2) Cleanse the North African administration of Pétain’s followers.

(3) Set up an interim representative body – maximize democracy – with the participation of all parties.

(4) Immediately free all political prisoners in North Africa, irrespective of party affiliation and nationality.

The purpose of all this is to create a more authoritative French centre that would be more independent vis-à-vis England and the USA.

Moscow doesn’t want to be drawn into the generals’ scheming. It doesn’t recommend making any statements to the British government. But it prefers de Gaulle to Giraud.

The 22 German divisions encircled at Stalingrad on 23 November are nearing their complete destruction. As a result of the fighting, hunger and cold their strength has been reduced by two-thirds and now stands at 70–80,000. On 8 January, our command delivered an ultimatum: either surrender on honourable terms (including repatriation after the war) or total destruction. The Germans refused to capitulate. Their liquidation is now taking place. Another week or two and it will all be over. Glorious Stalingrad will be liberated once and for all.

In the Caucasus, our troops continue to oust the Germans from their positions: during the last 2–3 weeks we have advanced from Nalchik and Mozdok to a point 30 miles beyond Mineralnye Vody along the railway line. All our spas have been liberated (Pyatigorsk, Zheleznovodsk, Essentuki, Kislovodsk). The column from Kalmykia is merging more and more with the column of Caucasian forces. Both are rapidly driving the Germans north and north-west.

On the Don the entire bend of the river has been liberated, as has the Voronezh–Rostov railway line as far as Millerovo (Germans still holding out there), the Stalingrad–Likhaya line (almost up to Likhaya), and the Stalingrad–Tikhoretskaya line almost as far as Manych. Our troops are quickly advancing on Rostov from three directions. At one point we are just 60 miles away.

On the central front we have taken Velikie Luki. Fighting has begun near Leningrad to lift the blockade (though these battles are not yet in full swing).

We have taken a huge haul of weaponry in the last two months and up to 170,000 prisoners, about half of whom are Germans and more than 60,000 Rumanians. Colossal quantities of matériel: more than 2,000 undamaged tanks, more than 800 undamaged planes, more than 20,000 undamaged lorries, etc. The Germans will soon become our main source of supplies from abroad. Just think: nearly 10 armoured divisions can be formed from the captured German tanks!

The large quantity of prisoners and spoils is a good sign: it bears witness not only to our growing mastery in the art of war, but also to growing disarray in the enemy’s ranks. The Germans’ refusal to capitulate at Stalingrad is a bad sign: it bears witness to the fact that the morale of the German army has not yet been sufficiently undermined.

However that may be, things are going well on the front. May we continue in the same spirit! May the offensive not pause! We must at all costs preserve the initiative that we have wrenched from the Germans!

We have a marvellous people, a marvellous army and a marvellous leader!

Yet a colossal task, great difficulties and heavy losses still lie ahead of us. The Germans have already lost the war, but we have not yet won it. To win the war as quickly and easily as possible, we need a second front, we need the English and the Americans.

He said: ‘Do you remember asking me about a certain city the other day?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I responded quickly, understanding at once that he meant Berlin.

‘Well, your wish has been fulfilled,’ he continued. ‘Last night it was visited by 380 fighting machines. Most effective. A great deal of destruction, and many fires. Amazingly, we lost just one plane!’

I thanked Eden for the news.

Eden added: ‘The prime minister has sent a short message to this effect to your boss. And one other thing… a pleasant surprise for Mr Stalin! I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.’

Hm! What could it be?… We shall see.

The Berlin raid is good news. But frequent repeats are required. We’ll apply pressure.

Roosevelt has sent several messages to Stalin. They amount to the following: a promise of 200 transport aircraft (many thanks for that); the expression of his wish to transfer 100 bombers with American personnel to our Far East right now ‘just in case’ Japan should attack the USSR; and the statement that General Bradley

Omar Nelson Bradley, general, commanded II United States Corps in northern Tunisia and in Sicily, April–September 1943; commanded US troops in invasion of France, June 1944.

and a few other officers appointed by Roosevelt should start negotiations with Soviet representatives immediately, carry out a ‘preliminary inspection’ in the Far East and draw up plans together with our men. Roosevelt reports that in the very near future he intends to send General Marshall (the chief of staff) to Moscow to brief us about the state of affairs in Africa and about the military operations planned for 1943.

