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Table of Contents
The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 3
  • 10 January
  • 19 January
  • 20 January
  • 22 January
  • 26 January
  • 27 January
  • 30 January
  • 3 February
  • 4 February
  • 6 February
  • 11 February
  • 13 February
  • 14 February
  • 15 February
  • 17 February
  • 18 February
  • 20 February
  • 23 February
  • 25 February
  • 27 February
  • 28 February
  • 2 March
  • 7 March
  • 8 March
  • 9 March
  • 12 March
  • 14 March
  • 15 March
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 19 March
  • 20 March
  • 22 March
  • 23 March
  • 25 March
  • 29 March
  • 31 March
  • 1 April
  • 6 April
  • 11 April
  • 12 April
  • 14 April
  • 15 April
  • 16 April
  • 17 April
  • 18 April
  • 28 April
  • 29 April
  • 30 April
  • 1 May
  • 2 May
  • 3 May
  • 4 May
  • 6 May
  • 9 May
  • 11 May
  • 15 May
  • 16 May
  • 17 May
  • 18 May
  • 19 May
  • 21 May
  • 22 May
  • 23 May
  • 25 May
  • 26 May
  • 27 May
  • 28 May
  • 30 May
  • 3 June
  • 8 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 16 June
  • 17 June
  • 22 June
  • 23 June
  • 25 June
  • 28 June
  • 29 June
  • 30 June
  • 1 July
  • 2 July
  • 4 July
  • 5 July
  • 6 July
  • 7 July
  • 12 July
  • 13 July
  • 14 July
  • 15 July
  • 18 July
  • 22 July
  • 25 July
  • 28 July
  • 30 July
  • 4 August
  • 5 August
  • 6 August
  • 11 August
  • 20 August
  • 21 August
  • 22 August
  • 23 August
  • 24 August
  • 26 August
  • 28 August
  • 29 August
  • 30 August
  • 31 August
  • 1 September
  • 2 September
  • 3 September
  • 4 September
  • 2 September
  • 7 September
  • 8 September
  • 9 September
  • 12 September
  • 13 September
  • 14 September
  • 15 September
  • 17 September
  • 19 September
  • 20 September
  • 21 September
  • 22 September
  • 23 September
  • 27 September
  • 28 September
  • 29 September
  • 3 October
  • 4 October
  • 6 October
  • 7 October
  • 11 October
  • 12 October
  • 13 October
  • 14 October
  • 16 October
  • 17 October
  • 19 October
  • 21 October
  • 24 October
  • 26 October
  • 27 October
  • 28 October
  • 30 October
  • 31 October
  • 2 November
  • 3 November
  • 7 November
  • 9 November
  • 10 November
  • 13 November
  • 14 November
  • 15 November
  • 16 November
  • 18 November
  • 20 November
  • 21 November
  • 22 November
  • 27 November
  • 28 November
  • 29 November
  • 1 December
  • 3 December
  • 5 December
  • 8 December
  • 12 December
  • 14 December
  • 15 December
  • 21 December
  • 23 December
  • 24 December
  • 25 December
  • 31 December
  • 2 January
  • 3 January
  • 4 January
  • 5 January
  • 7 January
  • 8 January
  • 11 January
  • 14 January
  • 15 January
  • 18 January
  • 19 January
  • 20 January
  • 21 January
  • 23 January
  • 25 January
  • 26 January
  • 27 January
  • 29 January
  • 30 January
  • 31 January
  • 2 February
  • 7 February
  • 8 February
  • 9 February
  • 10 February
  • 11 February
  • 15 February
  • 19 February
  • 21 February
  • 25 February
  • 8 March
  • 11 March
  • 12 March
  • 13 March
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • Conversation with Butler on 18 March 1940
  • 19 March
  • 23 March
  • 27 March
  • Conversation with Halifax on 27 March 1940
  • 28 March
  • 29 March
  • 1 April
  • 2 April
  • 4 April
  • 5 April
  • 6 April
  • 8 April
  • 9 April
  • 10 April
  • 11 April
  • 12 April
  • 13 April
  • 15 April
  • 16 April
  • 17 April
  • 18 April
  • 22 April
  • 27 April
  • 28 April
  • 2 May
  • 4 May
  • 7 May
  • 8 May
  • 13 May
  • 14 May
  • 15 May
  • 17 May
  • 18 May
  • 19 May
  • 20 May
  • 21 May
  • 22 May
  • 23 May
  • 24 May
  • 25 May
  • 26 May
  • 28 May
  • 1 June
  • 4 June
  • 5 June
  • 6 June
  • 10 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 14 June
  • 15 June
  • 16 June
  • 17 June
  • 18 June
  • 23 June
  • 25 June
  • 27 June
  • 28 June
  • 29 June
  • 30 June
  • 1 July
  • 2 July
  • 3 July
  • 4 July
  • 5 July
  • 6 July
  • 7 July
  • 8 July
  • 9 July
  • 10 July
  • 11 July
  • 12 July
  • 22 July
  • 23 July
  • 25 July
  • 26 July
  • 27 July
  • 28 July
  • 31 July
  • 5 August
  • 6 August
  • 7 August
  • 10 August
  • 14 August
  • 15 August
  • 17 August
  • 18 August
  • 20 August
  • 22 August
  • 30 August
  • 31 August
  • 1 September
  • 6 September
  • 7 September
  • 8 September
  • 9 September
  • 10 September
  • 13 September
  • 14 September
  • 16 September
  • 17 September
  • 4 October
  • 6 October
  • 9 October
  • 10 October
  • 12 October
  • 13 October
  • 20 October
  • 22 October
  • 2 November
  • 4 November
  • 5 November
  • 11 November
  • 12 November
  • 19 November
  • 30 November
  • 1 December
  • 2 December
  • 11 December
  • 12 December
  • 16 December
  • 19 December
  • 27 December
  • 28 December
  • 29 December
  • 30 December
< Previous document Next document >
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The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 3
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By Gorodetsky, Gabriel

The Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2

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Page iii

THE COMPLETE MAISKY DIARIES VOLUME 3
THE GERMAN INVASION OF RUSSIA AND
THE FORGING OF THE GRAND ALLIANCE
1941-1943
EDITED BY GABRIEL GORODETSKY Translated by Tatiana Sorokina and Oliver Ready Yale University Press New Haven and London


Page i

Annals of Communism


Page ii



Page iv

Print Publishing Information
Copyright © 2017 by Gabriel Gorodetsky.
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, including illustrations, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publishers.
Published with the permission of the Scheffer-Voskressenski family—Ivan Maisky’s heirs.
Photographs from Agniya Maisky’s album are published with the permission of the Voskressenski family, owners of the copyright and Ivan Maisky’s heirs.
Yale University Press books may be purchased in quantity for educational, business, or promotional use. For information, please e-mail sales.press@yale.edu (U.S. office) or sales@yaleup.co.uk (U.K. office).
Set in Minion Pro and ITC Stone Sans type by Newgen.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017942542
ISBN 978-0-300-11782-0 (hardcover : alk. paper)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


Page v

Contents
Volume 1. The Rise of Hitler and the Gathering Clouds of War Acknowledgements ix Introduction xiii The Making of a Soviet Diplomat xxxi Prelude 1 1934 8 1935 73 1936 148 1937 184 1938 251 Notes to Volume 1 399 Volume 2. The Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact and the Battle of Britain 1939 443 1940 713 Notes to Volume 2 961 Volume 3. The German Invasion of Russia and the Forging of the Grand Alliance 1941 987 1942 1209 1943 1330 End of an Era: Maisky’s Recall 1476 The Price of Fame: A Late Repression 1492


Page vi

Notes to Volume 3 1507
Select Bibliography 1547 Illustration Credits 1565 Index of Names and Places 1567


Page 987

1941
1 January
The New Year, 1941. What will it bring us?
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:


Page 988

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.
9 January
Ellen Wilkinson lunched with us. She is engrossed with her ‘shelters’ and thinks about them even in her sleep. She has achieved some success. In the public shelters of the Greater London area there are 1,400,000 bunks (for a population of 3 million). About 180,000 people spend their nights in the Underground. In the shelters there is more order, hygiene, etc. There have been no epidemics


Page 989

there: only two cases of diphtheria and three of meningitis. The situation in the provinces varies: there are cities where the shelters are very good (Newcastle) and where they are very bad (Coventry). In a day or two Wilkinson will go to the provinces to deal with this matter. The British government expects colossal air raids in spring (including gas attacks), compared with which all we have seen so far is mere child’s play. The shelters must also be ready for this.
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.’
12 January
Yesterday evening at around 8.30 I was sitting at my typewriter and had just begun the third chapter of my memoirs about emigration. Suddenly I heard the rattle of a machine-gun outside. I raised my head. What was it? A diving German plane?…
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.


Page 990

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.
15 January
The ‘People’s Convention’ was held on 12 January after all! Ellen Wilkinson was not deceiving me when she told me over lunch on 9 January that the government had decided not to interfere. There were more than 2,000 delegates (including about a hundred soldiers) representing 1,200,000 people. Passionate speeches, firm resolutions, an animated mood: the Convention was a definite success. It is the first noticeable sign of the wave of mass discontent rising gradually from the proletarian midst. It should not be overestimated, but nor should it be underestimated. It’s too early to expect major events on the domestic front in England, but faint subterranean shocks already indicate that processes are under way, that deep social shifts are in the offing.
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


Page 991

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.
17 January
Lunched with H.G. Wells at the embassy. Wells has just returned from spending two months in the United States, where he gave thirteen lectures on topical subjects and met many interesting people. But he did not see Roosevelt. Why not? Wells’ own explanations struck me as being rather far-fetched. There’s something behind this. Perhaps Roosevelt did not wish to see Wells? I don’t know.
What are Wells’ impressions of America? In particular, what is the American attitude to the war?
Wells answered as follows:
To start with, 90% of Americans are sentimentally for England and against Germany. Secondly, 100% of Americans are in the grip of ‘air terror’: the mere thought of air raids causes them to panic. Thirdly, the country is dominated on the whole by the psychology and way of life of peace time. For instance, US automobile plants produced 4 million automobiles (mostly passenger cars) in 1940 and are stirring themselves to the production of aircraft only with the greatest difficulty. US businessmen often prefer a secure ‘peaceful market’ somewhere in South America, which their British and German rivals have now abandoned, to the insecure (albeit, in the short run, potentially more profitable) ‘war market’ in England. In Hollywood I saw an amazing procession, so dazzling and so huge that Hitler himself would have been envious, and what was the occasion? Honouring Santa Claus on Christmas Eve!… And yet, emotionally speaking, Hollywood is extremely pro-British and would love to cut Hitler’s throat with a feather. Such a discrepancy between emotions and real aid to England can be observed everywhere.


Page 992

In general, I think that in practice the USA is doing no more than 30% of what it could do for England. The gap, as you can see, is huge.
‘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


Page 993

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:
Would you believe it, I had to defend the USSR’s position on the Finnish question at one meeting after another. I posed the question in the following way: imagine that Long Island were in the hands of a small power hostile to the United State, behind which there stood another hostile power – a great power. Suppose the guns placed by the small power, backed up by the great power, threatened New York from Long Island. What would the government of the United States do? The USA would probably occupy Long Island within 24 hours – call it aggression if you like – and you would probably all cheer the US government’s actions, wouldn’t you?… My arguments usually reached the hearts of the listeners. They began to understand your actions. That’s the most important thing. That’s how one should talk with an American audience. But your men in America don’t know how to do it. I’m sorry to say this,


Page 994

but your propaganda in America is good for nothing. In its unsuitability I can compare it only with English propaganda, but that’s the limit!
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!
22 January
Mrs Simopoulos (the English wife of the Greek ambassador) recounted two amusing stories at a lunch given by Aras.
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?’…
* * *
I heard one more anecdote, or more precisely a fact that resembles an anecdote.


Page 995

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.
23 January
I had Hicks, Tom Williams, Neil Maclean, Latham,
Charles Latham, leader of London County Council, 1940–47.
Dobbie and, of course, Coates for lunch. We spoke about the war, Anglo-Soviet relations, and the food situation. Williams (he is now deputy minister of agriculture) told us that there would be a shortage of four food products during the war: butter, bacon, cheese and fruit (except for oranges – thanks to the Spanish policy of the British government).
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.


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‘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.
24 January
My first visit today was to Butler, with a protest against the detention near the Falkland Islands of the Greek SS Karyanthykos [untraced], which is carrying a cargo of hides for the USSR. Then I visited Dalton on the same matter.
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 ambas


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sadors 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.
27 January
The other day I had the chance to convince myself of Moscow’s interest in concluding a Soviet–Turkish pact of mutual assistance. That is why I visited Aras today and in the course of our long talk imparted my personal opinion that, after thorough reflection, I had reached the following conclusion: Aras’s idea is interesting, but some details remain unclear to me. Through a series of leading questions, I established the following:
(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


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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!
31 January
I visited Dalton today. We keep arguing about the Greek SS Karyanthykos, which is carrying a cargo of hides we bought in South America and was detained by the British near the Falkland Islands. The British authorities confiscated half the cargo for some reason, and are prepared to leave the other half alone. It’s impossible to understand. Dalton said something about the confiscated part of the hides being sold to us by a person in close contact with the Germans, but this, of course, is complete nonsense.
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.


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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.
3 February
A few days ago I had an unexpected visitor: the well-known Zionist leader, Dr Weizmann.
Dr Chaim Weizmann, president of the World Zionist Organization and the Jewish Agency for Palestine, 1921–31 and 1935–46; president of the state of Israel, 1949–52.
He is a tall, elderly, elegantly dressed gentleman with a pale yellow tinge to his skin and a large bald patch on his head. His face is very wrinkled and marked by dark blotches of some kind. His nose is aquiline and his speech calm and slow. He speaks excellent Russian, although he left Russia 45 years ago.
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,


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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


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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?’
[Virtually no relations had existed between the Jewish Agency and the Soviet Union in the decade preceding the outbreak of war. In autumn 1940, the Jewish Agency for Palestine set up a special committee with the task of dealing with the fate of the Jews from Poland, the Baltic countries and Bessarabia, which had just been absorbed by the Soviet Union. Their attempts to send a special delegation to Moscow proved abortive.
The Central Zionist Archives (CZA) J89/26, N. Goldmann (Washington) to the Jewish Agency, Sept. 1940.
It was H.G. Wells who encouraged Weizmann to open up a dialogue with Maisky, which intensified after the invasion of Russia.
Inspired probably by Wells’ meeting with Maisky on 17 January. Michael J. Cohan (ed.), The Letters and Papers of Chaim Weizmann (Jerusalem, 1979), XX/A, Weizmann to Wells, 25 Jan. 1941, doc. 102.
There are, however, no further entries in Maisky’s diary describing his flurry of activity in this sphere. At a second meeting with Maisky in September, Weizmann sought to enlist Soviet support, suggesting that in England ‘the Jews are not given any opportunity to express their attitude to the war, and in Palestine the British hinder the formation of Jewish troop units’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 p.352 d.2404 ll.158-9, Maisky to Molotov, 2 Sep. 1941.
A month later, Ben-Gurion
David Ben-Gurion, chairman of the Jewish Agency Executive in Palestine, 1935–48.
himself met Maisky and, like Weizmann before him, tried to win him over by emphasizing that, although Zionism was ‘a matter of life and death’ for the movement, they were also ‘most serious’ about their socialist aims, and the proof was the successful construction in Palestine of a ‘nucleus of a socialist commonwealth’. But behind the ideological lip service, Ben-Gurion tried to enlist Maisky’s support for the Zionist aspiration in Palestine, hailing the role of the Soviet Union, which he expected to be ‘at the least one of the three leading powers which would determine the fate of the new world’.
Ben-Gurion Archives, record of a meeting with Maisky, 9 Oct. 1941.
Weizmann, too, persevered in his efforts. He continued to address long letters to Maisky, and even extended his efforts to Washington, where, in May 1942, he met Litvinov. His reference to Russia’s future role in the region became more open with the ‘brilliant successes of the Russians on the battlefield’ which ‘contribute to lifting the pall of darkness now hanging over a distracted world … the forces of progress and freedom will then unite in order to undertake the work of reconstruction which will lie before them’.
AVP RF f.0129 op.26 p.2 d.143, Litvinov on meeting with Weizmann, 2 March 1942.
The efforts culminated in Maisky’s visit to Palestine on his way back from Russia in 1943.
See the chapter on Maisky’s recall.
]
5 February
The muddle that rules people’s heads today! A storm is raging. The old is crumbling, and part of it has already been overthrown; but the new has not yet emerged – even its contours are not yet clear. The result: extraordinary chaos in the minds of thousands upon thousands of people.
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


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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.


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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.
10 February
Aras told me today that he has at last sent a letter to Ankara and is waiting for a reply. He does not exclude the possibility that in order to expedite the process the Turkish government may now sound out Moscow on the mutual assistance pact.
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.
11 February
Subbotić came by, extremely troubled by the latest news about increasing German pressure on Bulgaria.
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


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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.
14 February
Jacob Epstein
Jacob Epstein, born in New York, studied with Rodin in Paris before settling in London in 1905, establishing himself as a revolutionary and controversial sculptor. Some of his Strand statues were officially and publicly defaced. During the Second World War he carried out several notable portrait commissions, including portraits of Bevin, Churchill and Maisky.
has convinced me to permit him to make my bust. I warned the sculptor that the USSR is a country of genuine democracy, so Soviet ambassadors are not able to pay artists of the capitalist world the fees they are accustomed to. Epstein was insistent.
‘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


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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.


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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.’
[Maisky had attended a private viewing of Epstein’s exhibition in October 1940. Epstein’s left-wing leanings encouraged Victor Gollancz to arrange for Maisky and his wife to visit the artist’s studio. Agniya was particularly struck by Epstein’s Madonna and Child and suggested that the Russians might be interested in it ‘although the title did not accord with the Soviet “Ideology”’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1194 l.1, 4 Oct. 1940; J. Epstein, An Autobiography (London, 1955). p. 123.
Maisky, who had learnt from Agniya that Epstein had displayed an interest in doing a bust of him, hastened to invite the artist for a luncheon with the Edens at the embassy on 12 February. He was much flattered by the offer, finding the time for the sittings, despite his many commitments.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1194 l.2 & 3, 27 & 31 Jan. 1941, exchange of letters with Epstein.
In January 1942, at the zenith of pro-Soviet feelings in Britain, the War Artists’ Advisory Committee commissioned a copy of the bust, which was displayed together with a further six portrait-sculptures of prominent war leaders commissioned from Epstein – among them those of Churchill, Bevin and General Wavell. Maisky’s modest ‘cult of personality’ was further boosted when the famous Austrian artist Oskar Kokoschka painted a portrait of him. And when the memoirs of his youth, Before the Storm, were published, this could hardly have been observed with equanimity in the Kremlin.
Hansard, HC Deb 9 April 1946, vol. 421, col.1791; A.J.P. Taylor, Beaverbrook (London, 1972), p. 558.
]
16 February
For England, the war is becoming ever more expensive. Here are the figures. The British government’s general expenditure amounted to 5 million pounds daily in January 1940, 7 million in April, 8 million in July, and 9 million in November. It grew to 12 million pounds daily by February of this year. It has almost doubled, then, in the space of a year.


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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.


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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.
19 February
Visited Aras.
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


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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.
20 February
About a week ago, Coates came to me with a message: Attlee and Greenwood wanted to see me urgently. We met first on 17 February for a cup of plain tea at


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Attlee’s office. Greenwood was late, as he usually is, but was present during the important part of the talk.
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


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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.


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(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.
23 February
I chat with Epstein during the sittings. This doesn’t distract him; rather, it seems to stimulate him.
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.’


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‘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


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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.
25 February (1)
Attended the reception given by Sklyarov
Ivan Andreevich Sklyarov, major general, Soviet military attaché in London, 1940–46.
(the military attaché) to celebrate the Red Army anniversary. As far as the number and status of the guests was concerned, the reception was quite a success. Army, navy and air generals and three undersecretaries (Butler, Balfour and Grigg) were present.
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.


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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.
25 February (2)
At the reception, Subbotić told me the following concerning Hitler’s recent meeting with Cvetković,
Dragiša Cvetković, Yugoslav prime minister, 1939–41.
the Yugoslavian prime minister.
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


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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.
[Shortly after his appointment as foreign secretary, Eden, together with General Dill, left for the Middle East in a last-ditch attempt to reassemble the shattered remnants of the Balkan bloc, comprising Turkey, Greece and Yugoslavia. In Moscow, Cripps was fully aware of the anxiety which seized Stalin when Bulgaria – historically considered to be the pillar of the Russian security system in the Black Sea and the approaches to both the Danube and the Turkish Straits – joined the Axis on 1 March. He was therefore extremely eager for Eden to use the opportunity of his Middle Eastern tour to visit Moscow, ‘flatter’ the Russians and dispel suspicion. Churchill rejected the idea, stating that he did not trust the Russians as regards Eden’s ‘personal safety or liberty’.
TNA PREM, 3/395/16, 22 Feb. 1941; A. Eden, The Eden Memoirs: The Reckoning (London, 1965), p. 190.
Not so easily dissuaded, Cripps was actually encouraged by the Kremlin to undertake a short sally to Ankara, the result of which was the signing on 9 March of a Soviet–Turkish declaration of mutual non-intervention in the event of war. Eden, however, absorbed in his attempts to forge a Balkan bloc, remained noncommittal in his relations with the Russians.
G. Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps in Moscow, 1940–1942: Diaries and papers (London, 2007), pp. 91–6; Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 224–5.
]
27 February
To Subbotić and his wife for lunch with Agniya. Also present were Aras, the Egyptian ambassador, Sargent from the FO and one or two others. Owing to the latest news from the Balkans, the atmosphere at lunch was like at a funeral. The wife of Subbotić remarked, somewhat coquettishly: ‘The Balkans are in their death-throes.’
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.


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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.
2 March (1)
We visited Lloyd George. When his wife died, Agniya and I sent him a warm telegram. He responded recently with a warm and friendly letter. I wrote a few words in reply, asking the old man to tell me when he would feel fit enough to see people. Three days ago Lloyd George invited Agniya and me for lunch and today we visited him in Churt.
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


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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.


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‘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


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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


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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


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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.
2 March (2)
And so, Bulgaria has capitulated: yesterday the protocol of Bulgaria’s adherence to the Axis was signed, and German troops began marching into Sofia.
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


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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


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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


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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.
6 March
More excerpts from my conversations with Epstein.
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


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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


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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


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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.
12 March
I arranged a lunch for Beaverbrook and Alexander, inviting Prytz and his wife, Monckton, Strang, Cunliffe-Owen
Sir Hugo Cunliffe-Owen was chairman of an aircraft construction company bearing his name which produced parts of the Supermarine Spitfires in the Second World War.
and others.


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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.
[On 20 February, Maisky was elected a candidate member of the Central Committee of the CPSU. Trying to boost his rather precarious standing in England, he boasted to Butler about the ‘great honour’ which was ‘a sign of approval of my work in general and here in London in particular’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.848 l.10, 28 Feb. 1941.
However, shrewd as he was, he could hardly fail to notice, as did observers in Moscow and abroad, that the full seat on the Central Committee which had become vacant after the expulsion of Litvinov was filled by Dekanozov,
Vladimir Georgievich Dekanozov, deputy people’s commissar for foreign affairs, 1939–40, and Soviet ambassador in Berlin, 1940–41. Before embarking on his diplomatic career, Dekanozov was a prominent official in the NKVD. A close associate of Beria, he was arrested with him and shot in December 1953.
the Soviet ambassador to Berlin and one of the architects of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact. Maisky’s election to the subsidiary position reflected Stalin’s priorities in his efforts to secure at least a semblance of Soviet neutrality in relations with the belligerents.
I. Banac (ed.), The Diary of Georgi Dimitrov, 1933–1949 (New Haven, 2003), pp. 148–50, 20 Feb., confirms the acute analysis of the New York Times and The Times, 22 Feb. 1941.
It mirrored Molotov’s decision to meet Schulenburg in person and to fob Cripps off with Vyshinsky, his deputy. By early March, Maisky’s independence and manoeuvrability had been seriously curtailed by the new counsellor, Novikov, most likely working for the NKVD, who had been ordered to be present at all Maisky’s top-level meetings. Maisky introduced Novikov to Butler on 5 March and to Cadogan a couple of days later.
DVP, 1941, XXIII/1, doc. 707. Cadogan used the occasion to comment acidly in his diary that he rather liked Maisky ‘although – or perhaps because – he’s such a crook’; Dilks (ed.), Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 363.


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Following a meeting with Maisky on 26 March, Butler grumbled that the ambassador was again accompanied by his new counsellor ‘who is now always present at his conversations in the Foreign Office’.
TNA FO 418/87 N1257/3/38 & FO 954/1 BS/41/3.
Maisky brought Novikov along to his meeting with Eden on 16 April. ‘He seemed,’ observed Eden, ‘to be a Kremlin watch-dog upon Maisky.’
TNA FO 371 29465 N1658/3/38. Eden, who suspected Novikov of being an NKVD agent, recalled to Bruce Lockhart that Maisky ‘was very uncomfortable’ and ‘must have been under suspicion at that time’; Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, p. 510.
Even the king was intrigued by the ‘watch-dog’.
Butler, The Art of the Possible, p. 90.
The exceptional practice of being always shadowed by Novikov eventually led to a confrontation with Eden shortly before the German invasion of Russia, but the practice ended with the outbreak of the war in the east.
See diary entry for 13 June 1941.
]
13 March
The new US ambassador (John Winant)
John Gilbert Winant, US ambassador to Britain, 1941–46.
has paid me his first visit.
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?


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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.
15 March
Apparently we are facing a new flare-up of the war, a new battle between two mighty enemies. It is difficult to foresee the outcome of this second ‘trial of strength’, but it is possible to make an assessment of what the belligerents have at their disposal entering the 1941 ‘war season’. It is rather tricky to assess Germany’s potential from London. But what about England? What will England take into the cruel battles that lie ahead?
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),


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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.


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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,


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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.


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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.
24 March
I paid Winant a return visit. The American ambassador has decided to play the democrat: he has abandoned the luxurious house in which the representative of the USA usually resides and has settled in a modest three-room apartment above his office on Grosvenor Square. His wife will arrive soon, but he doesn’t intend to change his residence even then. We shall see.


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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.
[Undated – could be any date between 28 and 30 March]
Aras came by. He is very pleased with our communiqué concerning Turkey.
‘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.


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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.
31 March
A visit from Harold Nicolson, whom I hadn’t seen for ages – since last year, in fact. We chatted about current events, but mostly about the ‘general strategy’ of the war.
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


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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!
* * *
Had tea with Shinwell. He scolded the Labour leaders and asserted, not without reason, that Attlee, Greenwood, Morrison, Bevin and others are a mere appendage to the Tories and, what’s more, are perfectly satisfied with their situation. Shinwell expects nothing good from them.
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).
1 April
I saw Alexander today to ask for his assistance in the repatriation of 400 Baltic sailors. I told him the whole scandalous story of this incident from the very beginning. Alexander responded sympathetically and promised to help, after reminding me that since he is not a member of the War Cabinet he is not directly involved in this matter.
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’.


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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.
* * *
I’ve received the following information:
(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.


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* * *
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?
2 April
Today I lunched with Sir Sidney Clive, marshal of the diplomatic corps in suspense, in Brook’s Club (founded in 1780, Fox’s club). From the beginning of the war, Clive was in France with the Red Cross, mostly in Dieppe. He returned to England after the defeat of France, lives in his manor house at Malvern, serves somewhere in the war industry, and has plenty of free time in which to think.
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!


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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.’
3 April
Guo Taiqi came to see me yesterday and announced that he is soon to leave London (in a fortnight or so), as he has been appointed foreign minister of China.
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


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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.
4 April
The Czechs report:
(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
Alexander Easterman, one of Britain’s leading foreign correspondents first for the Daily Express and then for the Daily Herald. A prominent member of the World Jewish Congress, he drafted in 1943, with the Allied governments, a joint declaration condemning the Nazi holocaust of the Jews.
from the Daily Herald came by for a chat about current developments. Among other things, I asked him whether he thought it probable that the British government might be inclined to talk peace next winter should the current ‘war season’ prove indecisive?
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


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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.
6 April


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Subbotić came by. He is in a gloomy mood. He says that Simović’s
Dušan Simović, general, led the coup of March 1941 against the Yugoslav government and headed the Yugoslav government in exile from 1941.
government is manoeuvring in the hope of somehow avoiding war. That is why the new foreign minister, Ninčić,
Momčilo Ninčić, foreign minister of Yugoslavia, following the coup against Yugoslavia’s access to the Axis in March 1941, held the same post in the émigré government until January 1943.
summoned the German and Italian ambassadors to tell them that the Yugoslavian government does not renounce the pact concluded by Cvetković’s government, but would like to discuss the forms and methods of its application with the German and Italian governments. There has been no reply from the Axis as yet. But Subbotić does not attribute any great significance to that. In his view, the situation is already cut and dried: the new Yugoslavian government cannot agree to let German troops through Yugoslavian territory, while Germany cannot meekly swallow the diplomatic and political affront it has just received – so war, it seems, is inevitable.
6 April
Early this morning Germany attacked Yugoslavia and Greece.
Two days ago, Comrade Molotov summoned Schulenburg and, having informed him of the forthcoming signing of a Soviet–Yugoslavian pact of friendship and non-aggression, told the German ambassador that the pact would be concluded in the interests of peace in the Balkans, that peace in the Balkans was in the interests of Germany itself, and that he hoped Germany would observe peace in this part of the world. Schulenburg replied that he had nothing against such a pact between the USSR and Yugoslavia in principle, but found the moment of its conclusion ‘unfortunate’.
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


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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.
[On 25 March the Yugoslavs were forced by Hitler’s familiar combination of threats and cajoling to join the Axis. The cards, however, were reshuffled two days later, when a bloodless military coup in Belgrade installed the 17-year-old Prince Peter
Born in 1923, Peter II ruled through his regent, Prince Paul, from 1934 until 1941, when he was enthroned following a coup d’état.
on the throne. On the night of 4–5 April, the Yugoslavs and the Russians concluded a friendship and non-aggression pact, which in retrospect has been hailed as courageous defiance of Germany. However, Stalin regarded it as a mere demonstration of solidarity with Yugoslavia which, he hoped, would suffice to deter Hitler from attacking her and draw


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him back to the negotiating table. Hitler, however, reacted swiftly, with a ferocious bombardment of Belgrade and a lightning campaign which brought the whole country under his control within less than a fortnight, followed by a swift occupation of Greece.
The German offensive coincided with an incessant stream of intelligence reports to the Kremlin about the increased German presence on the Soviet border: 37 infantry divisions, three to four tank divisions and two motorized divisions. Forty-three major violations of Soviet air space by German aircraft were registered within a month.
Russian Military Archives, op.7237, report by Golikov, 16 April 1941. Razvedupravleniya GSH RKKA, Iz razvedyvatel’noi svodki po zapadu, 4, 20 April 1941. For detailed discussion of Soviet intelligence, see Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion, pp. 130–6, 179–89 and 243–5.
The vulnerability and deficiencies of the armed forces’ defence were exposed in the January war games; this vulnerability was further enhanced by logistical shortcomings.
The most revealing and authoritative account of the games is in M.V. Zakharov, General’nyi shtab v predvoennye gody: voennye memuary (Moscow, 1989), pp. 239–51. See also Presidential Archives, t.8115 op.8 d.44 l.3, Stalin and Molotov to the CC of the CPSU, 21 Jan. 1941.
The games induced Stalin to seek to prolong and extend the scope of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact. This led to the hasty conclusion of a neutrality pact with Japan in the Kremlin on 13 April. In hindsight, the agreement seems to have been a tremendous coup, as it removed the threat of a second front in the event of Germany launching an attack on the Soviet Union. However, Stalin’s pressing objective (overlooked by historians) was the wish, as he told Matsuoka, the Japanese foreign minister, ‘to collaborate extensively with the Tripartite Pact partners’.
Presidential Archives, f.45 op.1 d.404 ll.91–101.
The overwhelming need to pacify Germany was exemplified by Stalin’s unprecedented appearance at the station to see Matsuoka off. There he embraced Schulenburg, who was departing for Berlin for consultations that evening, and impressed on him that: ‘We must remain friends and you must now do everything to that end!’
DGFP, XII, 537, Schulenburg to Foreign Ministry, 13 April 1941. A detailed discussion of these dramatic events based on Serbian, Russian and British archival material is in Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion, ch. 7, 9 and 10.
]
7 April
I called on Subbotić.
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.


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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


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it possible to go any further lest the Turks suspect that the British government wishes to interfere in Turkish–Soviet relations.
9 April
Subbotić called to give me some very alarming news from the front. The Germans have broken through to Saloniki and Üsküb. The former defence plans are in tatters. New ones have to be improvised in haste. The main reason for the German success, according to Subbotić, is the new tank which can travel over mountains. The Germans employed a large quantity of such tanks and broke through the Yugoslavian lines. The Yugoslavian army doesn’t know how to respond to the mountain tanks. It is becoming ever clearer that the Germans plan to deliver a blow in a westward direction, that is, toward Albania. If they succeed in this, Yugoslavia will be cut off completely from Greece and from the English.
* * *
In parliament to hear Churchill’s speech. Churchill was evidently in low spirits. No wonder: the Germans occupied Saloniki early this morning. No hint of defeatism, however. On the contrary, he displayed anger and redoubled hatred towards Germany. The House shares this mood, to judge by MPs’ remarks and comments during Churchill’s speech and by their conversations in the lobbies. The political barometer still clearly indicates: ‘Fight!’
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


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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.
[Stalin’s desire to seek an agreement with Germany at all costs was strongly motivated by fear that British provocation might entangle Russia in war. Contrary to Churchill’s account, the massive concentration of German troops in the east was consistently misinterpreted by British intelligence, too, until just a week before the invasion. It was dismissed as ‘a war of nerves’ mounted by the Germans to secure positive results in negotiations, which (it was supposed in Britain) must be impending with Russia.
F.H. Hinsley, British Intelligence in the Second World War (London, 1979), ch. 14.
Rather than revealing the German intention of attacking Russia, Churchill’s famous, albeit cryptic, message to Stalin in early April pointed to a German decision to postpone deployment against the Russians and divert the war to the Balkans. Such a decision, Churchill believed, exposed Germany’s weakness and inability to simultaneously prosecute a war against Yugoslavia and Turkey, on the one hand, and Russia on the other. He hoped Stalin would use the lull to align the Soviet Union with Britain in forging a Balkan bloc.
See G. Gorodetsky, ‘Churchill warning to Stalin: A reappraisal’, The Historical Journal, 29/4 (1986). Churchill’s version is in W.S. Churchill, The Second World War: The Grand Alliance (London, 1950), pp. 317–23, and a somewhat watered down version is in M. Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill: Finest Hour, 1939–1941 (London, 1983), pp. 1050–1.
The warning had the opposite effect: it fed Stalin’s suspicion that the rumours of war were fabricated in London in an attempt to involve Russia in the war. ‘Look at that,’ Stalin told Zhukov,
Georgii Konstantinovich Zhukov, marshal, as chief of the general staff of the Red Army, he halted the German offensive at the gates of Moscow in December 1941; appointed deputy people’s commissar of defence, 1942, and conducted the counteroffensive operations which brought him, at the head of the Red Army, to Berlin; Soviet minister of defence, 1955–57.
‘we are being threatened with the Germans, and the Germans with the Soviet Union, and they are playing us off against one another’. His suspicion was reinforced by Cripps’s unauthorized threats aimed at drawing the


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Russians away from Germany, warning them that it was not ‘outside the bounds of possibility if the war were protracted for a long period that there might be a temptation for Great Britain (and especially for certain circles in Great Britain) to come to some arrangement to end the war’. This accounts for Eden’s failure (at his first meeting with Maisky following his extended Middle Eastern tour) to convince the Soviet ambassador that it was in the interests of the two countries to bury the hatchet and stand up to the ‘bad man’.
G.K. Zhukov, Vospominaniya i razmyshleniya (Moscow, 1990), I, pp. 368, 371 & 373; TNA FO 371 29465 N1828/3/38; and AVP RF f.069 op.25 d.36 p.73 l.53–61, reports by Eden and Maisky of the meeting, 16 April 1941; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 265.
Well attuned to the Kremlin, Maisky attributed the British approaches to an obsession about seeing Germans everywhere, ‘even under the bed’. He faithfully informed Moscow of his firm handling of such blunt efforts to involve Russia in war. He reported a well-orchestrated campaign by the British government and the press to ‘scare the Soviet Union with Germany’. He was particularly disturbed by Churchill’s speeches in parliament on 9 and 27 April, in which he predicted a German attack on Russia.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.2401 l.130 & f.069 op.25 d.6 l.58–9, Maisky to Narkomindel, 9 & 30 April 1941.
]
10 April
Sylvester called and asked me to visit Lloyd George. The old man had come to London for a day and wanted to talk to me.
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


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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).


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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’.
11 April (1)
I lunched with Dulanty
John Whelan Dulanty, Irish high commissioner, 1930–50.
at Scott’s. Dulanty told me a curious story about Suñer’s
Ramón Serrano Suñer, Spanish minister of foreign affairs, 1939–42.
conversation with Donovan,
William Joseph Donovan, major general, US special mission to England and coordinator of information, 1941–42; director of strategic services, US, 1942–45.
the American colonel who travelled around Europe as yet another ‘special envoy’ of Roosevelt. Donovan is Irish and an old and intimate friend of Dulanty.
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


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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!
11 April (2)
Aras came to see me. In complete panic. He calls what is happening in the Balkans ‘terribles evenements’. The Balkans, in his opinion, are done for. Kemal
Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder and president of the Republic of Turkey, 1923–38.
had always told him that the Balkans could remain independent only by forming an alliance of mutual assistance. Aras has been striving to create such an alliance for many years, but without success (‘Bulgaria is to blame!’). And this is what it has led to. Aras feels so miserable on account of the latest events that he has not wanted to see anybody in recent days, neither the English, nor the Balkan ministers. (I think Aras has another, more important motive for avoiding meetings: Turkey’s position makes it far from pleasant for him to meet the Yugoslavians, Greeks and English.)
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


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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.
11 April (3)
Guo Taiqi came by for his farewell visit. In a few days he will be leaving England and heading for his new post in Chongqing via the USA. We shall see what kind of foreign minister he will make.
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’…


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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!’
13 April
A week has passed since the beginning of the German attack on the Balkans. What are the results?
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,


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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.
14 April
The communists are going to buy a small provincial newspaper in Wales to transform it into the central party organ instead of the banned D.W. The deal has hit a few snags. One is that the present owner insists on handing over to the communists not only the newspaper and the printing-works, but also his sole reporter, who has been on the paper for the last 44 years!
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’.


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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!


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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.
15 April (1)
I’ve just returned from the grand reception given by Guo Taiqi to bid ‘Adieu!’ to his numerous friends and acquaintances. There were about 600 guests – ministers, diplomats, journalists, politicians, MPs, businessmen from the City. London has not seen such a big reception for a good long while, perhaps since the beginning of the war. The guests were elated and positively radiant: ‘high society’ has missed such diplomatic occasions terribly.
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!’


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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


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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.
15 April (2)
Subbotić came to see me. He announced, somewhat excitedly, that he had just received a telegram from Simović in which the prime minister suggested he should keep in very close touch with me. The text of the telegram almost seems to assume the USSR and Yugoslavia to be allies. Subbotić wished to find out whether I had any special messages from Moscow to this effect.
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.
17 April
Subbotić called on me again.
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


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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?
22 April
Visited Aras. Found him somewhat calmer than on 11 April. The reason for this may be a sense of relief: the next item on the German agenda, Aras says, is not Turkey but North Africa. The Germans have even withdrawn the greater part of their troops from the Bulgarian–Turkish border: there are only three divisions left instead of the former eight, and those are stationed at Philippopolis.
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


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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.
23 April
Lunch with Greenwood. Hadn’t seen him for about two months.
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.


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* * *
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.
24 April
Subbotić visited me.
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.
* * *


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It turns out that the death of the Greek prime minister, Koryzis,
Alexandros Koryzis, prime minister of Greece, 1941.
conceals a tragedy. I heard the following story: King George of Greece was informed that some defeatist tendencies could be observed among his top brass, and that some generals wanted an armistice. George summoned his ministers, informed them of this and condemned the defeatists, suggesting that they were to be found among members of the government as well. Such people had to make a choice. That same night Koryzis committed suicide.
26 April
It was only 20 days ago, while noting the beginning of the German attack against Yugoslavia, that I posed the question: will the Germans succeed with their Blitzkrieg in the Balkans?
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


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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.


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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.
29 April
When I talked with Guo a few days ago, I remarked: ‘I’m certain of one thing at least: the present “Polish government” will never ride into Warsaw.’
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.
* * *
Aras came to see me. He is greatly concerned about the occupation of the Aegean islands by Germany and feels relieved at the same time. His concern derives from long-term considerations: from the point of view of Turkey’s general interests, this is certainly a very dangerous development. His relief is dictated by immediate realities. Aras explained almost joyously: ‘Well, now we are definitely out of the war! Nobody can demand our involvement in the war in view of our current strategic position. In the Mediterranean we are almost


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entirely cut off from England. The “back door” remains – the way through Basra-Iraq – but it is not exactly reliable.’
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.
30 April
Brendan Bracken came for lunch. I have not seen him for 3–4 months. We had much to talk about. He was here for nearly three hours. Our conversation mostly circled around two issues: Anglo-Soviet relations and the war.
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.