Stalin produced a good reply. He sent Roosevelt a message the other day in which he thanks him for the 200 transport planes, but expresses bewilderment at Roosevelt’s intention to send a fleet of 100 bombers to the Far East. First, we have told the Americans more than once that we need machines, not pilots. Second, we require planes not in the Far East, where we are not at war, but on the Soviet–German front, where the need for aircraft is very acute.

Next, Roosevelt’s proposal that General Bradley inspect our military facilities in the Far East is hard to understand. Russian military facilities, obviously enough, may be inspected by Russian inspectors, just as American facilities may be inspected by Americans. ‘In this sphere,’ says Stalin, ‘there can be no room for ambiguity.’

As for General Marshall’s visit, Stalin would like to know first and foremost: what would be the objective of the general’s mission?

In conclusion, Stalin asks Roosevelt to explain the reasons for such a protracted delay in operations in North Africa and says that his ‘colleagues’ are greatly confused by this circumstance.

Roosevelt will probably take offence. It can’t be helped! The Americans need to be taught a lesson. They really do fancy themselves to be the salt of the earth and the mentors of the world.

I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, cold, sober reason tells me that the autumn of my life is upon me. On the other, my subjective sense of my physical and spiritual state does not register any twilight symptoms or moods. My health is all right, my capacity for work has not diminished, and my acuity of mind even seems to have grown (though the latter may be the result of accumulated experience).

My mind tells me: ‘You’re nearing old age.’

But my body replies: ‘You are still far from old.’

Four years ago, when I turned 55, I wrote that, taking the average human span as my guide, I still had some 20 years ahead of me. It was then that I sketched a rough ‘plan’ for those 20 years: the first 10 years (till 65) would be devoted to active political work, and the next 10 (till 75) to bringing my life’s journey to completion, that is, to summing things up and writing my memoirs. I also calculated that during my first, active decade a new world war would break out, which would clear the path for the construction of socialism in Europe.

This calculation proved correct, for this surely is a world war. Indeed, my prediction was fulfilled even sooner than I expected. Will socialism in Europe happen too? We shall see. In any case (since war was inevitable) I’m glad that the post-war period, when this issue comes to the fore, will still find me in full working order. I hope to make my small contribution to this great cause.

I’m not looking beyond 75. What for?

I know several outstanding people here older than 75:

Bernard Shaw and his wife – he’s 87 and she must be about 89.

The Webbs – she’s 85, he’s 83 and a half.

Lloyd George is 80.

Looking at them, I have no desire to reach their age. Not to mention the fact that the general conditions of their existence have been more conducive to keeping healthy than those in my life – in the past and the probable future…

Yesterday evening it was announced over the wireless that the blockade of Leningrad has been lifted. What joy! And what a wonderful gift on my birthday!

On 19 January Stalin replied by telegram, thanking him for the information and adding: ‘I wish the British air force success. Especially in bombing Berlin.’

Churchill and Roosevelt have met: the two of them have been in Morocco, near Marrakesh, since the end of last week. It was Churchill’s idea to meet there. The chiefs of staff and other senior army and navy men are with them. So far the results of the meeting are as follows:

(1) Military affairs in North Africa. The Eighth Army’s campaign is coming to an end. Montgomery plans to reach Tripoli on 22 or 23 January. He has three British divisions in tow. Tunisia is next on the agenda. Churchill and Roosevelt have decided between themselves that this will basically change from being an American–English operation to an Anglo-American one. In concrete terms, this means that General Alexander becomes Eisenhower’s deputy and assumes sole command of operations in Tunisia. Further, the English are providing 10 divisions for these operations (four from Algeria, which are already in position, and six from Tripoli, of which three are in position and three are soon to arrive), the Americans – two, and the French – one. Alexander believes he will be able to launch the Tunisian operation in earnest only at the end of February. He hopes to occupy Tunisia in March. We shall see. In essence, the Churchill–Roosevelt decisions on this matter represent recognition that the US army is still too ‘green’ to wage serious military operations and that the English influence in the Anglo-American combination has grown. Judging by the tone of Churchill’s telegrams (Eden acquainted me with them), the prime minister is extremely pleased. He is particularly glad that General Alexander, whom he summoned to the conference from the front, made a good impression on the Americans and established good relations with Eisenhower.

(2) General strategy for 1943. It has been decided that immediately after the completion of the Tunisia campaign, the Allies will launch a military operation in Sicily. At the same time, it has been decided to start massing large forces on the British Isles immediately, with the aim of ‘a return to the European continent’ in the course of this year. But the following remains unclear from Churchill’s telegrams: will the Allies proceed to Italy if they seize Sicily? When do they intend to make their ‘return to the European continent’ – concurrently with the operation in Sicily or after it? Where is this ‘return to the European continent’ expected to occur? With which forces? I sought a reply to these questions from Eden, but failed to receive one. Eden evidently does not yet know himself. I’ll have to wait for the prime minister’s return to learn more about the Anglo-American plans for Europe.

(3) The political situation in North Africa. On 17 January, Eden received a telegram from Churchill asking him to convey a message from the PM to de Gaulle, inviting de Gaulle to fly immediately to Morocco for a meeting with Giraud. It would be a tête-à-tête meeting between the French generals, without the participation of the British and the Americans. Churchill added, however, that if the French should find it necessary in the course of their talks to seek clarification on various questions from the American and British governments, the presence of Roosevelt and himself could facilitate the prompt settling of many problems. Eden summoned de Gaulle and handed him the prime minister’s message. De Gaulle regarded Churchill’s proposal with strong suspicion. He thought that Churchill was laying a trap for him and that, once having arrived in Morocco, he would become a plaything in the hands of the English and the Americans. Eden spent all of the 17 January in lengthy and heated discussion with de Gaulle and Pleven

René Pleven, national commissioner for the economy, finance, the colonies and foreign affairs of the French Committee of National Liberation, 1941–44.

(de Gaulle’s commissioner for foreign affairs), after which de Gaulle sent his refusal to Churchill. In his response, de Gaulle wrote that the fate of North Africa was a matter for the French, that it should be decided freely among the French, that the presence of foreigners (i.e. Roosevelt and Churchill) on French soil during the talks would not create a conducive atmosphere for success, and that, therefore, he did not find the present moment suitable for a meeting with Giraud. This reduced Eden to utter despair. He complained to me (on 18 January) that ‘the French are a very difficult people, just like the Poles’ and that French generals are ‘just like ballet dancers’: each considers himself ‘unique and irreplaceable’, sniffs at his rival and imposes impossible conditions for cooperation.

‘Just think,’ Eden exclaimed. ‘The prime minister suggested in his telegram that de Gaulle might take Catroux

Georges Catroux, general, de Gaulle’s representative in the Near East, 1940; commander-in-chief of the Free French troops in the Levant, 1941; governor-general of Algeria, 1943–44.

with him to Morocco. De Gaulle would not so much as listen to the idea. He must have quarrelled with Catroux. The PM also said that Giraud would probably bring General Bergeret

Jean Marie Bergeret, general, commander of the North African air force under General Giraud, 1940–43.

with him to the meeting. On hearing this, de Gaulle’s expression changed completely and he declared that he had no wish to see Bergeret or to hold any talks with him.’

Salsk, Konstantinovka and Valuiki have been taken. An iron semi-circle is being formed around Rostov, the various points of which are at a distance of between 60 and 100 miles from the city. No doubt, the Germans will put up a stubborn defence at Rostov, but will they hold it? I don’t think so. There is something in the Red Army’s movement in recent weeks which resembles rising water during a flood. Something spontaneous, irrepressible, inescapable.

Valuiki is very significant. Not only does it interrupt one of the most important railway lines held by the Germans, but it also poses a threat, albeit a still distant one, to Kharkov.

Yet nothing excited and thrilled me more than the lifting of the blockade of Leningrad last week. It’s as if one can breathe easier now. I’ve sent a warm congratulatory telegram to Voroshilov, who has played a major role in this success.

What will happen next?