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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’


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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


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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.
6 May
Stalin has been appointed chairman of the Council of the People’s Commissars, Molotov – his deputy and people’s commissar for foreign affairs. We return to Lenin’s times, when the leader of our party and of the peoples of the USSR held the post of chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars.
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.
[The looming prospect of war led Stalin to keep his cards even closer to his chest. He resorted to ‘divide and rule’ tactics, keeping the military ignorant of his political moves. Neither were the diplomats trusted – and particularly not Maisky, whom Molotov, ever since his appointment, had been keeping at arm’s length. ‘The trouble is,’ wrote Cripps


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in a private letter, ‘that Maisky is not really in very close touch with the Government here.’ Eden indeed wondered whether ‘Maisky is informed of Soviet policy’.
Monckton papers, Trustees 5/20-21, Cripps to Monckton, 3 May; TNA FO 371 29465 N1658/3/38, 16 April 1941.
Maisky was deliberately kept in the dark about the political initiatives taken by Stalin to avoid war. Left to guess what Stalin’s intentions were, his cautious reports sought to conform to what he wrongly assumed to be Stalin’s policy. He thus unwittingly contributed to Stalin’s fatal misjudgement of German plans on the eve of the war.
Schulenburg, the German ambassador to Moscow returned to Berlin at the end of April, armed with political and military arguments against a military intervention in Russia.
Hilger and Meyer, Incompatible Allies, p. 328. His memorandum, referred to also by Ribbentrop and Weizsäcker (DGFP, XII, 661), has never been recovered.
He found Hitler, however, fuming about the Soviet pact with Yugoslavia and unable to comprehend ‘what kind of devil had possessed’ them. Hitler curbed his overzealous ambassador by levelling various accusations against Stalin which would later be employed as pretexts for the attack on Russia.
DGFP, XII, 666–9.
Schulenburg hastened to return to Moscow, resolved to repair the damage. In doing so, he also inadvertently misled Stalin into believing that it was still possible to avert war. His scheme was to prod Stalin to ‘involve Hitler in negotiations which would rob him, for the time being, of all pretexts for military actions’. He took the unusual step of prompting three clandestine meetings with Dekanozov, Stalin’s ambassador in Berlin (who was on leave), at his own residency and at the guesthouse of the Russian Foreign Ministry – away from potential informers in the embassy – on 5, 9 and 12 May.
Dekanozov’s report of a meeting with Schulenburg, 5 May 1941, reproduced facsimile in Vestnik ministerstva inostrannykh del SSSR, 20, 1990. The records of the meetings were preserved in a ‘special collection’ and not in the Foreign Ministry archives and have, therefore, come to light only since the collapse of the Soviet Union. See also V.A. Voyushin and S.A. Gorlov, ‘Fashistskaya agressiya: O chem soobshchali diplomaty’, Vizh, 6 (1991), pp. 22–3; Hilger and Meyer, Incompatible Allies, fn. 39, p. 331.
Over breakfast on 5 May, Schulenburg attributed the German concentration of troops to the swelling rumours of Soviet mobilization and the inevitability of an armed conflict. Having been provided with little straw to make his bricks, Schulenburg chose to convey to Dekanozov his impression that ‘rumours of an imminent war between the Soviet Union and Germany are of explosive nature, and should be suppressed, broken to the bones’. He proposed that the amelioration of relations could best be achieved if the Russians were to advance concrete proposals. This accounts for Stalin’s obsessive fear henceforth that an overt and effective deployment of troops on the border might be conceived as provocation in Berlin. Within a day, Pravda had published a denial of the allegations that the strong concentrations of military forces on the western border of the Soviet Union signalled a change in relations with Germany.
TNA FO 371 29481 N2418178/38, Cripps to FO, 15 May 1941.
Far more startling was Stalin’s assumption of the chairmanship of the Council of People’s Commissars the next morning. Schulenburg correctly related the appointment to his own initiative, but he could not inform Berlin of his unauthorized move. He now contemplated a campaign on two fronts. In Moscow he would encourage Stalin to personally approach Hitler; while in his reporting to Berlin he would assume the detached observer’s point of view and emphasize the conciliatory Russian attitude, thus preparing the ground for Stalin’s approach. These are tactics which were strikingly similar to those used unsuccessfully by Maisky in the negotiations with the West in 1939. Schulenburg prepared Berlin for his next coup by predicting that ‘Stalin will use his new position in order to take part personally in the maintenance and development of good relations between the Soviets and Germany.’
DGFP, XII, 730, 7 May 1941.
Still anticipating a response from Berlin, Schulenburg was invited by Dekanozov for breakfast on 9 May. While the German ambassador appeared impatient and eager to advance his plans, Dekanozov remained cautious, displaying a rather false sense of confidence. To break the ice, Schulenburg urged him that ‘as diplomats and


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politicians, we ought to deal with the arising situation and contemplate which counter measures can be taken’. Dekanozov proposed the publication of a joint German–Soviet communiqué denying the malicious recent rumours that suggested a possible military conflict between the two countries.
This provides the long-sought explanation for the issue of the infamous Soviet communiqué of 13 June denying the rumours of an impending war.
Schulenburg, however, was anxious to raise the stakes. He encouraged Stalin to address Matsuoka, Mussolini and Hitler with a personal letter assuring them ‘that the USSR will conduct in the future a friendly policy towards them’. He expected Hitler to dispatch a courier in a special plane to fetch the letter. Several times during their conversation, Schulenburg stressed the seriousness of the situation, insisting that ‘it was necessary to act fast’.
A memorandum by Dekanozov on his meeting with Schulenburg addressed personally to Molotov in only two copies, reproduced in Diplomaticheskii vestnik, 11–12 (June 1993), pp. 75–7.
With his initiative gaining momentum, Schulenburg sought an official endorsement from Weizsäcker in the form of a personal greeting to Stalin on his assumption of the premiership.
L. Hill, Weizsäcker-Papiere, 1933–1950 (Berlin, 1996), fn. 38, 16 Feb. 1941, p. 238; and DGFP, XII, 734–5, 7 May.
Hitler, however, was furious. ‘No diplomacy,’ he said, ‘would make him change his mind about Russia’s attitude.’
J. von Ribbentrop, The Ribbentrop Memoirs (London, 1954), fn. 33, p. 152; E. von Weizsäcker, Memoirs of Ernst von Weizsäcker (London, 1951), fn. 30, pp. 253–4; and Hill, Weizsäcker-Papiere, 1 May 1941, fn. 38, pp. 252–3.
On 12 May, Dekanozov returned to Schulenburg’s apartment for their third breakfast meeting inside a week. This time he seized the initiative at the outset, confirming Stalin’s agreement to send the personal letter to Hitler. Stalin urged Schulenburg and Molotov to waste little time and jointly draft the text of the letter.
The record of the meeting is reproduced in Diplomaticheskii vestnik, 11–12 June 1993, pp. 77–8.
However, shortly before Dekanozov’s arrival, Schulenburg had received a laconic message from Weizsäcker that his proposals had not been submitted to Ribbentrop ‘because this would not have been a rewarding thing’, indicating only too clearly which way the wind was blowing.
DGFP, XII, 750–1.
Schulenburg therefore ‘impassively’ dampened Dekanozov’s enthusiasm by confessing that he had been ‘conversing with me privately and made his suggestion on his own initiative without authority’, and was ‘doubtful whether he was likely to receive any instructions’.
The tenor of the conversation was a strange blend of constant hints about the likelihood of war, equally persuasive attempts to maintain the momentum, and disinformation. All this was to add to the already confused state of mind at the Kremlin. The more so as Schulenburg was eager to salvage his initiative, suggesting that it would have been good if nonetheless Stalin ‘were to approach Hitler by letter, on his own initiative and spontaneously’. Baffled, Stalin could easily assume that a cautious policy might still yield an agreement. However it could just as well be a trap set for Russia, whereby a premature approach might be used as a trump card in future negotiations with Britain. Indeed, during the meeting Schulenburg made the entirely speculative assessment that ‘in his own opinion the day was not far off when England and Germany were bound to reach agreement and bring the calamity and destruction and bombing of their cities to an end’. This statement was surely scrutinized in the Kremlin in the evening, when news came on Radio Berlin of the flight of Hitler’s deputy, Rudolf Hess, to Britain on a self-appointed peace mission.
On this bizarre and intriguing episode, see David Stafford (ed.), Flight from Reality: Rudolf Hess and His Mission to Scotland, 1941 (London, 2002); R.F. Schmidt, Rudolf Hess: ‘Botengang eines Toren?’: der Flug nach Grossbritannien vom 10. Mai 1941 (Duesseldorf, 1997); L. Picknett, C. Prince and S. Prior, Double Standards: The Rudolf Hess cover-up (London, 2001); and G. Gorodetsky, ‘The Hess affair and Anglo-Soviet relations on the eve of “Barbarossa”’, English Historical Review, 101/399 (1986).
The fact that both Schulenburg and Cripps had been alluding in their conversations in the Kremlin to the possibility of a separate peace alerted Stalin to the need to forestall it by further appeasing Hitler. Schulenburg’s activities through winter and spring of 1941, and particularly in the crucial month of May 1941, kept alive in Moscow the hope of a possible diplomatic solution to the conflict and further deflected Stalin from the danger lurking around the corner.


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AVP RF, f.059 op.1 p.361 d.2401 ll.133–4, Maisky to Narkomindel, 10 April 1941, and see his diary entries for 1 March, 10 April and 5 May 1941.
The ‘appeasement’ of Germany and the uncertainty were taking their toll on Maisky, who begged Alexander (the Labourite first lord of the Admiralty, whom he came to see ‘as an old friend’) to quickly solve the outstanding issues between the two countries. ‘He


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appeared to me,’ concluded Alexander, ‘to be rather anxious as to his own position … although, of course, he did not say this.’
Alexander papers, AVAR 5/8, 1 April 1941.
]
7 May
I spent yesterday and today in parliament. Major debates about the course of the war, mostly prompted by the British failures in Greece. Looking down from the diplomatic box at the so-familiar chamber, I unconsciously drew a parallel with similar debates held a year ago (8–9 May) after Norway, which dragged the Chamberlain government to its grave. Drawing this parallel, I asked myself: is it the same as before or not?
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


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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,


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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.
9 May
I lunched with Prytz, who is going to fly to Stockholm in a strange and risky way – by British plane across German lines. He wants to ‘touch the ground’ and familiarize himself with the atmosphere in Sweden. That is what he says,


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but what he really wants to do, it seems to me, is arrange his private affairs and make sure he is financially secure should anything happen. His wife is flying with him and will stay in Sweden longer, while he plans to return within 3–4 weeks. Will he return? We shall see.
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.


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10 May
I went to see Lloyd George in Churt. I wanted to hear the old man’s appraisal of the current situation. His son was there for the weekend. We had tea. We sat in the drawing room, the big window of which affords a beautiful view over the hills, meadows and woods of southern England; but we were more interested in the planes flying above. With a rumble and a roar, three Spitfire followed each other, spun and manoeuvred. The old man’s eyes lit up every time he raised his head to the sky.
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


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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


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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 con


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ducted 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.
12 May
‘What have you done to us?’ Subbotić exclaimed on entering my office today.
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.


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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!
[The bizarre flight of Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s deputy, on a peace mission to Britain on 10 May is vital to any understanding of the Soviet attitude to the approaching conflict. The British archives reveal a clandestine operation by MI6, endorsed by the Foreign Office, to use covert channels to pass on disinformation to Moscow in an attempt to discourage Stalin from committing himself further to Germany. Maisky’s unenviable task, hardly assisted by the growing rumours of an impending war, was to assess Hess’s mission objectively, while remaining attentive to the entrenched concepts prevailing in


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Moscow. His normally assiduous entries in the diary were suspended for ten days, while his sparse dispatches to Narkomindel stood in sharp contrast to the intensive meetings he held in an attempt to make sense of the affair.
See, for instance, AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.2401 l.283, telegram to Narkomindel, 13 May 1941. For the Soviet reaction to the Hess affair, see Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion, ch. 12.
At the Foreign Office, Maisky found Butler puzzled and reticent, suggesting that conversations with Hess had ‘not yet begun’. His initial brief and noncommittal report was aimed at echoing the expectations in Moscow that ‘a very strong anti-Soviet’ attitude prevailed in the debriefings.
TNA FO 371 29501 N2227/122/38; AVP RF f.069 op.25 d.71 ll.72–4 & f.059 op.1 d.352 ll.12–14, 14 and 15 May 1941.
In subsequent meetings Butler developed a hypothesis, deliberately planted on the Russians ‘mendaciously’, that as a result of a quarrel between Hess and Hitler, ‘Hess decided to make his flight to England in the hope that here he would succeed in finding influential circles prepared to make peace with Germany.’
AVP RF f.069 op.25 d.6 ll.75–7, Maisky to Molotov, 16 & 21 May 1941; TsA FSB RF f.376 d.28889 t.1 l.47, the NKVD residency in London to the Centre, 14 May 1941. Philby’s reports from London dovetailed with those of Maisky, TsA FSB RF f.338 d.20566 l.163, minute of the 1st Dept. of the NKVD, 3 June 1941.
By 22 May, Maisky had become convinced that Hess wanted to persuade the British government to join Germany in a crusade to stop the spread of Bolshevism, which was a Devil.
Candid talk with the Webbs, diary, p. 7079.
He came to believe (as did Stalin) that Hess had either been lured by British intelligence or had come with the full knowledge of the German government, which had been misled by German intelligence into assuming that he would find ‘a strong party ready to negotiate with Hitler’. Though convinced that Churchill would not succumb, he failed to advise his government unequivocally what the British response might be.
Stamford papers, diary, conversations with Maisky, 30 July 1941.
]
22 May
We visited the Webbs. I wanted to drink from the ‘fount of wisdom’ regarding the British political mentality and acquire some notion of what one may expect of England in the near future. I well remember how, in response to my question about a year ago as to what England would do if France were to quit the battlefield, the Webbs answered without the slightest hesitation: ‘She will fight alone.’
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


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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?


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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.’


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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.
25 May
Negrín and I wandered in the neighbourhood of Bovingdon for some two hours today. It was cold and rainy (we have a late and cold spring this year), but that hardly distracted us from a lively discussion of the various topics of the day.
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


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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.’
29 May
To Mansion House to hear Eden’s speech. A strange scene!
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


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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.
3 June
Beaverbrook came for lunch (there were three of us: Beaverbrook, I and Agniya). He told us about the present structure of the government. There are three levels: (1) all the ministers, (2) the War Cabinet of nine (Churchill, Beaverbrook, Eden, Bevin, Attlee, Greenwood, Halifax, Anderson and Kingsley Wood), (3) the Defence Committee (Churchill, Beaverbrook, Attlee and Eden). The real government is in fact that latter quartet, which meets daily, sometimes twice a day. The War Cabinet does not meet so often and functions poorly. All the other ministers direct their departments and exercise only indirect influence on the general course of policy. Churchill presides over the Defence Committee and deals with military affairs. Attlee is his deputy in the military sphere, Beaverbrook on supply matters, while Eden is responsible for foreign policy. I expressed some surprise that the prime minister’s deputy in the military sphere was Attlee. Beaverbrook grinned back and added: ‘Oh, there’s no danger there: military affairs are dealt with in earnest by Churchill himself.’
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


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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.


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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…
3 June
Together with Novikov, I paid a visit to Leathers,
Frederick James Leathers, minister of war transport, 1941–45.
the new minister of war transport, and we seemed to come to an agreement at long last about the repair and adjustment of the SS Elna for the repatriation of the Baltic sailors. We shall see. I’ve already experienced so many disappointments in this affair that I fear to believe anything. Leathers produces a much better impression than Cross, his predecessor. He behaves like a hard-boiled efficient business man.
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.


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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.
4 June
Shigemitsu arranged a lunch for me. This has never happened before. The Soviet–Japanese pact is obviously having its effect. The other guests were Aras, Monteiro
Armindo Monteiro, Portuguese colonial minister, foreign minister, and ambassador to London until 1943.
(from Portugal), Nashat-Pasha
Hassan Nashat-Pasha, Egyptian ambassador to London, 1938–45.
(from Egypt), the Thai minister and a certain number of counsellors, including Comrade Novikov. Not a single woman nor a single Englishman.
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


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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.
10 June
Less than a month has passed since the last general debate on the war in parliament (6–7 May), and so many changes have already occurred! Time now flies not like an express train, but like a high-speed fighter plane. This was very apparent today, during the parliamentary debate on Crete. Crete is not the main problem, however. Crete is only an excuse, only a vivid symptom of the general disease that is best characterized by the question on everyone’s lips, speakers and listeners alike: how long are we going to tolerate defeats from the Germans on land? And what are the causes of our defeats?
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


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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,


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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.
[Maisky glosses over the most important meeting he had with Eden on 2 June. Eden unveiled to Maisky intelligence reports concerning the German deployment on the Soviet borders, though in order not to compromise the Enigma source he remained


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somewhat aloof. He even concurred with Maisky that the concentrations might be ‘part of a war of nerves’ in an attempt to ‘force from the Soviet Government concessions’. Eden noted, though, that while Maisky emphatically denied the rumours, it seemed ‘that he might be trying to convince himself as he went along’. The British uncertainty was well discerned also in the intelligence passed on to Eden before the meeting. Although he was advised that the deployment pointed ‘definitely to final German preparations for an attack on the Soviet Union’, this observation was qualified by a reservation ‘that it points to a German intention to put such far-reaching demands to Stalin that he will either have to fight or to agree to a “Munich”’. War was therefore likely to be preceded by an ultimatum. As in the case of Churchill’s warning in early April, disclosure of the intelligence pursued the aim of encouraging the Russians to resist German pressure by promising British assistance in the event of a German attack.
TNA FO 371 29465 N2570/3/38 & 954/24 SU/41/12&13, Eden’s report of conversation, 2 June, and FO’s minutes, 31 May–2 June 1941.
The probability of war was perceived to be so low that Geoffrey Dawson, editor of The Times, on being informed of the German deployment, commented that ‘no one could really explain it’.
Dawson papers, diary, Box 45, 11 June 1941.
In early June, Cripps was unexpectedly rushed back to London for consultations on the German threat that would face the British in the Middle East if the Russians were to conclude a military alliance with Germany. The recall, therefore, was aimed not at laying the foundations for an Anglo-Soviet alliance, but rather at finding ways to discourage the Russians from succumbing to the fanciful German demands concerning the Middle East. The fact that the announcement of his recall was withheld, together with the hints dropped by Cripps during his last meeting with Vyshinsky that if circumstances changed he might not return to his post in Moscow, fuelled a wave of rumours. Maisky went out of his way to establish whether the recall came against the background of Hess’s mission and indicated connivance in the German move eastwards.
TNA PRO FO 800/279 SU/41/1, departmental minutes, 30 April 1941 & FO 371 29466 N2628/3/38, Eden’s report of meeting Maisky, 5 June 1941; Monckton papers, Trustees 5/96, Maisky conversation with Monckton on 5 June.
To allay German suspicion, Stalin, briefed by Maisky from London, issued the notorious communiqué of 13 June, dismissing the rumours of an ‘early war’ as ‘clumsy propaganda by forces interested in an extension of the war’.
Pravda, 14 June 1941.
]
10 June
Conversation with Eden
(1) In reply to Eden’s question concerning an ‘alliance’ between Hitler and the USSR, I declared that there has been neither a new agreement nor a dissolution of the old one between us. Powerful impressions and mistrust. Eden says he has information suggesting that the most serious negotiations, on matters of immense importance, are being conducted between Germany and the USSR. I: ‘One should not believe every rumour.’ Eden: Upon the arrival of Cripps, the further course of Anglo-Soviet relations will be discussed.
(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


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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.
12 June
Called on Vansittart. Today, on the occasion of the king’s birthday, he was given his peerage. He will be 60 next week and he is retiring.
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!


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12 June
The press is conducting a vast campaign, focusing on the massing of German troops on the Soviet border and the inevitability of war between the USSR and Germany…
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.
13 June
Eden telephoned, invited me and asked me to come alone, because Eden would be alone. I answered him that I did not see any reason not to bring Novikov with me. When we were in the reception area, the secretary emerged and stated that it would be better for N. to wait in the reception area. However, I went in to see E. with N. Seeing us together, E. flushed deeply with irritation, which I had never seen in him so far, and shouted: ‘I don’t want to be rude, but it


Page 1098

should be said that today’s invitation is for the ambassador alone, not for the ambassador and the counsellor.’ I replied that there were no secrets between me and N., and I did not understand why he could not accompany me in the discussions. E. heatedly said that he had no personal animosity toward N., but that he could not set an undesirable precedent; if the Soviet ambassador could arrive with his counsellor, then other ambassadors can do the same. If one can take counsellors, why not take two or three secretaries as well. Then whole delegations will come, not ambassadors. This is inconvenient. Eden has always received ambassadors alone. And he is not about to change his routine. I shrugged my shoulders. N. stayed, but Eden was red-faced and sulky during the whole conversation. An abnormal situation was created. If such a scene is repeated, I will have to bow and go back to the embassy.
Regardless of the tone of his entry, Maisky was most embarrassed by the incident. Upon returning to the embassy, he hastened to send Eden ‘warm greetings’ for his birthday and wished him ‘many happy returns’. ‘May the coming years,’ he concluded, ‘bring you good health and luck; and the faculty to find the right way in the very complicated circumstances of our time.’ RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 l.20.
(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.
[In his memoirs, Maisky overplays his own warnings to Stalin. He has successfully deluded historians into believing that on 10 June he transmitted to Moscow an ‘urgent’ ciphered telegram with specific intelligence he had obtained from Cadogan. He claims, therefore, that it was with ‘extreme amazement’ that he reacted to Stalin’s response in the form of the communiqué released on the evening of 13 June, denying the rumours of an impending war between Germany and Russia. What he conceals is that the communiqué was in fact a logical culmination of his own appraisals. Fully attuned to the prevailing views in the Kremlin, he attributed the rumours to Churchill and the British government, following Cripps’s return to London on 12 June. But in his memoirs he repeats a couple of times that ‘the shaft in the direction of Britain with which the Tass communiqué began left no room for doubt that it was the reply to the warning


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given by Cadogan’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 149 ff. This episode, so central to any understanding of the events on the eve of war, was omitted from the later Russian version, Vospominaniya sovetskogo diplomata (Moscow, 1987). Just as misleading is his desperate attempt to show that he had been constantly warning Moscow before the war.
His obsession with the communiqué stands in sharp contrast to the skimpy coverage of the events in the diary leading up to the war. The emphasis conceals the fact that the significant meeting with Cadogan, at which he received the detailed evidence of German troop concentrations, took place not on 10 June, as he claims, but rather on 16 June. ‘Maisky at 3,’ jotted Cadogan in his diary, ‘and I gave him a number of particulars of German concentration on Russian frontier.’ Maisky’s blatant and misleading falsehood, overlooked by historians so far, was aimed at covering up his own contribution to the self-deception which affected the Kremlin on the eve of war.
That this was not merely a slip of the pen is evident from the prominent place the incident occupies in another of Maisky’s publications, ‘The British and I’, Atlas World Press Review, 11 (1966). Maisky’s report to Moscow of his conversation with Cadogan on 16 June is in DVP, 1941, XXIII/1, doc. 864; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 388.
In private, Maisky admitted shortly after the outbreak of war that he ‘never thought Hitler would attack, act of madness’.


Page 1511

Stamford papers, diary, conversations with Maisky on 30 July 1940.
At their meeting of 13 June, Maisky warned Eden that ‘the type of reports which had appeared yesterday in the press would not be understood in Moscow and would be resented there’. Eden, however, had summoned Maisky to inform him of the increasing flow of reliable intelligence in the previous 48 hours, which now left the Joint Intelligence Committee convinced that Hitler ‘has made up his mind to have done with Soviet obstruction and intends to attack her’.
Enigma first revealed on 9 June that significant military and air units were being transferred by Germany to the eastern front in haste. Further corroborating information emerged on 12 June; TNA CAB 65/22/24 WM(41)58. See also Hinsley, British Intelligence in the Second World War, I, pp. 465–83.
The German deployments, he pointed out, ‘might be for the purpose of a war of nerves, or they might be for the purpose of an attack on Russia’. However, still under the influence of the press campaign following Cripps’s return from Moscow, Maisky paid no heed to Eden’s frantic attempts to point out that the information had been obtained from extremely reliable sources. In fact, at a meeting with McDonald of The Times on the same day, he deplored the Foreign Office’s ‘stunt’ in the paper and produced extensive arguments against a possible German attack. He dismissed the presence of the 130 German divisions deployed on the border as ‘mere embroidery’, while the Soviet Union counted on the strength of its military.
Dawson papers, diary, Box 45, 16 June 1941, report by McDonald on conversations with Maisky.
Burdened nonetheless with the heavy responsibility of weighing the significance of the intelligence, Maisky pressed Eden for specific details ‘at an early date, either today or during the week-end’. The urgency of Maisky’s request was lost on Eden, who promised to consult Churchill and the general staff before releasing the intelligence.
TNA FO 371 29482 N2793/78/38; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.2402 ll.203–6, 13 June 1941. Eden gave a detailed report of his warning to the Americans, see FRUS, 1941, I, pp. 170–3. On Maisky’s analysis of the intelligence, see, for example, I. McDonald (ed.), The History of the Times, V: Struggle in War and Peace: 1939–1966 (London, 1984), p. 84.
The decision to part with momentous evidence obtained through Enigma was finally sanctioned by Churchill late on Sunday, 15 June. It included a map that depicted in minute detail the deployment of the German forces on the border, with a sarcastic comment that comparison of it with Maisky’s remarks to Eden during their interview makes ‘very funny’ reading. As Maisky was away for the weekend, the transfer of the information was delayed until the next morning.
TNA FO 371 29483 N3047/78/38, minute by Cadogan and Cavendish Bentinck on intelligence transmitted to Maisky, 15 June.
Maisky was astounded when he was subjected to Cadogan’s detached and monotonous recital of ‘precise and concrete’ evidence. What disturbed him was not so much the realization, subsequently so graphically depicted in his memoirs, that ‘this avalanche, breathing fire and death, was at any moment to descend’ upon Russia, but rather the content of his previous misleading communications, which had led to the publication of the communiqué denying rumours of war. He hastened, therefore, to cable Moscow, reversing his earlier assessments.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 149, 165–71; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 388.
Indeed, when Cripps dined with Maisky on 18 June, he formed the distinct impression that Maisky ‘seemed much less confident that there would not be a war’ than he had been at their meeting a few days earlier. He noticed that their conversation had brought about ‘a complete deflation of the Soviet Ambassador who now seemed very depressed’.
TNA FO 371 29466 N3099/3/38, memorandum by Cripps, 19 June 1941.
The same impression was gained by Geoffrey Dawson, who found Maisky suddenly convinced of a German invasion.
The Times archives, Dawson to Halifax, 22 June 1941.
]


Page 1100

18 June
A week after his arrival in London, Cripps and his wife visited Agniya and me. We lunched together at the embassy.
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


Page 1101

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.


Page 1102

‘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


Page 1103

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.


Page 1104

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.
21 June (Bovingdon)
The Morning
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?


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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?
The Evening
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.


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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.
22 June
War!
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.


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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.


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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.
[Well into the morning of 22 June, Stalin did not exclude the possibility that Russia was being intimidated into political submission by the Germans. As Molotov confessed to Cripps a week after the outbreak of war, the Kremlin had not anticipated that war ‘would come without any discussion or ultimatum’.
TNA FO 371 29466 N3232/3/38.
Stalin’s miscalculation hinged on the belief that Hitler would attack only if he succeeded in reaching a peace agreement with Britain. When war broke out, recalled Litvinov, ‘all believed that the British fleet was steaming up the North Sea for joint attack with Hitler on Leningrad and Kronstadt’.
Library of Congress, Davies papers, Box 11. See also Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 11 Dec. 1941.
This explains the ominous silence and confusion which engulfed Maisky in the early days of the war. It is indeed most revealing that when Maisky met Eden on the day of the invasion, he was entirely haunted by the likelihood of an imminent Anglo-German peace: ‘could the Soviet Government be assured that our war effort would not slacken?’ Maisky urged Churchill to dispel the rumours of peace (which had been so prominent since Hess’s arrival in Britain) in his radio speech to the nation which was scheduled for the evening.
TNA FO 371 29560 N3056/3014/38. Maisky’s report is much more detailed in G.P. Kynin, P.P. Sevostianov and V.P. Suslov, Sovetsko-angliiskie otnosheniya vo vremya Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny, 1941–1945 (Moscow, 1983) (hereafter SAO), I, no. 2; Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 270–1.
Britain was no better prepared for the new reality of an alliance of sorts. The Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact had entrenched a fatalistic political concept, meticulously cultivated at the Foreign Office, that the Soviet Union was ‘a potential enemy rather than a potential ally’.
TNA FO 37124852 N6029/24/38, memorandum by Sargent, 17 July 1940.
Contrary to common belief, British intelligence did not perceive even the likelihood of a German–Soviet confrontation until mid-June 1941. Once war became almost a certainty (a mere week before the German attack) the chiefs of staff evaluated that the Wehrmacht would cut through Russia ‘like a hot knife through butter’ within 3–6 weeks, leading to the capture of Moscow. The British government’s gloomy prognosis of Soviet prospects, which at best afforded Britain a breathing space and allowed her to pursue the peripheral strategy, did not encompass a full-blooded alliance, but rather, as Eden put it, ‘a rapprochement of some sort … automatically forced upon us’.
TNA CAB 79/12 COS(41)21O, 14 June; JIC in FO 371 29484 N3047/78/38, 15 June; CAB 84/31, 32 and JP(41)429, 451, 13 & 14 June 1941. At the end of April, Bruce Lockhart was asked by Alan Brooke, following consultations at the Foreign Office, to form a nucleus of loyal Russians in London, in the event of Germany ‘walking through Russia like butter’. Alan Brooke, however, declined as he did not believe it was possible to do anything ‘without Maisky knowing’; Bruce Lockhart Papers, diary, LOC/37-41, 30 April 1941.
Churchill’s famous speech of 22 June addressed varying quarters and brilliantly concealed his determination to avoid major commitments. Some, like Amery, saw it as ‘almost a caricature of his own most florid style’.
Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/35, 22 June 1941.
Churchill had readily acceded to a request by both the chiefs of staff and the Foreign Office not to refer to the Russians as ‘allies’.
TNA FO 371 29483 N2904 & 29484 N3040/78/38, memoranda, 13 & 17 June; Harvey Papers, Ms. 53697, diary, 18 June 1941. When news of the attack reached Churchill, he castigated communism saying that ‘the Russians were barbarians … that not even the slenderest thread connected Communists to the very basest type of humanity’; Colville, Fringes of Power, p. 405.
His firm verbal support for Russia reinforced his grip in the domestic domain


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– weakened as a result of the chain of military fiascos in North Africa, Greece and Crete against the background of the heavy German bombing of Britain. For the moment, the Russians were satisfied with the denial of any connivance in the German attack and with a public undertaking to pursue the war right to the end.
FO 371 29560 N3056/3014/38, Eden to Baggallay, Moscow, 22 June 1941; Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 160.
Churchill’s genuine objective was to avoid a revision of his grand strategy, which might affect the Middle Eastern arena. While drafting the speech, he hastened to issue directives on assistance to Russia, which allowed for supplies and military operations, so long as they did not interfere with British deployment in other theatres or endanger British operations in planning or execution.


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TNA WO 193/666, 29 June; TNA CAB 84/32 JP(41)478, 482, 485 & 500, 23, 24, 25 & 30 June; TNA CAB 79/12 COS(41)221 & 222, 23 & 24 June 1941. On the consistent ‘wear down’ element in Churchill’s strategy rather than an offensive outlook, see B.P. Farrell, ‘Yes, Prime Minister: Barbarossa, Whipcord, and the basis of British grand strategy, Autumn 1941’, Journal of Military History, 57/4 (1993), and G. Gorodetsky, ‘Geopolitical factors in Stalin’s strategy and politics in the wake of the outbreak of World War Two’, in S. Pons and A. Romano (eds), Russia in the Age of Wars, 1914–1945 (Milan, 2000).
The inherent reluctance to form an alliance was perhaps justified by the expectations of an imminent Soviet collapse. The military mission to Moscow, headed by General Noel Mason-MacFarlane,
Sir Frank Noel Mason-MacFarlane, lieutenant general, military attaché in Budapest, Vienna and Bern, 1931–34; Berlin and Copenhagen, 1937–39; head of the British military mission to Moscow, 1941–42.
was specifically instructed by Dill, the chief of staff, not to enter into any ‘political commitment’ or take any independent decision on assistance and supplies. Collaboration was confined to forming ‘centres of improvised resistance further east’ once Moscow fell, as a means of extending the breathing space before Hitler resumed his attack on the British Isles.
TNA CAB 84/3 JP(41)78, 465 & 482, 16, 19 & 24 June; and COS(41)218, 19 June 1941; E. Butler, Mason-Mac: The life of Lieutenant-General Sir Noel Mason-MacFarlane (London, 1972), pp. 133–4.
Contrary to Churchill’s claims, Stalin realized that the Red Army would have to bear the full brunt of the actual fighting, due to the frailty of British infantry, and therefore did not initially press for a second front. The Soviet military mission focused its efforts in London and Washington on obtaining supplies, in view of the competition for American resources. They further pressed the British to establish a convoy system via the North Sea route to Russia.
Illuminating evidence on Soviet priorities is in the British records of the COS meeting with the Soviet military mission, in TNA CAB 69/2 DO(41)45, 3 July & FO 37129466 N3304/3/38, telegram from Eden to Cripps, 30 June 1941. See also Molotov’s talk with the British military mission on 30 June, in SAO, I, pp. 54–62, 83–4; N. Kharlamov, Difficult Mission: War memoirs of a Soviet admiral in Great Britain during the Second World War (London, 1986), pp. 33–6; and F.I. Golikov, ‘Sovetskaya voennaya missiya v Anglii i SShA v 1941 g.’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 2 (2004).
The idea of ‘the second front’ was first raised by Beaverbrook at his meeting with Maisky on 27 June. To an extent, Maisky was reverting to his old tactics of inducing his interlocutors to adopt his own ideas as theirs. Maisky referred to Beaverbrook’s proposals when he met Eden on 7 July, fully aware of British constraints but nonetheless ‘chiefly interested in some action which would impress his Government with our determination to help the Soviet Union at this time’.
TNA FO 371 29486 N3524/78/38; AVP RF f.059 p.423 d.3789 l.5 & p.415 d.3728 ll.15–16. Maisky spoke in the same vein to Butler a day earlier, TNA FO 371 29466 N3304/3/38, and Butler papers, RAB G13/111. See also TNA FO 954/31 W191/41/45, Eden’s note to Churchill, 4 July.
Such a commitment, if taken, would, of course, have bolstered his precarious position in Moscow.
The idleness which had marked Maisky’s life since the outbreak of war changed dramatically overnight. As an ambassador of the only country among the Allies that was actively fighting the Germans, he was overwhelmed with work. As Agniya wrote to Beatrice Webb:
My husband is negotiating now with half-a-dozen Governments simultaneously … and he is most of all afraid that one day he will make the wrong Treaty with the wrong Government! The Military Mission and all sort of things military and naval are coming very much into the picture in my husband’s work. Sometimes I think that he is getting more like an Admiral, a General and an Air Marshal, all in one person – in fact, like the whole General Staff itself!


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Maisky himself wrote to Litvinov that since the outbreak of war he had been daunted by the colossal work at the embassy: ‘Little time is left for sleep. And “weekends” are out of the question.’
Passfield papers, 2/4/M, 22 July 1941; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 l.71, 21 Sep. 1941.
Inevitably his diary entries become more sporadic and at times abbreviated. For the sake of clarity and ease of reading, the text is produced here in full. As Maisky started seeing Eden on almost a daily basis to deal with various aspects of the war, he described in the diary only his more significant meetings. This is even more conspicuous in 1942 and 1943, his last two years in London. Nevertheless, the diary continues to pursue the narrative of the Grand Alliance at its incipience and provides invaluable insights into the growing mistrust between the Allies.]
27 June
The fifth day of the war. One may draw the following conclusions about the English situation in general:
(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.


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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


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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.
29 June
The first week of the war is over. I am generally satisfied with its results.
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.
3 July


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Stalin’s speech has had a good effect, making a major impression in the press (particularly the Evening Standard) and in parliament. Three points have been noted: (1) the speech testifies to an unshakeable determination to continue to the end, (2) and also to the resilience of the Soviet regime, otherwise Stalin would not have spoken so openly about the gravity of the situation. (3) The declaration that only now are the main forces of the Red Army beginning to enter the fray instils a certain optimism.
[Maisky was very quick off the mark, fighting fit after his long diplomatic seclusion and alienation from the Kremlin, which had lasted since the signing of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact. Not only did he regain confidence – enough to shake Novikov off his tail even at his first meeting with Eden – but he also managed to convey the sense that his implicit critical attitude towards association with the Germans had been borne out. ‘As you know from my preceding communications,’ he reminded Molotov, rather embellishing his stance on the eve of the war, ‘I regarded the British will to war as fairly strong and did not anticipate an Anglo-German deal in the foreseeable future.’ The ‘expeditiousness and decisiveness’ with which the British government had acted, he added smugly, ‘came to me as a pleasant surprise’. He further hailed Churchill, Eden and Beaverbrook, the ‘troika of friends of Russia’, whom he had cultivated over the years,


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for the ‘firm and favourable position they have adopted towards us’. As usual, this was coupled with the cautious reservation that he was ‘far from thinking that all difficulties in the way of Soviet–British cooperation have been eliminated or that its success is now a foregone conclusion’. For the time being, however, the new circumstances rendered his continued presence in London unassailable and indispensable.
AVP RF f.059 p.1 op.352, d.2402, ll.316–20, 26 June 1941. Much in the same vein, see a report of Maisky’s meeting with Beaverbrook, SAO, I, no. 5, 28 June 1941.
]
6 July (Bovingdon)
The second week of the war has ended. I feel somewhat relieved. Of course, it is a great pity that our best forces, our young generation, perish in their thousands on the battlefields, that a sea of blood waters our Soviet land. But on the other hand, it has been proved not only in our patriotically motivated imagination, but also in deeds, that the Red Army can measure up to the Reichswehr, that it can withstand the crushing onslaught of the mechanized German Attila. I was sure of that before as well, but observing how often wishful thinking distorted the English perspective, I sometimes asked myself: wasn’t I also exhibiting certain elements of wishful thinking in respect of the Red Army?
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


Page 1115

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


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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?
[Despite the critical situation at the front, the Russians were adamant from the outset that the war aims, the post-war settlement and the strategic priorities needed to be defined. The Anglo-Soviet agreement, signed on 12 July, was of a purely allusive nature, pledging assistance ‘without defining quantity and quality’; but most telling from the Soviet point of view was a mutual undertaking not to conclude a separate peace.
TNA FO 371 29467 N3529/3/38, telegram from Cripps, 8 July; Cripps papers, diary, 9 July 1941.
The wish to regulate political relations clearly preceded thoughts of concrete military collaboration, let alone of a second front. As early as 27 June, at their first meeting since Cripps’s return to Moscow, Molotov pressed the need to establish a ‘wide political base for cooperation’.
SAO, I, pp. 47–8.
At his meeting with Eden on 30 June, Maisky sought as well to broaden the political and military scope of the cooperation.
TNA FO 371 29466 N3304/3/38.
In private, the Webbs gleaned from Maisky that he was sceptical about the willingness of the British to come to a definite understanding on a new international order.
Webb, diary, p. 7121, 10 July 1941.
The Soviet military mission, headed by General Golikov,
Filipp Ivanovich Golikov, from July 1940 deputy chief of the general staff, head of the GRU (Soviet military intelligence); head of the military mission to the United Kingdom and Washington, 1941.
arrived in London in the second week of July. He was, observed Cadogan, ‘quite a live little man. The rest all looked like private detectives.’ Golikov relayed Stalin’s directives (which again leave one in little doubt as to his priorities): a division of labour was clearly envisaged in Moscow, under which the economic onus would fall on the Americans, while the transport of supplies, and military coordination in general, would be worked out in London. The ‘French operation’ and an offensive in the Balkans were assigned a ‘marginal role in terms of both time and investments involved’. ‘We’re not going to do anything – much. This is pretty hopeless,’ was Cadogan’s judgement.
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 392.
The members of the mission recalled that when they met Margesson, the minister of defence, he ‘did not shake hands with us. Nor did he offer us a seat. Throughout our nearly 20-minute-long talk he remained standing, and there was nothing else left for us to do but to follow his example.’
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 37; F.I. Golikov, On a Military Mission to Great Britain and the USA (Moscow, 1987), pp. 42–6.
General Dill regarded the association with the Russians mostly as a liability. Britain, he warned, was ‘being manoeuvred into a false position’: ‘It is the Russians who are asking for assistance: we are not … All our forces are now being devoted to the accomplishment of a definite strategy for winning the war without having allowed for Russian aid.’ The feigned cordiality in the negotiations with the Soviet military mission in July was intended ‘to encourage’ them and conceal the fact that Britain was ‘not allied with Russia’ and did ‘not entirely trust that country’.
TNA CAB 69/2 DO(41)45, 3 July; CAB 79/13 COS(41)234, 5 July; WO 193/645A, 10 July 1941.
No wonder Eden was worried ‘at the lack of support of the Chiefs of Staff and even of the PM who, for all his brave words, is reluctant to agree to raids’.
TNA FO 954/24 SU/41/36, Eden to Churchill, 16 July 1941; J. Harvey (ed.), The War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 1941–45 (London, 1978), p. 20.
Having obtained Beaverbrook’s support, Maisky continued to press for implementation of a French operation. He certainly had a receptive


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ear in Moscow. In a message to Churchill of 18 July, for the first time Stalin raised the second front issue, which would dominate relations between the countries with, as Churchill argued in his memoirs, ‘monotonous disregard … for physical facts’.
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 45; Churchill, Grand Alliance, p. 343.
]
12 July
Negotiations with the Yugoslavians about a pact. Simović and Ninčić accept our text and are glad we don’t insist on a ‘National Yugoslavian Committee’.
13 July (Bovingdon)
The third week of the war is over. I feel even calmer. Of course, there are many, very many hardships ahead: the loss of people and possibly territories, the suffering and deprivation of the civil population, the bombing of cities and the burning of villages. But it is even more evident today than a week ago that the Red Army is a worthy adversary of the Reichswehr, that it has withstood the first terrible strike by the German hordes, and that it is capable of withstanding further blows. Then, in due course, when the enemy’s strength begins to wane, it will move on to the offensive.
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


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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…


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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


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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.


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[Regardless of the ironic tone in the diary, Maisky was himself on tenterhooks. The Labourite Noel-Baker, who had spent a whole day with the Maiskys and was a witness to the events, sent Eden a six-page remonstration, describing how Maisky ‘could not get the question of the anthem out of his head, and he kept coming back and back to it. He was so anxious not to miss the playing of the anthems in the evening that he turned the wireless on at 8.30 and carried it into the dining-room with him. When, in the end, the “Military March” was played, his mortification was more than apparent.’ Following Agniya’s tantrum, Maisky asked Noel-Baker to take a walk with him, during which he said that the issue was of paramount importance, as it would ‘inevitably produce a painful impression in Moscow’.
Noel-Baker papers, NBKR 4/645, 14 July 1941. See also P.M.H. Bell, John Bull and the Bear: British public opinion, foreign policy, and the Soviet Union, 1941–1945 (London, 1990), pp. 38–9. The government was criticized in the Commons, Hansard, HC Deb 24 July 1941, vol. 373 cols 1160.
]
20 July
Maisky’s more synthesized report of the meeting is in SAO, I, no. 24.
Yesterday morning I received Stalin’s ‘personal message’ to Churchill with a request to translate it into English and hand it over at once. It was Saturday. I met Eden in the morning, on matters concerning Iran, and asked him to arrange an appointment for me with the prime minister. Eden asked me in confidence whether he should be present when I handed over the ‘message’. I replied that the ‘message’ dealt with military-strategic issues. Eden exclaimed: ‘If so, the business can be handled without me.’
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


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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


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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!’