Let’s try to guess. The winter offensive still has 1.5–2 months to run. I think we shall manage to achieve the following over this period:

(1) Cleanse the entire northern Caucasus and Kuban of Germans, take Rostov, finish off the Germans on the Don, reach Kursk and restore the front line to its basic shape on the eve of the German offensive in the summer of 1942.

(2) Fully liberate Leningrad, re-establish its communications with Moscow via the Oktyabrskaya railway, and oust the Germans from Novgorod and the surrounding region.

This is, so to speak, the minimum programme. As an optimal scenario I envisage the capture of Kharkov and our advance to Estonia, but I am not so sure of this.

We shall see whether my forecasts come true. Suppose they do – what then? What should our strategy be?

A great deal depends on what happens before spring. Where will the front line be, say, in May? What will the German losses be over the course of the winter and will the Germans be in a position to contemplate a serious offensive this summer? What will our losses be and will it be in our interests to implement an all-out strategy this summer?

So, this is an equation that contains many unknowns. Not easy to solve. Nevertheless, the following thoughts occur to me:

(1) If the English and the Americans were to open an effective second front now in Western Europe, it would be in our interests to mount a general offensive as well, so as to deliver a mortal blow to Germany in 1943 and end the war in Europe in 1944.

(2) If the English and the Americans decide not to open an effective second front now, it will probably be to our advantage to save our forces during the spring and summer and confine ourselves to such operations as would prevent a German offensive on our front, before embarking on an all-out offensive in the winter of 1943/44 – this time with a view to approaching the German borders and perhaps even reaching Berlin. In this war we have been using a new method – winter offensives. They are proving successful and should be continued. In the past – in the Russo-Turkish wars, say, or in the war of 1914–18 – winter usually brought a lull in fighting. The enemy dug in and made preparations for spring. Battles were waged in warmer seasons. The Bolsheviks turned this upside down – with decent results.

(3) If our losses in the current winter offensive were to prove tolerable, and if the German defence were to show signs of serious disarray, we could try to pursue the offensive in spring and summer without interruption and regardless of the actions of the English and Americans. Who knows, perhaps we would enter Berlin first? I doubt it, though. For if the Allies were to see that the Red Army had broken the back of the German war machine and that the denouement was approaching, they would rush to open a second front so as not to reach Berlin too late. And the Germans themselves might well assist them in this so as to prevent Germany being occupied by our troops alone. Some German Darlans would doubtless be found…

Well, time will tell.

‘What do you make of Badoglio’s

Pietro Badoglio, general, as Italian prime minister in 1943–44, he brokered the armistice with the Allies.

appeal?’ I asked Eden.

Eden had just told me that Badoglio was trying to get in touch with the British and even appeared to be ready to form an army of ‘free Italians’ from the Italian POWs held by the British.

‘I don’t take it too seriously,’ Eden replied, ‘but Badoglio’s move is symptomatic all the same.’

I asked whether there had been any ‘peace feelers’ coming from the German side of late. Eden said there hadn’t.

‘We do receive reports that German morale is cracking fast,’ Eden continued, ‘but I don’t know how far to trust them. What do you think?’

‘I’m inclined to take such information with a pinch of salt,’ I replied. ‘I think that the time for a genuine collapse in morale has not yet arrived.’

‘Why not?’ Eden enquired.

‘You see, Mr Eden,’ I began, ‘the question of “morale” is a complex one. It cannot be dealt with in generalities. One should differentiate between the various elements that make up Nazi Germany. First, the broad masses. What can be said about their morale? There is no doubt that it is being steadily undermined and corroded. The contrast between two key moments is of particular significance here. In October 1941, Hitler declared that the “Russian army” had been destroyed, that “Russia has ceased to exist as a military power”. But in January 1943 that same “destroyed” Russian army destroys crack German troops at Stalingrad, forces that elite army to clear out of the Caucasus in due haste and drives back the rest of the German army all along the front, inflicting heavy losses. Moreover, the Germans attribute their recent failures to the “superior Russian forces”. A glaring contradiction. Even the thickest German burgher can’t help but be struck by it. The deeper this contradiction seeps into the consciousness of each and every German, the more fragile the “morale” of the German population will become.’