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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.


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[Eden and Beaverbrook challenged Churchill’s Russian policy. Beaverbrook fancied that the Ministry of Supply gave him a rare opportunity of appearing in public, and especially in the Labour movement, as the architect of assistance to Russia.
Taylor, Beaverbrook, ch. 19.
It was he who had raised the possibility of raids in France at his meeting with Maisky on 27 June, and in a telephone conversation on 1 July he told him: ‘It is tanks I am going after. That is what I am going to try – that is the great idea.’
Beaverbrook papers, BBK\D\92, 1 July 1941.
Eden had often wished to shake off his image as Churchill’s pampered heir. His earlier attempts to assert his independence led nowhere. His extraordinary zeal at the War Office and direct involvement in the successful campaign against the Italians in the Western Desert induced Churchill to transfer him, under duress, to the Foreign Office in December 1940.
E. Barker, Churchill and Eden at War (London, 1978), pp. 20–1; D. Carlton, Anthony Eden: A biography (London, 1981), pp. 168–70; S. Aster, Anthony Eden (London, 1976), pp. 17–19.
The German invasion of Russia afforded Eden, reputed to be held in high esteem by the Russians, an opportunity to improve his political standing. Apprehensive lest Eden commit Britain too far, Churchill, who had hitherto shown only a marginal interest in Russia, drove him off the scene and resorted to direct correspondence with Stalin. In private, Eden expressed repugnance at Churchill’s ‘sentimental and florid’ telegrams, which were bound to lead Stalin to the correct conclusion that ‘guff no substitute for guns’. He expressed doubts as to whether Churchill’s verbal commitments would convince Stalin ‘unless they were accompanied by definite promises of military assistance’.
TNA FO 371 29467 N3607/3/38, exchanges between Churchill and Eden, 9 July 1941; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 17–19, 24. His commitment was reflected in his conversation with Maisky on 30 June 1941, reported in SAO, I, no. 7.
Surveying the political scene, Maisky told Harold Nicolson that Eden was ‘the best of the lot and really understood that our fate was tied up with that of the USSR. Beaverbrook also took that point of view. Winston, although sympathetic and possessing no reactionary prejudices, was dominated by the idea that the war would last six or seven years … I went away feeling sad, and liking Maisky more than ever.’
Nicolson, Diaries, 22 Oct. 1941, pp. 188–9.
]
29 July
So, Harry Hopkins is in Moscow! What a remarkable story this has turned out to be.
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


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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


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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.
[Harry Hopkins, Roosevelt’s powerful close adviser, left Churchill in no doubt that the president attached supreme significance to the breathing space achieved through the war in the east, was unhappy about the heavy burden that the campaign in North Africa imposed on the United States, and favoured a redistribution of resources.
TNA CAB 65/19 72(41)2, 3, 5 & 74(41)2, 21 & 24 July; CAB 79/13 COS(41) 259 & 264, 23 & 28 July 1941. See also W.A. Harriman and Elie Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, 1941–1946 (New York, 1975), p. 72.


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Hopkins’ arrival in Moscow as Churchill’s envoy made it possible for Cripps to intervene and persuade Hopkins that the sine qua non for an alliance was immediate military cooperation, sustained by long-term political agreements. He proposed a conference, at which the United States, the Soviet Union and Britain would ‘fully and jointly explore the relative interests of each front’. The assistance to Russia was to be granted not as ‘merely sparing to a partner or ally what we feel we can spare out rather as the point upon which we should concentrate all our efforts’. Cripps even provided Hopkins with a draft telegram to Stalin, which Churchill was forced reluctantly to adopt at his first summit meeting with Roosevelt at Placentia Bay a fortnight later.
Churchill’s telegrams of 25, 28 & 31 July 1941 are in TNA PREM 3/170/1. An account of the visit and Cripps’s draft telegram to Stalin are in Hopkins papers, Box 306, 30 and 31 July, and in Cripps papers, diary, 1 & 2 Aug. See also Roosevelt papers, Box 2987, Cripps to Roosevelt, 1 Aug. 1941. Hopkins’ mission is analysed in Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission in Moscow, pp. 193–204. On the shift in the American position, see Jacob papers, diary, JACB 1/9, p. 46.
As Maisky reported to Moscow, Churchill’s attempts to postpone the proposed summit in Moscow met with strong opposition from both Hopkins and Beaverbrook.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 p.412 d.3707 ll.14–22, 22 Aug. 1941.
]
30 July
Today at long last we signed the Soviet–Polish treaty! I can barely believe it.
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


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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


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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.


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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


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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.
[Maisky had informed Eden on 4 July that the Soviet government favoured the establishment of an independent national Polish state, the boundaries of which would ‘correspond with ethnographical Poland’. Sikorski, however, insisted on Soviet


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recognition of Polish sovereignty and the legitimacy of his government, and preferred not to discuss frontiers at present. After considerable haggling, a compromise was arranged through Eden. It led to a first meeting between Maisky and Sikorski on 5 July, on the ‘neutral territory’ of Cadogan’s office. Sikorski was only prepared to sign an agreement once Russia repudiated her 1939 agreement with Germany. On taking his leave, Sikorski told Maisky: ‘You ought never to have made agreement with Germany in 1939, and we should have been fighting side by side all this time.’ Maisky, according to Cadogan, ‘took it very well, laughed and said “All that is past history.”’ Eden brokered the agreement, which was signed on 30 July. The Russians dropped for the moment their demand for a future ‘ethnic’ Poland, while the Poles gave up their demands for Soviet recognition of the pre-war borders.
AVP RF f.059 p.415 d.3728 ll.1–4; detailed reports of the negotiations are in TNA FO 418/87 C7865/3226/55, FO 371 26755 C7865/3226/55 & 26756 C8028/3226/55; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 391. Beneš had arranged without a hitch an agreement with Maisky regulating the relations between Czechoslovakia and the Soviet Union; see E. Beneš, The Fall and Rise of a Nation: Czechoslovakia, 1938–1941 (New York, 2004), pp. 128–9. See also A.M. Cienciala, ‘Detective work: Researching Soviet World War II policy on Poland in Russian archives’, Cahiers du Monde Russe, 40/1–2 (1999), pp. 256–60. Molotov’s disparaging attitude to the Poles is evident in his correspondence with Maisky, for instance in AVP RF f.059 p.422 d.3778 ll.137–8, 23 July 1941.
The Russians further agreed to release their Polish prisoners of war and to arm them. However, the secret massacre of Polish officers at Katyn meant that there was a huge discrepancy in the estimates of the number of POWs, and this remained a serious bone of contention.
TNA FO 371 26755 C7423/3226/55; see also Retinger, Memoirs, pp. 111–20. On Katyn, see diary entry for 23 April 1943.
]
31 July
I’ll summarize some details of the Polish negotiations after the meeting with Eden (11 July) where I formulated ‘four points’ as the basis for a Soviet–Polish agreement.
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


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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,


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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


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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,


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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


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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.
3 August
Hopkins’ visit to Moscow has evidently been a success. We will, of course, only be able to judge its outcome later (how will the American deliveries go?), but the situation at present seems satisfactory.
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


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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.
5 August
Relations between the USSR and Norway were normalized today.
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.


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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.
7 August
Three weeks ago, Spaak asked me informally, through Isabelle Blume, whether the Soviet government would agree to normalize relations with Belgium


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following the shutting down in early May of the Belgian mission in Moscow (together with the Norwegian one) on the initiative of the Soviet government. I made the necessary inquiries and replied through Isabelle Blume that the Soviet government was ready to exchange envoys with the Belgians. Blume informed Spaak at my request that if he addressed me officially, I had the authority to settle questions relating to the normalization of Soviet–Belgian relations.
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.
10 August (Bovingdon)
Seven weeks of war.
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


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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.


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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.
11 August
I’ve learned some strange things about the Belgian government. Spaak has a wife in Brussels, and Gutt
Camille Gutt, Belgian minister of finance, 1939; minister of finance in the Belgian government in exile, 1939–45, minister for national defence, 1940–42, and economic affairs, 1940–45.
(finance minister) has a family there. Not because the war separated them by chance – oh no! Spaak’s wife and Gutt’s wife would come to visit them when the Belgian government was still in the territory of unoccupied France, but they did not join their husbands when they left for England, and returned to Belgium instead. So, the Germans hold hostages for Spaak and Gutt, that is, for half of the Belgian government (there are four members in the Belgian government). It is obvious how this must affect the conduct of the two ministers and the whole government. Moreover, the two ministers regularly correspond with their wives via the Vatican diplomatic mail. Both wives write to their husbands regularly, asking them to be cautious, moderate, etc. To judge by many signs, Spaak’s wife is the go-between between her husband and the king of Belgium, Leopold. And, perhaps, an indirect link between her husband and the Germans?…
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.
16 August
Agniya and I visited Lloyd George in Churt. We had lunch together.
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


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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?


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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?’
17 August (Bovingdon)


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The eighth week of the war has come to an end. We can be satisfied with the results. True, the Germans have made progress in southern Ukraine recently, and the Berlin radio has made one hell of a racket about the ‘destruction’ of 25 divisions of Budenny’s army. But Lozovsky was right in stating that it was Goebbels who ‘destroyed’ Budenny, not the Reichswehr.
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).
24 August
Inter-Allied Conference
The full text of the note/invitation has not yet been received in Moscow. No time left to discuss the agenda, etc. (the conference is scheduled for the 27th). We’ll not be able to participate. We can’t just accede to the Churchill–Roosevelt declaration: it was prepared and published without regard for our opinion and information, although we bear the whole brunt of the war. We do not object to the principles of the declaration, but we would like more decisive demands to be made of Hitlerite Germany. We are irritated by the attempt to transform


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the USSR into a cost-free adjunct to the other powers. The British government should be told as much.
26 August
Conversation with Eden
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


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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.
27 August
Hugessen
Sir Hughe Montgomery Knatchbull-Hugessen, British ambassador to Turkey, 1939–44.
saw İnönü. Talked about British supplies to Turkey. İnönü is displeased with Britain and the USA in this respect. İnönü has doubts about the continued resistance of the Red Army until winter. But he added ‘you will win’. He doesn’t understand the need for Anglo-Soviet military action in Iran. Turkey is satisfied with the Anglo-Soviet declarations (10 and 25/8).
28 August
Moscow Conference
Beaverbrook back from America. Utterly displeased with US sluggishness. To the question, when is he going to Moscow for a conference, he replied: ‘This afternoon!’ Americans delaying. Hopkins would be the best US representative. Will he go? Health. Problems with Lease and Lend Bill. Preliminary calculations


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of American capabilities. Beaverbrook spoke of the USSR with remarkable enthusiasm: ‘You are a great nation! You are a real nation! Where would Britain be today without Russia? You ought to have the widest support from our side. Personally, I’m willing to do all I can.’ What is the practical value of these declarations? On verra.
30 August
My initiative struck home. My conversation with Eden on the 26th made an impression in Moscow. The response from D.I.
The abbreviation is for instantsiya, which in Russian connotes vlast – the power or authority. In earlier days, instructions from the Central Committee of the CPSU were handed down under this title, before it was appropriated by Stalin. It was most unusual for Stalin to communicate directly with an ambassador, and it clearly flattered Maisky, whose stock had sunk low in the previous two years. Maisky pretty much produces the telegram in its entirety; AVP RF f.059 p.422 d.3779 l.58. Stalin’s mistrust was evident in the way he scrutinized each of the public speeches made by Eden and Churchill, which were translated for him. See, for instance, Eden’s speech in Coventry from that day in RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.280 l.41–2.
started with the words: ‘Your conversation with Eden on strategy fully reflects the mood of the Soviet people. I am glad you caught that mood so well.’ There then follow considerations of a political nature. Hitler’s aim is to beat his enemies one by one, the Russians today, the British tomorrow. The passivity of the British government at present plays straight into Hitler’s hands. True, the British applaud us and hurl verbal abuse at the latter. But, in practice, this doesn’t change a thing. Do the British understand this? Of course they understand. So what do they want? Evidently, they want to see us weakened. If so, we must be very wary in our dealings with them.
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


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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.
31 August
Religion
Attended public prayers – a demonstration in honour of the Red Army in Feltham (London suburbs). Ten thousand people in the park – mostly workers from the nearby aircraft factory and their families. The priest sang a few psalms. The crowd joined in. A short sermon calling for support for the


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Red Army and the USSR. Applause. All this took about half an hour. Then the chairman of the local trade union council opened the meeting. Speeches about the heroism of the USSR, the people and the army. One speaker: it is thanks to the purges of 1936–38 that there are no longer any Quislings in the USSR. I spoke (symbol: explosion of Dneproges).
Maisky is referring to the successful measures taken by the retreating Red Army in 1941 to dynamite the most strategically important dam and electric power plant as part of their scorched-earth strategy.
Applause at the mention of Stalin, the ‘Internationale’ and ‘God Save the King’. Two flags above the platform. Dozens of trade union flags (incl. one of Soviet railway workers, a gift to a Feltham workers’ delegation in previous years). Prior to the prayers, I met local Home Guard (workers). Children showered us with flowers. Warm and friendly welcome. Typical of the mood in the masses. My speech quoted on the wireless at nine o’clock.
7 September
Novikov attended a service in St Phil. church in South London. In memory of Red Army men fallen in battle. Prayer for Stalin, Soviet government, ambassador in London and his staff. Singing of the ‘Internationale’. Prayer for the king and Churchill, ‘God Save the King’. Father Roberts argued in his sermon that the Soviet economic system is a Christian system. Novikov shook hands with 600 people. Shouts of ‘Long live the USSR’, ‘Red Front’. Collection of donations for Soviet and English Red Cross.
2 September
The following two entries were most likely written after the entry for 7th. They were in abbreviated form and have here been expanded.
Moscow Conference
A talk with Beaverbrook and Winant about hastening the conference. They’d like to – the Americans drag their feet. Winant has already sent four telegrams to USA, but to no avail. Mood slump in America (stupid, but a fact). Harriman is coming to London at the end of September. Following a telephone talk with Harriman, Beaverbrook doesn’t count on any hurrying up. Regrets the fact. His press wages a campaign for immediate aid. How to travel: a cruiser or the Catalina?
4 September
Vyshinsky handed Cripps a copy of Stalin’s message to Churchill. Cripps came back to Vyshinsky an hour and a half later and said that having read the message he had decided to fly to Britain with MacFarlane immediately in order to ensure the implementation of the measures indicated in Stalin’s message (later London forbade Cripps to leave Moscow).


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[Cripps received Stalin’s message to Churchill on 4 September. ‘It is such a grave document,’ he wrote in his diary,
that it leaves me completely bouleversé. The last three weeks have obviously played havoc with the Russian forces and what is worse with their manufacturing capacity. Unless we can do something most immediately and effectively to help them the game is up at any rate for a long time if not all together. They will not be able to hold out for the winter. This is the moment that I had always feared and the more so as I saw that we were in fact doing nothing to help to relieve the pressure. If now Russia collapses we shall be left without the possibility of victory … I took the decision to return at once to London and to take the General Mason-MacFarlane with me. Then I went and saw Vyshinsky again and told him of my decision but that I must see Stalin before I went and that the General must see Marshal Shaposhnikov.
Boris Mikhailovich Shaposhnikov, chief of the general staff, and deputy people’s commissar for defence, 1941–43.
Later he rang up and said that Stalin would see me and would let me know the exact time today.
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’.


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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


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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.
]
4 September
My proposal has been accepted. This morning I received the text of Stalin’s personal message to the prime minister. Firm, clear and ruthless words. No illusions, no sweeteners. The facts as they stand. The threats as they loom. A remarkable document.
Stalin presented a grave view of the situation on the front, ending with a plea: ‘… to open, already in this year, a second front in the Balkans or in France, which would draw 30–40 German divisions from the eastern front, as well as to provide for the delivery to the USSR of 30,000 tons of aluminium and minimum 400 planes and 500 tanks monthly by October. Without these two kinds of aid, the Soviet Union may either suffer a debacle or be weakened to such an extent that it would not be able to give active support to its allies in their struggle against Hitlerism for a long period of time. I am afraid my present message may disappoint Your Excellency. It cannot be helped. Experience taught me to look realities straight in the face, no matter how unpleasant they are, and fear not to tell the truth, no matter whether it is wished to be heard or not.’ For Stalin’s telegrams see V.O. Pechatnov and E.E. Magadeev, Perepiska I.V. Stalina s F. Ruzvel’tom i U. Cherchillem v gody Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny (Moscow, 2015), I, Nos. 10–15.
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


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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:
So now, Mr Churchill, you and the British government know the real state of affairs. We have withstood the terrible assault of the German war machine on our own for 11 weeks now. The Germans have massed up to 300 divisions on our front. Nobody helps us in this struggle. The situation has become difficult and menacing. It is still not too late to change it. But to do so it is essential to carry out quickly and resolutely what Stalin writes about. If the right measures are not taken immediately, the moment may be lost. The greatest responsibility towards your country and the whole world now falls on the British government and on you personally, Mr Churchill. It is either or. Either you take firm and decisive steps to provide the USSR with the help it needs – then the war will be won, Hitlerism will be crushed, and the opportunity for free and progressive development will open before mankind. Or, if you don’t provide us with the aid we need, the USSR will face the risk of defeat with all the ensuing consequences. Just think about those consequences! Should Hitler win his ‘Russian campaign’, not only will fascist Germany become the legislator of the world, and not only will the USSR suffer heavily, but the British Empire, too, will be doomed to ruin. For who then will prevent Hitler from marching on India, Egypt? Who will prevent Germany and Japan from meeting somewhere near Singapore? I’m not fond of lofty words and high-flown phrases, but my conscience


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obliges me to say that our meeting today, this conversation between three men at 10, Downing Street in the evening of 4 September 1941, has the very greatest significance. Who knows how future generations will regard it? Who knows whether it may not become a turning point in world history, a turning point in one direction or another? Everything depends on the position that the British government and, in particular, you, Mr Churchill, now take.
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.


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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


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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).


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‘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?’
[Maisky deliberately concealed in both his report to Moscow and the diary that Churchill, sensing the ‘underlying air of menace’ in Maisky’s appeal, was enraged, telling him that ‘Whatever happens and whatever you do, you of all people have no right to make reproaches to us’, having collaborated with the Germans before the war. Maisky and his staff at the embassy were desperate to dispel Stalin’s suspicion about Churchill’s objective and to convince him that, though dead set against a second front, the British


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prime minister was genuinely prepared to sacrifice for Russia a significant portion of the supplies coming from the United States.
Maisky’s report in SAO, I, no. 39, and Eden in TNA FO 371 29490 N5096/78/38, 5 Sep. 1941; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 404–5. See also AVP RF f.069 op.25 d.7 p.71 ll.28–9, a report by Zinchenko, second secretary at the embassy, of a meeting with McDonald, The Times foreign correspondent, on 4 Sept. 1941.
]
5 September
Today at 11 a.m. the meeting proposed by Churchill with the chiefs of staff took place in Eden’s office. It was chaired by Eden. Present were Admiral Pound, General Dill, Air Marshal Portal
Charles Portal, chief of the air staff, 1940–45.
and 2–3 other military men. On our side there was myself and Kharlamov,
Nikolai Mikhailovich Kharlamov, admiral, from June 1941, naval attaché and head of the Soviet military mission in Great Britain; deputy chief of the general staff of the navy from 1944.
with Baranov acting as the admiral’s interpreter. It lasted about two hours. We discussed the feasibility or otherwise of a second front in France from a purely strategic point of view. I was greatly disappointed – not by the fact that the chiefs of staff deemed such an operation impossible (everything had prepared me for this), but by the poverty and triteness of their arguments. Absolutely nothing new, nothing more convincing than what I had heard a dozen times before from others, beginning with the prime minister and ending with ordinary journalists. One could sense that the


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chiefs of staff are simply hypnotized by the might of the German war machine and wholly deprived of initiative and boldness. Dill made the best impression on me and Pound the worse. Eden merely presided and barely expressed his views. We finished just before ‘lunch’. The verdict of the chiefs of staff is that a second front is impossible, either in France or in the Balkans.
Eden gained the wrong impression that Maisky ‘had at the finish a clearer perception of our weakness and limitations’. Eden, The Reckoning, p. 276; Maisky’s report is in AVP RF f.059 p.423 d.3789 ll.167–8.
They said little about the Balkans in this regard, assuming the matter to be self-evident. Pound said: we don’t have the tonnage, the navy cannot undertake the operation – and that was enough. What’s more, the Germans have left 26 divisions in France and 1,100 first-line aircraft (including 800 fighters). Hence the conclusion: a landing operation in France is impossible.
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


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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?
15 September
A new message from Comrade Stalin to Churchill, in reply to Churchill’s message to Comrade Stalin of 5 September, arrived today.
The message was prompted by Eden, who told Maisky on 10 September that Churchill was expecting a response to his own message; TNA FO 371 29468 N5291/3/38.
Its main point: if the British government considers a second front in the west impossible, let it send 25–30 divisions to the USSR to fight against the Germans side by side with our soldiers.
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


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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


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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.


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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.’


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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.


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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!
15 September
Umansky and I went to see Beaverbrook. Beaverbrook’s intentions: minimum talks in London, 3–4 days, and off they go. What about the Americans? Umansky made it clear to Beaverbrook that the Americans tend to take their time and ‘study’. – Then at four we met Harriman and Co. at the airport. Saw Eden, Beaverbrook and Winant there. At 6 p.m. a War Cabinet meeting with the American delegation. The Americans are unhappy about the rush.
18 September
Inter-Allied Conference
(1) A visit from Bracken: how to soothe American Catholics? Allow in Catholic missionaries. My refusal. Maybe a Polish bishop can visit the Polish army in the USSR? More publicity for religious life in the USSR. A job for Bartlett. (2) The US government recently urged the British government to secure ‘concessions’ in religious affairs in the USSR. Winant had a conversation with Umansky about it yesterday.
20 September
Finland


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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.
22 September
Visit to Birmingham
At the factories. Rallies.
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.
23 September
Eden – reply to my talk on the 19th.
Maisky repeated Stalin’s request for British divisions to be deployed on the Russian front. On 21 September, he complained to Eden that ‘unwillingly one gets the impression that Churchill wishes to silence and freeze Stalin’s proposal’. When Eden explained that the troops were indispensable for the offensive in Libya, Maisky retorted that Libya was ‘a minor matter’, while the Soviet front would ‘decide the fate of the war’; AVP f.059 p.423 d.3789 ll.194–197.
My arguments were put before the Defence Committee and discussed, as a result, in Churchill’s letter to Stalin, which Beaverbrook brought, it is said that General Ismay is authorized to discuss joint strategy questions, including the transfer of British troops to USSR. Prime minister is now more in favour of this. It will not interfere with the Libyan campaign. Different kinds of troops. Lyttelton agrees with this. Wavell, who has been in London, will go to Tiflis for negotiations. – My question concerning Margesson’s article in the Star – Eden dismisses its significance.
Moscow Conference
Eden said on 24 September at the Inter-Allied Conference that the Moscow conference should end in approximately 7–10 days. Everything is well prepared. Such is Churchill’s line – Beaverbrook also told me before leaving that he hoped


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to complete the main job in a few days (‘it is necessary to act, not investigate’). ‘I admire the Russians’ bravery and resilience. They are a true people. You told me on the first day of the war: We will fight like devils. I went to the PM and said: “Maisky says the Russians will fight like devils. We must help them!” It turned out like you said.’
Stalin personally went through and corrected Maisky’s speech to the Inter-Allied Conference. The speech so impressed Amery that he ‘scribbled down a little Russian poem about the burning of Moscow and Borodino’ which he had learnt in Russian before going to Harrow; RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.211 ll.1–5; Amery papers, diary, AMEL 7/35, 24 Sep. 1941.
24 September
Directions from Moscow on the resolution concerning food supplies after the war came too late. Spoke with Eden about the internationalization of the Central Bureau. Eden thought changes not possible (he agreed with USA – no time to exchange communications). I entered my amendment to Art. 6.
* * *
Arranged to meet Eden on 17 Sept. – first item: my declaration, second: Atlantic declaration, third: food.
26 September
De Gaulle
Exchange of letters with de Gaulle. In conversation de Gaulle’s made anti-British statements – they are never prepared for war, always improvise, always late, etc. ‘That’s the English for you’ (shrugging his shoulders). The English won’t manage a second front in France now, they can send troops to the USSR, but not many.
* * *
De Gaulle’s position, according to Eden and others:
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


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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.
10 October
Simopoulos called on me. Informed me that the Greek king and the Greek government would like to make a gesture of goodwill and compassion for the USSR at this crucial moment and ask all Greek subjects on our territory to arm themselves and defend the Soviet Union. Of course, the practical significance of such a move would be negligible, as the Greeks understand full well, but nonetheless the forming of even a small Greek unit fighting side by side with the Red Army would have a certain moral and political value. How would the Soviet government respond to this intention on the part of the Greek leaders? I promised to make inquiries and give him an answer.
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.


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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!
[On 29 September, a day before the Germans launched their decisive offensive on Moscow, Beaverbrook and Averell Harriman, Roosevelt’s coordinator of American supply to Britain, arrived in Moscow. Cripps had envisaged himself as the architect of the Grand Alliance, embarking on a frank strategic dialogue ‘to match the requirements and available supplies upon the basis of the strategic needs of each country’.
Beaverbrook papers, D90, Cripps to Beaverbrook, 22 Sept. 1941.
Maisky was indeed led to believe by Eden that General Ismay would be empowered to discuss the transfer of British troops to the eastern front.
AVP RF f.059 p.415 d.3750 ll.91–2, Maisky report on meeting Eden, 29 Sep. 1941.
Beaverbrook, however, was barred by Churchill from conducting any political or strategic talks. Determined nonetheless


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to profit from the tremendous popular support for Russia at home and to enhance his political standing in London, he opted to set out an extensive supply programme. He staged the conference as a ‘Christmas Party’, at which the United States and Britain were ‘presenting poor Russia with gifts’.
Beaverbrook papers, D100, report of the conference, 1 Oct. 1941.
He hoped thereby to divert Stalin from the more contentious issues of the ‘second front’ and post-war arrangements. The conference thus extended ‘lend-lease’ to Russia, but swept under the carpet the controversial issues which were to resurface throughout the war, particularly at the Tehran and Yalta summit conferences. Maisky’s scheme of facilitating the visit of Hopkins and then Harriman to Moscow paid off when Harriman returned, giving Maisky the impression ‘of a man who is convinced that serious aid must be given to the Soviet Union’. Beaverbrook’s report of the conference, however, was biased, described by Harriman in a telegram to Roosevelt as ‘sunshine after the storm’, deliberately glossing over the dissensions which were soon to surface.
The detailed but incomplete Soviet minutes of the conference convey more forcefully the strain in the negotiations and confirm Cripps’s account of the events in his diary; SAO, I, pp. 132–40; Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 92; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.982 l.3, Maisky to Laski, 18 Oct. 1941.
So as not to spoil the ‘festivities’ in Moscow, Beaverbrook had deliberately kept Cripps away from most of his meetings in the Kremlin, cunningly telling him that they also discussed him, and that Stalin ‘was very complimentary’.
Cripps papers, diary, 1 Oct. 1941.
Quite a bit of gossip was exchanged between Stalin and Beaverbrook, and this allows a rare glimpse into Stalin’s personal attitude to Maisky. Beaverbrook apparently extolled the virtues of Maisky as an ambassador, complaining only that he ‘came on too strong at times’. Stalin seemed particularly worried about Maisky’s habit of lecturing the British ‘on matters of Communist doctrine’. Having no remorse over forfeiting Cripps, Beaverbrook incited Stalin: ‘What about our fellow?’ Beaverbrook asked, ‘barely concealing his personal distaste for Cripps’. Stalin simply shrugged his shoulders: ‘Oh, he’s all right.’ ‘The modified acceptance of Cripps,’ Beaverbrook reported to Churchill, had led him to observe that there was nothing wrong with Cripps, but that he was a bore. ‘“In that respect,” asked Stalin, “is he comparable to Maisky?” I answered, “No, to MADCme Maisky.” Stalin liked the joke immensely.’
See three versions of the conversation: Beaverbrook papers, D100, report, 1 Oct.; Hopkins papers, Box 306, memo by Harriman, 30 Sept. 1941; and Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 94. Agniya had earned herself a notorious reputation as a tireless chatterbox.
Back from Moscow, Beaverbrook invited the Maiskys to spend the weekend with him at Cherkley. After offering Agniya an apple from a crate of apples and lemons given to him by ‘Uncle Joe’, he turned to her husband: ‘“Maisky, you told Stalin that I was a quarrelsome fellow.” Maisky, instead of saying, “Well, I have to tell Stalin the truth,” or something of this sort, blushed from the back of his head right over all his face. Obviously the story was true; Max had been told by Stalin! Maisky seemed depressed, perhaps not unnaturally.’
Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, p. 123; Bruce Lockhart, Comes the Reckoning, pp. 139–40.
]
12 October (Bovingdon)
A hard week! These last seven days form a gloomy chain in my memory. In his last speech, Hitler was not only apologetic and bragging [sic]. He was also advertising the huge offensive against Moscow. The greatest offensive in this war. And indeed, in the course of the first 6–7 days, he really did achieve major successes: Timoshenko’s army was forced to make a 70–80 kilometre retreat, Orel was captured by the Germans, the fighting goes on at Vyazma and Bryansk, and in the south Berdyansk and Mariupol have been captured. True, in the last 3–4 days we have managed to slow the speed of the German drive in


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the centre significantly, but it has not yet been stopped. Our further retreat ‘to new positions’ has been announced today. Will we manage to hold on to the new positions? Will we manage to halt the enemy’s advance? Will we manage to hold Moscow?
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


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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,


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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


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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.


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13 October
When we had finished with business (a tripartite treaty of alliance between the USSR, England and Iran),
The treaty between Iran, Britain and the Soviet Union (signed in Tehran on 29 January 1942), which facilitated the transfer of supplies to Russia via Persia; TNA FO 371 27234 E6629/3444/34.
Eden suddenly stretched out in his armchair and asked in a homely kind of way: ‘A whisky and soda?’
‘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


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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


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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


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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.
[Operation Typhoon, which the Germans launched on 2 October 1941, led to the capture of Orel in the south and Torzhok in the north, and finally to the annihilation


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of the forces trapped in the pocket of Vyazma. The reserve forces on the Mozhaisk defence line proved no match for the sweeping German armoured divisions. On 13 October, Kaluga fell on the southern flank, and two days later Kalinin, a key town on the approaches to Moscow. The Moscow defence zone was now, in places, only 60 miles from the capital. Anti-tank ditches were frenziedly dug by battalions of recruited civilians, while barricades and road blocks were built and tank traps set in the main city streets leading to the Kremlin. Discipline and morale sank low in Moscow, and what had been, until that point, a trickle of civilians fleeing from the capital turned into swarms of refugees. The rapidly deteriorating situation led to a hasty evacuation of various ministries and the diplomatic corps from Moscow to Kuibyshev, a small city on the Volga, where Maisky had spent a couple of years of his childhood. Its population was to double in the next couple of days – from half a million to a million.
Best description is in R. Braithwaite, Moscow 1941: A city and its people at war (New York, 2006), Pt. 3. See also Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission to Moscow, ch. 7.
]
19 October
We didn’t go to Bovingdon this weekend. Agniya is making a speech today at a meeting about Red Cross aid to the USSR. I stay in town and think.
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


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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.
20 October


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Agniya and I saw Sorochintsy Fair
An incomplete opera by Mussorgsky, based on a short story by Gogol.
at the Savoy theatre. The play is performed by a company of Whites under the direction of ‘the King of the Black Exchange’ – a certain Pomeroy, a clever Jew from Kharkov. All the revenue from the show goes to the Red Cross for the needs of the USSR. We were given seats in a special box. With us in the box were Churchill’s wife, and Baron Iliffe
Edward Mauger Iliffe (1st Baron Iliffe), newspaper and periodical proprietor; Conservative MP, 1923–29.
and his wife. ‘God Save the King’ and the ‘Internationale’ were played before the beginning of the performance. All stood. Mrs Churchill was standing, too, even though it was her husband who forbade the ‘Internationale’ from being played over the radio together with the other anthems of the Allies. The audience clapped the prime minister’s spouse, but Agniya and I received even more applause. How this war has jumbled things up! The Soviet ambassador attends a performance by a White company, the White company gathers money for the Red Army, and the wife of the British prime minister blesses this undertaking.
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.
22 October
More reassuring news has been coming from the Moscow front during the last five days. German pressure has somewhat weakened. We are now executing successful counterattacks. Both Orel and Kalinin, which we recaptured at the end of the past week, remain in our hands. The German attempts at an offensive in the areas of Mozhaisk and Malo-Yaroslavets have been repelled with significant losses for the enemy.
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?


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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.


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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’!
23 October
Today I spent half the day in parliament. The course of the war was discussed. There were comparatively few people present, but passions ran high.
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-


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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


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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.
24 October


Page 1518

Added later in handwriting.
Further symptoms of ‘popularity’.
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…


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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.
26 October
We are still holding the positions set up near Moscow at the end of last week. Half of Kalinin is in our hands, half in the Germans’, and the fighting continues in the streets. It is unclear who is holding Orel, but the Germans have not had any visible successes there during the last 8–9 days. Mozhaisk and Malo-Yaroslavets are again being mentioned in the communiqués as sites of particularly fierce fighting. Can it be said that the German offensive against Moscow has petered out? I don’t know. I am inclined to think not. More likely, the Germans are bringing up fresh forces and will then launch one more attempt to capture our capital. I hope they fail.
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.


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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.
27 October
Nine years in England as ambassador.
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.


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30 October
Lord Cecil dropped in (despite his 77 years, he prefers walking to driving). He has aged. Even more hunched. Doesn’t hear well. Uses a hearing aid for conversations. But his head is quite clear and his thinking is sharp and quick. What does Cecil think about? The same as always: how to arrange the life of humankind in such a way that wars end and peace reigns on earth.
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


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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?’


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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.
2 November (Bovingdon)
One more week of the war has passed. The nineteenth week. The situation is still grave. All is quiet on the Murmansk–Finnish front. There is little activity around Leningrad too, although we keep counterattacking and seem to


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improve our position. But fierce fighting continues on the Moscow front, where the Germans have advanced further toward Volokolamsk and Tula during the past week. We are holding our old positions fast along the Kalinin, Mozhaisk and Malo-Yaroslavets lines. The main question is: has the German offensive against Moscow petered out or not? Should the German successes along the Orel–Tula line be viewed as purely local achievements or as the beginning of a new general attack on Moscow?
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.
3 November
The city is awash with rumours about the ‘restructuring’ of the government and above all the possible resignation of Beaverbrook.
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


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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.


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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.
[Beaverbrook concealed from Maisky that the reason for the crisis was in fact his mishandling of the Moscow talks and his intrigues against Cripps, which had just come to light through a series of private letters addressed to Eden by the ambassador from Kuibyshev.
Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps’ Mission to Moscow, pp. 256–61. See also Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, 3 Nov. 1941, p. 129.
Beaverbrook’s partial and tendentious reports misled the Cabinet into assuming that Stalin had indeed accepted supply as a substitute for proper political and strategic collaboration.
This was not the case, though Maisky was instructed not to broach political-strategic issues in his meetings with Eden and Churchill, so as not to spoil the achievements made and to project a sense of success; AVP RF f.059 p.422 d.3779 l.125 & l.128, 5 Oct. 1941. Alluding to Molotov’s telegrams, Maisky confirmed Eden’s impression, in their meeting on 6 October, that the mission had been ‘very satisfactory’; TNA FO 371 29577 N5817/3084/38.
The pause allowed Churchill to pursue unhindered his preparations for the long-overdue offensive in the Western Desert. By mid-October, however, Churchill encountered a fierce debate in the Cabinet, prompted by unprecedentedly harsh criticism from Cripps. Cripps urged the dispatch of a high-level mission to Moscow to conclude military and political agreements. In the meantime, he called for the deployment of a force – even a limited one – on the Russian front, warning that: ‘We seem to be trying to carry on two relatively unrelated wars to the great benefit of Hitler instead of a single war upon the basis of a combined plan. It appears that we are treating the Soviet Government without trust and as inferiors rather than as trusted allies.’
TNA CAB 66/20 WP(41)272, telegrams from Cripps, 21 Oct. to 15 Nov. 1941.
Eden, too, was concerned by Churchill’s ‘very evident signs of anti-Bolshevik sentiments’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, p. 57; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p.370.
Nonetheless, the Defence Committee – formed by Churchill to ensure his undisputed control of the war – and General Dill, the chief of staff, gave a positive


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hearing to Cripps’s proposals to assign a force to prevent German troops from pouring into the Middle East through the back door, following the anticipated collapse of the Russian front.
TNA CAB 69/2 DO(41)69, 27 Oct. 1941; CAB 79/55 COS(41)34 and minute by Churchill, 28 Oct. 1941.
Although outwardly Churchill acquiesced with the majority, he took steps to re-establish his authority. His personal instructions to Cripps unequivocally reiterated his intention not to alter British strategy, as ‘We shall presently be fighting ourselves as the result of long-prepared plans.’ To stifle Cripps’s influence at home, he was kept in enforced exile in Kuibyshev, on the dubious pretext that it was his ‘duty to remain with these people in their ordeal’. Cripps’s appeal for a force was reinforced by a veiled threat: ‘I hope I shall never be called upon to argue the case in public.’
TNA FO 37129471 N6583/3/38, 28 Oct. 1941.
In Cabinet, Churchill exploited Cripps’s criticism to the utmost in order to undermine Beaverbrook’s position by blaming him, rather cynically, for the poor state of Anglo-Soviet relations.
TNA PREM 3 403/7, Churchill to Beaverbrook and Eden to Churchill, 14 Oct.; Beaverbrook papers, D93, Churchill to Eden and Beaverbrook, 1 Nov. 1941. See also Taylor, Beaverbrook, pp. 408–9.
Above all, Churchill was bent on preventing the dispatch of even a single division to the Russian front. He now secured the overdue resignation of General Dill and the appointment as chief of staff of his own trusted adviser, General Alan Brooke.
TNA CAB 79/55 COS(41)34, minute by Churchi1l, 28 Oct.; CAB 84/37, 79/16, 84/3 & 84/38, JP(41)1016, COS(41)404, JP(41)164, 1025, 29 Nov., 1 & 2 Dec. 1941. The nature of the substantial differences of opinion between Dill and Churchill is presented in masterly fashion in A. Danchev’s severe but sound critique of Churchill’s history, ‘“Dilly-Dally”, or having the last word: Field Marshal Sir John Dill and Prime Minister Winston Churchill’, Journal of Contemporary History, 22/1 (1987).
By late November, Churchill’s efforts bore fruit, when the reorganized chiefs of staff recognized that, ‘since assistance to Russia raised very delicate political issues, the final decision must rest entirely with the Prime Minister’.
TNA CAB 120/681, 24 Oct. 1941.
]
9 November (Bovingdon)
One more week. The twentieth week of war.
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


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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!
[It was Cripps who started the ball rolling towards the appointment of Litvinov as ambassador in Washington. In late July, following a meeting with Stalin, Cripps was rushed to the Kremlin’s luxurious shelter during an air raid. He was surprised to find Litvinov there rather ‘shabby and unlike his old self’. In October, Cripps succeeded in convincing Molotov that Litvinov should take part in the conference with Beaverbrook.
Cripps papers, diary, 26 July, 26 Sept. & 2 Oct. 1941.
Meanwhile Harriman had clearly signalled to Stalin that Umansky was


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persona non grata in Washington. A month later the Russians informed the Americans of their decision to appoint Litvinov as ambassador to the United States. Cripps was more justified than Maisky in claiming that he was responsible for putting Litvinov ‘right back on the political map’.
Cripps papers, diary, 4–13 Nov. 1941; FRUS, 1941, I, pp. 852–3.
]
11 November
It seems that we’ve come to the first crisis in relations between the ‘allies’!
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?


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‘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?’


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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.


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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.
12 November
Beaverbrook called me today on the phone and blurted out in his typical style: ‘Maisky! What a disgrace! We must find a way of clearing up this mess! Come over, we’ll have a talk.’
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,


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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.’


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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.’


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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.
14 November
Simović sent Čubrilović to me, together with Dr Sekulić,
Dr Miloš Sekulić, prominent member of the Yugoslav government in exile in London.
who has just arrived from Yugoslavia. Simović is making an appeal to Comrade Stalin. Disagreements and even internal conflict are to be observed among the Yugoslavian insurgents. There are two main groups: ‘partisans’ and ‘chetniks’. The former are led by communists (although far from all its members are communists) and prefer offensive tactics – they attack the Germans themselves. The latter are led by ‘farmers’ and officers of the former Yugoslavian army, and they prefer defensive tactics: they sit tight in the mountains and fight only if the Germans attack first. There is no accord between these two main groups. They do not help each other. There were even open clashes between them recently. Simović wants to ask Stalin to take measures in order to unite all Yugoslavian insurgents, espe


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cially the ‘partisans’, under the slogan of a united front. I promised to communicate the Yugoslavian prime minister’s request to Moscow.
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.’
16 November
Another week has passed!
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.’


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[On 24 November, German troops occupied Klin, a key point on the north-western approaches to Moscow. Four days later, the Germans advanced further, to a distance of only 20 miles from the Kremlin. Meanwhile Panzer Commander General Guderian was meticulously executing a pincer move on a wide front in the south, pressing on to Kashira, beyond which there was not a single Soviet formation to prevent the capture of Moscow. The final German thrust was attempted on 1 December by Field Marshal von Kluge
Günther von Kluge, field marshal, succeeded as the commander of the Fourth Army in the battles of Poland and France, but was forced to retreat in December 1941 from the outskirts of Moscow; later excelled as commander of the central front and finally commander-in-chief of the west.
along the Minsk–Moscow highway in fierce winter conditions. The next day, however, Zhukov made his bid and successfully drove the Germans back to positions they had occupied a few days earlier. Taking advantage of the parrying of the German offensive, Zhukov mounted a counter-strike on 5 December in temperatures that dipped to –30°C. By 9 December, the Germans had been driven back to positions they held before the major assault, after which they were subjected to continued harassment in their rear and a second counteroffensive at the end of the month.
E. Mawdsley, Thunder in the East: The Nazi–Soviet War 1941–1945 (London, 2005), pp. 105–7.
The Russians delayed announcing the successful repulse of German forces until the day after Eden’s arrival in Moscow.]
23 November (Bovingdon)


Page 1206

The situation is worse at the front once again. The Germans have mounted a new offensive near Moscow and Rostov. According to the radio and the press, as well as our reports, they massed their forces, brought up fresh reserves and attacked. True, their pressure does not seem to be as strong as in early October, but still… Great difficulties in Tula… Fierce fighting at Klin, probably meaning the loss of Kalinin… Fighting on the streets of Rostov…
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.


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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.
30 November
We have not gone to Bovingdon. Much to do in London.
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


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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!
[There are no further entries in the diary for 1941. Maisky, who was actively involved (at Eden’s request) in the preparatory stages of the conference in London,
AVP RF f.059 p.423 d.3789 l.344, Maisky to Molotov, 21 Nov. 1941.
joined the foreign secretary on his trip to Moscow during 7–30 December. Never sure as to what was in store, he made sure he took along ‘considerable quantity of Dunhills best’ for Stalin.
TNA FO 800/300, Cadogan to Clark Kerr, 1 May 1942.
On the whole, Eden shared Molotov’s hopes of concluding the conference with two agreements, one defining the common strategy and relationship during the war, and the other the nature and borders of Europe in the aftermath of the war (though he did not wish the second to be specific and detailed).
AVP RF f.059 p.399 d.3614 ll.45–6 & p.423 d.3789 l.369, exchange between Molotov and Maisky, 27 Nov. & 1 Dec. 1941.
At Eden’s instigation, the Foreign Office embarked on the drafting of the so-called ‘Volga Charter’, to be incorporated into the ‘Atlantic Charter’, recognizing the Soviet demand for a buffer zone in the Baltic and East Poland. This, they insisted, did not reflect expansionist ambitions, but was a ‘legitimate security claim’. Once again, Churchill considered only the tactical and propaganda value of the visit. To prevent undesirable commitments, he timed the visit for after the launch of the offensive in Libya. This offensive, he knew, would stifle any debate on strategic priorities and would enable Eden to claim that Britain had indeed opened a second front.
Eden, The Reckoning, p. 280; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 58, 60–3.
Bypassing Eden, Churchill adhered to his strategy. He now corresponded directly with Stalin, leaving him in no doubt as to the limits imposed on Eden. Stalin was presented with a Hobson’s choice between supplies and troops, and was informed that a discussion of political issues would be deferred until the end of the war.
TNA FO 954/24, telegram to Cripps, 20 Nov. 1941.
Thus Eden’s mission, like Beaverbrook’s, was doomed before he set foot on Soviet soil. His attempts to back out proved unsuccessful. He was forced to regard the visit as ‘exploratory talks’, and to fall back on the need to consult Washington, in order to ‘stall upon Russian proposals that had awkward features’.
TNA FO 37129472 N6835/3/38, minutes, 21, 24 & 26 Nov. 1941.
He was deprived of yet another crucial card when an additional consignment to Russia of 500 tanks and 100 fighters was postponed, pending the cessation of hostilities in the Western Desert.
TNA CAB 84/38 JP(41)1037, 1038 & 1066, 4 & 5 Dec.; CAB 79/86 COS(41)43, 4 Dec. 1941.
Eden’s visit in early December was overshadowed by two major events. On his way to Russia he was informed of the attack on Pearl Harbor. A day before the attack, Churchill still appeared conciliatory and flexible in his farewell talk with Maisky, embarking in detail on his vision for a post-war Europe in which the Soviet Union was assigned a prominent role.
AVP RF f.059 p.423 d.3789 ll.375–7, Maisky to Molotov on a meeting with Churchill, 6 Dec. 1941.
Churchill’s hasty departure for Washington a day after the attack, accompanied by all his chiefs of staff, and the discussion on common strategy at the White House stood in sharp contrast to the perfunctory treatment of Russia. The breathing space gained through the German engagement in Russia lost much of its significance. Eden was prohibited at the last moment from promising even symbolic assistance, beyond the supply protocol which was indispensable for at least the partial success of his mission. Curiously, the two active British fronts now coincided with British imperial interests in the Middle and Far East, while collaboration on the battlefield in Europe seemed remoter than ever.
The second event that overshadowed Eden’s visit was the impressive Soviet counteroffensive at the gates of Moscow. While the Russians gained in confidence, Eden lost a great deal of his bargaining power. In his memoirs, he concocted a success story out of the negotiations that resembled Beaverbrook’s of a few months previously.
Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 285–303.
Indeed, the similarities between the two missions are striking, although Eden’s closing meetings were stormier. As anticipated, Eden was confronted with the issues of frontiers and strategic collaboration. The initial cordial atmosphere, again coloured by Soviet expectations, soon gave way to frustration and conflict. The intensive negotiations reached deadlock, but a final noncommittal joint declaration and an ostentatious farewell reception at the Kremlin served Stalin as a morale booster at home and a display of unity vis-à-vis the Germans.


Page 1520

TNA CAB 66/20 WP(24)8, 5 Jan. 1942, and the Russian version is produced in O.A. Rzheshevsky, War and Diplomacy: The making of the Grand Alliance – documents from Stalin’s archives (London, 1996). The mission is vividly described by many of the participants, notably by Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 283–303; Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 217–42; Gorodetsky, Stafford Cripps in Moscow, ch. 9; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 417–25; and Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 65–81.
]
* * *
[The following letter was never sent to Stalin. It was aimed, in case the boat taking Eden and himself to Russia was sunk, at ensuring that the diary would be preserved and eventually published. By admitting to its existence, it was also a measure to protect Agniya in case his papers were confiscated after his death.] London, 6 December 1941 To Comrade STALIN Dear Iosif Vissarionovich, Tomorrow, I am leaving for the USSR together with Eden. As sea voyages are a rather risky business nowadays, I’m writing this letter to you just in case. In the attached portfolio there is the diary which I have kept – albeit not very regularly – for the last seven years. From the literary point of view, the diary does of course need significant editing, because I wrote it in varied circumstances and almost always in a hurry. Yet, from the historical point of view, it is undoubtedly of some interest. I have, after all, spent these seven years at the major observation post of world politics, with the opportunity to enter into dealings with the major political figures of England and other countries. I am sending my diary to you. Do with it as you see fit. It is hardly possible to publish it right now, even in part and even with a commentary: we are still too close to the events described here, and most of the characters who feature on its pages are still alive. But in the more distant future my diary, or at least its most interesting passages, could perhaps be published. Whether published or not, however, the diary is worth saving: it could be of use to a future historian of our epoch. Apart from the diary, there are various fragmentary notes in envelopes, which I usually entered into the diary at a later point. I have one more request. In the winter of 1939/40 I wrote reminiscences of my childhood and early youth (before entering university) and sent the manuscript to Comrade Kalinin, who wanted to publish them in Moscow on the very eve of the war. I don’t know how things stand now. I would be most grateful to you if you could give instructions to publish these reminiscences when the possibility arises. My wife would willingly take upon herself all the direct work involved in preparing them for publication. With Comradely regards, /I. Maisky/


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1942
[There are barely any entries following Maisky’s return from Moscow. This can be attributed only in part to a severe bout of recurring malaria and the immense burden of work he was subjected to. Not unlike in 1939, the main reasons for the protracted periods of silence were his qualms about the Kremlin’s policies.
Beaverbrook papers, BBK\C\238, exchange of letters with Maisky, 28 & 30 Jan. 1942; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1438 l.1 & d.1127 l.26 with John Dayson (the Lord Mayor) and Benjamin Tillott, 29 Jan. & 2 Feb. 1942.
The diary only alludes to the dramatic soul searching going on in Moscow in the first quarter of 1942.
Eden, who, contrary to his public image, often displayed an astonishing weakness under pressure, had left Stalin with the impression that he could sway the Cabinet to sign the agreements drafted in Moscow. Maisky was much encouraged, as he disclosed to the American ambassador, by Eden’s favourable response to Stalin’s demands and the foreign secretary’s conviction that the British government would ‘raise no difficulties’. Shortly after their return from Moscow, Maisky implored Eden to recommend to Churchill (who was still in Washington) that he should endorse the agreement concerning Russia’s western borders. Churchill, however, responded with an indignant and stiff telegram instructing Eden to inform Stalin that post-war arrangements would have to be left for the peace conference.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3850 p.429 l.28, 11 Jan. 1942; FRUS, 1942, III, pp. 491–3, 512–21. The Polish government in exile gained the same impression of Eden’s talks in Moscow; see General Sikorski Historical Institute (ed.), Documents on Polish–Soviet Relations 1939–1945 (London, 1961), (hereafter DPSR), I, Doc. 183.
Once again mutual suspicion and mistrust afflicted the budding alliance. Maisky’s ideologically tinted observation was that the British fear of communism and the thought that the Russians might reach Berlin could impede a post-war agreement and might even lead the ‘ruling class to seek a separate peace with the German generals and business men’.
Webb, diary, 26 Jan. 1942, p. 7257.
He was right, in so far as apprehension of ‘Soviet treachery’ continued to dominate the attitude of British officialdom towards the Soviet Union. Paradoxically, such emotions now dictated the need for an agreement to be concluded swiftly, before the Soviet Union could finish creating ‘a series of autonomous Soviet Socialist Republics in different parts of Germany’, thus achieving ‘not only its ideological objective but also giving practical effect to Stalin’s avowed policy of “breaking up” Germany’. A German–Soviet agreement could therefore never be ruled out, allowing Stalin to achieve what he had always hoped to achieve, and which the war had ‘hitherto denied to him, namely, that Germany and the Western Democracies should exhaust themselves in an inconclusive struggle to the ultimate benefit of the Soviet Government’.
TNA FO371 32905 N885/30/38, memo by Sargent, 5 Feb. 1942. A senior Foreign Office official told the Swedish ambassador: ‘I hope to God that the Germans won’t suddenly collapse now, precisely at the moment when the Russians would be top dog at the peace conference, having done more to beat the Germans than the British and much more than the Americans’; W.P. Crozier, Off the Record: Political interviews, 1933–1943 (London, 1973), p. 271.
Eden accordingly continued to argue forcefully in Cabinet that, in the absence of an agreement which would define the nature of the alliance, there would be ‘no counterweight to Russia in Europe’ after the war, rendering her position ‘unassailable’.
TNA CAB 66/21 WP(42)48, 28 Jan. 1942.
Churchill was manifestly enraged over not having been consulted: would it not have been ‘wise for you to discuss the matter with me first?’, he reproached Eden, as the latter


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retracted his paper for amendments.
TNA PREM 3/399/1–2, 31 Jan. 1942.
The watered-down memorandum was finally discussed in Cabinet on 5 and 6 February. Only Beaverbrook spoke strongly in favour of acceding to Stalin’s demands, describing the Baltic States as ‘the Ireland of Russia’. Russia, he reminded his colleagues, ‘had contributed far more to the war effort than the United States to whom we had made such frequent concessions’. He called for swift action, and threatened to appeal to public opinion, so that ‘people may settle the deliberation on our behalf’. Tamed by Churchill, Eden sought compromise, but to no avail. The prime minister, whose gaze was fixed on the United States, insisted that Stalin’s demands ‘should be settled at the Peace Conference’, and duly convinced Cabinet to pass them on to the American president without any comments and recommendations.
TNA CAB 65/29 16 & 17(42)5; TNA CAB 66/22 WP (42)71, 6 Feb. 1942.
The implied subservient British attitude was evident in a somewhat sulky personal letter from Eden to the American ambassador, reassuring him that Britain had not entered into any agreements or commitments of which the United States had not been informed, and that it would ‘always be careful’ to keep the Americans informed of any commitments which might affect the eventual terms of the peace.
NA, State Department, London Embassy Box 218, 16 Feb. 1942.
Constrained by Churchill, there was little Eden could do to mollify Maisky, who was increasingly worried about the effect the prolonged absence of any response to Stalin’s demands was having on Moscow. He knew better than to accept Eden’s feeble excuses that the Soviet demands were ‘not put in an unfavourable light’ to the Americans.
TNA FO 371 32875 N846/1/38, 12 Feb. 1942.
Eden, nonetheless, resented Roosevelt for hijacking his own initiative: as it was ‘with His Majesty’s Government and not with the United States Government that M. Stalin wishes to conclude a treaty … it would seem inappropriate to him that we should not be party to these exchanges’. Maisky could not resist the temptation of again pushing through his own initiatives. He shared with Eden a serious concern that the procedure adopted in consulting the Americans was bound to lead to procrastination and allow the effect of the foreign secretary’s own visit to dissipate. He therefore defied instructions from Moscow to keep a low profile,
See commentary following diary entry for 13 March 1942.
and ‘pleaded once more earnestly’ with Eden (after learning that Welles had disclosed to Litvinov Roosevelt’s wish to bypass the British and open direct dialogue with Stalin) that he should not suspend his response to Moscow for long. The two now conspired to launch tripartite conversations in London, leading to ‘close co-operation, both for the conduct of the war and in the period after the war’.
TNA FO 371 32876 N1113/5/38 & CAB 65/25 24(42)2; Roosevelt papers, PSF 4: Great Britain, Aide Memoire submitted by Eden to Winant, 25 Feb. 1942; TNA FO 371 32876 N1027/3/98, Halifax to Eden, 20 Feb.; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3832 p.427 l.178, Litvinov to Molotov; TNA FO 371 32876 N1115/5/38; SAO, I, no. 87, Eden’s conversation with Maisky, 26 Feb. 1942.
In a private letter, Maisky expressed to Kollontay his guarded optimism, and concluded with a cryptic comment that while he could not tell ‘how complicated the situation will become in the future … perhaps fate is heading to some sort of a new crossroads’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 l.25 & d.143 l.73, 27 & 28 Feb. 1942.
]
31 January
A number of entries, written in haste and abbreviated, are expanded here to facilitate reading.
Three-day parliamentary debate (27–28/1) on government policy. Vote of confidence: 464 to 1, with 27 abstentions. A smart move by Churchill: show your confidence! ‘The 1922 Committee’ wants debates without votes (‘to poison the atmosphere’, to undermine Churchill’s prestige). The figures are a bit artificial. But Churchill’s position is secure. The air has been cleared to some extent. Yet the ship of state does not find itself in calm waters.
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


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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.
5 February
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.


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… 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.
Reply to Harriman.
According to my information the Soviet government finds it very desirable that a meeting between Stalin and Roosevelt should take place. However, it should be taken into account that a very tense struggle is continuing on the Soviet–German front. Mr S., who is responsible for the conduct of the military operations, cannot leave the USSR at such a time. Wouldn’t regions of Arkhangelsk or Astrakhan do?
Maisky became aware of Moscow’s attempts to drive a wedge between London and Washington through an extremely flattering TASS communiqué on 31 January hailing the progressive policies of the ‘courageous and resolute’ American president on the occasion of Roosevelt’s sixtieth birthday. This was followed by personal greetings in the same vein from Kalinin, the president of the Soviet Union, which left an impact; TNA FO 371 32896 N711/21/38; Roosevelt papers, OF 220, 7 Feb. 1942.
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.
London, 27 February 1942


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The copy of the letter to Litvinov is included in the diary under this date.
Dear Maksim Maksimovich [Litvinov], I deem it necessary to bring the following to your attention: On 2 February Harriman arrived in London from America, he called me on the 4th and invited me to lunch with him on the 5th. We lunched, just the two of us, in Harriman’s hotel room. First we discussed various topics, but then Harriman asked whether it would be possible to arrange a meeting between Roosevelt and Stalin. Harriman believes that there is a great deal of distrust between the USA and the USSR, as well as between the USSR and England. The best way of eliminating it would be a personal meeting between Roosevelt and Stalin. Harriman knows that Roosevelt would be eager to meet, but how about Stalin? Harriman suggested either Iceland or the area around the Bering Strait as the location for the meeting, stressing that it makes no odds to Roosevelt whose territory is chosen for the meeting. After hearing Harriman out, I began by asking whether there had been any conversations on this matter with you in Washington. For


Page 1213

the matter in question lies entirely within your competence. Harriman replied that he did not know whether there had been any talks with you on this topic, and conceded that there may not have been, for the whole question was still too ‘raw’ for the US government to consider it possible to sound out the Soviet ambassador officially or even semi-officially. I gained the impression from what Harriman told me that the possibility of a meeting between Roosevelt and Stalin is being discussed not in the State Department, but among people in the president’s circle such as Hopkins, Harriman and others, and that they probably thought it more convenient and less binding to probe our intentions on this issue through London rather than Washington and via the Harriman–Maisky route rather than the Hull–Litvinov one. It’s not for nothing that Harriman stressed several times during lunch that he was ‘not a diplomat, but a businessman’ and that he was not associated with the State Department.
I reported our conversation to Moscow and received a reply eight days later stating that the Soviet government deemed the meeting desirable; but since Stalin could not leave the USSR because of the tense situation at the front, Arkhangelsk or Astrakhan were proposed as the site of the meeting. I informed Harriman of this. Our second conversation took place after the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau had broken through the Channel. Harriman reacted to my message by declaring that due to the increased danger in the North Atlantic he now thought it unwise to arrange the meeting in Iceland or near Arkhangelsk. As for the Caspian Sea, it was too far away – the president would not be able to leave the USA for such a long period at present. So according to Harriman there was only one place left – the Bering Strait. For Roosevelt, at least, that would be the most convenient location. I expressed doubts about the possibility of a meeting in a region so distant from Moscow (indeed today I received confirmation from Moscow that the Bering Strait was unacceptable). Harriman recognized the validity of my doubts. He nonetheless wished to continue exploring, in an unofficial manner, various avenues for a meeting between Roosevelt and Stalin. He added that since the practical possibility of a meeting had not yet taken shape, the best way of handling the matter was through an unofficial exchange of opinions. For the failure of this project, even if caused by purely geographical problems, might leave an unpleasant taste. This is how things stand at present. I wished to inform you about the afore-said in a purely personal manner because the matter lies within your competence and I was involved in it quite against my will and desires. It goes without saying that I’ll hand the matter over to Washington at the first opportunity.


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I press your hand warmly,
I. Maisky P.S. I am typing myself, as I often do. [For three key players – Halifax and Litvinov in Washington, and Maisky in London – the situation was alarmingly reminiscent of 1939. All three were virtually ‘in exile’, little trusted by their own governments. Halifax, atoning for mistakes he might have committed on the eve of war, was most eager to forestall a separate Soviet–German peace and to foster the alliance. Litvinov strove for the same goal, but shared Stalin’s and Molotov’s distrust of the British, who had let him down in Munich and during the negotiations for a triple alliance. Maisky and Litvinov, arguably the most effective advocates of their country’s interests, continued to be deadly rivals of Molotov. Apart from Kollontay, they were the only active survivors of the old school of Soviet diplomacy. Litvinov, markedly outspoken and independent, continued to be at daggers drawn with Molotov and was increasingly subject to harassment. For a short while, Maisky – as always, cautious and subservient (though in a subversive way) – was left to his own devices. At times, as his letter to Litvinov indicates, he was placed in a most embarrassing personal situation, such as when he was used as a go-between with the Americans, behind Litvinov’s back.]
15 February
What is England’s reaction to the military successes of the USSR in the last 10 weeks?
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


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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.


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18 February
The political atmosphere has remained tense and uneasy. I was in parliament on the 17th. Churchill spoke about the fall of Singapore. He did not look well, was irritated, easily offended and obstinate. The MPs were caustic and sniffy. They gave Churchill a bad reception and a bad sending-off. I’ve never seen anything like it. Sharp questions made the PM angry. One episode: an MP demanded that a judge be appointed chairman of the committee investigating the issue of the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau. Churchill jumped to his feet and replied irritably that the work and composition of the committee was a secret matter. Protests. A verbal skirmish. Oppressive atmosphere. Churchill yielded: it turned out that the chairman had already been appointed – Judge Bucknill
Sir Alfred Townsend Bucknill was an English judge and a privy counsellor specializing in maritime law.
… So what was the problem? Churchill’s nervousness. After Churchill’s performance it became clear: a general debate could not be avoided. But when? Churchill dug his heels in again. It was decided: next week. My general impression: a crisis is brewing.
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


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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!’
20 February
(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.


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The same in England …
Eden – 10.30 – what’s it all about?
Beaverbrook? Supply?
My proposal …
K. Wood, Margesson, Cranborne.
Beaverbrook’s misfortunes: (1) military staffs (he managed their resources); (2) industrialists (did not make it up with Beaverbrook and Bevin’s shop stewards). (3) Two souls: Chamberlain and Churchill supporters among the ruling classes – the reconstruction strengthened the latter group.
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.
[Cripps’s reception by the public after his return from Moscow was reminiscent of Churchill’s ‘finest hour’ a year earlier. Eden did not even exclude the possibility of serving as minister of war in a Cabinet led by Cripps.
Webb, diary, 26 Jan. and 3 Feb. 1942, pp. 7255–8; P. Addison, The Road to 1945: British politics and the Second World War (London, 1975), ch. 7; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 101–2.
It was reckoned in political circles that ‘each week his stature will grow’ while Churchill’s might ‘correspondingly sink’. All that was needed was for Cripps ‘to make a first-class speech in the House giving a lead to the nation and things political might then begin to take some shape’.
Sylvester papers, diary, B70, letter to Lloyd George, 9 Feb. 1942.
Cripps’s vow not to serve in a Cabinet alongside Beaverbrook eventually forced the resignation of the latter. It was widely assumed, as Winant informed Washington, that Cripps’s entry into the War Cabinet signalled the ‘intensification of efforts for closer relations with Russia’.
NA State Department (hereafter SD) 841.00/1548, 20 Feb. 1942. A thorough survey prepared for Beaverbrook by the chief editor of the Daily Express conceded that ‘no one thought of you as a potential Prime Minister … the country thought of you as a go-getter, a man of vigour and dispatch, but not as the nation’s leader’. Cripps was perceived as the likely contender, were Churchill to encounter further disasters. Beaverbrook papers, BBK\H\111, early February, Arthur Christiansen to Beaverbrook.
No wonder Maisky was quick to congratulate Cripps on his appointment to the War Cabinet – something he hoped would ‘augur well for the conduct of the war in general and for relations between the Soviet and Great Britain in particular’. He expected Cripps’s ‘knowledge’ of Russia and ‘understanding of foreign affairs’ to facilitate the settlement of the outstanding problems while ‘laying the foundations for closer collaboration after the war’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.973 l.4, 20 Feb. 1941.
But Beaverbrook was right in claiming that Cripps was ‘playing the Russians up while in reality he was the only genuine supporter of Russia in Cabinet’, and that his own resignation meant ‘trouble for the Russians’.
Crozier, Off the Record, p. 284; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.10, 25 March 1942.
Churchill fell back on his abundant political experience to sustain his authority. He neutralized Cripps by including him in the War Cabinet and appointing him Leader of the House. This role, as Churchill must have known, did not suit Cripps’s spartan, righteous and ascetic personality: it was a time-consuming task and it alienated him from his potential supporters. When


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discussions on Russia gathered momentum in March, Cripps was entrusted with a protracted and forlorn mission to India – ‘a masterly stroke’ by Churchill which ‘had shown him up’.
Churchill admitted it over lunch with Lloyd George, begging him: ‘Do not repeat that’; Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 28 April 1942. See also Clarke, The Cripps Version and R.J. Moore, Churchill, Cripps and India, 1939–1945 (Oxford, 1979), pp. 63–83, 122–32.
In such circumstances, Cripps’s continued presence in the Cabinet with little to show for it gradually gnawed away at his credibility. He was the obvious loser when forced to resign his seat in the War Cabinet at the end of the year, following victory at El Alamein.
Addison, The Road to 1945, pp. 206–9; C.H. King, With Malice toward None: A war diary by Cecil H. King (London, 1970), pp. 182, 189–90; W.S. Churchill, The Second World War: The Hinge of Fate (London, 1950), pp. 202–3.
]
25 February
Positive changes in the government (Margesson, Moore-Brabazon and Moyne
Walter Edward Guinness (1st Baron Moyne), secretary of state for the colonies, 1941–42; leader of the House of Lords, 1941–42; deputy minister of state, Cairo, 1942–44.
removed and replaced by Grigg, Llewellin
John Jestyn Llewellin, parliamentary secretary, Ministry of War Transport, 1941–42; president of the Board of Trade, 1942; minister of aircraft production, February–November 1942.
and Cranborne). Strengthening of the Churchill wing. The disappearance of Greenwood together with his ministry is understandable: Churchill had to balance dismissals among the Tories, too. Greenwood was an obvious candidate: weak and a drunkard. The abolition of the Ministry of Reconstruction is yet further proof of Churchill’s lack of interest in the future. He says: my task is to win the war; let someone else clear up the mess once it’s over.
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.
26 February
Eden.
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.


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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.
28 February
At Beaverbrook’s in Cherkley. Dinner. Harriman and his daughter. Mrs R. Churchill, M. Foot
Michael Foot, assistant editor, Tribune, 1937–38; acting editor, Evening Standard, 1942; Labour MP, 1945–55 and 1960–92.
and others.
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.


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Meeting their commitments – (December and January!).
Now – questions in the House of Lords. The press.
2 March
Beaverbrook.
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.


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[Roaming around his Savoy suite in his ‘pyjamas and a Jaeger dressing-jacket … surrounded by Secretaries and valets’, Beaverbrook told Bruce Lockhart that he was ‘keen to put his Russian deal over in Washington. His real job was to “sell” an Anglo-American-Russian agreement to Roosevelt.’
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42, 17 March 1942.
En route to the United States, he reaffirmed his personal loyalty to Churchill – but not before waving at him his own programme for assistance to Russia, which could hardly have pleased the prime minister. It called for recognition of the 1941 Russian frontiers, an increase in supplies, and an expedition into Europe.
TNA PREM 3/399/8, 17 March 1942.
Eden and his entourage did not take Beaverbrook’s self-engineered invitation to the White House seriously. They doubted whether he ‘cuts much ice’ with either Roosevelt or Stalin, ‘who know their own gangsters’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 14 March 1942, p. 108.
Halifax did not fail to warn Hopkins that the visit was bound to ‘create difficulties with other responsible people’, and was assured that the Americans ‘never intended for Max to come … and if there was any idea of him settling down here to tell everyone how to do their job, that would be in his view pretty disastrous’. He was neither helped by the fact that Winant had incited Roosevelt against him, dwelling on how he had ‘so harried’ Churchill since his return from Washington.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, Winant to Roosevelt, 19 Feb. 1942; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 21 Feb. 1942.
]
3 March
At Eden’s house in the country. 1 March. Conversation about a ‘bloc of eight states’. Eden is against it; has given appropriate instructions to Strang and Makins.
Roger Mellor Makins, served on staff of resident minister in West Africa, 1942; counsellor, 1942.
Eden holds that federations of states should be rational and established with the support of the great powers, not against them.
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.
4 March
Cripps.
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


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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.
5 March
Eden and Cripps.
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).
6 March


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Moore-Brabazon, the dismissed minister of aircraft production, visited me to ‘explain himself and clear up the misunderstandings that have arisen between us’. I told him I knew of no ‘misunderstandings’ but was ready to listen to him.
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.
10 March
Since 20 February the Majlis has been discussing the structure of the Iranian government. On 23 February all the ministers resigned. Forughi
Mohammad Ali Khan Forughi, Iranian prime minister, 1925–26, 1933–35 and 1941–42.
formed a new Cabinet. The Majlis approved it by a small majority on 2 March. Within a few hours Forughi resigned. The shah entrusted Soheili
Ali Soheili, Iranian prime minister March–August 1942 and 1943–44, ambassador in Britain 1953.
with forming a new government. Soheili eventually did so, and the Majlis approved it by a huge majority.


Page 1225

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).
[It had become ‘daily clearer’ to Eden that full strategic talks with Stalin were indispensable, but that unless the frontier issue was cleared out of the way, Stalin would ‘neither talk nor listen’. On 7 March, he persuaded a reluctant Churchill that ‘the only way of tilting the American scale’ was through a personal message to Roosevelt. Churchill’s real motive for making the approach was his desire to recruit Russia against Japan in the Far East.
TNA PREM 3/395/12.
He was also under considerable pressure at home. The treaty was, as Cripps put it, the ‘acid test’ and a small price to pay for continued Soviet resistance.
Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 135.
The Foreign Office espoused the views of Bruce Lockhart, an old Russia hand, who observed the ‘discomfort’ in the United States and Russia over the absence of British support, and the resurgence of old suspicions that Britain wished to see Russia ‘bleed White’. ‘If we go on dallying with Russia,’ he argued, ‘we shall lose her.’ The Soviet government had to be ‘treated as a Great Power … If it is patronised, it will not only resent such treatment, but will out do us in bad behaviour.’ Perhaps even more powerful was the negative argument that only an immediate intervention on the continent would secure a sufficiently strong presence of Anglo-American forces to ‘hinder any possible expansionist plans of the Soviet Government’.
TNA FO 371 32906 N1256/30/38, minutes by Lockhart and Sargent, 1 & 2 March; Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 9 & 10 March 1942.
‘The increasing gravity of the war,’ Churchill cabled to Roosevelt, ‘has led me to feel that the principles of the Atlantic Charter ought not to be construed so as to deny Russia the frontiers she occupied when Germany attacked her … I hope therefore that you will be able to give us a free hand to sign the treaty which Stalin desires as soon as possible. Everything portends an immense renewal of the German invasion of Russia in the spring and there is very little we can do to help the only country that is heavily engaged with the German armies.’ Halifax was dumbfounded by Churchill’s ‘sharp change of front on Russia’, given that he had been calling Eden ‘every name from a dog to a pig for


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suggesting composition with Stalin’. It is hardly surprising that Halifax found Roosevelt to be ‘very sticky’, preaching ‘general morality’ and referring to hostile public opinion. And yet he was convinced that if he had a chance to meet Stalin he could settle the issue ‘in five minutes’.
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 8 March 1942; telegram quoted in M. Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill: Road to Victory, 1941–1945 (London, 1986), p. 67.
In view of the obvious disagreements with Washington, Churchill, too, suggested to Maisky that he would like to ‘meet Stalin at somewhere like Baku’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 17 March 1942, pp. 109–10; Gilbert, Road to Victory, p. 76.
After Halifax had officially submitted Stalin’s demands, he encountered a defiant Welles, who was committed to a new world order based ‘on principle – if it was not again to crash’. He was little moved by Halifax’s contention that President Wilson’s
Thomas Woodrow Wilson, an academic who became president of the United States, 1913–1921, and who introduced the 21 principles upon which the League of Nations was founded.
ideas of ‘self-determination … had not stood up against the stress of power politics’, and that if Russia were to be kept in the Allied camp in the war, Stalin’s ‘exaggerated claims or suspicions’ had to be urgently dispelled. To stall the British initiative, Welles prevailed on Roosevelt to ‘stick to the Atlantic Charter’, convincing him that he was better positioned than the British to reach an agreement with Stalin.
TNA FO 371 32876 N1024 & N1025/5/38, 21 Feb. 1941, Halifax to Eden.
Roosevelt dismissed Churchill’s approach in a paternalistic way, ‘without too much gravity, saying what Churchill needed was a pat on the back’. The chiefs of staff and Roosevelt’s close advisers, who were summoned for consultations at the White House, were quick to recognize that the gist of the prime minister’s long message was: ‘we would be unable to get our victory in ‘43 but would have to wait till ‘44’. They were most critical of the suspension, which was bound to lead to ‘further dispersion and plugging up all leaks’. Of the various alternatives, the president now seemed ‘strongly and favourably impressed’ by the orthodox line of sending an overwhelming force to the British Isles and ‘giving Hitler two fronts to fight on if it could be done in time while the Russians were still in’.
Stimson papers, diary, 5 March 1942. This policy was only challenged by Admiral King in a long memorandum he sent Roosevelt that same day; Roosevelt papers, Collection PSF, Box 5, 5 March 1942.
Eisenhower,
Dwight David Eisenhower, general, sent to England as commander of European theatre of operations in March 1942; commander-in-chief Allied forces in North Africa, November, 1942–44; supreme commander, Allied Expeditionary Force in Western Europe, 1944–45.
who had been assigned by Marshall
George Catlett Marshall, chief of staff of the United States Army, 1939–45; secretary of state, 1947–49.
to examine the war plans to defeat Japan and Germany, reinforced Stimson’s
Henry Stimson, US secretary of war, 1929–33 and then throughout the Second World War, despite being 72 at the time of his appointment.
views. Standing up in front of the secretary of war’s large map of the world, he drew a ‘sharp line’ around the ‘no go’ areas, namely Australia and the Mediterranean, which he defined as ‘a secondary theatre’. He considered the task of keeping Russia at war to be ‘of primary importance for, if she [went] out of the war, he could see nothing better than a stalemate for us’.
Stimson papers, diary, 6 March 1942.
The demarcation of spheres of activity assigned the Pacific theatre to the Americans and the Mediterranean to the British. The European and Atlantic areas were reinstated as the theatres in which ‘the major effort against Germany would be made’ and jointly entrusted to the British and Americans. Roosevelt also left Churchill in no doubt that he was ‘more and more interested in the establishment of this new front this summer, certainly for air and raids’.
NA Military Archives (hereafter RG) 165, ABC 371 3-5-42, 7 March; Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, Roosevelt to Churchill, 9 March 1942.
He was convinced, as he intimated to his Treasury secretary, that the only reason the Americans were in better standing with the Soviet Union was that they had kept their promises, while the British had let the Russians down. ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘would be worse than to have the Russians collapse … I would


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rather lose New Zealand, Australia or anything else than have the Russians collapse.’ In short, Roosevelt later scribbled on a paper: ‘Russian resistance counts most today.’


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Roosevelt papers, Collection Morgenthau, Presidential Diaries, Vol. 5, p. 1075, Roosevelt to Morgenthau, 11 March 1942.
Litvinov was summoned to the White House on 12 March and was bluntly told by the president that, as ‘it was difficult to do business with the English and the Foreign Office’, he preferred to discuss the Baltic issue directly with him. Roosevelt was cunningly accommodating towards the Russians, recognizing in principle their claim to the region which had been torn from Russia after the First World War. However, faced with hostile public opinion at home, he wished to defer discussion to the peace conference. This was counterbalanced by a revelation of the pressure he was exerting on the British to open a second front. Reporting home, the ambassador grudgingly complained that he could have demolished Roosevelt’s arguments concerning the treaty had he not been aware that Molotov was ‘no longer interested in an agreement with England’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3832 p.427 ll.233–7. Significantly the last sentence is missing from the Russian official publication, in SAO, I, pp. 155–7.
Within a couple of days, Roosevelt introduced a coup in relations with Russia. While appearing to woo Churchill, he mercilessly hammered home the repercussions of the military disasters on Churchill’s political standing, in order to justify his independent approach to the Russians: ‘I know you will not mind my being brutally frank when I tell you that I think I can personally handle Stalin better than either your Foreign Office or my State Department. Stalin hates the guts of all your top people. He thinks he likes me better, and I hope he will continue to do so.’
To leave Churchill in no doubt about his intentions of assuming command in the military sphere, too, he promised to send him within days ‘a more definite plan for a joint attack in Europe itself’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, 18 March 1942.
Churchill’s position, as Beaverbrook observed, had become ‘very weak’, while cooperation with the Americans was crumbling, as evinced by Roosevelt’s ‘very disappointing’ response to Churchill’s telegram. Rather than acquiesce to the British suggestion that the political agreement would eliminate the ‘danger of Russia’s going out of the war’, Roosevelt announced that he would ‘have a word with Litvinoff and put things right’. The British, it was lamented in the Foreign Office, had been ‘snubbed and, more or less, told we know nothing about Russia’.
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 13, 14 & 15 March 1942; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 15 March 1942, p. 109.
]
10 March
A second English front in Europe is needed by the time all offensives are launched – or the only chance to win the war may be lost.
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.
11 March


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Beav.
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.
12 March
Eden handed me a copy of Churchill’s message to Stalin of 9 March.
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.


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13 March
Eden.
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.
[The failure to set up a common strategic and political platform presented the Russians with a serious dilemma as to how best to confront the looming German spring offensive. Maisky knew that the disasters inflicted on Britain in the Far East had raised doubts in Stalin’s mind about the value of British assistance, ‘sincerity, and determination to fight the war to a finish’. While the British ‘clearly had an instinct for sea warfare’, they ‘did not seem to understand war on land’. Although he claimed to know better, Maisky dropped ominous hints that ‘some, like Stalin, have never been out of Russia and find us more difficult to understand’. Stalin would tend to assume that ‘we’ve passed the buck to Roosevelt and are hedging’.
Liddell Hart, The Liddell Hart Memoirs, p. 200; Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, pp. 389–90; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 14 March 1942, p. 109.
This could prove disastrous, as Stalin expected 1942 to be the decisive year of the war and the one in which the Germans could be crushed, were Britain to embark on ‘a big enterprise’ in Italy or the Balkans – let alone a cross-channel attack. Maisky strove hard to eliminate the apparent discrepancy in the timetable, conscious that ‘the British did not really want to win victory in 1942’ and were preparing for victory in 1943.
Crozier, Off the Record, pp. 271–9.
The growing disillusionment in Moscow was confirmed by Molotov’s startling strict instructions to Litvinov to avoid raising the second front issue – instructions which the ambassador fiercely disputed. Now that the Americans were at war, he expected them to defend the British Isles, ‘if not to get engaged in a direct landing in the continent’. Though promising to abide by the directive, in private conversations with prominent politicians and diplomats he argued fervently in favour of a second front. He did not hide from Molotov his intention of arguing in public that the idleness of the Allied armies was inadmissible, just when the destiny of the entire campaign was at stake.
AVP RF f.059 op.1427 d.3832 l.185, 20 Feb. 1942; Davies papers, Box 11, ‘History of Cross Channel Second Front Operations’, 15 April 1946.
Much irritated, Molotov dug in his heels. He deplored Churchill’s numerous recent


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speeches in which he had dismissed the Russian initiative while ‘paying no heed to the idea of a second front’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3920 p.438 l.103, 26 Feb. 1942.
When Litvinov persevered, speaking to foreign journalists in New York, he was roundly reprimanded by Moscow and again reminded that ‘the Soviet Government was not at present pressing the Allies to open a second front’. He was castigated besides for warning the Americans that if they failed to mount an offensive against Hitler in the spring, they might ‘find it too late to do so later’; by doing so, he presented the Soviet Union in a bad light, as ‘unduly nervous and wrong’.
Indeed it was perceived as such by the Foreign Office; TNA FO 371 32906 N1138/30/38, 2 March 1942. Maisky informed Litvinov that his speech was given considerable space in the British media; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 l.73. On the extent of the agitation for a second front, see Davies papers, diary, Box 11, 3 March 1942.
A few days later, he was further instructed to ‘follow rigorously’ Molotov’s similar directives concerning the contemplated political agreement, and to confine his activities to ensuring the smooth flow of American supplies.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3920 p.438 ll.110–12 & 115–16; Roosevelt papers, PSF 5, Litvinov to Hopkins, 4 March 1942.
Litvinov was but little moved. He told Admiral Standley,
William Harrison Standley, admiral, chief of naval operations, 1933–37; US ambassador to the Soviet Union, 1941–43.
the newly appointed ambassador to Moscow, that although he ‘was not empowered by his Government to press for a two front war, and did not believe that his Government was pressing the British for the establishment of a second front at this time, he was doing so in a personal capacity since he was convinced of the wisdom of such action’.
Standley papers, 6-10/17, 17 March 1942.
The following day, he triumphantly informed Narkomindel that, judging by the press, the call for a second front to be opened was ‘falling on fertile ground’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3832 p.427 l.243, 18 March 1942.
The puzzling shift in the Soviet position has been either overlooked or misconstrued by Western scholars, who have often attributed the rumours of a separate peace to Stalin’s attempts to scare and ‘blackmail’ the Western powers into further commitment. It is hardly surprising that the topic has been censored in Russian historiography.
First raised in earnest by V. Mastny, ‘Stalin and the prospects of a separate peace in World War II’, American Historical Review, 77 (1972), though he focused mostly on summer 1943, as did I. Fleischhauer, Die Chance des Sonderfriedens (Berlin, 1986).
The major driving force in the West to harness the Russians to the Allied camp was, as in 1939, fear of a German–Soviet reconciliation. The Soviet Union harboured similar suspicions of a possible Anglo-German separate peace. This explains why the proposed draft treaty between the Soviet Union and Great Britain included an undertaking by both sides ‘not to enter into negotiations with the Hitlerite Government or any other Government of Germany that does not clearly renounce all aggressive intentions, and not to negotiate or conclude except by mutual consent any armistice or peace treaty with Germany’.
TNA CAB 66/23 WP(42)156, draft treaty submitted to Cabinet, 10 April 1942.
The suspicion at the Foreign Office was enhanced by information from reliable sources that Stalin was deliberately raising artificial grievances against Britain to prevent Anglo-Russian relations from becoming genuinely cordial. It was even suggested that Maisky’s complaints that Britain was ‘not in earnest’ were a component of a deliberate campaign to set the scene for a break with the Allies. Such suggestions seemed to be sustained by Stalin’s order of the day to the Red Army on 23 February which implied that, once the country was liberated, the Soviet Union would be ready to make peace with the German people. It was also reported from Moscow that a general, speaking at the Palace of Culture on Red Army Day, had disclosed that two peace overtures had been made by the Germans.
TNA FO 371 32876 N1156/5/38, 27 Feb. 1942.
Moreover, while anti-Nazi propaganda in the Soviet press subsided, trusted Swedish informers confirmed that Schulenburg had been summoned to confer with Hitler at Berchtesgaden on 4 March.
NA SD, 740.0011 European War 1939/20007 Johnson to State Department, 7 March 1942; Moscow Embassy Box 5, 2 March 1942; TNA CAB 122/100, Halifax to FO, 19 March 1942.
American intelligence, which was shared with the Kremlin, suggested that Hitler’s main objective was ‘to make peace with Stalin, if possible, on the basis of the present occupancy and possession of the Ukraine’.