Eden nodded his approval. I went on: ‘But we should be under no illusions: this process is still in its initial stage. The broad German masses know little about what is really going on at the front; they are subject to the unremitting impact from all sides of fascist propaganda, and so it seems premature to me to speak of the imminent collapse of the German population’s morale. Nor do I believe that Hitler’s own “morale” is truly shattered. Not yet. Hitler is none too happy, of course, but then he is a mystic maniac who probably still believes in his “star” and hopes to muddle through one way or another. Besides, he has no choice but to fight to the end.’

Eden nodded his approval once more.

‘The men whose “morale” has really suffered as a result of recent events,’ I continued, ‘are the generals and all those connected to them. The generals know what is going on at the front and they do not share Hitler’s mysticism. It must already be clear to them by now that Germany cannot win the war on the battlefield. That prospect no longer exists. Of course, it’s too early to speak of Germany’s defeat. It’s quite possible that Germany may launch another offensive (despite Stalingrad!) and this summer may bring us some unpleasant surprises in this sphere. We shall see. But even if Germany has lost its ability to mount a serious offensive, her defensive capabilities are still vast. We should not deceive ourselves. Further colossal efforts and sacrifices will be required before Germany is finally beaten. That is why a second front in 1943 is so urgently needed. Nevertheless, the German generals can be in no doubt now that a purely military victory is out of the question.’

‘You think the generals are aware of this?’ Eden asked.

‘Yes, I do,’ I replied. ‘And some information exists to this effect… I’ll continue. So, if military victory is impossible, what is left for the generals? One thing only: to try to achieve a favourable peace deal for Germany. A separate peace would be best of all; next best is a general, compromise peace settlement. The sooner it happens, the better, as Germany still has many strong cards in her hand, but the tide has turned against her. From here on she will have fewer and fewer cards to play. Hitler himself, of course, is hardly a plus point in the light of such prospects. That is why I wouldn’t be at all surprised if, waking up one fine morning, we were to read in the papers that Hitler had committed suicide or died in a “car accident”. Hitler’s days are numbered: 1943 may well be his last year, politically if not physically. Once Hitler disappears, the possibility of forming a new government will open before the generals. In essence, of course, this will be that same bloodthirsty German fascism in disguise, but who knows – maybe some elements in England and the USA will swallow the bait? Especially if the generals present it, as they are sure to do, as a dish entitled “Bolshevik scarecrow”. I have no doubt that this scarecrow will be fetched from the pantry very soon. It may be all moth-eaten and bitten by mice, but who cares? The German bosses can’t be choosers. Maybe some small fry in Britain and the USA will take the bait, even such a suspicious one as this.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Eden protested. ‘I know which elements you are referring to. I assure you that they are absolutely powerless now.’

On 20 July 1944, an unsuccessful attempt was indeed made to assassinate Hitler by Claus von Stauffenberg and other conspirators from the military and Foreign Ministry, inside his Wolf’s Lair field headquarters near Rastenburg, East Prussia.

‘So much the better!’ I replied. ‘Whatever happens, this is what we should expect in the next few months: first, persistent attempts on the part of the Germans to split the united front – the Allied front, and, second, equally stubborn attempts to test the ground for a compromise peace. Does the British government understand this? Is it prepared to nip all such attempts in the bud?’

Eden rose in agitation from his armchair and replied with uncharacteristic energy: ‘As long as Churchill is prime minister and I am foreign secretary, there will be no compromise with Germany!’

Included are the content of messages exchanged between Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin on 26 January 1943, informing Stalin of the decision taken at Casablanca. The underlying assumption was that the ‘mighty advance’ of the Red Army might force Germany to its knees already in 1943. In other words, it removed the urgency for opening a second front. The message reaffirmed the Western Allies’ intention of pursuing their peripheral strategy. Lip service was paid to the need to intensify the efforts to defeat Germany and attain victory in Europe and as much attention was drawn to the need to exert pressure on Japan, keep the initiative in the Pacific and the Far East, support China, and prevent the expansion of Japanese aggression to other theatres. The immediate objectives were to liquidate the Axis in North Africa and to undertake a large-scale amphibious operation in Sicily and Italy. At the same time, the concentration of troops in Britain for landing on the European continent was to continue and the operation was to be executed ‘as soon as this becomes feasible’. The message from Churchill ended with the customary expression of admiration for the marvellous feats of the Soviet armies. It evoked a succinct and bitter message from Stalin on 30 January 1943, asking for information about the ‘concrete planned operations and their timing’.