Page 1231

Only if he failed to conclude peace was Hitler expected to push on either to Moscow or to the Caucasus.
Davies papers, diary, Box 11, 10 April 1942.
It is indeed conceivable, and there are indications that, in desperation, Stalin resorted to the same tactics he had employed in the spring of 1939 and considered an approach to the Germans through Beria. The essence of this would have been cessation of hostilities with Germany by May 1942, coupled with the bait that Russia might join the war against the West by the end of 1943. The reward for the Russians would have been the reinstatement of the territorial arrangements of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, supplemented by the allocation of spheres of influence in the Balkans, and most likely even in Greece, literally re-establishing the revered frontiers of the San Stefano Agreement, reached in the wake of the Russo-Turkish war of 1878.
The supposedly declassified document was published by a veteran military-intelligence officer V. Karpov, Generalissimus (Moscow, 2012), I, pp. 458–62. I have been shown the document independently, with maps of the proposed settlement attached to it; alas outside the archives and in conditions which made it hard to establish its authenticity.
This would explain the nervousness of both Litvinov and Maisky, and the cryptic comments in the diary (as well as the prolonged silences).
Such a probability is corroborated by an intriguing set of instructions from Molotov to Litvinov which disclosed the state of mind in the Kremlin:
As is well known, the negotiations with Eden have failed to bring about the conclusion of the two agreements elaborated by us and the English. The proceedings did not go beyond verbal exchanges. Before departing from Moscow, Eden promised to promptly consult the government and the dominions, as well as the USA, about the issues which had been raised. Stalin declared, in his turn, that considering the failure to reach an agreement on the proposal made by our side (borders of 1941 for the USSR, etc.), it is assumed that the two parties were in no way bound by any obligations emanating from these negotiations. Therefore we regard the Moscow negotiations merely as precursory talks on various topics which are of interest to both countries. Since then negotiations between us and the British on this issue have not resumed, and at present we ourselves are not interested in continuing the Moscow negotiations. Whatever, we do not now consider it expedient to seize the initiative in this matter – we do not consider it expedient to rush the British. We particularly would not wish at present to see the United States meddling in this matter …


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AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3920 p.438 ll.117–20, Molotov to Litvinov, 3 March 1942. It is indeed most telling that this document is not included in the official publication of the Soviet documents and that there is an ominous gap in the exchanges with Litvinov between 18 Feb. and 12 March.
Maisky’s optimism, as well as his survival instinct, impelled him, just as it had in 1939, to assume that the forging of the alliance was a foregone conclusion. He assured Kollontay that, after all the delays and complications, the agreements on military mutual aid during the war and cooperation on post-war reconstruction ‘appear to be nearing completion’. Likewise, he believed in his power to sway the public mood in favour of a second front – a mood which was fast developing ‘not just among the public at large … but also in government circles’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 ll.26–7, Maisky to Kollontay, 2 April 1942.
]
13 March (2)


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Bruce,
Stanley Melbourne Bruce, Australian high commissioner in London, 1933–45.
Australia’s high commissioner, came and asked whether I had received a reply to his request about the establishing of diplomatic relations with Australia. I said: not yet.
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.
14 March
The Iranian envoy Taqizadeh
Hassan Taqizadeh, Iranian ambassador in London, 1929–30 and 1941–47.
paid me his first visit.
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.


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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.
16 March
On Saturday, the 14th, I received Comrade Stalin’s message to Churchill. I called the Foreign Office at once and asked for an appointment with the prime minister on Monday the 16th. Within an hour the FO called to inform me that Churchill would see me on Monday at 5 p.m. Yesterday, Sunday, I received another call from the FO to inform me of a change of plan: the prime minister would not be able to see me at five o’clock on Monday and instead invited me to come to lunch at Chequers that same day. I agreed.
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


Page 1234

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.’


Page 1235

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:
I don’t know how you see it, but I think we face a very menacing situation. A crucial moment in the course of the war really is approaching. It’s ‘either/or’. How do things stand? Germany is preparing an enormous offensive this spring. She is staking everything on this year. If we succeed in defeating the German offensive this spring, then in essence we will have won the war. The backbone of Hitler’s war machine would be broken this year. It would only remain for us to finish off the crazed beast. With Germany defeated, everything else would be relatively easy. Now, suppose we fail to defeat Germany’s spring offensive. Suppose the Red Army is forced to retreat again, that we begin to lose territories once more, that the Germans break through to the Caucasus – what then? For Hitler will not stop in the Caucasus if that happens. He will go further – to Iran, Turkey, Egypt, India. He will link hands with Japan somewhere in the Indian Ocean and stretch out his arms towards Africa. Germany’s problems with oil, raw materials and food will be resolved. The British Empire will collapse, while the USSR will lose exceptionally important territories. The USSR, of course, would continue fighting even under such conditions. Let’s assume that Britain and the USA would also continue fighting. But what would be our chances of victory? And when?… That is the choice before us! It’s now or never!
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:
The Red Army has certainly become stronger compared to last year, and the German army has weakened. Of course we shall fight savagely this year. But who can vouch for the future? Who knows whether Hitler has some new military inventions at his disposal. Some new gas which no one knows about… And even if we lay aside the possibility of a ‘secret’ weapon, Hitler receives active support (even if not always voluntary) from his allies – all those Rumanians, Hungarians, Finns, Slovaks, etc. Meanwhile, the USSR continues to endure the entire, gigantic onslaught


Page 1236

of Hitler’s war machine all alone. It is hard for us. The degree of danger is greatly increasing. Yet, Britain and the USA are still deliberating, sizing things up, thinking things over, and are simply unable to decide which is the crucial year: 1942 or 1943? The situation is quite intolerable. The differing ‘war schedules’ of the USSR, on the one side, and Britain and the USA, on the other, represent the gravest flaw of the Allied strategy. It must be eliminated. Britain and the USA must also place their stake on 1942. This is the year when they must throw into battle all their forces and resources, irrespective of the degree of their preparedness. They must deal with any lack of discipline in the rear. If this is not done, a very dangerous situation will emerge: the ‘Axis’ will be fighting with both hands, while the Allies will use only one. Such a situation cannot be permitted!
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.


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(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


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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.


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‘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:
I’m prepared to leave India this very moment. We won’t be living there in any case. But what would happen then? You might think: liberty, prosperity, the development of culture and science… How wrong you would be! If we leave, fighting will break out everywhere, there’ll be a civil war. Eventually, the Muslims will become masters, because they are warriors while the Indians are windbags. Yes, windbags! Oh, of course, when it comes to fine speeches, skilfully balanced resolutions, and legalistic castles in the air, the Indians are real experts! They’re in their element! But when it comes to business, when something must be decided on quickly, implemented, executed – here the Indians say ‘pass’. Here they immediately reveal their internal flabbiness. Flabbiness is an awful thing. We, the English, showed this flabbiness all too often before and during the war. So did the Americans. I believe that responsibility for this war lies not only with the Germans, but with us as well. Two things brought us to the present catastrophe: Hitler’s criminality and the flabbiness of the English and the Americans. But the Indians are even worse than we are when it comes to flabbiness. That’s why I believe that the withdrawal of the English from India will not do her any good.
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!’


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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


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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.


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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.’
[In his memoirs Maisky, recognizing in retrospect that most of the promises made to him by Churchill had not been fulfilled and that he had exceeded the instructions he had been given, prefers to gloss briefly over the meeting. He dwells instead on Churchill’s undertaking to use gas against the German civilian population if the Germans used it on the front. This Maisky presents as his ‘greatest achievement … which saved mankind from the additional horror of gas warfare’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 253–6, 323.
In his response to Stalin, Churchill also preferred to confine himself to this issue. Maisky was just as economical in his report to Moscow, considering the initiatives he had taken in trying to galvanize Churchill into action. He dwelt mostly on his attempts to put across Stalin’s view that 1942 was ‘the decisive year’ of the war, and juxtaposed this with Churchill’s verbal support, accompanied by a promise to launch the offensive in Libya which Maisky dismissed as a ‘small second front’.
Churchill papers, CHAR 20/72/44–5, 20 March; AVP RF f.059 g.1942 op.8 d.5574 p.2 l.39, 16 March 1942.
]
17 March
Eden.
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.


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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.
[Maisky was anxious to prevent the political talks from stalling. Eden gained the impression that the ambassador did not share Halifax’s gloomy reports of the meeting


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(read out to him word for word) and ‘resolved not to take a tragic view of the President’s attitude’. Eden concealed in his own report of the conversations that, despite the ‘cold shower’ from Washington, the two had conspired over how to pursue the political negotiations. The scheme was for Stalin to assure Roosevelt that the treaty would have no secret clauses and that, while his tacit support was welcome, he was not required to be a signatory. Stalin was to insist, though, that for the sake of ‘establishing mutual trust and steadfast cooperation among the Allies it was essential to recognize the borders now and not after the war’.
TNA FO 371 32877 N1413/5/38, 17 March 1942; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.5574 p.2 ll.43–4, Maisky to Molotov, 17 March 1942.
A few days later, when no response had been forthcoming, Eden pressed Maisky to seek a Soviet initiative, as he badly needed an excuse to pursue the matter from London.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3852 p.429 l.156, 20 March 1942.
Maisky was ‘extremely disappointed’ to find out that in the meantime the number of convoys had been reduced, just when the looming renewed offensive rendered a ‘plentiful and constant flow of arms … an important contributory factor’ to Soviet success on the battlefield. The more so as he had been promised by Churchill at their latest meeting that he would make sure supplies to Russia went ‘ahead of schedule’.
TNA FO 371 32864 N1947/1/38 & Air 19/290, 30 March & 7 April 1942.
]
19 March
Called on Beaverbrook at the Savoy. Found Harriman and his daughter there. Beaverbrook asked me to send Stalin a telegram he gave me. I promised to do so. This had been agreed with Eden (I had a telephone call from the latter).
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.’
Beaverbrook’s Telegram to Stalin (19 March 1942)
This morning I’m leaving for Washington to discuss the 1941 (Soviet) borders with the president. The talks shall be secret, but I’ll possibly need to communicate with you through Litvinov. Please instruct Maisky to inform Litvinov about my plans. These are known only to the prime minister and Eden. Cherkley, Leatherhead, Surrey.
20 March


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A visit from a Labour delegation (Seymour Cocks,
Frederick Seymour Cocks, Labour MP, 1929–53.
Bellenger, Ridley
George Ridley, Labour MP and member of the Labour Party Executive (vice-chairman, 1942), 1936–44.
and Beaumont
Hubert Beaumont, captain, Labour MP, 1939–48, parliamentary private secretary in Ministry of Agriculture, 1940–45.
) representing the majority of Parliamentary Labour, which is deeply worried. Things are going badly. England is suffering defeats. The strategy of the British government is bankrupt. The spectre of a lost war looms on the horizon. The country must wake up, realign and mobilize itself, move on to the offensive, and above all establish a close friendship with the USSR. Otherwise Britain faces destruction. But the government dithers, vacillates, shows no fighting spirit, energy, decisiveness. The Labourites put questions to their ministers, but they (Attlee in particular) dodge them. The majority of Parliamentary Labour decided to send a delegation to me to learn the truth. I complied with their request and pointed out the importance of a second front. My guests fully agreed with me. They promised to besiege their ministers immediately. One of the delegates exclaimed: ‘Ah, if only your generals could come to Britain to train our army in the methods of modern warfare!’
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.’
21 March
De Gaulle’s future.


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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.
23 March


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I informed Eden that in fact the Soviet government has decided not to respond to Roosevelt’s statement to Litvinov, regarding it merely as information, but only to instruct M.M. Litvinov to tell the president that the Soviet government has taken his statement into consideration. Eden was dumbfounded. I reassured him: we have no obligations in relations to the USA, and have requested nothing from Roosevelt. In such circumstances, our conduct is quite normal. Eden calmed down a little, and eventually declared that since we have given our response to Roosevelt, it was now the turn of the English. In the course of the next 2–3 days he would inform me of the British government’s decision.
Eden expressed his great satisfaction with Clark Kerr’s first conversation with Molotov.
[Again Molotov appeared to be far from keen to pursue the negotiations. He was puzzled, as he informed his ambassador in London, by Eden’s approach. The Soviet Union had not approached Roosevelt with any demands; his conversation with Litvinov had been purely informative, concerning the response to the British consultations, and did not therefore require any intervention on behalf of Stalin. Like Maisky in London, Litvinov was baffled by the ‘incomprehensible’ policy pursued by the Kremlin. Expecting Russia to face a ‘mighty’ United States and a ‘weakened and shattered’ British Empire at the peace conference, he failed to see the wisdom of pressing the British to sign an agreement against the will of Roosevelt, who was bound to be insulted.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3833 p.427 ll.9–10, Litvinov to Molotov, 27 March 1942. Typically missing from the official published Soviet documents.
Seriously disturbed, Maisky urged Eden to ‘make it plain’ to the Americans that ‘in the interests of the Allied war effort we considered that we should now conclude our treaty with Russia’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3941 p.440 l.57 & d.3852 p.429 l.166, exchanges between Molotov and Maisky, 23 March 1942.
It is worth noting, therefore, that rather than specifically demanding a second front at this stage, Moscow was eager for the Allies to put the eastern front at the top of Allied strategy. ‘There is no time,’ said Maisky, as he pinned the Order of Lenin on British pilots who had flown in Russia, ‘to wait until the last button is sewn on the uniform of the last soldier.’ The Allies, he claimed, echoing the Americans, were already overstretched and failed to see that in Russia they had the one front where Hitler could be beaten in 1942.
Time, 6 April 1942; The Times, 26 March 1942; Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 99.
Meanwhile Soviet efforts focused on diverting supply from the peripheral theatres to the Soviet front.
TNA FO 371 32864 N1947/1/38.
]
24 March
Clark Kerr’s first visit to 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


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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.
1 April
Crisis of the Empire.
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


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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.
5 April (Bovingdon, Easter)
Post-war reconstruction. There is probably no other slogan which could be more popular in England today. The practical results? Zilch. What I have in mind, of course, is not reconstruction itself, which can be embarked upon in earnest only once the war has ended, but the studying of problems and the drawing up of plans for this reconstruction.
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?


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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.


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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


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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!
6 April
Continuing the thoughts which I noted down yesterday, I arrive at the following conclusion.


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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


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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


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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.
[There are no further entries in the diary until mid-June, with the exception of an abbreviated record of a meeting with Beaverbrook on 7 May (not reproduced here) and the telegrams exchanged between Stalin and Churchill concerning Molotov’s visits to London and Washington in May and early June. The tension that pervaded relations between Maisky and Molotov – tension which came bubbling to the surface a couple of times during and immediately after the latter’s visit to London – and the uncertainty over the Kremlin’s intentions in the period preceding the resumption of the German offensive probably account for Maisky’s ominous silence. Those factors, which had a tremendous impact on the course of the war and its outcome, are somewhat misrepresented by scholars, but are an indispensable contextual background to the diary. Eden had explained to Maisky that Churchill was seeking at least tacit American support for the treaty, given that there was ‘relatively little’ the British could do ‘by way of military aid to Russia’.
TNA FO 371 32878 N1526/5/38, 30 March 1942.
An unintended consequence of the excuse was that it enabled Roosevelt to forestall the treaty by backing the Russian demands for the second front, thereby diverting the pressure onto Britain.
TNA CAB 65/29 37(42), 25 March; TNA FO 371 32878 N1670/5/38; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3852 p.429 l.185, reports on Eden’s meeting with Maisky, 27 March 1942.
When he transmitted Churchill’s messages to Welles, Halifax’s attempt to scare the Americans further only made matters worse: he warned that a failure to sign an agreement might lead to a separate peace, followed by the rise to power of Cripps, under whom ‘a frankly Communist, pro-Moscow policy would be pursued’. Infuriated by this obvious attempt at blackmail, Roosevelt declined even to meet the ambassador in person.
FRUS, 1942, III, pp. 536–8, minutes by Welles on meeting Halifax, 30 March and 1 April 1942.
At the same time, he was puzzled by the Soviet démarche, which could be ‘a manifestation of resentment’ or ‘an indication of Stalin’s withdrawal in the face of America’s objection’.
Inundated by intelligence reports on the state of ‘anxiety, despondence, and pessimism’ in Britain, Roosevelt wondered whether Churchill was losing his grip on the domestic scene. Neither the civilians nor the military, he was informed by Donovan, director of strategic services (predecessor of the CIA), ‘seemed to know the aims for which they are sacrificing their lives and labor’, and there was an overwhelming demand for ‘stronger action at home and abroad’. The efficiency of Russia and Germany was often contrasted with British ‘dilatory muddling’. People seemed to ‘pin their faith on Russia almost entirely, the chaps who don’t talk but keep on killing Huns’. What was desired above all was ‘an offensive attitude on the part of the fighting forces instead of continual retreat and defense, efficient and strong leadership at home towards a real total war effort’.
Roosevelt papers, PSF 164/7 & 8, Donovan to Roosevelt, 10 & 23 March 1942, and Roosevelt papers, PSF 154: Great Britain, Memo by Hopkins on meeting Winant, 11 March 1942. Useful on the strategic debate, though on the whole only partially dealing with the Soviet side, are: M. Stoler, The Politics of the Second Front (Connecticut, 1977); M. Stoler, Allies and Adversaries (Chapel Hill, 2000); R.W. Steele, The First Offensive 1942 (Bloomington, 1973); and the refreshing approach in F. Costigliola, Roosevelt’s Lost Alliances: How personal politics helped start the Cold War (Princeton, 2012), ch. 4 & 5.


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Since his visit to Moscow, Hopkins had been arguing with the president that there was nothing ‘as important as getting some sort of a front this summer against Germany’. He urged Roosevelt to adopt General Marshall’s carefully worked-out plans and impose them on Churchill. The pressing need to keep Russia at war had led Marshall to accept that Western Europe was the only theatre in which an effective offensive could be launched. Such a decision, he insisted to the president, had to be taken ‘now’ to ensure that all necessary logistical and deployment preparations were completed in time for an operation at the beginning of April 1943. In the meantime, he presented a contingency plan for an offensive in September 1942, ‘a sacrifice for the common good’, were the Germans successful enough in their campaign to bring about an imminent collapse of Russian resistance.
Roosevelt papers, PSF 152: Hopkins, 14 March; Truscott papers, Box 9/14, 1 April 1941. Winant, who had been thoroughly briefed by Maisky, arrived in Washington too late to make any impact on the political agreement, but was ‘most heartily in favour’ of the idea of a second front; Stimson papers, diary, 16 March 1942. Maisky remained sceptical about whether the Allies would do ‘their utmost to win the war by sacrifice of men and wealth to the common cause’; Webb, diary, 13 April 1942.
Marshall particularly loathed the indecisiveness of the British joint chiefs of staff over the cross-channel operation. He believed it was imperative to establish precisely where the first major offensive effort of the united powers should take place. This he discussed thoroughly with Roosevelt over lunch in the White House on 25 March. Stimson, the secretary of war, was ‘disappointed … and staggered’ to find the president still ‘going off on the wildest kind of dispersion debauch’, particularly being ‘charmed’ by the options presented in North Africa and the Middle East. Indeed, Hopkins had revealed to Halifax a day earlier that the president was opposed to ‘frittering away’ Allied strength, and favoured concentrating it either in Great Britain, for an attack on Europe, or in the Middle East – an option which seemed to the president more viable and attractive.


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Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 25 March 1942. Taking leave of Roosevelt on 17 March, Admiral Standley, the new American ambassador to Moscow, noted the president’s ambiguity and aloofness in regard to the second front issue and his desire to meet Stalin in person, while there was ‘no mention of the British in this regard’; Standley papers, 6-10/17, 17 March 1942.
However, in the face of Eisenhower’s logical and water-proof memorandum in favour of a cross-channel attack, Marshall overcame his doubts and succeeded in shifting the emphasis onto the second-front option. Roosevelt, still wavering, wondered whether the plan should be submitted to the British chiefs of staff, but he was discouraged by Hopkins.
NA RG 218, CCS 334, 2-9-42, JCS 7/7, 23 March; NA RG 165, OPD 381 Bolero 1942, 25 March; Stimson papers, diary, 25 March 1942. See also A. Roberts, Masters and Commanders: How Roosevelt, Churchill and Alanbrooke won the war in the west (London, 2008), p. 128.
During a heavy drinking bout with Beaverbrook that same evening at the White House, the president made his case ‘with great earnestness and force’ against a political agreement with the Russians. However, he now ‘seemed to come down pretty well on the side of an attack on France … this year’.
Halifax told Beaverbrook that this was ‘very dangerous’ and that ‘neither the President nor Winston will be able to get very far without staff participation’; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 26 March 1942.
With growing anxiety, Stimson continued to watch the president ‘failing as a war leader’ in a crisis situation. ‘We cannot make our offensive diversion this summer,’ growled the war secretary, ‘unless we have the courage, even the hardness of heart.’ Fully backed by Hopkins and Marshall, he prodded Roosevelt to submit his plans to Churchill and then ‘lean with all your strength on the ruthless rearrangement of shipping allotments and the preparation of landing gear for the ultimate invasion’ not later than September.
Stimson papers, diary, 27 March 1942 and copy of a letter to Roosevelt.
On 1 April, Eisenhower’s plans were approved by the president. They comprised three distinct operations, culminating in an invasion of Europe on 1 April 1943. The first was Operation Bolero, under which the Americans would deploy some 30 divisions in Britain, including six armoured divisions and around 3,250 aircraft. The follow-up Operation Roundup would see those forces backed by 18 British divisions landed on the stretch between Boulogne and Le Havre. Sledgehammer was an emergency operation aimed at establishing bridgeheads in a French seaport – either Brest or Cherbourg – during the early autumn of 1942, particularly if the Soviet Union was on the brink of collapse.
Truscott papers, Box 9/14, 1 April 1942; Roberts, Masters and Commanders, pp. 129–30.
Mackenzie King, the Canadian prime minister, emerged from a meeting with Roosevelt convinced that, in advocating a second front, he was seeking ways of ‘satisfying Stalin without the necessity of making agreement with him on frontiers’ – a


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view which Churchill dismissed offhandedly as ‘a very foolish’ one. He was as shocked to find Roosevelt completely ignorant of the military state of affairs in Britain.
TNA FO 371 32907 N2000/30/38, 17 April 1942.
Churchill’s defiance, as well as growing domestic pressure, encouraged Roosevelt to approach Stalin direct. The president, Ambassador Davies
Joseph E. Davies, ambassador to the Soviet Union, 1936–38 and chairman of Roosevelt’s War Relief Control Board from 1942–46.
noted, ‘had done this more or less to propitiate Stalin, at least in part, because of his opposition to the Curzon Line being included in the British Treaty’.
Davies papers, diary, Box 11, 11 April 1942.
Churchill had justified the decision to conclude the political treaty by his failure to assist Russia on the battlefield. To steal a march on the British prime minister and forestall any agreement, Roosevelt resorted to the military card. He informed Stalin of the ‘very important military proposal’ he had for ‘military action of our forces in a manner to relieve your critical western front’. He urged Stalin to send ‘Molotov and a General’ to Washington without delay to provide crucial advice before the Americans ‘determine with finality’ the common strategy and action.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room papers, 31 March; Davies papers, diary, Box 11, 6 & 7 April 1942; Berle papers, diary, Box 218, 4 April 1942.
He then informed Churchill en passant that he was summoning two ‘special representatives’ from Moscow (though he failed to mention Molotov by name) to discuss the plan, which he hoped would be ‘greet[ed] with enthusiasm’. Finally, conscious of Churchill’s predicament at home, he rather maliciously reminded him that the plan was ‘in full accord with trend of public opinion’ in Great Britain and the United States, and he wished to label it ‘The plan of the United Nations’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room papers, 1 April 1942.
In a telegram which crossed with that of the president, Churchill tried (alas unsuccessfully) to pre-empt Roosevelt, playing down the ‘vast Russo German struggle’. He did not expect the renewed offensive before mid-May at the earliest, while in the meantime Stalin seemed to be ‘pleased’ with the supply and with Churchill’s vow to treat any gas attack on Russian troops as if it were directed at Britain. Obviously disconcerted by the lead taken by Roosevelt, Churchill proposed ‘to flip over’ to Hyde Park (Roosevelt’s estate in upstate New York) for a weekend as there was ‘so much to settle that would go easily in talk’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room papers, Churchill to Roosevelt, 1 April 1942.
On 8 April, Maisky was informed by Eden that, despite Roosevelt’s reservations, the Cabinet was now prepared to negotiate
According to Maisky’s cable home, Eden said ‘to conclude’ an agreement.
‘a treaty on the lines desired by M. Stalin’, with only some minor modification to accommodate American sensibilities.
‘We’re going to have trouble in America over our Russian agreement,’ jotted Cadogan in his diary, ‘but I warned A[nthony] of that!’; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, 14 April 1942.
Amidst growing concern that there would be either a separate Soviet–German peace agreement or a successful Soviet offensive which would pave the Russians’ way to Berlin, Eden was anxious for Molotov to come to London. A major bone of contention, however, remained Stalin’s insistence on recognition of the Curzon Line as Russia’s future border with Poland. Eden suggested, probably after consulting Maisky, that if Molotov was indisposed, the ambassador would be authorized to sign the agreement.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3853 p.430 l.6; TNA FO 371 32878 N1861/5/38; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 41–5; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 324.
Molotov indeed did prefer that Maisky should stand in for him at the negotiations (ominously reminiscent of when, in May 1939, the ambassador replaced him as chairman of the League of Nations). Eden was told that, much as Molotov appreciated the invitation, he had been charged by Stalin ‘with more important duties’ which would not allow him to ‘absent himself from Moscow during the next few critical months’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3941 p.440 l.127, 11 April 1942; D. Watson, ‘Molotov, the Grand Alliance and the second front’, Europe-Asia Studies, 54/1 (2002), p. 61.
So far the Americans had adhered to the premises of the December ‘Arcadia’ conference, focusing on the long-term expansion of armament production and on the concentration and deployment of Allied troops in Britain, while remaining strategically defensive in all theatres.
NA RG 218, CCS 381, 2-2-42, JPS 4A, 14 Feb. 1942.
However, Marshall and Stimson, the First World War veteran


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and experienced secretary of war, were increasingly disturbed by the British dithering. They believed it was psychologically right for the United States to ‘press hard enough on the expeditionary force through Great Britain to make the Germans keep looking over their shoulder in the fight with Russia’. This would prove that the United States was totally committed to operations on the continent and was ‘not going to let our strength be dissipated in any more side tracks’.
Stimson papers, diary, 24 Feb. 1942.
They were puzzled by the British view that it would be possible to urge upon the Russians ‘the indirect advantages that will accrue to them from Allied operations in distant parts of the world’. Russia’s problem was ‘to sustain herself during the coming summer and she must not be permitted to reach such a precarious position that she will accept a negotiated peace, no matter how unfavorable to herself, in preference to a continuation of the fight’.
NA RG 165, ABC 381 9-25-41 CPS 28/1, 8 April 1942.
Their British counterparts were far from enthusiastic about a cross-channel operation in 1942. Insufficient resources, they argued, ruled out a landing in France once the Germans resumed their onslaught on Russia, anticipated for June. The furthest they were prepared to go involved short-term diversionary raids. But their objections emanated to a large extent from Churchill’s determination not to slacken off on the North African campaign and to make sure that supplies earmarked for the Mediterranean theatre were not diverted to the eastern front. Within this context, the prime minister remained sceptical about the feasibility of a cross-channel attack even in 1943. The British hoped that if the constraints were properly explained to their American allies, it might encourage their ‘participation in or assistance to the British defence of the Middle East in 1942’. No wonder, then, that in the initial British plans Sledgehammer was often perceived as a deception, to divert German attention from the main effort in North Africa.
TNA CAB 84/43 JP(42)289, 17 March 1942.
At his meeting with the British chiefs of staff in London on 12 and 13 April, Marshall dug in his heels, insisting that the Americans ‘did not wish to see possible reverses and additional commitments in other theatres affecting the full execution of the plan, once accepted’.
Unless otherwise stated, the account of the Marshall–Hopkins mission is mostly based on NA RG 218, CCS 334, 2-9-42, JCS 6/4, Dill to Marshall, 16 March; JPS 24.3 and JCS, 25 March, U.S.P.(42)3, 14 March; Marshall to McNarney, 14 April; Marshall to Roosevelt, 4 May 1942.
Hopkins left Churchill in no doubt that the ‘United States was prepared to take great risks to save the Russian front’. However Marshall, somewhat gullible, was beguiled by Churchill’s portrayal of himself as an advocate of offensive action who was constrained by his own chief of staff, Alan Brooke. The latter, lacking ‘Dill’s brains’, left ‘an unfavourable impression’ on him.
Hopkins papers, Box 308: Hopkins in London, April, 8 April; Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, Hopkins to Roosevelt, 9 April; Davies papers, Box 11, note by Ambassador Davies on conversations with Hopkins, 8 April 1942.
In subsequent conversations, the real Churchill emerged in clearly ‘depressed spirits’, complaining about the ‘irresponsible youngsters’ of the press and ‘intellectuals who might more usefully be planting potatoes in their backyards’, rather than pressing him to disregard the obstacles and ‘take the initiative’ or ‘establish a second front’.
NA SD, 740.0011 European War 1939/20906, Hopkins’s secretary to the Secretary of State, 9 April 1942.
However, at a well-orchestrated meeting of the Defence Committee, to which Marshall and Hopkins were invited, Churchill resorted to flamboyant rhetoric, hailing the American plan, which ensured that ‘the two nations would march ahead together in a noble brotherhood of arms’. The desultory debate cast doubt on the implementation of the plan, so long as Churchill continued to insist that ‘it was essential to carry on the defence of India and the Middle East’. Britain could not ‘entirely lay aside everything in furtherance of the main object proposed by General Marshall’.


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TNA CAB 69/4 DO(42)10, 14 April 1942.
Marshall, however, returned to Washington believing that a ‘complete agreement’ had been achieved, at least on the need to launch a cross-channel offensive in 1943. Roosevelt was further assured, in a personal telegram from Churchill, of his intention to adopt the American proposals, though the message included a cryptic comment


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that ‘an interim operation in certain contingencies this year met the difficulties and uncertainties in an absolutely sound manner’.
Hopkins papers, Box 308: Hopkins in London, April, telegram to Roosevelt, 15 April; Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, Churchill to Roosevelt, 12 April. Hopkins’ confidence is attested in Stimson papers, diary, 20 April 1942.
Churchill conceded, rather vaguely, that the execution of Sledgehammer was conditioned on the Allies being ‘compelled to make a supreme effort … if Russia is being defeated’. Alas, he knew that if such a situation were to arise in June, the Americans could at best deploy two and a half divisions not earlier than mid-September. Moreover, he had ‘no illusions as to the chiselling and other efforts that will be made to slow us down and nullify our work’.
NA RG 165, Exec. 1/4, 12 April 1942; Stimson papers, diary, 13 April 1942.
It is hardly surprising, therefore, that when the joint British and American planners set out to define Allied strategy, they could hardly reconcile the short-term and long-term objectives. The urgent and undisputed necessity of keeping Russia fighting clashed with recognition of the meagre means to hand for a diversionary action in 1942, and exposed the conflicting strategic interests of the two countries. While they were supposedly unanimous about the primacy of the European theatre, the British peripheral strategy would hardly allow an offensive across the channel to become ‘ripe’ before May 1943.
NA, RG 165, ABC 381 9-25-41(1) JPS 12th/3, 11 April 1942; Hopkins papers, Box 308: Hopkins in London, April, 11 April 1942.
Marshall and Hopkins left London with the impression that Churchill ‘didn’t much like having to consult Roosevelt about the war, which he would prefer to run by himself!’ Indeed, the chiefs of staff did not envisage a full-scale engagement across the channel, but rather, as Admiral Pound confided to Halifax, ‘something in the way of a landing in order to bring on an air battle’ once the situation on the Russian front became perilous.
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 21 & 24 April 1942. The planners of the joint chiefs of staff envisaged three different scenarios for a Soviet collapse, see TNA CAB 119/56 JP(42)421(S), 19 April 1942.
For the time being, Roosevelt sided with his advisers in accepting the Soviet view that, regardless of the obvious obstacles, the sacrifice was worthwhile, since ‘one armored division of the allies operating in Western Europe in 1942 is more effective than five such divisions in 1943’.
Roosevelt papers, PSF 5: Marshall, 28 April 1942, Roosevelt memo to Marshall.
While the Americans gave an impetus to the preparations for a second front, Churchill assured Cabinet that Britain was ‘not committed to carry out such an operation this year’.
TNA CAB 65/30 WM(42)54, 29 April 1942.
No wonder Maisky was most alarmed to learn from Eden that although an agreement in principle had been reached in the Defence Committee during Marshall’s visit, ‘no precise’ decision had yet been taken on the actual opening of the second front, which required close coordination with the Americans.
AVP RF f.059 op.8 d.5574 l.67, 17 April 1942.
His vast experience allowed him to see through Churchill’s manoeuvres. He was quick to discern that the declaration specified neither ‘when nor where’. His evaluation was reinforced by Lloyd George, who thought that ‘Winston’s nerve was broken by the Dardanelles… He was afraid of another Dardanelles… I suppose man’s nerve is not as good at 67 as it is at 40.’
Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 29 April 1942.
On 20 April, Stalin, pinning his hopes on the Americans, welcomed Roosevelt’s invitation for Molotov to go to Washington and exchange ideas about the creation of a second front. He further announced that Molotov would stop over in London. The same day Clark Kerr, the new British ambassador in Moscow, who had successfully ‘fraternised’ with Stalin ‘over pipes and … each other’s jokes’ and who found the man in the Kremlin to be ‘just my cup of tea’, was informed by the Russians that they ‘wished at once’ to send to London a four-engine plane directly from Moscow without specifying who the passengers were. The messenger ‘seemed to be fussed and begged for an immediate answer’.
TNA FO 800/300, Clark Kerr to Cripps, 26 April; TNA FO 371 32879 N2060/5/38.
Roosevelt’s response was resolute, and he assured Litvinov the following day that the Americans were set on creating a second front ‘now’. He hoped Molotov would stop off in London on the way back, where he could ‘exert double pressure’ on the British, speaking on behalf of the American president as well.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3833 p.427 l.64.


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A couple of days earlier, Eden had rejected the Soviet proposal to attach to the agreement a secret protocol on post-war collaboration which had been floated by Stalin in December.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3853 p.430 l.78, 17 April 1942. ‘This makes me laugh,’ wrote Harvey in his diary. ‘It was the Bolsheviks who in 1917 published all the secret treaties of the last war and put the democracies to shame. So much so that H.M.G. at least learnt their lesson and will never have another secret treaty, not even to please Stalin’; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 2 May 1942, p. 120.
Weighing up various options, Molotov persevered, criticizing the British for producing a draft agreement which, as he instructed Maisky, differed substantially from the original one which had been discussed in Moscow during Eden’s visit.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3941 p.440 l.160, 18 April 1942.
Yet, with the renewed German offensive in the offing, Maisky was instructed to submit to the British a modified draft ‘to save the Polish case and American susceptibilities’. Maisky, however, found Eden to be ‘on the whole disappointed and distressed’. By now his initial crusade in favour of an agreement had given way to compliance with the firm views held by the prime minister and his subordinates at the Foreign Office that ‘the settlement of Europe’ was not an exclusive Anglo-Soviet affair, and that ‘fundamentally it is more important to agree with the Americans, the Dominions and the Allies than with the Russians’. Eden surely was not amused to learn from Winant, back from Washington, that he was ‘regarded as a Bolshevik in America!’
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.5574 p.2 ll.73–5, Maisky to Molotov, 1 May; TNA FO 371 32880 N2221 & N2336/5/38, 1, 3 & 15 May 1942; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 2 May 1942, p. 120.
The difficulties in reconciling the British and the Russian expectations indeed raised ‘rather formidable difficulties’. Cadogan found it curious that, of all people, Eden ‘should have hopes of “appeasement”!!’ He believed it was better ‘not to crawl to the Russian over the dead bodies of all our principles’.
TNA FO 371 32881 N2498/5/38, minute of 3 May; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, 3 May 1942, p. 449.
Maintaining a similar position to the one he held in 1939, Molotov did not appear to be particularly enthusiastic about an agreement which was unlikely to address Soviet demands. His harsh, almost brutal, reaction to Maisky’s reporting was that simultaneous signing of the treaty and the secret protocol was ‘imperative and unconditional’ for the Soviet government. He doubted the sincerity of the British and, rather than making ‘more obsequious concessions’ just to satisfy their desires, he would prefer to ‘interrupt the negotiations … and postpone them indefinitely’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3942 p.440 l.51, Molotov to Maisky, 2 May 1942.
Maisky, too, found himself in a conundrum, reminiscent of the turbulent 1938–39 period. He desperately needed an agreement which would also ensure his continued precarious presence in London, if not his survival. Rather than allow the negotiations to lapse, he preferred to play down the difficulties, reducing them to ‘one or two general observations … about the background of the treaty’. Still trusting Eden, he preferred to make a personal appeal, underlining the fact that, after 16 months of fighting ‘practically alone’, Russia was about to face ‘great trials’. The absence of a second front created ‘a measure of resentment, even bitterness, in Moscow’. If the conditions for opening a second front were insurmountable ‘then it seemed more than ever desirable to help her politically’. Eden, who had been advised by Winant about Roosevelt’s objection to a treaty, was obviously reluctant to proceed with the negotiations, complaining that the Russians were invariably raising their price at every meeting.
TNA FO 371 32880 N2385/5/38; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.5574 p.2 ll.82–91, Maisky and Eden reports, 5 May 1942.
Two days later, Eden called Maisky on the phone, only to be told that he was expecting no response from Moscow but was still hoping for a further communication from the British government. Informed that there ‘was no likelihood of that’, Maisky now feared that an ‘agreement would not be possible’.
TNA FO 371 32880 N2422/5/38.
Having lost all hope, Maisky was informed out of the blue that Molotov would be arriving in Scotland within days and wished to proceed to London by train – ‘no flying in British aeroplanes in fact!’ Mistrust had reached such a level that when an RAF plane carrying members of the Russian military mission had crashed a week earlier, Maisky was ‘very disturbed and suspicious of sabotage’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 7 & 11 May, pp. 122–3; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 451–3; FRUS, 1942, III, pp. 552–3.
In his memoirs, Admiral Kharlamov, the head of the military mission, admits: ‘My first thought was that it had


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been an act of subversion organised either by Nazi agents or by the opponents of British–Soviet cooperation.’
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 104.
Everyone was left in suspense, as the Russians preferred to keep the date of Molotov’s arrival secret. It seemed as if he might not come at all, particularly as intelligence reports indicated that the offensive had started in earnest and the Russians had been pushed back in the Crimea and Kerch. Cadogan and Maisky, who, on 10 May, went ahead by special train to greet Molotov in Scotland, spent four days touring Edinburgh, Balmoral and other sights before returning empty-handed to London.
There was no one of stature to greet Molotov when he finally arrived on 20 May, on board the highly sophisticated TB-7 Soviet bomber, of which there were only six in existence.
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 451–2; Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC Esco/42, 15 May 1942. Unless otherwise indicated, the report of his visit is based on AVP RF f.06 op.4 d.55 l.6, 20 May 1942; Sokolov, ‘“Avtobiograficheskie zametki” V.N. Pavlova’, pp. 107–8; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 21 May 1942, p. 125; Churchill, Hinge of Fate, pp. 300–1. For a colourful description of Molotov’s arrival, see also Watson, ‘Molotov, the Grand Alliance and the Second Front’, p. 63; Watson, Molotov, pp. 199–203; and Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 265.
The plane, which could fly at 30,000 feet, beyond the reach of any German fighter, took off from Moscow on 19 May at 7.05 in the evening and, flying over enemy territory, arrived over a military airfield not far from Dundee the following morning at 5.15 London time – a mere 7 hours and 10 minutes later, a great aviation achievement for the time. The plane had undertaken a test flight to England four days earlier on the same route, carrying on board Stalin’s personal interpreter and a number of Molotov’s aides. Pavlov
Vladimir Nikolaevich Pavlov, recruited by Molotov in 1939, he served as first secretary in the Berlin embassy, 1939–41, and became interpreter for both Molotov and Stalin during the Second World War. Associated with the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, he was sidelined by Khrushchev to work at the Progress publishing house.
was charged with delivering to Maisky the latest revised


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Soviet draft agreement.


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The instructions and the draft treaty are in RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.280 ll.53–66.
Soviet suspicion had reached such a state that the draft was sewn into his waistcoat and he was personally instructed to encrypt it in Moscow and decipher it at the embassy in London. Molotov’s own well-rehearsed flight was uneventful, but communications with the British were established only on the approach to the British coast – ‘The British are to be blamed’, the pilot informed his superiors in Moscow. In the absence of proper landing lights at the airfield, the plane continued to circle for more than an hour, before touching down at seven in the morning. Molotov emerged from the plane wearing bizarre fur-lined aviation gear, which had kept him warm in the freezing conditions which prevailed during the flight.
By the time Cadogan and Eden boarded his train, not far out of London, he was already in ‘cracking form, all smiles and in a smart brown suit – very different to the usual Molotov’. Maisky joined Molotov only half way to London, most likely after Pavlov had had ample time to harp on the foreign minister’s disdain for the ambassador, giving him a disparaging account of his sojourn at the embassy. His testimony, as well as Litvinov’s row with Molotov in Washington,
See commentary following diary entry for 28 April 1939.
foreshadowed their removal from office a year later and therefore deserves to be quoted in full.
It is doubtful whether Molotov, who was openly hostile to Litvinov, was more benign towards Maisky, as is argued in Roberts, Molotov, p. 61. Maisky, however, succeeded in continuing to make himself indispensable.
Pavlov recalled:
I.I. Maisky suggested that I stay in his apartment in the embassy to await the arrival in England of V.M. Molotov. I endured one night, but was uncomfortable, as I felt that my presence had disrupted the English daily routine of my hosts. I therefore ‘ran away’ to A.E. Bogomolov, the ambassador for the governments in exile. He warmly welcomed me.
There certainly was tension between him and Maisky. Eden jotted in his diary that Bogomolov was ‘an unhelpful creature, to all appearances a poor substitute for Maisky’; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 330.


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I was left with a particularly bad impression from a lunch at Maisky’s home, to which the prominent members of the embassy were invited. The conversation at table focused on the difficult situation at the Soviet–German front in the summer of 1941. Spurred on by the conversation, and concerned about her husband’s and her own fate, the wife of I.M. Maisky, Agniya Aleksandrovna, said to I.M. Maisky: ‘Vanechka, I think that the English will take care of us in much the same way as they had looked after the Austrian ambassador to London following the German occupation of Austria in March 1938.’ Maisky did not respond. These were the thoughts which were turning over in A.A. Maisky’s head.
Maisky, according to his own admission, was able to warn Molotov only briefly that his draft treaty stood little chance of approval by the British. ‘Manifestly displeased’, Molotov dismissed him with a curt comment: ‘We shall see.’ Litvinov, who had been rushed to England from Washington to brief Molotov about the mood in the US was eventually left out of the negotiations there. After the preliminary talks at the White House with the president, it was observed by the hosts that Molotov took a walk with Litvinov, during which he informed Litvinov that he would not be participating in the talks, ‘to the Ambassador’s obvious annoyance’.
FRUS, 1942, III, p. 568.
Maisky had toiled hard before Molotov’s arrival in England to ensure his safety and to shield him from the press. When a journalist, friendly to the Russians, sought information from Maisky, he found the ambassador dismissive: ‘Oh, those rumours have


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been going the rounds for a couple of months … and he may never come.’ For whatever reason – security, a desire to keep the visit out of the public eye (thereby leaving all options open), or simply because Molotov was reluctant to stay at the ambassador’s residence in Kensington Palace Gardens – Maisky arranged, through Eden, for Molotov to be a guest of Churchill’s at the prime minister’s country house at Chequers. Though he hosted two dinners in honour of the visitors, Churchill himself chose to remain at his temporary lodgings in the War Rooms annex to 10, Downing Street. Though the British had been more or less ‘bounced’ by Maisky into issuing the invitation to Chequers, he represented it to Molotov as a sign of the respect they had for the foreign minister. Chequers was where Hopkins and other dignitaries had been hosted.
On this, see AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 l.1–2, Molotov to Stalin, 21 May 1942.
Churchill was astounded at the degree of Molotov’s suspicion. Keys were provided reluctantly to the doors of the guests’ rooms, which were guarded day and night by NKVD officers and special maids brought along from Moscow. Every piece of furniture in Molotov’s room was thoroughly searched by his police officers, and at night ‘a revolver was laid out beside his dressing-gown and his dispatch case’.
The negotiations came unstuck over the question of the Soviet demand for an immediate recognition of the Soviet–Polish frontier as had existed prior to the German invasion of Russia. On a personal level, Molotov hardly seemed to possess the diplomatic virtues which Litvinov and Maisky could boast. He had, observed Cadogan, ‘all the grace and conciliation of a totem pole’. This was in stark contrast to Maisky, whom Churchill found to be ‘the best of interpreters, translating quickly and easily, and possessing a wide knowledge of affairs’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Diplomat, pp. 266–7; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 454.
Maisky had found out that Molotov’s main task was to ensure the opening of a second front in 1942. Churchill, however, had been armed by the chiefs of staff with arguments to deflect any demands from ‘Mr Cocktail’.
TNA PREM 3/333/8, 21 May 1942.
Following their advice, he tried to divert the negotiations on the second front in the direction of the generals, but Molotov insisted that it was a political decision. While committing himself in principle to a second front, from the outset Churchill expressed reservations, promising to launch the operation ‘as soon as the adequate conditions existed’, but dwelling at length on the constraints under which the government was acting. He also misled Molotov, who was eager to find out whether unanimity existed between the American and the British views, that they were fully coordinated. When pressed by Molotov, Churchill conceded that the operation would ‘be possible only in 1943, or perhaps at the end of 1942’.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.12, 22–24, 28–39, 51–9, 66 & ll.3–21, reports of conversations with Churchill and Eden and exchange of telegrams between Molotov and Stalin, 22 & 23 May 1942; AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.111–15; FRUS, 1942, III, pp. 558–63. Most of the documents related to Molotov’s visits to London and Washington, emanating from the Presidential Archives, were produced in English by Rzheshevsky, War and Diplomacy. The author refers to the complete original set, which differs in places.
Molotov, who had been reluctant to leave Moscow in the first place, emerged from the talks despondent. He was little taken by the personal attention bestowed on him by Churchill – the dinners and chats well into the small hours. What mattered to him was that, when it came to the two substantial issues, Churchill was ‘manifestly unsympathetic’. Molotov gained the accurate impression that Churchill preferred to watch events unfold on the Russian front and ‘was not in a hurry’ to reach any agreement. Molotov no longer entertained any hopes for his forthcoming visit to Washington, but, he conceded to Stalin, ‘obligations had to be honoured’. He certainly saw no point in stopping over in London and conducting a second set of futile talks on his way back to Moscow.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.68–9.
Maisky’s optimistic expectations, again dovetailing with his outlook in 1939, certainly did not conform to Molotov’s. Once again they reflected his wishful thinking, perhaps an existentialist instinct, enhanced by a growing confidence in his own ability to manoeuvre the British. ‘The popularity of the USSR is immense,’ he confided to


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Kollontay. ‘It feels somewhat strange and unusual to live in such a general atmosphere of friendship and empathy following many years of icy indifference and hostility.’ He believed the Western Allies were now firmly committed to the second front, and he was confident that the answer to the crucial question of the timing of the attack was ‘sometime this year’. His pressing task was ‘to hasten its birth’.
Despite its cardinal significance, Maisky almost glosses over Molotov’s mission in his memoirs. Nor is it covered by his diary; Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 280–3; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 ll.28–29, Maisky to Kollontay, 20 May 1942. See also Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 452–3.
As the negotiations ground to a halt, the situation at the front, Stalin briefed Molotov, was deteriorating fast. Speaking to Roosevelt far more truthfully a few days later, Molotov conceded that Marshal Timoshenko’s counteroffensive at Kharkov ‘resulted unfavourably for the Russians’, and ‘The German easy success in the Crimea had rather surprised them.’
Hopkins papers, Box 309: Molotov’s visit, record by Prof. Cross (professor of Russian at Harvard, who acted as the interpreter), 29 May 1942. The British were well aware of the situation, see NA RG 165, G-2 Reg. Russia, 6910, 21 May 1942.
It had become crucial both to ensure the continued flow of supplies and to press for a second front. Since the gap between the Soviet and the British expectations appeared insurmountable, Eden had prepared an alternative draft of an agreement of a very general nature.
TNA FO 371 32881 N2500/5/38, 9 May 1942.
On the evening of 24 May, Molotov was unexpectedly instructed by Stalin to adopt the declarative treaty produced by Eden earlier that day. The treaty provided for a twenty-year alliance, reaffirmed mutual military assistance, and set vague general principles for post-war collaboration, while avoiding the contentious frontiers issue. Far from sharing Molotov’s view of the treaty (‘an empty declaration’), Stalin thought it was ‘an important document’ – a morale booster at home and a display of Allied unity vis-à-vis Germany. More significantly (and here he revealed again the lingering suspicions among the Allies) it would forestall a potential Anglo-German separate peace – a fear alluded to by Molotov earlier on in the negotiations. Stalin further put Molotov’s mind at rest by assuring him that (as Eden had


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dreaded) the failure to define the post-war borders would leave Russia with ‘free hands’ in the future.
Harvey, Eden’s secretary, rightly observed in his diary: ‘If I were America, I would be more shocked by this new treaty than by the other’; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 25 May 1942, p. 129.
The minor alterations to Molotov’s proposed brief title of the agreement, in Stalin’s own handwriting (not reproduced in Rzheshevsky’s collection), are most intriguing. Particularly the addition of ‘Hitlerite’ to Molotov’s original title: ‘A treaty on alliance and mutual assistance in the war against Germany’. This was in no way a slip of the pen. The ‘Hitlerite’ addition gave Stalin manoeuvrability in the event of a communist uprising (to which Maisky had often alluded) or any regime change. In Stalin’s order of the day on 23 February, he had dismissed attempts to suggest that the Soviet aim was ‘to exterminate the German people and to destroy the German nation’ as ‘senseless slander’ and ‘idiotic’. ‘Past experience,’ he remarked, showed that ‘Hitlers come and go whereas the German people and German nation remain.’
On this, see Kuh papers, diary, 11 Oct. 1942.
‘It is desirable,’ Stalin wound up his instructions to Molotov, ‘to hastily conclude the treaty after which fly to America.’ The trade-off he could expect from concluding the treaty was – as the American ambassador explained to Molotov at a nocturnal meeting urgently arranged by Maisky at the embassy – the backing of Roosevelt, who was an ardent supporter of a second front but who had vehemently opposed the earlier draft. Molotov responded rather cunningly – misleading the ambassador into believing that it was American intervention which had brought about the change – that in view ‘of what you have said, and the message from the President, it is not the treaty we will sign. We will … sign a treaty that will relieve the President of any possible embarrassment.’ Winant later boasted to the president that it was due to his personal presentation of Roosevelt’s objections to the treaty that Molotov had ‘abandoned his position on frontiers and agreed to recommend to Stalin the draft Treaty’.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.65, 97, 98, 120 & 122, Stalin to Molotov, 23, 24 & 26 May 1942 & f.06 op.4 d.48 ll.13–16, report of conversations with Beneš, who had similar views on Germany, 9 June 1942. The British records are in TNA CAB 66 24/50 WP(42)220. Roosevelt papers, PSF 9: Winant, 3 June. See also Winant’s conversations with Davies, in Davies papers, diary, Box 11, 24 Feb. 1943.
Consequently historians and politicians alike were led to believe, as Cadogan noted in his diary, that ‘Winant twisted their tails last night’.
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, 25 May 1942, p. 455. See also Eden’s memo to Cabinet, TNA CAB 65/30, WM(42)66, 25 May 1942; the entries in his diary quoted in The Reckoning, pp. 328–9; and TNA PREM 3 399/8, 2 June 1942, Churchill to Roosevelt. Secretary of State Hull wrote to Roosevelt: ‘it would seem that out of deference to our protest they have omitted the troublesome territorial question from the Treaty’; Roosevelt papers,


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PSF 68: Russia 1942–43, 26 May 1942. Watson, ‘Molotov, the Grand Alliance and the Second Front’, is the most meticulous in researching the visit, but he, too, gets the chronology wrong.
Molotov’s apparent display of authority even misled Churchill into insisting to Roosevelt that Molotov was ‘a statesman and has a freedom of action very different from what you and I saw with Litvinov’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, 27 May 1942.
The fresh agreement was hastily prepared and signed with pomp and ceremony on 26 May. Accompanied by Eden and Maisky, Molotov was received by the king, who found him to be ‘a small quiet man with a feeble voice’ but who was ‘really a tyrant’. Noticing the ‘twinkle in his eye & a sense of humour’, he could only hope that the visit ‘made him understand the meaning of personal contacts’. This hardly seems to have been the case, as Molotov left Beaverbrook with the impression of being ‘a Crippen’ and regretting that ‘Litvinov was not the man with whom we had to deal’. Molotov himself was little impressed, dismissing the visit to the palace in a telegram to Stalin as ‘nothing remarkable’. He was more flattered by succeeding in attracting the entire War Cabinet to a lunch at the embassy.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr 232.158. King George VI to Queen Mary, quoted in J.W. Wheeler-Bennett, King George VI: His life and reign (London, 1958), pp. 539–40; Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 23 May; TNA FO 800/876 file 23, FO summary report of the visit, 11 June 1942.
Molotov then left for the United States, preferring to be seen off at the railway station not by Maisky, but rather by Admiral Kharlamov, the head of the military mission.
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, pp. 106–7.
The gamble in adopting the American-approved treaty indeed seemed to pay off. ‘Heavens,’ exclaimed Welles, ‘seem to have opened.’
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 29 May 1942.
Churchill, however, was bent on deterring Roosevelt from committing himself to a second front. Hardly had the Russians taken off for Washington than he hastened to send the president a telegram, attached to which was a record of his meeting with Molotov at which he had expounded the


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obstacles to mounting a second front. ‘Dicky [Mountbatten],’
Lord Louis Francis Albert Mountbatten, chief of combined operations, 1942–43; Supreme Allied Command, South-East Asia, 1943–46; viceroy of India, 1947.
he added, ‘will explain to you the difficulties of 1942 when he arrives.’ He further tried to lure the president into dropping Sledgehammer in favour of a landing in northern Norway to secure the convoy route to Russia (a plan which the Russians rejected, as it would have required them to divert troops to the north). But as was Churchill’s custom, the most important message appeared at the end: he was looking forward to ‘the trial of strength’ posed by Rommel’s renewed offensive in Libya, for which fresh resources would have to be allocated. ‘We must never let gymnast
Operation Gymnast, eventually renamed Torch, was the British plan for the invasion of French North Africa in 1942.
pass from our mind,’ he concluded, ‘all other preparations would help if need be towards that.’
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, 28 May 1942; AVP RF f.059 d.3943 p.440 l.136, Molotov to Maisky, 15 July 1942.
The negotiations started in earnest on the evening of 29 May. Molotov went out of his way to court Roosevelt, but the president was ill at ease and ‘it was pretty difficult to break the ice’. Roosevelt reasserted the need to assist Russia, but referred to the generals, who, ‘being narrow specialists in their own fields, always see difficulties’. He personally was prepared to experience another Dunkerque, even if it meant sacrificing ‘100,000–120,000’ people. But his proposal to deploy at best 8–10 divisions on the continent hardly satisfied Molotov, whose instructions were to seek the diversion of at least 40 German divisions from the eastern front.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.33–7, this is a vital source, as the amateur American interpreter, Prof. Cross from Harvard, did not take notes and produced a most selective record from memory; FRUS, 1942, III, p. 571.
Hopkins paid a nocturnal visit to Molotov’s room to reaffirm Roosevelt’s pledge to launch a second front. But he prodded the foreign minister ‘to draw a gloomy picture’ in his preliminary talks with the president the following day.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.67–70.
Roosevelt seemed indeed to be touched. He became aware that unless there was a massive invasion of France in 1942, the Russians might need to retreat from Moscow and the Baku oil fields, thereby aggravating the situation for the Western Allies. ‘We are willing to open the second front in 1942,’ he concluded. ‘This is our hope. This is our wish.’ Reading between the lines, Roosevelt was obviously still wavering, sharing Marshall’s doubts as to the feasibility of transferring American troops first to Great Britain, and then across the channel. According to the interpreter, Roosevelt asked Marshall whether he could tell Stalin that the Americans were ‘preparing a second front’. The general replied in the affirmative. The president then ‘authorized Mr Molotov to inform Mr Stalin that we expect the formation of a second front this year’. The subtleties were not lost on Molotov, who, summing up the conversation in a cable to Stalin, was most cautious, suggesting that ‘nothing concrete’ was achieved on the issue of the second front. He hoped to spend the following three days – needed to overhaul the plane’s engines – in paying a visit to New York.
Davies papers, Box 11, memo on Molotov’s visit. Marshall in fact thought that the reference to the second front in the communiqué was ‘too strong’ and urged that there should be no reference to 1942, but he was overruled by Roosevelt; Hopkins papers, Box 311: Molotov Visit, 3 June 1942; AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.41–9, 30 May 1942; FRUS, 1942, III, p. 576–7.
Molotov, however, had succeeded in placing Roosevelt in an uncomfortable position, by harping on the fact that he had come to the United States at the president’s invitation. While his visit to Britain had yielded a treaty, he was returning from Washington to London and Moscow empty-handed. Just as Molotov was touring New York, Roosevelt exchanged urgent messages with Churchill and conducted frenzied talks with Marshall, at the end of which Molotov was again invited to the White House and informed, still in guarded terms, that if the Russians agreed to give up on part of the supply effort, the shipping could then be used to expedite the opening of a second front in 1942.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.58–66 & 72–5.
Roosevelt’s commitment was reaffirmed by Hopkins during a lunch


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at the Soviet embassy in his honour. The president, he claimed, was clearly in favour of a second front and regretted being ‘vague’ and unable to provide Molotov with a more specific answer. It all depended now on the British, who were expected to provide most of the troops for the offensive.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.232 ll.67–70. See also Roosevelt papers, PSF 194: Molotov, record of a meeting between Roosevelt, Marshall, King and Hopkins, 31 May 1942.
Indeed, Roosevelt passed the buck to Churchill, hoping that he would be able ‘to bring to an end that part of the work which was left uncompleted’.
TNA CAB 66/25 WP (42) 232, 31 May 1942.
Hopkins came out of the talks convinced that the visit had gone ‘extremely well’, and that Roosevelt had ‘got along famously’ with Molotov. He was convinced that the second front ‘was moving as well as could be expected’, even if ‘some of the British’ were ‘holding back a bit’.
Roosevelt papers, Collection Hopkins, Box 311, Hopkins to Winant, 12 June 1942.
Molotov left the United States ‘much happier than he had come, and was entirely satisfied’. He confided to Ambassador Davies that the second front had been ‘settled and agreed upon’. He was much taken by Roosevelt, who had ‘an extraordinary strategic and practical perspective on the immediate as well as the entire problems of the war … he was particularly impressed because of the vision, the broad humanitarianism and practical idealism’ with which the president approached the current and post-war problems.
Davies papers, Box 11, diary, retrospective survey of the negotiations entered under 29 May 1942. On Molotov’s optimism and turning into ‘a new man’ in the wake of the mission, see FRUS, 1941, III, pp. 598–9. On the personal relationship established between Molotov and Roosevelt, see F. Costigliola, Roosevelt’s Lost Alliances, pp. 165–73.
Molotov’s and Maisky’s optimism was not shared by Litvinov, who wrote to Maisky: ‘I am, of course, depressed by the poor results of the London negotiations on the second front … I fear the military will delay this issue until it no longer will produce the desired effect.’ Litvinov alerted the Kremlin that ‘Great attention should be given to the role of the United States both during the war and its aftermath.’ He believed that both Roosevelt’s opposition to the treaty and his commitment to the second front were a result of his fear that the United States might find itself isolated at the end of the war, while Britain and the Soviet Union dictated the post-war world order. Roosevelt was eager to drive a wedge between the two by cooperating with Stalin on an anti-imperialist agenda. Litvinov was so disillusioned by the West and so out of tune with Moscow that he had decided, as he wrote to Maisky, ‘to maintain silence until the day of victory, if it ever happens in the course of my own lifetime. As you can see, my mood is not very bright and cheerful. Somehow it is hard for me to see how an uninterrupted series of defeats can produce the total sum of a victory – a serious defeat for Hitler. But I do not wish to infect you with my pessimism.’
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3838 p.427 ll.200–4. See also Molotov to Stalin in AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.233, ll.3–4; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.546 ll.68–9, 25 June 1942.
Isolated in Washington, Litvinov remained ‘worried and bitter’. His scepticism – similar to the feeling he had had about British politics in 1938–39 – led him to the conclusion that ‘for political and Empire reasons’ Churchill was now set against a second front in 1942.
Davies papers, Box 11, diary, 17 June 1942.
Counting on Roosevelt’s commitment to a cross-channel attack, which now hinged on British approval, Stalin pursued his divide-and-rule politics, instructing Molotov to ‘exert pressure on Churchill to organize a second front and carry it out already in this year’. If the supplies to Russia deprived the Allies of material that was indispensable for such an operation, he was prepared to bow to Roosevelt’s request and agree to strip those back to the bare minimum, despite the urgent needs of the Russian front.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3808 p.425 l.15, 7 June 1942.
Back at Downing Street, Molotov followed Stalin’s instructions to the letter. He embarked on a lengthy diatribe concerning the opening of the second front. He did not hesitate to spill the beans about the content of his talks with Roosevelt, who he claimed was ‘fully sympathetic to the idea of opening a second front’ in 1942, and with Marshall, ‘who held similar views’. He further referred to the communiqué on the talks in Washington which, inter alia, stated that ‘full understanding was reached with regard to the urgent task of creating a second front in Europe in 1942’.


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Familiar with what had transpired in Washington, on the eve of Molotov’s return Churchill hastened to fend off the chiefs of staff’s inclination to launch raids on the continent in 1942. He dismissed such endeavours as a response to a ‘cri de coeur’ from Russia, rather than ‘the calm determination and common sense of professional advisers’. He, unlike Roosevelt (as he later told Molotov as well), did not approve of an operation which was bound to waste valuable lives and matériel, and would make ‘ourselves and our capacity for making war ridiculous throughout the world’. Far from sharing the American and the Russian belief that Sledgehammer should be executed at whatever cost if Russia was in peril, Churchill would sanction it only if the Germans were demoralized by ‘ill success’ against Russia. For the time being, he objected to any ‘substantial landing in France unless we are going to stay’ and unless it was conditioned on Russian success in the battlefield. He therefore remained evasive during the talks with Molotov, stating that a decision ‘would only be taken in the light of the situation prevailing when the moment came’ – which in his book meant a Soviet success in the battlefield.
TNA PREM 3/333/19, Churchill’s instructions to the COS, and record of their meeting, COS(51), 8 June; TNA CAB 66/25, Record of the meetings with Molotov; AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr. 233 ll.69–80, Meeting with Molotov, 9 June 1942.
Despite the failure ‘to come to grips’ with the Russians on the second front, Churchill was satisfied with the relations, which had become ‘much more intimate’. Absorbed in his own campaign against Rommel, he did ‘not anticipate any smooth or rapid advance for the Germans into the Caucasus’, as the Russians, ‘though anxious’, were ‘in very good heart and the forces on either side seem well matched’.
TNA PREM 3/395/18, 11 June 1942, Churchill to Lyttelton.
A short farewell party at Downing Street on the evening of 10 June concluded Molotov’s visit. Churchill, ‘in his rompers’, produced a bottle of champagne to celebrate what he considered to be a successful visit. Though forced to adopt the American communiqué, he left Molotov in no doubt that he did not consider the date of the second front to be binding. Pledging to continue the preparations, Churchill’s final aide-mémoire would make ‘no promise in the matter’. The Russians departed for the military airfield at Cheddington in Buckinghamshire. Eden got to see them off after Maisky ‘made no bones about indicating … that that was expected!’ ‘What savages’ was Cadogan’s final judgement.
AVP RF f.45 op.1 ed.xr.233, ll.101–8; TNA PREM 3/333/8, 10 June 1942; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 457.
Against the background of growing alienation between Maisky and Narkomindel, the success of Molotov’s visit was vital. The ambassador toiled behind the scenes to reduce the conflicts to a minimum, while ensuring that Molotov was given the royal treatment. As Negrín, his insightful and intimate friend, acknowledged, the success was due to his ‘magnificent and relentless difficult work’, as well as to his ‘charming but Stormovich-like
A state of the art Soviet dive-bomber.
personal intervention’. He was praised by leading British politicians for having made the Soviet embassy ‘the centre of world affairs’.


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RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1491 l.9, 12 June 1942; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1260 ll.14–15, Boothby to Maisky. Eden made a similar contribution in his farewell speech, as well as in parliament. On this, see the chapter ‘End of an Era’.
Maisky had to manoeuvre cautiously. His success smacked of the power he had accumulated in London, his direct access to the top politicians, autonomy and growing public popularity. Generally an asset, in Stalin’s authoritarian Russia this paradoxically heralded his downfall.
For instance, the honour he was given of carrying the Soviet flag at a ceremonial parade celebrating the Grand Alliance at Buckingham Palace in the presence of the king; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1029 l.8, Maisky to Monck, 12 June 1942.
]
13 June
Visited Lloyd George in Churt. We talked about many things, in particular the Anglo-Soviet treaty. Lloyd George thanked me for my suggestion (which I had conveyed through Sylvester) that he should speak in parliament with regard to Eden’s communication concerning the treaty and Molotov’s visit. Lloyd George


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had not intended to speak on the matter, but after receiving my message he thought: ‘Well, perhaps it would be worth saying a few words.’
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,


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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.
19 June
Nice examples of political idiocy.
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


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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.
21 June (Bovingdon)
A hot and oppressive sunny day, just like a year ago…
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


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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


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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.’


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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.
24 June
The essence of this entry was relayed in a telegram to Molotov, SAO, I, no. 118.
Last ‘weekend’ brought the anniversary of the German–Soviet war. England greeted it noisily, with fervour and enthusiasm… The England, I mean, of the masses, the workers, the ordinary citizens, the intellectual class. Not the England of the government or the City. The latter England expressed its cordial disposition and fellow-feeling, but ‘without overdoing it’. The major newspapers, which take their lead from the government, did the same.
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.


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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.
27 June
Citrine called on me, having just returned from the USA, where he went in the hope of turning the Anglo-Soviet trade union committee into an Anglo-American–Soviet committee. He failed in his mission. The executive committee of the American Federation of Labor did not want to work ‘with communists’. For their part, they proposed setting up an Anglo-American federation in addition to the Anglo-Soviet Committee. The English will be in both, for liaison purposes. Citrine and the General Council like the idea, but they wish to consult Shvernik
Nikolai Mikhailovich Shvernik, first secretary of the USSR’s All-Union Central Council of Labour Unions, 1930–44.
before making a final decision. Citrine gave me a batch of letters and documents for the information of VTsSPS [All-Union Central Council of Trade Unions].
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


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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.
29 June
The situation in Libya is now critical.
The most illuminating rendition of the North African campaign is in M. Kitchen, Rommel’s Desert War: Waging World War II in North Africa, 1941–1943 (Cambridge, 2009).
I saw Eden today and asked him to brief me about the situation. By way of a reply, Eden asked his secretary to bring in Auchinleck’s
Sir Claude John Auchinleck, field marshal, commander-in-chief India, 1941 and 1943–47; commander-in-chief Middle East, 1941–42.
cipher messages of the last few days and gave them to me to read. Gloomy reading!


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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.


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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


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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’.
2 July


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Spent two days sitting in parliament. The conduct of the war was being debated in connection with a resolution of no confidence submitted by a group of 21 MPs headed by Sir John Wardlaw-Milne.
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


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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.
3 July
Today, at long last, I had the detailed conversation with Churchill that I have been hoping for ever since he returned from America. I’ve been wanting to learn what effect his meeting with Roosevelt had on the prospects for a second


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front. But Churchill isn’t having much luck with his trips to the USA: as soon as he gets back, he is greeted by a domestic political storm. So it was in January and so it was in June. While he was engrossed in overcoming this most recent storm, it was difficult to reach him. But yesterday the storm was silenced – for the time being, at least. And today I went to see the prime minister.
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


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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.


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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.


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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


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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!’


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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.


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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.
[Eden felt uncomfortable concealing from Maisky the nature of Churchill’s talks in Washington. He encouraged Maisky to approach the prime minister, though he claimed that nothing had changed since Molotov’s departure.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.5574 p.2 l.156, Maisky to Molotov, 30 June 1942.
Churchill, who came across as being frank, nonetheless deceived Maisky. Following Mountbatten’s face-to-face talks in the White House, Churchill had become aware that Roosevelt’s advocacy of a second front was due not only to his anxieties about the Russian front, but also to the fact that he was itching ‘to get into the war and get his troops fighting’. It certainly was a wise move to send Admiral Mountbatten, the director of combined operations, to Washington in the wake of Molotov’s visit. Mountbatten succeeded in raising ‘unanswerable arguments … about invading France this autumn’, leading Roosevelt to ‘desperately cast round for something else’. Mountbatten’s suggestion was that the Americans should send six divisions, initially earmarked for the cross-channel invasion, to fight alongside British troops in North Africa. Churchill’s blitz visit, within days of Molotov’s return to Moscow, was motivated by a desire to counter the impact of the Soviet foreign minister’s visit by shifting the emphasis from Sledgehammer to Round-Up, the preparations for a cross-channel invasion in 1943.
Halifax papers, secret diary, A7.8.19, 14 June; Roosevelt papers, PSF 194: Mountbatten, Mountbatten to Roosevelt, 15 June 1942 & Map Room Papers, Churchill to Roosevelt, 13 June 1942. Gilbert, Road to Victory, ch. 7.
Overlooking Marshall’s fierce and well-argued opposition, Roosevelt ‘in his foxy way to forestall trouble that is now on the ocean coming towards us in the shape of a new British visitor’ urged his War Cabinet ‘to take up the case of Gymnast again’.
Stimson papers, diary, and Marshall papers, Pentagon, ‘Gymnast Operations’, 17 June 1942.
As was to be expected, Churchill arrived in Washington ‘full of discouragement and new proposals for diversions’. He was ‘pessimistic regarding Bolero and interested in August Gymnast’. He flew straight away to Hyde Park to meet Roosevelt, to the


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manifest dismay of Stimson, the war secretary, who could not ‘help feeling a little bit uneasy about the influence of the Prime Minister on the President’. And rightly so. Churchill later recalled how he was welcomed personally by Roosevelt, who insisted on driving him alone around his splendid estate and ‘all the time we talked business … we made more progress than we might have done in formal conference’. That evening, the president hastened to send Marshall a list of queries posed by Churchill. This practically wrote off operations on the continent in 1942, while introducing ‘some other operation by which we may gain positions of advantage’. To make the proposal attractive to the Americans, it was presented as a move which would ‘directly or indirectly take some of the weight off Russia’.
Stimson papers, diary, 19 & 20 June; Churchill, Hinge of Fate, pp. 338–9; Marshall papers, Pentagon, Box 80/33, Marshall to Roosevelt, 19 June 1942.
Marshall held fast to his appraisal that dispersing the forces might jeopardize an invasion of the continent even in 1943. His defiant message to Churchill maintained that an operation on the continent in 1942 was the best and only way of assisting the Russians. He dismissed Gymnast, arguing that, even if successful, it would not result ‘in removing one German soldier, tank, or plane from the Russian Front’. He shared the opinion of the operations department (whose advice Roosevelt sought as well) that if the Germans had ‘a strangle hold upon the Russian Army’ they were unlikely to be diverted ‘from their murderous purpose by pin prick operations. The further any such pin prick operation is removed from the Nazi citadel, the less will be its effect.’
TNA CAB 88/1 CCS 28, 20 June; NA RG 165, ABC 381 9-25-41(7), ‘Notes on the Letter of the Prime Minister to the President’, 20 June 1942; NA RG 165, Exec. 1/10, OPD to COS, 20 & 21 June 1942.
But this correspondence was superseded by the dramatic defeat of the British at Tobruk, of which Churchill and Roosevelt became aware on their return to Washington. It was, as Churchill later recalled, ‘one of the heaviest blows’ inflicted on him during the war.
Gilbert, Road to Victory, p. 128.
Inadvertently, however, the timing was most propitious. It allowed him to brilliantly overcome the stiff opposition of the American military to his efforts to forsake a second front in 1942 in favour of operations in the Middle East. Churchill wasted little time in launching ‘a terrific attack on Bolero’, in the presence of Marshall and Hopkins, and taking up Gymnast, ‘knowing perfectly well that it was the President’s great secret baby’ and that the operation would have to be carried out by American troops. A compromise was eventually reached to pursue the preparations for Bolero, while Gymnast was revived, drawing on American forces initially earmarked for the second front. General Auchinleck was informed that ‘he might expect a reinforcement of a highly trained American Armoured Division’ equipped with Sherman tanks.
Stimson papers, diary, 21 & 25 June; record of the meeting is in TNA CAB 120/33. Marshall’s opposition to the operation is in Marshall papers, Pentagon, Box 80/33, ‘American Forces in Middle East’, 23 June 1942 and in TNA CAB 88/6 CCS 83/1.
The war secretary, the architect of the second front, was summoned to the White House in the evening. There he found the president in a ‘most irresponsible mood. He was talking of a most critical situation and in the presence of the head of another government with the frivolity and lack of responsibility of a child.’ In the course of the conversation, it turned out that the president, whose mind was ‘evidently tenaciously fixed to some kind of a diversion from Bolero’, had proposed to Churchill to send a major force to sustain the denuded Middle Eastern front. No reference was made at all to the repercussions which a diversion might have on the Russian front – hardly a week after Molotov had left Washington convinced that the Americans were committed to a second front. Stimson was the only one to warn that if Bolero was ‘delayed by diversions … it would not be made in ‘43’.
Stimson papers, diary, 22 June 1942; for a discussion of the context of the debate, see Stoler, Allies and Adversaries, pp. 71–9 and The Politics of the Second Front, ch. 3.
Ironically, a somewhat complacent Molotov, driven by an antagonism to his predecessor, now


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ambassador in Washington, wrote to Litvinov on the same day: ‘no one can deny that our relations with the USA have lately not worsened but improved’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3921 p.438 l.159.
Two days after meeting Maisky, Churchill addressed the chiefs of staff with incisive arguments against Sledgehammer ‘as a desirable or even as a practicable operation in 1942’. He presented it as ‘a premature action’ likely to end in disaster and ‘decisively injure the prospects of well-organised, large-scale action in 1943’. But such arguments were just a prelude to the reintroduction of Operation Gymnast as the main thrust for 1942, while for ‘political and military’ reasons the Russians could be compensated by Operation Jupiter – seizing the northern tip of Norway and thereby eliminating the danger to the Arctic convoys posed by the Luftwaffe. Particularly as Stalin had approached Churchill on this issue and been left without a response.
TNA PREM 3/257/5; the War Cabinet approved the new strategy on 7 July, TNA CAB 65/31 WM(42)87.
This operation never materialized. ‘Second Front in Europe this year definitely off’, noted Cadogan in his diary, after talking to Eden. ‘President wants to do “Gymnast”.’
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 469, 8 July 1942.
In private, Churchill admitted that his policy was ‘to bluff the Germans into believing we shall have second front this year and to conceal from Russians that we can’t!’
Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, II, p. 182.
Informing Roosevelt of his decision on 8 July, he presented Gymnast as the president’s ‘commanding idea’ and as ‘the true second front’ for 1942.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers.
An unequivocal presentation of his plan ‘as clear as noonday’ followed suit. Sledgehammer was discarded as ‘impossible and disastrous’, while Roosevelt was urged to ‘do Gymnast as soon as possible’, leaving the British and Russians to ‘try for Jupiter’ while preparations continued unhindered for Round-Up in 1943.
TNA PREM 3/333/19, 14 July 1942, Churchill’s draft telegram to Roosevelt.
This plan, however, was misleading. The joint planning staff, which had been instructed to look into the repercussions of an invasion of North Africa, had come up with a warning that if Gymnast was carried out wholeheartedly ‘indeed Round Up would have to be postponed until 1944’.


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TNA CAB 79/22 JP(42)670, 14 July 1942.
In a bitter telegram to Eisenhower, Marshall conceded that the demands of Gymnast would ‘curtail, if not make impossible’ an invasion of Europe in 1943.
Quoted in Stoler, Allies and Adversaries, p. 82.
]
9 July
I have drawn the following conclusion from my life experience: ‘Never say never in politics.’
And another one: ‘Hitler has victories but he has no victory’, and that’s all there is to it.
10 July
The history of Dutch political cretinism, of which I wrote not long ago, ended today with a reasonable step: Verduynen and I signed an agreement on the establishment of diplomatic relations between our countries. Verduynen was awfully pleased. He arrived dressed in a morning coat and accompanied by a ‘retinue’ of six people, speaking profusely about the ‘historic’ significance of the event. He made a big fuss of it.


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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.
11 July
Sometimes I want to tear myself away from the blood-stained sea of the present and travel in thought to the distant future, when the brilliance of human genius will be expended not on the invention of the most sophisticated means of self-destruction, but on truly creative, constructive deeds…
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!


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[Maisky’s confidante, Beatrice Webb, had observed a few days earlier: ‘… he maintains a strangely aloof attitude towards dogmatic communism; he is no marxist, not bigoted, he does not idolise Lenin or Stalin’.
Webb, diary, 27 June 1942, pp. 7341–2.
]
12 July (Bovingdon)
The Germans have finally launched their major summer offensive. Fierce fighting has been under way for two weeks already in Kursk–Kharkov region. It flared up right after the heroic fall of Sevastopol (what an unprecedented lesson in heroism this city has given us!). The German side has had indisputable success. They assembled huge quantities of tanks and aircraft (the figure of 8,000 tanks is mentioned, though this seems exaggerated to me), broke through our lines at Kursk and fought their way to Voronezh. They also captured Rossosh farther to the south. We had to evacuate Stary Oskol and retreat to Kantemirovka. The Germans are urgently trying to cross the Don, regardless of losses, and relatively small numbers of them have managed to do so here and there. But the Red Army is putting up very strong resistance, and the enemy has not yet succeeded in entrenching itself on the left bank of the Don. Nonetheless the general situation on this section of the front is exceptionally complicated, tense and unsafe. The Germans have also proved unable to encircle our large units (the Red Army has toughened up in this respect compared with last year), but on the other hand we have had to retreat and relinquish important positions. This is especially true of the Moscow–Rostov railway, which has been cut off at Rossosh and is almost cut off at Voronezh, although the city itself, despite Goebbels’ premature communiqués, is still in our hands.
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


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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


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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.
13 July
Oliveira always struck me as the perfect embodiment of diplomatic emptiness. As doyen (1933–40), though, he behaved in a tactful and appropriate manner. He even displayed these qualities towards me, despite the absence of relations


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between the USSR and Brazil and despite the fact that the general spirit of Brazilian politics was, of course, anti-Soviet. Oliveira’s wife, who grew up and was educated in Paris, was considered the smartest lady in the diplomatic corps and at the Court. She really did dress magnificently and with excellent taste. For all my indifference to ladies’ apparel, I still haven’t forgotten the light-blue mantilla in which she once appeared at the Palace.
14 July
Went to see Eden this morning. He told me that very unpleasant news had arrived from the north: Convoy No. 17 has been badly wrecked by the Germans. Out of 35 ships, 19 have been sunk (this is known for certain), four have made it to Arkhangelsk, five are in Novaya Zemlya, two in Iceland, and the fate of five is still unknown. This terrible experience puts in serious doubt the possibility of sending further convoys, at least until the nights draw in in the Arctic zone. The Admiralty, according to Eden, is against sending more convoys. But no decision has yet been taken.


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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.
[To a great extent, the order given to convoy PQ 17 to disperse and then to scatter and its fatal repercussions were the result of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Admiral Pound, the first sea lord, had been predisposed to disperse the convoys. As early as March, he had voiced reservations concerning the northern convoys, outlining to the joint chiefs of staff the difficulties which were likely to increase, leading to ‘heavy losses’ in the future.
NA RG 218, CCS 334, 3-10-42, CCS 11th, 10 March 1942.
A month later, he pleaded with the Defence Committee to reduce the number of convoys, warning again that the losses of ships and their escorts may become so great ‘as to render the running of these convoys uneconomical’.
TNA CAB 69/4 DO(42)37, 8 April 1942.
On 20 April, the Admiralty demanded that ‘convoys to North Russia should be suspended during months of continuous light unless the very high percentage of losses can be accepted or sufficient air protection can be provided’.
TNA PREM 3/324/17, C.S. 18 to Admiralty, CIC Home Fleet.
‘The German concentration of naval force’ north of Norway, moaned Stimson from Washington, ‘has scared the bits out of the British admiralty and our Navy, and they are afraid that they cannot protect the Russian convoys’.
Stimson papers, diary, 25 April 1942; see also TNA PREM 3/393/2, Churchill to Hopkins, 25 April 1942.
From London, Harriman confirmed that the cycle of convoys to Russia would have to be reduced and that there was ‘no immediate prospect of an improvement in the position’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room 13/1, 25 April 1942.
This information was gently conveyed to Stalin by Roosevelt on 25 April. He apologized for the restrictions which had to be imposed just as Russia was ‘in need of larger and larger shipments of munitions’.
Roosevelt papers, PSF 7: Russia.
Though Roosevelt exerted tremendous pressure on Churchill to sail more than a hundred ships destined for Russia but stuck in American ports, the prime minister insisted that ‘three convoys every two months with either 35 or 25 ships in each convoy … represent extreme limit’ of what Britain could handle. He justified his decision by rather cynically raising the competing demands of Bolero, the deployment of the American troops in Britain in preparation for a cross-channel attack, which he expected would absorb all the scarce shipping available.


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There was little Hopkins could do but relay the decision to Litvinov, attributing it to the British.
TNA PREM 3/393/2; Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, draft letter to Churchill, 2 May; AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3833 p.427 l.95, Litvinov to Molotov, 3 May 1942.
It prompted an immediate telegram from Stalin, urging Churchill to allow the convoys to sail without delay, as the materials were vital for the forthcoming offensive. With Molotov on his way to London, Churchill avoided a straightforward rejection, but put the onus on the Russians for failing to give any appreciable air and naval assistance to protect the convoys.
TNA PREM 3/393/1&2, 6 & 9 May; TNA ADM 205/21, Pound to Churchill, 9 May 1942.
But on 15 May, while Molotov was preparing to take off, Pound returned to the Chiefs of Staff Committee to demand that Stalin should be firmly told that the convoys would have to be suspended for six weeks until the ice receded and allowed them to sail a northern route, out of reach of the German air force. The chiefs of staff heeded his clairvoyant warning that future convoys would be subjected ‘to such a heavy scale of attack that only a small proportion of the ships of the convoy will reach their destination’.
Churchill, however, was left with only a few cards to play in his encounter with Molotov. The proposed political agreement had been pared to the bone, while a second front in 1942 was ruled out. A postponement of the convoys on the eve of the major battle in the east, the Foreign Office warned, would have a devastating effect on Soviet morale. Bearing in mind Roosevelt’s insistence on a second front ‘now’ and his demand that the flow of supplies to Russia should continue, Churchill had to concede that postponement of the convoys was bound to ‘weaken our influence with both our major Allies’. Convoy PQ 16 was accordingly ordered to sail.
TNA PREM 3/392/2, 17 May; COS(42)151 & 152, 15 May 1942; TNA FO 371 32984 N2591/1214/38, FO’s minutes.
Despite heavy attacks, it sustained relatively minor losses, which led the American naval commander in charge of the convoys to suggest that ‘with present disposition and composition of covering and escort forces north Russian convoy is reasonably secure from surface and submarine attack’.
Roosevelt papers, Map Room Papers, 121, 2 June 1942.
Even before PQ 17 set sail in June, Admiral Brind, whose command consisted of Home Fleet and Arctic Convoys, was convinced that the Germans had mastered the convoy routines and would now ‘try conclusions against the convoy with surface vessels’, the effect of which would be ‘devastating’.
NA RG 218, CCS 334, CCS 045.4, 7-9-42, Winant conversation with Rear-Admiral Brind, 13 June 1942.
Churchill, however, never felt comfortable with Admiral Hamilton’s
L.H.K. Hamilton, rear admiral, in command of the cruiser squadron accompanying the Arctic Convoys.
decision to withdraw the six destroyers from the convoy and then order it to scatter. He further played down the threat posed by the Tirpitz – most likely because he was prepared to pay the heavy toll involved in resuming the convoys in September, now that a decision had been taken to postpone the opening of the second front.
TNA CAB 69/4 DO(42)14; TNA PREM 3/393/14, Churchill to Alexander, 24 July 1942. The entry in the diary of Fairbanks from 4 July 1942 well reflects what many felt: ‘We try and tell ourselves that there must have been good reasons for us to have avoided further action as none of us are ones to evade a battle … We hate leaving PQ17 behind. It looks so helpless now since the order to disperse has been circulated. The ships are going around in circles, turning this way and that, like so many frightened chicks. Some can hardly go at all. If only our men knew the details they would not feel so badly about it … Morale throughout the ship is very low. The men feel ashamed and resentful.’
]
15 July
Events are developing faster than I could have anticipated. I thought I’d be able to sound out the British government’s immediate intentions at the meeting I spoke about with Eden yesterday. Things turned out rather differently. Yesterday at about four in the afternoon I had a call from the prime minister’s office inviting me and my wife for dinner that same evening. I accepted. We dined on the lower floor of 10, Downing Street. Seated around the table were


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Churchill and his wife, I and my wife, and… Admiral Pound. I realized at once that matters had taken a serious turn. I was not mistaken. Eden arrived after dinner. But by then nothing remained to be discussed.
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


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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


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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.’