Eden called me over today late in the evening. He showed me a heap of ciphered messages from and to the prime minister, concerning the latter’s visit to Turkey. They made for interesting reading. Churchill’s mood is joyful, cheerful, almost boyish. In fact, boyish is just what it is. Flipping through the telegrams, it is sometime hard to believe that they were written by the leader of Great Britain in the heat of the greatest war in history.

First, the background to this visit. Churchill has long nurtured the idea of drawing Turkey over to our side. When he was in Casablanca, it got into his head that a meeting with İnönü would serve this purpose. Roosevelt gave his approval, but London started objecting because: (1) Churchill’s prestige might be damaged should the Turks refuse to fight, and (2) London did not want to subject Churchill to unnecessary risk and fatigue.

‘After all, the prime minister is 68!’ exclaimed Eden, telling me of the Cabinet’s reservations.

Mrs Churchill was also against the trip on the grounds of her husband’s health. She even asked a few members of the government not to agree to his proposal.

But Churchill dug his heels in. And when he digs his heels in, nobody can budge him. It’s obvious from his telegrams that he was desperate to go. Not only for reasons of state, but also, and perhaps even more so, because he was fed up with sitting in London and had a rush of blood. He wanted to stretch his limbs and travel the world a bit. In one of the telegrams the Cabinet objected to the trip under the pretext that parliament was eager to hear his report on the meeting in Casablanca. Getting into the plane, Churchill sent a humorous telegram in reply: I wish you fun shining the dusty benches in Westminster, while I gallivant around Africa and the Near East to my heart’s content. Churchill yielded to the Cabinet on one point only: his meeting with İsmet [İnönü] took place not in Ankara, where an attempt upon the PM’s life could easily have been made, but in Adana.

There, to judge by his messages, he was evidently in high spirits. İsmet, Saraçoğlu, Çakmak,

Marshal Mustafa Fevzi Çakmak, Turkish chief of general staff.

Menemencioğlu

Hüseyin Numan Menemencioğlu, Turkish foreign minister, 1942–44.

and others came to meet him. They had long and detailed talks on the current situation and the prospects for the future. Churchill put the gist of his statements down on paper and gave his notes to the Turks. For some odd reason, he refers to them in the ciphered messages as ‘the morning thoughts’ of a pious man! They are very detailed, these ‘thoughts’: three single-spaced typewritten pages. Their substance is simple. Clearly and even somewhat cynically, Churchill confronts the Turks with the question: we (Britain, the USSR and the USA) will win – do you wish to be on the side of the winners? If you do, give us assistance during the war. If you do not assist us you’ll find yourself after the war in the position of a neutral, and not a very powerful neutral at that. It’s your choice. You say you have no arms? All right, we’ll give you some. Once this is done, think it over and decide.

Such are Churchill’s ‘morning thoughts’. How will the Turks act?

Churchill is clearly in a rather optimistic mood. It follows from his other telegrams that he hopes Turkey will take an active part in military operations this summer, or, at any rate, will be prepared to allow the Allies to use her bases and let Allied ships sail through the Straits. I don’t know if this will work. I fear the Turks may take the arms but then refuse to help us.

The concrete results of the visit: Britain hands over five ships to Turkey which will transport the arms it needs (tanks, guns and a few aircraft), Britain builds airfields, etc. in Turkey, trains Turkish pilots and tank-men, opens its military schools to the Turks, carries out exchanges of officers with Turkey for purposes of liaison and study.

On his way back, Churchill stopped over in Cyprus. It’s not quite clear why. Incidentally, a ‘cipher catastrophe’ very nearly occurred during the PM’s stay in Cyprus. Churchill, who is rather careless about ciphering in general, was on the verge of sending a message for publication from Cyprus, which only had a rather primitive military code. Had the message been published, the code would have been cracked and the Axis would have been able to read all the secrets of the British military command in the Middle East. The FO’s cipher department was in panic. But ‘catastrophe’ was averted at the last moment.