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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


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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.
16 July


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Since Churchill had told me on the evening of the 14th that he would talk with the Americans about Convoy 18, I decided to pay Winant and Harriman a visit on the morning of the 15th. I explained the situation to both of them and asked them not to call a halt to the convoys. Winant promised to help. Harriman was noncommittal and expressed his regret that the Soviet government insisted on the use of northern ports and did not pay sufficient attention to the Persian Gulf route. For all Winant’s good intentions, I don’t expect his intervention to lead to much because, as Harriman said, the British government has brought the matter to the attention of Roosevelt himself.
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


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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.
19 July (Bovingdon)
A hard week!
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


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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.
[Maisky was spot on. Stimson and Marshall were infuriated by Churchill’s determination to ‘reverse the decision which was so laboriously accomplished’ during his visit, thereby diverting the American ‘strength into a channel in which we cannot effectively use it, namely the Middle East’.
Stimson papers, diary, 10 July 1942.
Likewise the joint chiefs of staff, never certain of the president’s inner thoughts, were strongly opposed to the shift, convinced that it would mean ‘definitely no Bolero in 1942’ and ‘probably make the execution of Bolero in 1943 out of the question’. Their appraisal coincided with the views held by the joint planning staff in London that, even if Russia avoided defeat, Germany would still be able to withdraw sufficient troops to France ‘to prohibit “Round-up” next spring’. A concerned General Dill pleaded with Churchill to avoid a showdown with the Americans. ‘Marshall believes,’ he alerted the prime minister, ‘that your first love is “Gymnast” just as his is “Bolero”, and that with the smallest provocation you always revert to your old love.’
NA RG 218, CCS 381, 3-23-42(3/2), JCS to Roosevelt, 10 July; TNA CAB 79/22 JP (42) 679, 17 July 1942; on Dill, CAB 120/689.
General Eisenhower, who had just arrived in London, was astounded by the foregone conclusion to abandon Sledgehammer. Regardless of the risks involved, he thought the operation was preferable to Gymnast, which would open a new front ‘unrelated to this theatre’.
NA RG 165, OPD 381 ETO/I, Eisenhower to Marshall, 11 July 1942.
If a diversion was indeed to be effected, the military pressed the president to revive the Pacific Ocean alternative.
To prevent Britain and the United States from drifting apart, Roosevelt sent Marshall and Hopkins to London to sort out the conflicting strategies within a week (rather than do it himself, he most likely preferred to have Churchill discourage them). Churchill’s position, he instructed his delegation in London, did ‘not wholly take me by surprise’. The priority he had given to an invasion in 1942 hardly stemmed from a desperate need to assist the Russians, but rather from domestic considerations – the need to see American troops engaged in battle ‘at the earliest possible moment in 1942’. As important was the apprehension that the anticipated collapse of the Russian front might


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make it nigh impossible for Allied troops to face the entire might of the Wehrmacht on the western front in 1943.
NA RG 218, CCS 381, 3-23-42(3/2); Stimson papers, diary, 12 & 23 July 1942.
Churchill, as the president rightly anticipated, would not budge. In the notes he prepared for the meeting with the American guests, the prime minister discarded the second front altogether, shifting the entire weight to the operation in North Africa. Churchill successfully imposed his will on the War Cabinet, thereby burying once and for all the cross-channel operation for 1942. ‘Just because the Americans can’t have a massacre in France this year,’ he commented in private, ‘they want to sulk and bath in the Pacific!’ In Washington, the secretary of war was shattered by the news. He felt in his ‘soul that the going on with Gymnast would necessarily destroy Bolero even in 1943’. Roosevelt, he feared, ‘was only giving lip service to Bolero’, while he ‘really was thinking Gymnast’. Cross-examined, the president admitted that the decision ‘would certainly curtail and hold up Bolero’.


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Roosevelt papers, PSF 4; Hopkins papers, Box 308: Draft and final instructions by Roosevelt to Marshall; Marshall papers, Verifax 2428, minutes by Hopkins, 15 July; Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 15 July; TNA PREM 3/333/9, Churchill notes, 20 July 1942; TNA CAB 65/31 WM(42)94, Conclusions, 22 July; Stimson papers, diary, 24 & 25 July 1942.
The American planners now visualized Sledgehammer ‘blossoming into “Round Up” perhaps in 1944’.
Truscott papers, Box 9/1, 26 July 1942.
]
21 July
I spent last weekend in Bovingdon contemplating a plan of action for the immediate future. One question plagued me: what else can I, the Soviet ambassador in England, do to help my country at this critical time? What can I do to rouse the ruling circles in England from their dangerous lethargy, to mobilize the forces stuck in this country, and to hasten the launching of a second front?
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


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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.
[This entry reveals the extent to which Maisky was still acting as he had done during the abortive 1939 negotiations: desperately plotting behind the scenes to bring about collaboration, but equally seeking ‘vindication’ for whatever the Kremlin might do – obviously including the possibility of a separate peace if the alliance failed to materialize.
This part of the entry, otherwise fully quoted in Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 291–2, is typically omitted.
Vyshinsky had indeed been telling diplomats in Kuibyshev that ‘the time might come when they could not go on’. Both Maisky and Bogomolov, the ambassador to the governments in exile in London, were hinting in various conversations that ‘Russian resistance might not be able to continue indefinitely’, and that, if delayed for much longer, a second front ‘would be too late’. Maisky produced a more subtle argument in advancing his case in London, warning that Stalin might adopt the strategy Kutuzov used in the war against Napoleon, by retreating until the Red Army was ready for battle.
Increasingly isolated, Maisky reverted to his old practice of initiating policy. On 16 July, he drew Molotov’s attention to the fact that, as Churchill had avoided mentioning the second front in his message to Stalin, it was ‘necessary to establish that we were in fact being left to the mercy of fate by our Allies in the most critical moment for us’. The scheme he concocted was for Stalin to harshly reproach Churchill and then seek reconciliation through a meeting of the two leaders.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.5574 p.2 ll.202–3; TNA FO 371 32910 N3706 & 37077/30/38, 17 July; Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 24 July 1942.
]
23 July
Moscow has accepted my plan.
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


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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.


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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.
24 July
On his return from Nottingham, Eden summoned me and said that he had acquainted himself with Stalin’s message. Churchill is very hurt and in some distress about it. At the same time the prime minister is tormented by the thought that at this difficult hour there is so little he can do for his ally. The War Cabinet also feels wounded by Stalin’s message. To avoid further exacerbation and further polemical exchanges, Eden thinks it better to leave Stalin’s last message unanswered. Better to allow the passions to subside and the atmosphere to become calmer.
‘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.


Page 1311

At the same time, I’m taking steps to organize my speech to members of parliament.
[Seen from Moscow it was becoming increasingly apparent that the key politicians cultivated by Maisky over the years were deserting him at this crucial time. That applied not only to Churchill, but also to Eden, who was clearly speaking out of both sides of his mouth (strangely enough, not unlike Halifax in 1939). As Eden’s private secretary despaired, the foreign secretary’s relations with Churchill were those of ‘son and heir’ to ‘father’. While unflinchingly supporting the prime minister’s decision to shift from the second front to the North Africa campaign in Cabinet, he was also plotting with Maisky behind the scenes. Maisky’s relations with Lloyd George, now in the twilight of his parliamentary career, were no better. The elder statesman came especially to London to see a performance of Gilbert and Sullivan, rather than attend Maisky’s crucial speech to MPs (still less to speak at that special gathering). After all, he told his private secretary, he was not ‘just an ordinary Member of Parliament’ but had ‘a responsibility in the matter as one who conducted the last war’. In his meetings with Maisky he assumed the worst, convinced that Stalingrad would fall to the Germans. ‘He uttered not one word of encouragement, appreciation or praise.’
Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 24 July & 8 Sep. 1942.
Maisky’s plans were therefore only partially successful. He must have noticed, Eden told him, that Stalin’s acrimonious message ‘had had the opposite effect’ to that expected: Churchill was sulking and preferred not to respond to the message at all. Strangely enough, Eden avoided any mention of a possible meeting between Stalin and Churchill in both his extensive report of the meeting and at the Cabinet meeting the following day. The Cabinet stood united behind the prime minister and sanctioned once again the switch from the second front to Torch.
TNA FO 371 32870 N3846/1/38; CAB 65/31/7 WM(42)95. See also Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 41–5. See also Bell, John Bull and the Bear, pp. 76–81, 104–5.
]
26 July (Bovingdon)
Yet another hard week!
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


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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.
28 July
The conference regarding the convoys was held today in Eden’s office in parliament. Eden, Alexander and Pound participated on the British side; I, Kharlamov and Morozovsky on ours.
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.


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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


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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.


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‘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.’
[Drawing on the experience gained during the Russian Civil War, when Britain contemplated military intervention, Maisky appealed to his supporters, mostly on the left, to exert pressure through the formation of Anglo-Soviet committees in the various cities, and to organize vast public meetings to pass resolutions containing pledges to provide the Soviet Union with unstinting assistance. Churchill seemed far less concerned about Maisky’s attempts to influence public opinion than about his plotting with Lloyd George and the opposition behind the prime minister’s back.
See, for instance, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1532 ll.17–18, Pritt to Maisky, 15 Sep. 1941 and extensive correspondence with Gollancz on the activities of the Anglo-Soviet Public Relations Committee, Gollanz papers, MSS 151/3/ASP/1/6–17.
]
29 July
Stukalov (naval attaché for air) and I, accompanied by Cadogan, went out of town to visit Air Marshal Harris. I had a long talk with him and came to an agreement about the plan for bombing Germany in August. If this plan is implemented, the effect will be quite decent. But will it be implemented?
I’m not entirely sure.
30 July
A hot day, and one fraught, perhaps, with far-reaching consequences!
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


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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


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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


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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.
31 July
Beaverbrook called early in the morning. He had already made his excuses on the eve of the parliament meeting, saying he wouldn’t be able to attend (playing


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games!). Yesterday evening he called again to find out how the meeting went. I briefly described the events to him. Today Beaverbrook was most excited. ‘There has never been such a meeting,’ he yelled into the phone. ‘All the MPs were tremendously impressed. I congratulate you on a major political success!’
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…
[The diary for 1942 ends abruptly at this dramatic and fateful moment, most likely because Maisky’s hopes of participating in the summit meeting and influencing the course of events failed to materialize, while the policies he had promoted proved to be all for naught. The idea of a meeting between Stalin and Churchill is often associated with Kerr’s proposal made on 30 June, which Eden brought over to Churchill, who ‘jumped at it’, remaining ‘fixed on the trip’ despite futile attempts by Lord Moran, his doctor, and others to discourage him.
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 464–5; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 338; RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.282 ll.4–5, Vyshinsky meeting with Kerr. But the telegram only put a seal on the idea floated by both Maisky and Eden throughout the preceding week; TNA FO 800/300A, Eden to Kerr, 5 Aug. 1942.
As we have seen, it was part of the subversive scheme plotted by Eden and Maisky. A day earlier, Cadogan had submitted to the prime minister a long minute attaching ‘enormous importance to a Stalin–Churchill meeting’. Cadogan had spent a whole morning with Maisky, visiting Bomber Command, and had surely been exposed to the ambassador’s initiative. Expecting things ‘to go badly in Russia for some time’, Cadogan advised Churchill that the moment may well come


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‘when the Russians are no longer attracted by “jam tomorrow”’. The British could either ‘go out to turn up the cards’, or risk a Russian disappointment, hoping that the prime minister might ‘go out and comfort them if, in fact, they are disappointed. The former course is taking a gamble; the latter condemns the PM certainly to a most unpleasant trip.’
TNA PREM/3/26A/1, Note by Cadogan transmitted to Churchill, 29 July 1942.
When Churchill, therefore, announced his intention of going to Egypt on 29 July, the possibility was already there that he might press on for Moscow.
Only a successful summit meeting could arrest Maisky’s fast-declining influence in Moscow. He now staked the considerable power he had gained in mobilizing public opinion to exert pressure on Churchill. However, the resort to an unprecedented emotional appeal to the members of parliament, over the head of the government, seemed to some to be ‘a speech of a man in a desperate position’. Never since Gondomar,
Diego Sarmiento de Acuña, count of Gondomar, Spanish ambassador to London from 1613–22, saw his embassy as an isle in a hostile land. He had, however, cultivated numerous powerful intimate friends at the Court of King James I through whom he exercised great influence on British politics. He was judged to be ‘a cleverer man than any in England’.
it was observed, ‘have we allowed a foreign ambassador to interfere so much in our domestic affairs’. So far Maisky had successfully convinced Moscow that, despite his personal reservations and scepticism about the prime minister’s military capability, Churchill was still ‘the most likely premier to keep [Britain] in the war’, while any successor might turn out to be ‘a stopgap leading very shortly to appeasement and a separate peace’. Maisky’s interest in a summit meeting coincided with that of Churchill, who ‘had let it be understood’ in conversations with the Russians that ‘he would very much like to meet Stalin’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 297; Bell, John Bull and the Bear, pp. 104–5.
But the two were operating at cross-purposes. Maisky was gambling on Churchill’s need to bolster his political standing at home through a display of unity with Stalin. He attributed the prime minister’s offhand dismissal of the enormous public pressure for a second front as ‘a Red stunt’ to a genuine concern. He failed to realize that Churchill’s overriding objective was to achieve a breathing space, during which he could pursue unhindered his preparations for the invasion of North Africa, while deflecting pressure for a second front and securing continued Russian resistance on the battlefield. Churchill believed he could achieve this with Stalin by resorting to his unrivalled power of persuasion and charm.
King, With Malice toward None, pp. 185–7; Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 30 July 1942.
So far Churchill had resisted with tenacity any attempt by his new Russian and American allies to alter his peripheral strategy. He had successfully imposed it on the reluctant chiefs of staff (though only after purging the top brass) as well as on Roosevelt, against the better judgement of the president’s professional military advisers. This was a remarkable achievement, particularly against the backdrop of the horrific defeats he had suffered throughout 1941. Churchill had successfully exploited the rout in Tobruk to sway Roosevelt from the cross-channel attack (now scheduled for 1943, but conceded by the military to become feasible only in 1944) to Operation Torch. As much as he abhorred the idea of going to Moscow, Churchill assumed that a tête a tête meeting would convince Stalin of the insurmountable difficulties involved in launching a cross-channel attack and would convert him to the Mediterranean campaign as the genuine second front. He hoped to assuage the Russian leader with vague promises to persevere in the preparations for Operation Bolero the following year. The concrete bait was an undertaking to resume the normal run of the convoys in September, while intensifying air raids on German towns.
TNA PREM 3/393/14, Churchill to Alexander, 24 July 1942.


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Numerous highly coloured and anecdotal descriptions of the dramatic twists during the stormy encounters in the Kremlin emanated mostly from Churchill’s own highly distorted and tendentious narrative and from that of his immediate entourage, who were briefed by him. Churchill himself changed the narrative a couple of times while still in Moscow. In his final report to Attlee, his deputy, having at last established ‘cordial and friendly’ relations with Stalin, he ultimately produced a rosy report which discounted his ‘too gloomy’ earlier report.
TNA PREM 3/76A/9, 15 Aug. 1942; Churchill, Hinge of Fate, ch. XXVI–XXVIII. On the misleading narratives, uncritically embraced by historiography, see comments made by Lord Moran in C.M.W. Moran, Churchill: Taken from the diaries of Lord Moran (London, 1966), pp. 70–1, as well as D. Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill fighting and writing the Second World War (London, 2005), ch. 21. The accounts include TNA FO 800/300, Reed (British embassy), letter-diary, 19 Aug. 1942; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 469–74; G. Pawle, The War and Colonel Warden: Based on the recollections of Commander C.R. Thompson, personal assistant to the prime minister, 1940–1945 (London, 1963), ch. 21; Lord Tedder, With Prejudice: The war memoirs of Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Lord Tedder (London, 1966), pp. 320–32, and a colourful report in TNA CAB 120/69, 17 Aug. 1942; Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, ch. 7. The only exception, which rightly attributes the change of heart to Churchill’s failure to convince Stalin


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that Torch was the real second front, is sounded by Admiral William Standley, the rather ineffectual American ambassador to Moscow, in Admiral Ambassador to Russia (Chicago, 1955), pp. 204–18. For recent works perpetuating the trend, see Costigliola, Roosevelt’s Lost Alliances, pp. 173–8; J. Fenby, Alliance: The inside story of how Roosevelt, Stalin and Churchill won one war and began another (London, 2007), ch. 9; Gilbert, Road to Victory, ch. 11; M. Folly, ‘Seeking comradeship in the “ogre’s den”: Winston Churchill’s quest for a warrior alliance and his mission to Stalin, August 1942’, Brunel University Research Papers, 6/2 (2007), pp. 276–303; and G. Ross, ‘Operation Bracelet: Churchill in Moscow, 1942’, in David Dilks (ed.), Retreat from Power (London, 1981), II, pp. 101–19. M. Kitchen, British Policy towards the Soviet Union during the Second World War (London, 1986), pp. 132–40, produces a more thorough contextual narrative.
This narrative continues to dominate the current historiography while avoiding the core issues, which Churchill was keen to conceal, and the Soviet point of view.
Maisky’s hopes of enhancing his own position in the Kremlin as the go-between – a role he had successfully assumed during Eden’s two earlier visits to Moscow and Molotov’s London visit – were cruelly dashed. The bleak script for the conversations in Moscow was in the public domain even before Churchill set foot in Russia.
King, With Malice toward None, p. 185.
In seeking Eden’s intervention to secure his own presence in Moscow, Maisky merely aggravated his position. On 4 August, the humiliated Soviet ambassador not only conceded to Eden that he would not be going to Moscow, but pleaded with him ‘not to make further representations to his government in the matter’. To add insult to injury, Stalin had instead instructed Maisky’s counsellor, Novikov, to join Churchill in Cairo and proceed with him to Moscow.
Churchill papers, CHAR 20/87/7 and TNA PREM3/76/4, exchanges between Churchill and Eden, 4 Aug. 1942; RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.282 ll.14–15, Clark Kerr to Molotov, 8 Aug. 1942.
In his memoirs, Maisky prefers to deflect the reader’s attention from the genuine reasons for his exclusion, attributing it to ‘the Soviet Government’s dissatisfaction with Britain’s conduct’ on the issue of the second front.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 297.
It was, however, a severe personal blow, which Maisky evidently associated with the reproaches over his supposedly defeatist outlook that was exposed during Molotov’s visit. He found himself in a dismal situation, not dissimilar to that in 1939, desperately seeking to dissociate himself from Litvinov’s brazen critical attitude of the Kremlin. Litvinov had been making no secret in Washington of his conviction that ‘everything was over … Russia has been defeated and there is no hope left for us.’ When Molotov was informed of this statement, he received the news with ‘incredulity’, attributing it to Litvinov ‘feeling “homesick” in the midst of American prosperity’.
Roosevelt papers, PSF 68: Russia 1942–43, Welles to Roosevelt on conversations with the Mexican ambassador, 12 Aug.; TNA FO 371 32884 N5029/5/38, Clark Kerr on conversations with Molotov, 30 Sept. 1942.
Maisky tried to absolve himself in the eyes of the Kremlin, using every possible channel to display his loyalty and commitment to the war effort. ‘Our life revolves around the front,’ he wrote to Kollontay in an unusually long letter – most likely intended for interception by various agents on its way to Stockholm – ‘from one communiqué to the next one’:
We firmly believe in our final victory … we try to make a contribution, even if small, to our Soviet kitty. We have our successes but also our failures … I very much wished that I would have not been refused permission to travel with Churchill to Moscow.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 l.31, 31 Aug. 1942.
Likewise, in two untypically long letters to Litvinov within a space of two weeks, Maisky repeated that ‘notwithstanding the difficulties and disappointments, I am all the same convinced of our eventual victory’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 l.77 & 79–80, 7 Aug. & 18 Sept. 1942.
But he was not helped by Churchill’s promotion of his case. Churchill, who in Moscow was frustrated by the language barrier, lamented to Attlee that Pavlov, ‘the little interpreter, was a very poor substitute for Maisky’. In his final candid conversations with Stalin at his Kremlin apartment, Churchill was surprised to discover that Stalin was ‘very critical of Maisky’. When Churchill commended Maisky as ‘a good Ambassador’,


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he seemed only to increase the host’s suspicions as to where Maisky’s loyalties lay. Stalin, reported Churchill, ‘agreed, but said that he might be better; he spoke too much and could not keep his tongue between his teeth’.
TNA PREM 3/76A/12, record of Churchill’s meeting with Stalin on 15 Aug.; DPSR, I, Doc. 262, record of Churchill’s conversations with Sikorski, 30 Aug. 1942.
Churchill returned to London convinced, as he told Cripps, that the Soviet government would recall Maisky, who ‘talked too much’, to join the Soviet Cabinet in Moscow, while the recently appointed counsellor of the embassy would replace him.
Webb, diary, 26 Oct. 1942, p. 7426.
Maisky nonetheless tried desperately to have an impact on the negotiations by ‘taking the liberty’ of addressing Stalin personally, in a long and detailed brief on Churchill’s objectives. He gambled on his unparalleled familiarity with the prime minister to dare to submit to Stalin precise recommendations on how he should handle Churchill. Fearing the worst, it was now vital for him to dispel any illusions (which he himself had cultivated in the Kremlin) about the likelihood that Churchill would agree to a second front. Indeed, in a personal letter to Litvinov on the same day, Maisky stressed twice that he was ‘not feeling particularly optimistic’ and believed Churchill would postpone the second front to 1943. However, it was as important for him to try and overturn the ideologically oriented appraisal, prevalent in Moscow since Molotov’s return from London and Washington, that Churchill and Roosevelt were deliberately avoiding a second front and seeking to weaken Russia. He knew that such thoughts, which he did not share, might lead to Soviet disengagement and further strategic retreat, or still worse to a separate peace. He was right to be concerned. Just as the talks got under way in Moscow, the 32-year-old Andrei Gromyko (son of a peasant and a product of Molotov’s new face of Narkomindel’s ‘yes men’, loyal and submissive though poorly informed about the American scene) sent his master a long and devastating survey of the prospects for a ‘second front’. Gromyko, counsellor at the Washington embassy, had been sent to Washington to keep a close watch on Ambassador Umansky, who had fallen out of favour with Stalin; he would soon seize the ambassadorial role from Litvinov.
Gromyko, Memoirs, pp. 26–37.
Gromyko clearly tailored his memorandum to please Molotov and reinforce his entrenched suspicion of the West. Molotov read the document attentively, underlining with his thick black pencil large segments which conformed to his views. The gist of the argument was that the American government was not seriously considering and preparing for a cross-channel attack. Resorting to ideological rhetoric, Gromyko wrongly attributed the negative attitude to ‘strong anti-Soviet moods among the American military’ and particularly to Stimson (who, as we have seen, was the most ardent advocate of a second front). He went on to suggest that the generals had pinned their hopes (and continued to do so) on the destruction of both Hitlerite Germany and the Soviet Union. These hopes coincided with those of industrial circles which were aired publicly at the outbreak of war. They did not want to see Hitler victorious, but still less did they wish to see a Soviet victory.
He even suggested that a small but influential group among the generals continued to cherish hopes of an arrangement with Hitler. Likewise (and here Molotov added exclamation marks in the margins of the document), the mood of the naval commanders was ‘dictated by their political and ideological point of view’ and was ‘hostile towards the Soviet Union’. The conclusion was therefore that appeasement led many to prefer Hitler’s victory to a victory of the Soviet Union.
AVP RF f.0129 op.26 d.6 p.143 ll.14–23.


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Maisky would find it increasingly difficult to dent the new narrative which was taking firm hold in the Kremlin. While proposing to maintain the pressure in favour of a cross-channel attack, he advocated the ‘more feasible’ ‘subsidiary demands’, such as increased supplies and military assistance in the north and the Caucasus; but above all he advocated the forging of a long-term political and military association with Churchill.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.2530 p.372 ll.195a-I; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.143 l.77, 7 Aug. 1942.
Despite his personal dislike of Maisky, Stalin lent a guileful ear to his ambassador’s advice. It was not the first time that Stalin had adopted the ideas of an opponent as his own, and then disposed of the draughtsman. However, he would certainly not share Maisky’s optimism that the visit could ‘serve as a starting point for forging a single allied strategy without which victory will be inconceivable’.
See Resis, Molotov Remembers, pp. 45–6, and the following account of the meeting.
The long-anticipated encounter between the two leaders took place on 12 August, in the evening, shortly after Churchill arrived in the Soviet capital. The impetuous prime minister rushed into the meeting without waiting for his political and military advisers, including the chief of staff, who were held up in Tehran for another day due to mechanical failure of their plane. Stalin’s ‘face crumpled up into a frown’ a couple of times as Churchill conceded that there would be no second front in 1942. He was particularly upset about the breach of the promises made to Molotov, though Churchill insisted that he had endorsed those only with serious reservations. Stalin took heed of Maisky’s advice, seeking to end the first round of the discussions by noting that, while he was not entitled to demand the second front, ‘he was bound to say that he did not agree with Mr Churchill’s arguments’. Churchill now enthusiastically plunged into a protracted presentation of Torch as an alternative second front, which ‘did not necessarily have to be embarked upon in Europe’. Waving a drawing of a crocodile that he had made while Stalin was talking, Churchill explained that it was his intention ‘to attack the soft belly of the crocodile as [the Russians] attacked his hard snout’. Taking his leave, Churchill stopped by a globe in the middle of the room to expound the immense advantages of clearing the Germans out of the Mediterranean. He returned to Stalin’s guest house in the woods convinced that he had succeeded in swaying Stalin. The British ambassador enthusiastically (but alas prematurely) informed Eden that Churchill’s method of approach was ‘masterly’. The bluntness with which he had demolished the prospects of the second front ‘on which Stalin had set his heart made that which the Prime Minister now set before him appear all the more attractive’. The visit, he concluded, ‘promises very well’.
A detailed record of the first meeting by Clark Kerr is in TNA FO 800/300, 12 Aug., and an almost identical Russian version is in AVP RF f.048 op.24 d.3 p.35 ll.96–99 & d.2 p.23 l.263.
Churchill, still in euphoric mood, could hardly wait for the opportunity to discuss Torch further with Molotov the following morning. Oblivious both to the microphones installed in the dacha and the presence of the Russian staff, he was beside himself over lunch, describing Stalin ‘as just a peasant’ whom he ‘knew exactly how to tackle’. Eventually relations between the two would be further marred when it became known in Moscow that on his way back to the dacha, when Stalin’s name was mentioned, Churchill referred to him as ‘that monstrosity’.
On this, see TNA FO 800/300, Clark Kerr to Cadogan; TNA PREM 3/395/18, Churchill’s minutes, 21 Oct. 1942.
To his chagrin, Churchill found the Soviet foreign minister elusive and preferring to defer the topic for Churchill’s meeting with Stalin that evening. All attempts to extract from Molotov a positive reaction to the talks so far elicited an ominous response which disclosed the suspicion prevailing in the Kremlin that, as in 1939, the British were eager to see the Soviet Union and Germany scuffle in the east, and were perhaps even seeking a separate peace. ‘It had obviously been decided not to create a second front in Europe in 1942,’ Molotov summed things


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up succinctly, ‘and there was no absolute certainly about the “Torch” operation taking place.’ It was all shrouded in ‘considerable ambiguity’.
TNA FO 800/300, handwritten notes by Harriman, 13 Aug. 1942.
Arriving at the Kremlin, Churchill was confronted by Stalin with an acrimonious aide-mémoire remonstrating against the decision to scrap the second front operation in 1942, while paying no heed to Operation Torch. The absence of a second front, it warned, would have a calamitous impact on the morale of the Soviet population and the Red Army, the consequences of which were unpredictable. Lulled by a feeling that he had succeeded in masterly manner in diverting Stalin from the second front on the continent to the North African campaign, Churchill, who had emerged from the first meeting convinced that the rest of the talks would be ‘plain sailing’, was knocked off balance and was shattered by Stalin’s callous dismissal of his case. But the Soviet leader did not leave it there. To deflect Stalin from an ideologically oriented interpretation of Churchill’s dithering, Maisky had produced for him a psychological profile of the prime minister. He attributed Churchill’s dithering to the haunting memories of the crushing and costly defeats he had suffered in the Dardanelles in the First World War and in Norway, Crete, Singapore and France in the present one. Making full use of this, Stalin resorted to blunt and ironic language in castigating the prime minister, suggesting that the British should not be ‘afraid of the Germans, if they fought against them they would find out they were not invincible, soldiers had to be blooded’. Moreover, he challenged the British intelligence estimates of the strength and location of the crack Wehrmacht units in the west, not missing the opportunity to remind Churchill of the failure of British intelligence in the Dardanelles in the First World War. A string of accusations followed. Stalin claimed that the only goods the Soviet Union was receiving from the West were those that it was only too happy to be rid of. It was proof of the ‘underestimation of the significance of the Russian front for the allies, as the only front where the enemy was engaged on a massive scale’. Finally, though Stalin did not find disagreement between the Allies to be ‘tragic’, he vehemently objected to any suggestion that the operation in North Africa – even if it was ‘right from the military point of view’ – had any relevance for the Soviet Union. ‘One had to remember,’ agreed Air Chief Marshal Tedder,
Arthur William Tedder (1st Baron Tedder), marshal of the RAF, commander of the Mediterranean Air Command.
that for Stalin the North African campaign ‘appeared very much small beer – and rather flat beer at that!’
The memorandum is in RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.282 ll.35–6 & ll.48–52; AVP RF f.048 op.24 d.2 p.23 l.263; Tedder, With Prejudice, pp. 328, 330–1.
Churchill, who clearly was not accustomed to the ‘almost brutal directness’ with which Stalin could pose ‘searching questions, each of them loaded like a revolver’, was shattered.
B. Ellsworth, Wendell Willkie, Fighter for Freedom (Michigan, 1966), p. 263.
In his reports to Roosevelt and the Cabinet, Churchill described the ‘most unpleasant discussion’, during which Stalin said ‘a great many insulting things’ which Churchill claimed to have repulsed ‘without taunts of any kind’. This was hardly the case. Churchill lost his composure, and his doctor, who accompanied him to the dacha, was surprised ‘to find the violence and depth of resentment that he had worked up’. He looked ‘like a bull in the ring maddened by the pricks of picadors’. While making much of his mistreatment at the Kremlin, he brilliantly concealed from his entourage – as well as from the Cabinet and future historians – that his plan to convert Stalin to Torch had been quashed. The fear of the reaction at home was uppermost in his mind, particularly when he was confronted with the Russian draft communiqué summing up the talks,


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which avoided any mention of the desert offensive but announced the failure to reach an agreement on the cross-channel operation. To forestall the reopening of the strategic debate, he reassured Cabinet and Roosevelt that ‘in his heart, so far as he has one, Stalin knows we are right’ and his ‘sure-footed and quick military judgment’ made him ‘a strong supporter of TORCH’. He conveniently adopted a rather ridiculous explanation which Harriman had concocted to account for Stalin’s mood swings, attributing them to opposition within the Council of Commissars, which might have ‘more power than we suppose’, as well as to bad manners.
TNA PREM 3/76A/11, 14 Aug. 1942; Moran, Churchill, pp. 66–7.
Sulking, Churchill made up his mind to return to London first thing the following morning. Averell Harriman, Roosevelt’s personal representative to the conference, who had been subjected to similar treatment a year earlier while accompanying Beaverbrook, persuaded Churchill that it was a ‘poker’ game or ‘some sort of Slav technique’. It was left to the British ambassador to awaken Churchill ‘from the intense, and alas, no longer very actual, family and natitude pride’. Clark Kerr left a bitter description of Churchill’s demeanour, full of recriminations. ‘I don’t like to see a man in whose hands lies the fate of whole peoples,’ he wrote in his diary, ‘behave like a spoilt child. I don’t like to have to shake a great leader of men out of whimsicalities or rather out of sheer folly.’ In a most extraordinarily frank conversation, Clark Kerr convinced Churchill that he ‘couldn’t leave Russia in the lurch whatever Stalin had said to hurt his pride. He would have to swallow his pride if only to save young lives.’
TNA FO 800/300, Clark Kerr diary, 15 Aug.; TNA FO 800/300, Reed (British embassy), letter-diary; Churchill acknowledged the ‘wise advice’ he had received in a letter to the ambassador, TNA CAB 120/67, 19 Aug. 1942.
The third scene of the drama was about to unfold. Maisky had advised Stalin that the key to Churchill’s heart was ‘a purely private chat on varied themes’, in the course of which it was possible to gain his confidence and establish a closer understanding. After about an hour of futile meetings at Stalin’s office in the Kremlin, the Soviet leader made an unprecedented gesture, inviting Churchill to his private quarters for ‘a drink’. Stalin had deliberately withheld his response to Churchill’s request for a final meeting, but at the same time hastily set the scene at home, ordering an elaborate dinner and laying the table for three (Molotov was to join later), while requesting his daughter to be available to meet the prominent guest. The two strolled along the endless corridors of the Kremlin to Stalin’s modest ‘empty and depressing’ apartment, from which all valuables and books had been transferred to Kuibyshev. There, ‘sitting with a heavily laden board between them: food of all kinds crowned by a suckling pig, and innumerable bottles’, it all ‘seemed to be as merry as a marriage bell’.


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TNA FO 1093/247, Cadogan to Halifax, 29 Aug. 1942; the reference is to Byron’s ‘The Eve of Waterloo’.
Stalin went out of his way throughout the intimate dinner (which went on until 3 a.m.) to charm his guest, avoiding the pitfall of the second front. He secured what Maisky had called the ‘soft second line’ assistance, but considering his ever-growing fear of a separate peace, perhaps more significant was an undertaking he extracted from Churchill that Prussian militarism would be smashed and Germany disarmed after the war.
RGASPI, Stalin papers, f.558 op.11 d.282 ll.58–61, 16 Aug. 1942; S. Alliluyeva, Twenty Letters to a Friend (New York, 1967), pp. 170–1.
The prime minister returned to the dacha in euphoric mood, convinced that he had been ‘taken into the family’, having ‘seen the daughter and drink, food and jokes’. Henceforth he was ‘all for Uncle Joe’, certain that he had ‘established with Stalin a personal relationship of the same kind as he had already built up with President


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Roosevelt’. Colonel Jacob,
Sir Ian Claud Jacob, lieutenant general, a colonel at the time of Bracelet, he was Churchill’s personal military assistant.
a witness to the events, was not taken in by the theatricality of it all. Observing Stalin’s ‘complete self-possession and detachment’ and reflecting on the course of history, he doubted ‘whether any of the really great figures thrown up by times of turmoil have made friends to whom they would stick through thick and thin. They would not have reached the unchallenged position which they achieved if they had been governed by the ordinary human sentiment.’
Harriman papers, Box 164, personal diary of the mission; Jacob papers, diary, JACB 1/15–1/17, 15 Aug. 1942. Berezhkov, Stalin’s young interpreter, made a similar observation: ‘Stalin was so gracious and courteous that at first Churchill was stunned. But pretty soon he joined his Kremlin host in the game of “friendship”’; V.M. Berezhkov, At Stalin’s Side: His interpreter’s memoirs from the October Revolution to the fall of the dictator’s empire (Secaucus, NJ, 1994), p. 298.
Churchill left Moscow boasting that the disappointing news concerning the second front could not have been imparted except by him ‘personally without leading to really serious drifting apart’. More significant was the effort he invested in deluding both Cabinet and Roosevelt into believing that, once reconciled to the bad news, Stalin was ‘entirely convinced of the great advantages of TORCH’, which, Churchill added, he hoped was ‘being driven forward with super-human energy on both sides of the ocean’.
TNA PREM 3/76A/11, Churchill to Attlee, 16 Aug. & to Roosevelt, 18 Aug. 1942.
It did not take long, however, for this version to be discredited. The demands for the second front resurfaced when Maisky explained to Eden that it was ‘difficult to persuade the Russian people that any operations which we might undertake in Africa were of equivalent value to the creation of a second front in Europe’. Likewise, Litvinov continued to relay a grim prognosis for the war in the east if a second front failed to materialize. Maisky, to his dismay, gleaned from Eden that even a successful Torch did not guarantee a cross-channel attack in spring 1943.
TNA FO 371 32884 N4590/5/38, 4 Sep. 1942.
Though excluded from the talks, Maisky was hardly taken in by the joint communiqué, which, at Churchill’s insistence, alluded to strategic decisions which


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in reality had not been agreed upon. Maisky kept spreading to the press ‘pessimistic accounts’ of Churchill’s visit. He regarded the absence of a second front as a ‘calamity’ and, notwithstanding his ‘great personal admiration for the Prime Minister’, it ‘would be remembered as the greatest mistake of his career’. In prophetic mood, he warned his British interlocutors that ‘if we did not have a second front while Russia was still a fighting partner, we should never have one at this’.
N. West (ed.), Guy Liddell Diaries (London, 2005), I, p. 258; TNA FO 800/872, Bruce Lockhart on meeting Maisky, and Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 17 Aug. 1942.
Nonetheless Maisky made a last-ditch attempt to convince Molotov that Churchill’s visit, which he had contrived, was perceived in London as a great success. The excerpts from Churchill’s telegrams which Eden had read to him extolled ‘the real Stalin’ he had come to know and the latter’s ‘profound understanding of military matters’. He had been assured by Eden that the amicable comradeship established in Moscow was bound to ‘produce even better results in the future’. But Maisky’s influence was fast waning. Molotov, who sensed that the ambassador was again bent on launching personal initiatives, as he had done in 1939, warned him in unequivocal terms that the idea he had raised on ‘devising a unified strategy’ had been deliberately left out of the talks in Moscow because, as long as Russia was fighting alone, it was absolutely ‘unacceptable’. ‘You should not,’ he was reprimanded, ‘put forward this idea to the British. You have never been given, you could not have been given, directions to that effect from us.’
AVP RF f.059 op.8 d.7 p.2 ll.256–7 & op.1 d.2542 p.374 ll.97–101, exchanges between Maisky and Molotov, 20 Aug. 1942. Maisky intimated to Eden that rumours he had heard from Moscow ‘had made him anxious’; TNA FO 954/25B, 20 Aug. 1942.
The disagreeable role he was now assigned was to diminish the impression projected by Churchill that the Moscow negotiations had been successful, while reviving the agitation for a second front. He resorted to ‘seriatim’ meetings with the editors of all leading London papers.
TNA FO 371 32884 N4767/5/35, minutes, 1–3 Sept. 1942; Beaverbrook papers, BBK\H\111; AVP RF f.059 d.5574 p.2 l.286 & d.385 p.430 ll.30 & 40, Maisky’s conversations with Eden and report to Molotov, 18 Oct. 1942.
Inevitably this put him on a collision course with his allies in the British government. Over tea at the embassy, Maisky, who was ‘more aggressively bitter than ever’, told representatives of the American press that the cause of the failure to mount the second front was ‘lack of will power’. The journalists gained the impression ‘that the suspicion of the Russians has reached the point where it was in 1939’. Maisky regretted that the Americans, who had been in favour of a second front, had been talked out of it by Churchill, who told Stalin that he expected the war to last for five more years. ‘On such an estimate,’ Maisky caustically remarked, ‘no considerations of urgency were involved.’ He feared that ‘the prospect of Anglo-Soviet cooperation after the war was imperilled’. The fact that Maisky was ‘intriguing everywhere with the ignorant and disgruntled’ drove Eden to file a complaint with Churchill that ‘Maisky was overstepping bounds of an Ambassador’s privilege’ and demand that he be reprimanded.
TNA FO 371 32914 N4868 & 4819/30/38, 16 & 18 Sept.; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 477; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 340; McDonald, A Man of the Times, pp. 78–80; NA RG 226/21957, OSS report from London, 7 Oct. 1942.
It is rather odd that Stalin should have chosen this moment to confer on Maisky the Order of Lenin (the highest order of the Soviet Union), ostensibly in recognition of ‘outstanding services to the Soviet State’ to mark ‘the completion of the tenth year of his mission in London’. Although outwardly glowing with pride, Maisky, familiar with Stalin’s cynical way of removing opponents, must have sensed that it carried with it an intimation that his mission was being wound up. By publicly demonstrating who had the power to bestow honours, Stalin was most likely reacting to Churchill’s commendation of the ambassador. Both he and Molotov had come to doubt Maisky’s loyalties. Maisky would indeed eventually be charged with treason, having been in London too long to recognize clearly whom he was serving. This official recognition of the ambassador further signalled to the British government that his reproaches were done not ‘off his own bat but on the orders of his Govt.’.
TNA FO 371 33021 N5446/3178/38; The Times, 28 Sept.; Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 22 Sep.; Garvin papers, letter from Maisky, 1 Oct. 1942. Stalin spoke in the same vein to the Associated Press, reiterating the significance attached by the Russians to the second front, making a direct appeal to public sentiment in Britain and the United States over the head of the government; FRUS, 1942, III, p. 460, Harriman to Roosevelt, 5 Oct.; TNA FO 371 32914 N5197/30/38, Philip Kerr to FO, 9 Oct. 1942.