It is impossible to answer this question in a word or two. For England’s reaction to the Red Army’s successes is complex and contradictory. I’ll try to sum up my impressions.

What strikes me first when I ask myself this question is the general amazement at the might of the USSR and the strength of the Red Army. Nobody expected us to be able to retain such fighting capability after the ordeals of last summer. It was assumed that the Red Army might be able to hold the front line, established in November, through the winter. It was anticipated that the Red Army would move on to the offensive in winter, as it had done last year, but this would be an offensive on a modest scale aimed at improving our position on some of the most important sections of the front. But what happened in reality surpassed the expectations of even the bravest optimists. That is why the paramount feeling which our victories elicit in England is universal amazement. The feeling is equally strong everywhere, from the top to the bottom of the social pyramid.

The second feeling, aroused by events unfolding in the USSR, is great admiration for the Soviet people, the Red Army and Comrade Stalin personally. But this feeling is less sweeping than the amazement described above. Among the masses it is unreserved and unrestrained. Here the prestige of the USSR has soared over the last three months. I heard about this, for example, from Kerr, who visited many factories and plants during his holiday and mingled with thousands of workers. An endless number of other signs indicate the same. I shall just mention Stalin’s popularity. His appearance on the screen always elicits loud cheers, much louder cheers than those given to Churchill or the king. Frank Owen

Frank Owen, editor of the Evening Standard, 1938–41; lieutenant-colonel in the Royal Armoured Corps, 1942–43.

told me the other day (he is in the army now) that Stalin is the soldiers’ idol and hope. If a soldier is dissatisfied with something, if he has been offended by the top brass, or if he resents some order or other from above, his reaction tends to be colourful and telling. Raising a menacing hand, he exclaims: ‘Just you wait till Uncle Joe gets here! We’ll even up with you then!’

This war has been a great object lesson for the entire world. All countries have been put through a severe historic examination. And it is already clear to the English masses that only the USSR has passed the test with flying colours, while Britain deserves no more than a C+. This correlation is grasped more by heart and instinct than by reasoning. But the masses have made their judgement, which is reflected in their infinite admiration for the Red Army and the USSR.

The higher the strata of the social pyramid, the more the sense of admiration is mixed up with other feelings, largely ones of a corrosive nature.

Take the intellectuals, for example – intellectuals of all stripes, including Labour and socialist. The reaction of this social stratum to our victories is bewilderment. The reasons are obvious. English intellectuals have been brought up to believe that bourgeois democracy is the best, most perfect and most effective system of government. To them it represents the pearl of creation and the crown of human wisdom.

And all of a sudden – by divine intervention – everything has been turned upside down! The great historical examination has shown that ‘communist dictatorship’, a form of government still regarded by English intellectuals with a mixture of resentment and contempt as a manifest symptom of the Soviet Union’s political immaturity, supplies quite astonishing models of courage, heroism, foresight, organizational skill and governmental wisdom. Models that surpass everything which the bourgeois democracies of Great Britain and the United States have been able to demonstrate in this sphere so far. How come? Why?

For fully comprehensible reasons, the intellectual class cannot and will not get to the root of this ‘incomprehensible’ phenomenon. That is why they are currently in a state of alarmed bewilderment. This is particularly true of Labourite intellectual circles (including the Labour leaders), who fear that the Red Army’s victories might eventually lead to a massive surge in communist rivalry among the working masses.

The reaction of Britain’s ruling classes to our military successes is even more complicated.

On the one hand, they are glad: it’s a very good thing that the Russians are smashing the Germans. It will make things easier for us. It will spare us losses and destruction. Once again we can implement our age-old policy of getting others to fight our battles.

On the other hand, the ruling classes are displeased or, rather, disquieted: won’t the Bolsheviks get too strong? Won’t the prestige of the USSR and the Red Army grow too much? Won’t the likelihood of the ‘Bolshevization of Europe’ rise too high? The more success the Soviet military achieves, the deeper the concern in the hearts of the ruling elite.

These two contradictory feelings live side by side in the bosom of the British ruling class and find expression in the sentiments of its two main groupings, which may be called the Churchillian and Chamberlainian groups, for short. The first currently tends towards a sense of satisfaction about our victories; the second towards a sense of fear. Yet now the Red Army is still only in the vicinity of Rostov. It is difficult to say what the sentiments of even the Churchillian group will be when the Red Army finds itself in the vicinity of Berlin. I can’t rule out some unpleasant surprises.

Although the Churchillian group is now, undoubtedly, the dominant one, English policy nevertheless tends to steer a middle course between the two trends just mentioned. The result? The British government seeks methods and means of continuing to have its war fought by others (i.e. us), while also securing for itself a leading role at the post-war peace conference. What specific forms is this process taking, and what forms may it take in the future?

There are two main problems here: (1) the problem of supplies, and (2) the problem of a second front in Europe.

As regards the problem of supplies, the British government may take advantage of this in order to ‘restrain’ our surge by ‘regulating’ the flow. Some symptoms of this are already apparent: the refusal to supply aluminium since 1 January, the growing difficulties in placing orders, the delay in shipping spare parts for the Hurricanes, the lack of punctuality in dispatching convoys, etc. These tendencies may intensify in the future.

However, the sabotaging of supplies cannot be particularly harmful for us now or in the future. This is not 1941. Our evacuated industry is back on its feet and produces more than before. In addition, we now have a new and rich source of supplies – the defeated German armies. Over the last three months we have seized from the Germans more than 1,000 aircraft, 4,000 tanks, 100,000 lorries, etc. This source promises to become ever more plentiful. Allied supplies never represented more than a small percentage of our requirements (10–15% at most, I believe), and this proportion will decrease further with time.

This means that in the sphere of supplies England (and the USA) can hardly have a serious impact on the pace of the Red Army’s advance and the success of its operations.

The question of the second front is rather different. Once again, there is internal disagreement here among the ruling class. On the one hand, it would like to postpone the opening of a second front for as long as possible and wait for us to break Germany’s backbone, so that the Anglo-American forces can make a ‘comfortable’ landing in France and march on Berlin with minimum losses. On the other hand, if the delay in opening a western front is too protracted, England (and the USA) may miss the boat and allow the Red Army to be the first to enter Berlin. The ruling class fears this greatly: the spectre of the ‘Bolshevization of Europe’ looms large in their imagination. So the timing for the opening of the second front is the major tactical question facing the British (and American) governments. They reckon this should be done not too early and not too late – just in time. But when exactly? This is what preoccupies Churchill, Eden, the War Cabinet and the entire ruling elite. No decision is visible as yet. Nor, it seems, was a precise decision arrived at in Casablanca. We shall see what Churchill has to say when he returns.

For now, my impression is the following: Britain and the USA will not open a second front by spring, while in summer and winter they will divert themselves with various secondary operations in the Mediterranean (Sicily, Crete, Dodecanese and other places). Perhaps they will cook up some Dieppe monstrosity or other in the north, but they are hardly likely to undertake a serious invasion of France.

It’s unpleasant, but that’s how it is. One has to face the facts. This inauspicious prospect may alter, I believe, only under one circumstance: if our successes assume such colossal dimensions that Germany’s collapse and the Red Army’s entry into Berlin in 1943 become real possibilities. Am I mistaken? Time will tell.

Azcárate told me the other day that he saw some Swedish officials at a lunch arranged by Prytz. They had just arrived from Stockholm. Azcárate asked them what impression the Soviet victories had produced in Sweden. They reply was very telling: ‘We are glad, of course, but we are also afraid.’

Just like the English upper crust.

The same attitude is shared by the Poles (especially the Poles), the Yugoslavs, Greeks, Belgians and Dutch, less so the Norwegians and Czechs.

Kuh

Frederick Kuh, an American wartime diplomatic correspondent covering mostly Moscow and London.

told me that the people in the US embassy are not in the best of moods: ‘Their faces lengthen every time they hear of your victories.’

A complex situation. We must steer a course between Scylla and Charybdis. Will we succeed? We will: Stalin will help us out.