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Meanwhile Maisky was swiftly losing his grip on the media and public opinion. The disastrous raid on Dieppe in late August turned out to be a deathblow to his campaign in favour of a second front – to the extent that a motion urging the government to promptly launch a second front was even defeated at the annual meeting of the Trades Union Congress. ‘The workers,’ noted Brendan Bracken, Churchill’s confidant, were being ‘very good … not very responsive to Stalin’s appeals for a second front.’
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 5 Oct. 1942.
Churchill tried in vain to place the onus for the failure of the second front on the Americans. He was, as Stimson wrote in his diary, ‘evidently at his wits’ end, particularly when realizing that the consequence of the diversion to North Africa would lead to the postponement of Roundup to 1944’. News he would have to break to Stalin before long. The postponement, noted the American secretary of war, ‘was of course a direct result of his own action last August when Marshall went over to the London conference’.
TNA CAB 84/47 JP(42)849; COS 100, 3 Oct.; Stimson papers, diary, 23 Sept. 1942.
The successful Anglo-American landing in North Africa and the victory at El Alamein in early November literally brought to an end the ‘Second Front Now’ movement, so laboriously set up by Maisky, and on which he had staked his diplomatic career, if not indeed his survival.
Bell, John Bull and the Bear, pp. 76–82.
The Soviet victory in Stalingrad gave Stalin a confidence boost and ironically further reduced the likelihood that a unified Allied strategy might ever be attained in the war. Maisky’s assets were fast dwindling.
Churchill’s dismissal of the persistent Soviet demands for a second front as mere ‘propaganda’, as well as his unconcealed predilection for the Poles, led Stalin to think that the British were ‘back on the policy of cordon sanitaire’. Maisky disclosed to the ageing Webbs the intense suspicion in the Kremlin that the British generals and governing class were ‘anxious that the German and Russian armies should exterminate each other’ and thus enable Britain and the United States to dominate the peace-making process. Perhaps in a mirror image of the Soviet consideration of an arrangement with Germany earlier, he feared that the government ‘might come to terms, not with Hitler and his Nazi Party, but with the German capitalists glad to resume control of Germany’. In Washington, Litvinov conveyed the Kremlin’s view that Hess was being detained in Britain without trial to serve as a go-between in negotiations with Hitler’s Germany or a post-war government in Germany which would be friendly to Great Britain ‘after Russia had been bled white in defeating Hitler’s Army’.
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 4 Oct. 1942; Webb, diary, 15 Oct. 1942, p. 7413; Davies papers, Box 12, conversations with Litvinov, 3 & 15 Oct. 1942.
Maisky’s confrontation with the Kremlin placed him in an increasingly awkward situation in Britain, too, where he seemed to be ‘behaving in a very odd and indeed alarming way’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, p. 168; TNA FO 954/25B, Maisky’s luncheon to journalists, 21 Oct. 1942.
His relations with Eden, and particularly with Churchill, were undermined by Stalin’s insistence that ‘no operations outside Europe would count as a Second Front’ and by various indiscretions to the press regarding Operation Torch, probably in the hope of forcing the British and Americans to revert to Round-Up. Those stood in sharp contrast to the way Churchill had construed the narrative of the relations he had established with Stalin in Moscow. The derogatory attitude of Stalin to his own ambassador now led the British to assume that his criticisms and outbursts were done ‘off his own bat’.
Eden was ‘bored’ with Maisky, whom he found to be increasingly ‘troublesome’ and ‘very difficult’. When Maisky expressed gratitude for assistance given to Russia, the foreign secretary was heard muttering: ‘I have never known the little blighter say thank you for anything before.’
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC 42/43, 27 & 28 Oct. 1942; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 344; Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 168–9; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, pp. 483–4; Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 502.
When Oxford University consulted the Foreign Office


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about the possibility of conferring an honorary doctorate on Maisky, Eden provided only a lukewarm recommendation.
TNA FO 371 33021 N5718/3178/38 & N5446/3178/38, 2 & 19 Nov. 1942.
For Maisky, however, the intimacy he had established with Churchill remained vital for his political survival and continued stay in London – particularly in view of a new wave of rumours suggesting he was ‘being moved to Stockholm’. It was he who had championed the prime minister in Moscow and vouched for his determination to pursue the war to its end. He now desperately clung to Churchill, corresponding with him privately and reminding him of their ‘long and friendly association’ which ‘existed in the past, exists now and, I sincerely hope, will exist in the future’. This evoked a noncommittal polite response from the prime minister ‘cordially reciprocating the sentiments’. Rather alarmingly, Churchill, using flimsy excuses, declined an invitation to a star-studded celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Soviet Union. His absence was most conspicuous. Maisky persevered, however. On the occasion of Churchill’s birthday, he wrote to him again at considerable length to express the hope of seeing Churchill representing Britain at the peace conference after the war ‘among the leaders of that grand alliance of free peoples’. And he concluded: ‘On this memorable anniversary I recall with great satisfaction my long and friendly associations with you in various circumstances on various occasions. Looking back on all these years I think I can say that they have served our common cause which unites us now in the common struggle against Hitlerism.’


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RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1175 l.14 & ll.16–17; Churchill papers, CHAR 20/54B/139 & 180, correspondence between Maisky and Churchill, 13, 14, 30 Oct. & 30 Nov. 1942. Description of the reception in Sylvester papers, diary, A52, 7 Nov. 1942.
On 18 October, Maisky reported to Moscow that he had succeeded in foiling attempts by the British government to convince the public that Stalin had accepted Churchill’s reasoning for abandoning the second front in 1942 and replacing it with operations in North Africa. The following day, Stalin rushed a telegram to his ambassador, expressing his view that Churchill’s opposition to the second front clearly reflected a wish to see the Soviet Union defeated ‘in order to then come to terms with the Germany of Hitler or Brüning
Heinrich Brüning, German chancellor in the waning days of the Weimar Republic.
at the expense of Britain’. He also referred to Hess as a potential intermediary in the negotiations with Germany, an idea which was then splashed on the front page of various Soviet newspapers.
AVP RF f.059 d.385 p.430 ll.30–40; SAO, I, no. 147.
After a couple of probably sleepless nights, Maisky cautiously addressed to Stalin a long and well-argued rebuttal, rejecting the idea that Churchill was seeking either Russia’s destruction or negotiations with the Germans. Maisky might have been encouraged by Montgomery’s
Bernard Law Montgomery, field marshal, commander of the Eighth Army from July 1942 to 1943 in North Africa, during which he defeated the Germans and Italians at El Alamein in November 1942, and captured Tripoli and Tunisia in 1943. Commanded the invasion of Italy in September 1943.
offensive at El Alamein which opened on that day and led to victory over Rommel by 11 November. He challenged Stalin, insisting that Churchill could not possibly be craving the defeat of the USSR, which would ‘inevitably mean the end of the British Empire’ once Germany became the hegemonic power in Europe, if not in large parts of Asia and Africa. He argued that the reason why Churchill had not intensified the bombing of Berlin (as he had promised Stalin) was clear: he did not wish the Germans to resume the bombing of Britain. Likewise, the reason he did not put Hess on trial was to prevent Hitler from taking retaliatory measures against British prisoners of war. Displaying an uncharacteristic temerity, Maisky told Stalin that he had drawn some ‘practical conclusions’ concerning Soviet ‘policy and strategy’, which he promised to impart in due course.
AVP RF f.059a op.7 d.5 p.13 ll.175–89.
Stalin, however, put an end to the discussion, waving away the arguments. ‘Being the champion of an easy war,’ he instructed Maisky, ‘Churchill is clearly under the influence of those who are interested in the defeat of the Soviet Union … and a compromise with Germany.’ Clairvoyantly, he dismissed the promises made to him by Churchill to launch the cross-channel attack in 1943, as he ‘belonged to those political figures who easily make promises only to forget or break them as easily’.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.2543 p.374 ll.38–43, 28 Oct. 1942.
Just two days after the conclusion of Montgomery’s successful offensive against Rommel and the launch of Torch, Maisky was obliged to remind Churchill that the operation did not constitute a second front, but was ‘only a prelude or a trampoline for it’. The view in Moscow was that the British and Americans were exploiting the dire situation of the Wehrmacht in Stalingrad to mount their own offensive.
AVP RF f.059 op.1 d.3856 p.430 ll.180–6, 10 Nov. 1942.
In early December, Churchill told Maisky that although he favoured the idea of a second front in 1943, he did not think the Americans would be able to complete their deployment in England by then. This was far from the truth. Over dinner at home with Halifax, General Marshall was highly critical of Churchill’s strategy. He was against extending the war to Italy and favoured pouring American troops into Britain to prepare for a landing on the Brest Peninsula by April 1943. He was most reluctant to see Churchill in Washington or to launch a new set of talks in London which would rightly ‘look too much like the dotted line for Stalin’.
Maisky, now in tune with his master in the Kremlin, reported his impression that the way the Americans and the British were throwing the ball to each other meant ‘that both were embracing the same idea – the idea of an easy war for themselves’.
AVP RF f.059 op1. d.3858 p.430 l.19, 6 Dec. 1942. On Marshall’s critical views, see Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 15 Dec. 1942; NA RG 218, CCS 334, 11-10-42, JCS 47/9,11, 22 Dec. 1942.
Indeed, the general strategic plans of the British for 1943 subordinated the cross-channel operations to the campaign in Italy, while the Balkans now emerged as a possible new theatre.
TNA CAB 84/51 JP(42)1017 & CAB 119/56 COS(42)452, 27 & 31 Dec. 1942.
Rather than respond directly to Stalin’s repeated queries about the likelihood of a second front in 1943, Churchill and Roosevelt proposed to discuss future strategy with him at a summit meeting. Aware, however, that all they wished was to impart the sombre news that the operations on the continent would have to be further postponed, Stalin preferred not to join Churchill and Roosevelt at their forthcoming summit meeting in Casablanca.
Pechatnov and Magadeev, Perepiska I.V. Stalina, I, doc. 150.
]


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1943
1 January
1 January 1943. The old year has died, a new one is born.
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


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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


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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.


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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


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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.
3 January (Bovingdon)
Victories on the fronts. We have achieved much during this six-week offensive. Stalingrad has been liberated, and 22 enemy divisions have been encircled and are slowly perishing near Stalingrad. Nearly the entire Don Bend has been regained. More than 100 miles of the Voronezh–Rostov railway are in our hands. We are advancing fast along the Stalingrad–Tikhoretskaya railway (the capture of Remontnaya 120 miles away from Stalingrad was announced today). In the Caucasus we have recaptured Mozdok and launched a successful offensive at Nalchik. On the central front we took Velikie Luki and have almost completely encircled Rzhev. Colossal losses in men and matériel have been inflicted on the Germans. Our human losses are relatively small, while the quantity of matériel increases. In the Don region, for instance, we seized more than 500 undamaged planes and 2,000 undamaged tanks from the Germans. We’ll make the most of them.
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.
5 January
I’ve been thinking a great deal these past few days about my conversation with Cripps (on 30 December), and particularly about the future of Germany.
Following their talk, Cripps wrote to his aunt, Beatrice Webb, that he was ‘in complete accord’ with Maisky ‘about the conditions of the Peace which should be made after we had won the war’. Maisky’s ideas were not, as he suggests, sparked by the meeting, but rather, as in his talk with Eden on the 5th, were floated by him; Webb, diary, 4 Jan. 1943, p. 7462.
I’ve reached the following conclusions:
(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


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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


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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.
6 January
Eden.
(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.’


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(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.’
[Now that his campaign for a second front lay in ruins, Maisky’s stay in London hinged on his ability to persuade the British to cooperate with the Russians in the organization of the post-war reconstruction. ‘I think the most important thing for us,’ he advised Vernon Bartlett, a leading journalist and MP, ‘is not to bother too much about the past but to be concerned with the future.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.847 l.4, 7 Jan. 1943.
As was his habit, he attributed the initiative to Eden when reporting to Moscow. Exploiting the swing in the American by-elections towards the Republicans, Maisky, according to Eden, anxiously remarked that ‘if America continued to be interested in Europe, so much the better; but we must face the possibility that her interest might fade’. That, he argued, made it ‘more than ever necessary’ that the two countries ‘should work closely together’. ‘I agreed,’ noted Eden.
TNA FO 371 36954 N119/66/38, 5 Jan. 1943.
Maisky’s continued remonstrations, however, eroded his relations with Churchill, who from Casablanca instructed Eden to inform Maisky that he was ‘getting to the end of [his] tether with these repeated Russian naggings’ and that it was ‘not the slightest use trying to knock [him] about any more’.
TNA FO 954/3/22, 8 Jan. 1943.
The other distinct but related change in Maisky’s orientation was a noticeable shift from the Conservatives, whom he had been instructed to cultivate when assigned to London, in favour of Labour, which he had avoided to a large extent. He now pinned great hopes on the role that Labour might play at the end of the war. He was enthusiastic about William Beveridge’s
William Henry Beveridge, economist and social reformer. His report on Britain’s social services focused on unemployment, health care and poverty and eventually became the blueprint for the ‘welfare state’ legislation of 1944 to 1948.
report submitted to parliament, which laid the foundations for the welfare state in post-war Britain. At the same time, he remained suspicious of the official Labour leadership, and discouraged Morrison and Dalton from heading a Labour delegation to Moscow.
Webb, diary, 14 Jan. 1943, pp. 7464–5. Maisky also restored relations with his old socialist friends, such as Brailsford; see RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1248 ll.23–30, Brailsford to Maisky, & d.1325 l.5, Dalton to Maisky, 16 Jan. 1943.
]
7 January
Churchill and Roosevelt are to meet very soon to discuss war plans for 1943. There are two alternatives: (1) to invade France in spring or in summer, and (2) to capture Sicily with subsequent landings in southern Italy.


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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.
8 January
K. Martin.
Kingsley Martin, editor of the New Statesman, 1930–60.
Arrived from the USA. His impressions:
(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’.


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On the whole, Martin thinks that all manner of surprises are to be expected from the USA in the near future – mostly unpleasant ones.
11 January
Today I had a long talk with Eden on various current issues. Two are of particular significance.
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


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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.


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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.
15 January
Elmhirst,
Leonard Knight Elmhirst, chairman of political and economic planning, 1939–53.
who is just back from a long trip to Africa and the Middle East, paid me a visit. He had strange and revealing things to tell me about Egypt. He said: ‘The Egyptians now have heaps of money… They are not fighting yet they are making money from our war, from the English and American troops stationed in Egypt.’
‘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!’


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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.’
* * *
A few days ago I met Sir William Dobbie,
Sir William George Dobbie, general, governor of Malta, 1940–42.
former governor of Malta, at a lunch. He looks a total wreck; seeing him, one can hardly imagine how he led the heroic defence of the island for two years. Or perhaps it was the defence itself which turned him into a wreck?
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


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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…
16 January
My suggestions concerning North Africa:
(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).


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(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.
17 January (Bovingdon)
Things are going well on the front! We have lived to see the day.
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


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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.
* * *
Today, at around noon, Eden unexpectedly phoned me at Bovingdon.
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.
* * *
Lloyd George is 80 today. The newspapers carry articles about him and photographs. Lord Winterton spoke about him over the radio (Lord Winterton is the eldest MP in terms of uninterrupted membership of the Commons – since 1904), Lloyd George was saluted in Welsh, and a concert of Welsh music was broadcast in the evening.
[Maisky, who had become reticent in his private correspondence, nonetheless sent Lloyd George an exceptionally warm letter expressing his life-long admiration, and stating


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‘without any flattery, that in my estimation you are probably the most outstanding statesman Great Britain has produced throughout this period’. This comment was not confined to Lloyd George’s de facto recognition of the Soviet Union in 1921, but to the guidance, ‘good advice and the valuable information’ he had offered Maisky throughout his ambassadorship. It evoked an effusive response from ‘the Welsh wizard’, stating the ‘privilege’ he felt in having met Maisky and ‘the highest opinion’ he had formed of his ‘capabilities and insight’. Lloyd George was swept away by the recent successes of the Soviet Red Army, which, he believed, might ‘yet revolutionise the whole prospect of European democracy, and the influence may even extend to America’. This seemed to reinforce Maisky’s fears that the British assumption that Soviet policy was revolutionary overlooked the realpolitik aspects of its foreign policy. He was quick, therefore, to correct Lloyd George. While sharing the hope that the Soviet Union would be able ‘to exercise strong influence in shaping the coming peace’, he had his doubts about whether it would ‘revolutionise’ the European scene.
Lloyd George papers, LG/G/14/1/27, 28 & 29, 16 & 26 Jan. & 3 Feb. 1943.
Such views dovetailed with Stalin’s outlook, as was shortly manifested by the dissolution of Comintern in May 1943, thus paving the way for collaboration on a post-war European order. Since his arrival in London, Maisky had consistently embraced a pragmatic vision of Anglo-Soviet relations, based on common strategic and economic interests. Such principles were indeed encapsulated in the memorandum on post-war reconstructions which he submitted to Stalin in 1944.
G. Roberts, Stalin’s Wars: From World War to Cold War, 1939–1953 (London, 2007), p. 232.
]
18 January
Those Americans are a strange lot!
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.


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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.
19 January
I turn 59 today. Another year and I’ll be celebrating my 60th.
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.


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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 17 and 18 January, Churchill informed Stalin by special telegram that the British air force has dropped 142 and 117 tons of explosives and 218 and 211 tons of incendiaries on Berlin. Ever keen to demonstrate Britain’s activity.
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.’
21 January
I had two interesting conversations with Eden this week: one on the 18th and one today.
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.


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(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


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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.’
24 January (Bovingdon)
Good news from the front. Our troops took Armavir yesterday. Ha, ha, ha! I can just see those German financial barons, who received oil concessions from Hitler, skedaddling from Maikop. And all Hitler can do is exclaim in sadness: Farewell, Caucasian oil!…
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.


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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–


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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.
[Stalin repeatedly stated in his telegrams that all he was interested in was finding out when and where the second front was to be established in Europe. He believed a promise had been made for an invasion in 1942, which had now been postponed to 1943. He saw no point in convening a summit conference, as it was his right ‘to sit back and demand the fulfilment of the British and American pledges’. Churchill assumed that Roosevelt’s conviction that Stalin would dislike the idea of Britain and the United States ‘putting their heads together before bringing him into the discussion’ was ‘fallacious’. He thought it would be ‘fatal’ to arrive at the negotiating table with Stalin before a common strategy for 1943 had been devised. Once in Casablanca, General Marshall was ‘most anxious not to become committed to interminable operations in the Mediterranean’, while King criticized the British for not having ‘definite ideas as to what the next operation should be’ and for failing to have ‘an overall plan for the conduct of the war’.
Those quotes are taken from a thorough and lively coverage of the conference by J. Fenby, Alliance: The inside story, pp. 164–79.
Churchill made sure that the military negotiations were protracted, like ‘the dripping of water on a stone’. While they dragged on, he was able to sway the president his way, as he had done in Washington the previous May. Aware of the American suspicion of his Mediterranean ambitions, he rendered them less conspicuous by presenting a long list of operations, which his own military entourage warned was ‘biting off more than we could chew’. The ‘moderate scale’ operation in northern France appeared at the bottom of the list, while priority continued to be given to operations in North Africa and to the invasion of Sicily, followed by that of Italy, which Churchill now termed ‘the soft underbelly of Europe’. No real long-range plans to defeat the ‘Axis’ powers were worked out. The issue of the cross-channel and Far Eastern operations was simply left open ‘pending new talks’. It was an open secret that ‘only small forces’ could be earmarked for cross-channel operations, even in 1943. There was nothing left for the American planners but to concede: ‘We came, we saw, we were conquered.’
A.C. Wedemeyer, Wedemeyer Reports (New York, 1958), ch. XIV. On the capricious emergence of the Dodecanese Islands as a jumping board for an invasion of Greece and a campaign in the Balkans, see E. Roosevelt, As He Saw It (New York, 1946), pp. 84–7, 93–4.
Though Stalin’s shadow hovered over the conference, there was hardly any reference to the Russian front.
Jacob papers, Casablanca diary, JACB 1/17–18; Kimball, Churchill and Roosevelt. See also the still authoritative works by M. Matloff and E.M. Snell, Strategic Planning for Coalition Warfare, 1941–42 (Washington, DC, 1953), pp. 372–82; G.A. Harrison, Cross-Channel Attack (Washington, DC, 1951), pp. 33–45; A.F. Wilt, ‘The significance of the Casablanca Decisions, January 1943’, Journal of Military History, 55 (1991).
Impatient as ever, Churchill wasted little time in exploiting his success. He embarked on an impromptu lightning visit of Turkey, straight from Casablanca (which is referred to


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later in the diary). Although Churchill presented the visit to Maisky as part of his efforts to assist the Russians, it fitted all too well into his grand strategy scheme. Turkey’s entry into the war would pave the way for a Balkan campaign after the completion of Operation Husky (the landing in Sicily) and the likely invasion of Italy. The extension of the war into the Eastern Mediterranean would have significantly delayed the cross-channel attack. This explains why Churchill went a long way to placate Stalin in his message of 1 February, in which he stressed their common interest in British involvement in Turkey and the Balkans once the North African campaign was over. But an evasive short sentence, tucked neatly between the main body of the telegram and congratulations for the capitulation of Paulus’s
Friedrich Wilhelm Ernst Paulus, commander during the forlorn Sixth Army’s assault on Stalingrad in 1942.
6th Army in Stalingrad, surely set alarm bells ringing with Stalin: ‘I’ll answer your quite reasonable questions concerning the second front before long.’
Maisky reproduced the copies of the telegrams exchanged between Churchill and Stalin in his original diary. The quotes here are from his version, unless otherwise stated. The telegrams were published by the Soviet Foreign Ministry, Correspondence between the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the USSR and the Presidents of the USA and the Prime Ministers of Great Britain during the Great Patriotic War of 1941–1945 (Moscow, 1957), I, nos. 109–12.
]
26 January
It had just struck half past seven. Eden’s room was dimly lit. A bright flame blazed in the large fire-place.
‘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


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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


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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’.
1 February
For all his seriousness, Churchill is a rather amusing man!
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.


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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.


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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.
[The following entry was triggered by a high-society ‘ladies’ tea party’ given in honour of Maisky’s wife, Agniya. The conversation revolved around plans for ‘rest and relaxation’ after the war, not in ruinous Europe, but in places not affected by the war like Latin America. It put Maisky on guard, realizing suddenly that once the defeat of the Germans seemed certain after the battle of Stalingrad, the trend was to ‘forget about the war … and return to conditions and habits of peace time’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 345–6.
In a speech delivered on the Red Army’s day he warned against the ‘optimistic illusion’ that the Germans were already on the run and that victory was ‘just round the corner’. ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘is more dangerous than this mood. We cannot afford to live in a fool’s paradise.’
The Times, 24 Feb. 1943.
]
5 February
What is Britain’s reaction to our victories?
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,


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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.


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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.


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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.


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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.
[Maisky was spot on. In private, he expressed similar thoughts. ‘The Casablanca decisions,’ he wrote to Lloyd George, ‘are in some respects still an enigma to me. Perhaps later on this enigma will resolve itself into something very hopeful. But bearing in mind the experiences of the last nineteen months, I reserve my judgement until more light is thrown on the impending actions of the Western Allies.’


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RAN f.1702 op.4 d.994 l.26 & d.1192 l.16, 3 & 6 Feb. 1943.
Success on the battlefield, though, was for the moment limited. The Soviet winter offensive of 1943 was a logical outcome of the victory at Stalingrad. After regrouping its forces, the Red Army launched a series of offensives between December 1942 and February 1943 which cleared the German and Axis forces from the south bank of the Don River. Its forces further advanced westward into the Donbass and Kharkov regions, the objective of which was the liberation of Kursk. However, Field Marshal von Manstein
Erich von Manstein, field marshal, commander of the 56th Panzer Corps, February 1941, and of the Eleventh Army in Operation Barbarossa; dismissed by Hitler in 1944 following his defeat in the battle of Kursk in 1943 and the Wehrmacht retreat from Russia.
manoeuvred his troops brilliantly, exploiting the overextended south-western front to successfully contain the Soviet ‘winter offensive’ by 6 March. By the end of the month, the Stavka had been forced to assume a defensive position in the Kursk bulge. The initial ambitious Soviet plans account for the confidence displayed by the Kremlin in the political dialogue


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with their Allies, as is indeed well reflected in Maisky’s diary entries. It accounts for the somewhat premature raising of the post-war agendas and a temporary abandonment of the demands for a second front. Those were resumed as soon as the ferocious German offensive was launched in May, though for the first time since the beginning of the war in the east, the Germans failed to break through the Soviet defences, forcing Hitler to call the offensive off on 17 July 1943. The lessons gained from Stalingrad and the winter offensive dictated prudence, which was displayed by the moderate objective set by the Red Army of reaching the Dnepr River line. But, as Guderian and von Manstein recognized at the time, the Soviet offensive could no longer be halted, and Soviet troops would reach Berlin some two years later.
D.M. Glantz, From the Don to the Dnepr: Soviet offensive operations, December 1942–August 1943 (London, 1991), and D.M. Glantz, ‘Prelude to Kursk: Soviet strategic operations, February–March 1943’, The Journal of Slavic Military Studies, 8/1 (1995). See also E. Mawdsley, Thunder in the East: The Nazi–Soviet War 1941–1945 (London, 2005), ch. 9; and Roberts, Stalin’s Wars, ch. 5.
From Moscow, Clark Kerr wondered how ‘horrible’ it would be for his country’s prestige if the Russians entered Berlin in tanks ‘and we calmly travel to meet them on the train’.
Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 551.
]
6 February
Negrín enlightened me on Latin American practices.
The Mexican government has made good money out of the Spanish Republican immigrants. When the deal was agreed by Negrín and Cárdenas
Lázaro Cárdenas, president of Mexico, 1934–40; governor of Michoacán, 1928–32.
in 1939, the Mexicans demanded that the Republicans set up cooperative, industrial, farming and other concerns where the immigrants could earn their living. Negrín agreed. Large sums of money were transferred to Mexico for this purpose, but the enterprises failed to appear. The money was pocketed by various Mexican high officials, starting with the president himself.
The same year Negrín helped a certain number of Republicans emigrate to San Domingo. At that time there was nowhere else to send them. It proved a profitable business for San Domingo, or, to be more precise, for its notables: the president of the republic had to be paid 5 million francs, while the San Domingo envoy in Paris took 1,500 francs (for himself!) from each Republican sent to San Domingo.
Now the suggestion has been floated of sending Republicans held in North African concentration camps to Mexico. Negrín spoke about it with the Mexican envoy in London. The first thing the envoy asked Negrín was: ‘And how much will you pay us for this?’
What people! What morals!
7 February (Bovingdon)
I’ve not been to Bovingdon for two weeks.
During that time great progress has been made at the front. Greater than I expected. On 24 January, when I last mentioned our operations, we had just


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taken Armavir. Today our troops are already outside Rostov. Maikop is in our hands. The remnants of the German armies have been pressed back to the Kerch Strait and the Sea of Azov. Some will probably escape, but some will be liquidated. Those armies will almost certainly leave us all their heavy weaponry. Another week or two and the Kuban will be liberated. Just in time: we shall still be able to sow and harvest this year. This is exceptionally important from the point of view of provisions.
At the other end of the active front, Golikov surged through the German lines at Voronezh and some ten days later was almost in Kursk. At one point, just north of Kursk, he cut the Orel–Kursk railway line and sent his vanguard to the west of Kursk. On the way, Golikov surrounded and destroyed German–Hungarian forces numbering up to 50,000.
The most remarkable and certainly dramatic event of the last two weeks was the definitive annihilation of Field Marshal Paulus’s 6th German Army at Stalingrad. The 2nd of February is a date to remember.
Speaking to journalists in Cairo on the day of the surrender, Churchill hailed the ‘tremendous feat of arms performed by our Russian Ally under the general command and direction of Premier Stalin, a great warrior, and a name which will rank with those most honoured and most lasting in the history of the Russian people’; Churchill papers, CHAR 9/161, 1 Feb. 1943.
Paulus and two dozen German and Rumanian generals were taken prisoner. Ninety thousand prisoners of war, mostly Germans, were captured between 10 January and 2 February, the period during which our forces launched the decisive offensive after Paulus had refused to surrender. Now Berlin radio asserts that transport planes managed to rescue 47,000 of the 6th Army’s sick and wounded during the encirclement and fighting. The figure is clearly exaggerated. But let’s assume for the moment that it is correct. Together with the prisoners of war that comes to 137,000, or even 150,000, since we also captured a certain number of prisoners before 10 January. Since we now know that in November the 6th Army numbered not 220,000, as we had thought, but 330,000, this means that the total number of dead reaches 180,000. Some hecatomb!
Stalingrad brought us enormous spoils: more than 700 aircraft, 1,500 tanks, 60,000 lorries, etc. The lorries are especially valuable: we are in dire need of them. The Americans deliver them in dribs and drabs. Everyone puts it down to a shortage of tonnage.
The moral and psychological significance of Stalingrad is colossal. Never before in military history has a powerful army, besieging a city, itself become a besieged stronghold that was then annihilated – down to the very last general, the very last soldier. Never before in military history has there been such a decisive and definitive victory. Even Napoleon never experienced a success quite like it. This is our retribution for Tannenberg, a twofold or threefold retribution. What a model of brilliant strategy and tactics! We’ve left the Germans trailing in the dust – yet they’ve always been considered first in the field, and not without reason. That’s what Stalin’s leadership means! That’s what the strength of the great revolution means! Among the generals who developed and implemented


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the Stalingrad operation, Zhukov, Rokosovsky
Konstantin Rokosovsky, marshal, commander of the central front from February 1943, of the Belorussian front from October 1943; commanded major tank battles including Moscow, Stalingrad and Kursk.
and Voronov
Nikolai Voronov, general, member of the Soviet general staff; planner, together with Zhukov, of the Stalingrad campaign.
are evidently the most talented.
Yes, things are going well, and our offensive increasingly resembles a spontaneous, irresistible wave. And yet… how great is the task still before us! How many sacrifices and efforts will it still cost us to clear the entire German-occupied territory of the USSR! It can’t be helped: we’ll have to pay the inescapable price.
Ah, if only England and the USA could launch a real second front in the west this year! We shall see. In all honesty, I have no confidence that the Allies will do it. Too bad…
Or perhaps it’s not so bad after all?
Recently the following comparison has been occurring to me every now and again.
In 1920 a decree granting concessions to foreign capitalists was published in our country. The economic situation of the RSFSR at that time was desperate. The national economy was at its lowest point. We were far from sure that we could cope with our problems, and time was pressing. Ilich, being a stern realist, decided to bring Western concessionaires into play. He would, of course, have to pay a heavy price, and not only in money, but what else could be done? There seemed to be no other way out. Had Western concessionaires accepted our offer, had they truly taken advantage of the opportunities the decree on concessions presented to them, a good many enterprises and even entire industries would probably have fallen into the hands of Western capitalists. This would not have altered the general line of revolutionary development, but it would have greatly hindered and complicated the process. It’s enough to recall the troubles we had with those few concessions which were taken up. The Lena Goldfields, for one! What’s more, the NEP period would have proved far more dangerous to the socialist economy…
But most Western capitalists responded reservedly or with overt hostility to the decree on concessions. They did not wish to make any compromises with the Soviet state as they nurtured hopes for its swift and total collapse. Only a modest number of concessions were taken up. They did not bring in large investments and had no great significance for our economy. At the time, we regretted this turn of events, but now? Now, looking back over the past 22 years, I’m inclined to think that the low effectiveness of the decree on


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concessions was a blessing in disguise for the USSR. Temporarily, our problems were more painful and acute than they might otherwise have been, but the process of socialist development in our country continued more smoothly and swiftly than would have been the case if a great many capitalist concessions had been embedded in the structure of the national economy. In the long run, we have not lost; we have gained.
And now the second front… We would, of course, welcome a second front enthusiastically today. A second front would accelerate and facilitate the defeat of Germany, and our losses would be smaller. We regret the absence of a second front, we are indignant at the way England and the USA conduct themselves in this matter, we are and will be doing everything humanly possible to ensure the opening of a second front in Europe in 1943.
However, if in spite of all our efforts a second front were not to be opened, would this really be an unalloyed misfortune? I doubt it.
True, it would be bad in the short run: the war would drag on and our losses would be greater. But what about in the long run? Here, the balance might well be different. First, should the Allies refuse to play a major role on the field of battle, all the glory for defeating Germany would be ours. This would make for a massive rise in the prestige of the Soviet Union, the revolution and communism – not only now but also in the future. Second, England and the USA would emerge from the war with weak and inexperienced armies, while the Red Army would become the most powerful army in the world. This could not but tip the international balance of power in our favour. Third, in the absence of a second front in the west the Red Army would stand a good chance of entering Berlin first and thereby having a decisive influence on the terms of peace and on the situation in the post-war period.
So which course of events would be more advantageous for us in the final analysis?
Hard to say. At first glance, a second front would seem preferable. But is that really the case?
Time will tell.
9 February
On 7 February, Churchill finally returned to London. I was in Bovingdon and didn’t go to see him. But then, I hadn’t been informed of the date of his return.
When I saw Eden on the afternoon of the 8th, I told him I wanted to hand Churchill the message I had just received from Stalin concerning Turkey. Early in the evening, the PM’s secretary notified me that Churchill would receive me at 10.30 p.m.


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The meeting took place in the prime minister’s private apartment. I was shown through to the study and asked to wait. There was a fire going. A bottle of whisky stood on the table with some soda water. For a few minutes there was nobody but me and I whiled away the time inspecting a large map of the USSR that was hanging on the wall. Finally, Eden walked in (I had asked for him to be present at the conversation).
‘Our troops have taken Kursk,’ I said, informing Eden of the latest news.
‘Wonderful!’ Eden responded heartily. ‘Wait a sec, I’ll just tell Beaverbrook. He’s in the next room.’
Eden disappeared for a short while and exclaimed on his return: ‘Max is utterly delighted!’
Churchill came in a moment later. He was wearing a dressing gown thrown over his customary siren suit. His eyes were not yet fully open. His hair was tousled. It was obvious that he had just got out of bed.
‘Welcome home,’ I greeted him.
He gave me a friendly smile and then immediately asked with a note of impatience: ‘I believe you are bringing me a reply from Stalin?’
I confirmed this and proffered the envelope to the prime minister. As on previous occasions Churchill asked me before opening it: ‘It won’t upset me, will it?’
In a message from Casablanca to the Cabinet, Churchill conceded that ‘Nothing in the world will be accepted by Stalin as an alternative to our placing 50 to 60 Divisions in France by the spring of this year. I think he will be disappointed and furious with the joint message’; Churchill papers, CHAR 20/127, 26 Jan. 1943.
I laughed and answered: ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Churchill opened the envelope and started reading the message aloud. Stalin’s rebuke for the incomplete information about Adana irritated the prime minister, but not for long. Having reached the end, Churchill gave his brief summary: ‘A good message!… Is it not?’
The question was addressed to Eden. Eden hastened to agree.
Churchill was in a good mood now and started to speak about his meeting with the Turks. He spoke with feeling, fervour and animation. It was obvious that he was terribly pleased with his Turkish escapade.
‘The Turks are awfully afraid of you,’ Churchill reported. ‘Especially after your latest victories. They told me: how can we possibly get involved in the war? We’ll lose 300,000 or 400,000 men, we’ll become weak, and then what will happen? Russia will simply crush us in the palm of her hand. But I objected to this. Do you know what I said? I made four points:
(1) Soviet Russia never violates the agreements it has signed.
(2) After the end of the war Soviet Russia will for many years be engaged in the restoration of its devastated regions and the development of its internal resources in general. It will have no time for any complications in foreign policy.’
Here Churchill looked at the map on the wall and exclaimed: ‘You have a veritable ocean of land! I can’t believe you should want more!’


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Then Churchill continued: ‘The third point: after the war we shall set up a strong international institution to fight aggression, wherever it may come from. This should serve Turkey as a guarantee. And lastly, the fourth point. I told the Turks: if you are so apprehensive about your future, wouldn’t it be more advantageous for you to be on the side of the victors at the end of the war? Just imagine: the war is over, the trial begins. On the judges’ bench, the victors. On the benches of the accused, the defeated. In the hall, seated on chairs a little further off, the spectators, that is, the neutrals… Ha-ha-ha!… I’d like to be in the position of a spectator like that… And the victors will be us, the Allied nations! There can be no doubt about that! So what use is there in you, the Turks, keeping out of the fray?’
‘And how did the Turks react?’ I asked.
‘I convinced them!’ Churchill answered confidently. ‘But naturally they won’t risk entering the war straightaway. A transition stage is needed. My hope is that we’ll be able to use Turkish bases this summer and bomb Rumanian oil fields from the air. I also hope we’ll be able to start supplying you through your Black Sea ports in summer. In a word, let the Turks observe neutrality after the American model! Do you remember the time when the USA was not yet involved in the war, but served as the arsenal of democracy?’
Churchill paused for an instant, but only an instant. Then he continued: ‘The main thing, though, is that the Turks should stop fearing you. They want very much to improve their relations with you. They all took turns to emphasize: “The Soviet ambassador has been attentive and amicable with us lately…” They want this! I have no doubts about it! If only Stalin could make some gesture! He is a great and wise leader, after all… You are an enormous and strong country. You can afford to be magnanimous and appreciative.’
I asked Churchill what specifically he had in mind.
The prime minister burst out laughing and exclaimed: ‘Germany undertook to supply arms to Turkey. Not a great deal, but something nonetheless… The Germans are not fulfilling their obligations: partly because they need arms for themselves and partly because they don’t know how Turkey would use them. You’ve seized a vast quantity of German arms. Why not supply Turkey with those German weapons which Germany fails to provide her with?… Now that would be a gesture! It would have colossal reverberations both in Turkey and outside.’
I laughed too and replied that Churchill’s offer was highly original.
‘However,’ I continued, ‘the experience of the past, and especially of the recent past, has taught us to be very cautious with respect to Turkey. You say the Turks want to improve relations with us and are just waiting for a hint from our side. But how then can one explain their conduct in connection with the assassination attempt on Papen?’


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‘That was earlier, when the Turks still feared the Germans,’ parried Churchill. ‘It’s quite different now. The Turks are not afraid of the Germans anymore.’
I objected that some kind of statement from the Turks about their readiness to seek rapprochement with us is still needed. Stalin is absolutely right about that. Otherwise it will be difficult to get things going.
Churchill suddenly became agitated and declared: ‘I’ll send İsmet a telegram. I am on such close terms with him now that I can address him directly on any question.’
Eden advised sleeping on the idea, but Churchill couldn’t wait.
‘Why wait till tomorrow?’ he exclaimed. ‘Why not now? Go to the next room and jot down a draft of the message to İsmet.’
Eden obeyed, but without much enthusiasm. He returned in about 20 minutes with the draft and gave it to Churchill. Churchill ran his eyes down it and gave it to me to read.
‘What do you think of this?’ he asked.
The draft boiled down to the following: Churchill was notifying İsmet that he had informed Stalin of Turkey’s desire to improve its relations with the USSR, that Stalin had notified Churchill of his readiness to reach agreement with Turkey if Turkey stated this desire, and that he, Churchill, recommends that İsmet should not waste time and should present the USSR with concrete proposals for the improvement of Soviet–Turkish relations.
I said that I had no objection to the message in principle, but there was one expression I did not like: the message seemed to suggest that Churchill had been ‘authorized’ by Stalin to inform İsmet, etc. I commented that no ‘authorization’ for Churchill to communicate this or that to İsmet was implicit in the message from Stalin that I had handed over today. Churchill agreed with me and the appropriate passage was amended.
Eden, however, clearly disliked all the haste. Having introduced the amendment I required, he proposed to finalize the wording the following morning. Churchill did not object. As a result, the sending of the message to Ankara was postponed until 9 February, and I do not know what form it eventually took.
Churchill then read me the speech he made at his first conference with the Turks. It was long but interesting. In his speech, Churchill, while not inviting the Turks directly to join the war, made it patently clear that they ought to do so. In the same speech, he promised to supply Turkey with arms. The conclusion to be drawn from this was unstated but unmistakable: once you receive a sufficient quantity of tanks and other arms, we expect Turkey to support the Allies openly against Germany.
‘Those were my “Evening Thoughts”,’ Churchill said with a laugh, alluding to the ‘Morning Thoughts’ which Eden had told me of earlier.


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Then Churchill exclaimed: ‘I hope Moscow won’t suspect that by giving weapons to Turkey I harbour designs against the USSR!… That would be ridiculous!… Russia is at least twice as strong as Turkey…’
Flicking ash from his eternal cigar, Churchill repeated emphatically: ‘That would be simply ridiculous!’
All of this was most curious. But I was much more interested in the military plans adopted in Casablanca. I already knew a few things from my previous talks with Eden and from the Roosevelt–Churchill message to Stalin on this matter. However, there were some salient gaps in this information and I decided to try to get to the bottom of it all.
I asked Churchill what he could tell me about the Anglo-American military plans for 1943. The prime minister was evidently expecting this question. He asked for the relevant documents from the secretariat, and read to me his telegram to Roosevelt and Roosevelt’s reply on the matter that interested me. Churchill’s telegram included the outline of a draft reply to Stalin’s message of 30 January. Roosevelt, in his telegram, offered some (insignificant) amendments to Churchill’s proposals.
What does the plan amount to?
The main points are as follows:
(1) The operation in Tunisia is expected to be concluded by April at the latest.
(2) Next, approximately in June or July, comes the operation for the capture of Sicily, which is linked to the capture of Italy’s ‘boot’. After that, one of two things may happen. If the Italians’ resistance proves weak or a pro-Allied coup happens in Italy by that time, the British and the Americans will make for the north of the Apennine Peninsula and from there head west to southern France and east to the Balkans. If the Italians, backed up by the Germans, put up serious resistance, or if a pro-Allied coup fails to materialize, the British and the Americans will move from Italy, Apulia and Calabria to Yugoslavia and Greece, that is, to the western part of the Balkans.
(3) Somewhat later an operation (of secondary importance) to seize the Dodecanese, possibly Crete.
(4) At some time in August or September, and independently of the operations in the Mediterranean, a landing operation will be carried out across the channel in France.
(5) Anglo-American forces will intensify the air offensive against Germany and Italy.
(6) Extremely vigorous anti-submarine warfare.
I asked Churchill which forces would be available to carry out the said operations in the south and in the north.


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Churchill replied that after capturing Tunisia, the British and the Americans would be able to assign 300–400,000 men to other operations in the Mediterranean.
‘As far as the cross-channel operation is concerned,’ the PM continued, ‘I honestly can’t say anything definite for the moment. We, the English, would be able to assign 12–15 divisions for this purpose. But the Americans?…’
Here Churchill gave a bewildered shrug of his shoulders and exclaimed: ‘Right now the Americans have only one division here!’
‘How come only one?’ I echoed in surprise. ‘You told me in November that one American division was stationed in England… Has nothing been added since then?’
‘That is so,’ Churchill replied. ‘The Americans have sent nothing since November.’
‘How many American divisions do you expect by August?’ I inquired.
‘I wish I knew,’ Churchill responded with comical despair. ‘When I was in Moscow, I proceeded from the assumption that by spring 1943, the Americans would have dispatched 27 divisions to England, just as they promised. This was my assumption during my conversations with Stalin. But where are they, those 27 divisions? Now the Americans promise to send only 4–5 divisions by August!… If they keep their word, then the cross-channel operation will be carried out with 17–20 divisions.’
In his Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 352–3, Maisky suggests that the conversation with Churchill convinced him that ‘it was no use reckoning on a second front in Northern France in the spring of 1943’. As we have seen, he had given up on a second front earlier, and even saw in its failure an advantage for the Soviet Union. Stalin, however, returned to the topic later in the month, when he realized that the Soviet offensive would be slower than he had anticipated.
‘What if the Americans deceive you once again?’ I asked.
Churchill thought for a moment before answering firmly: ‘I’ll carry out this operation whatever happens!’
The prime minister, however, did not specify what he would do if the American forces failed to arrive in due time.
Churchill suddenly burst out laughing as if he had recalled something funny and asked me: ‘Do you know how many men there are in an American division?’
A little puzzled, I replied: ‘I don’t know for certain, but I expect about 18–19,000.’
‘Right!’ Churchill roared still louder. ‘If you count the combatants alone… But 50,000 if you count the entire attending personnel!’
I gasped: ‘How do you mean, 50,000?’
‘I mean 50,000!’ Churchill exclaimed once more, and then, with blatant sarcasm in his voice, started enumerating. ‘What don’t you have in an American division!… Of course, there’s transport, medical staff, quartermaster service and so on. That’s normal. But they also have two laundry battalions, one battalion of milk sterilizers, one battalion of hairdressers, one battalion of tailors, one battalion for the uplift of the troops and what not!… Ha-ha-ha!… We’ve sent


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nearly half a million combatants to North Africa… But it actually amounts to a mere 10–11 divisions.’
Churchill once again burst out laughing and added: ‘We, the English, are poor in this respect, but the Americans are even worse.’
Our conversation jumped from one topic to another. Churchill’s thoughts kept leaping this way and that. Some interesting examples: ‘Stalin was very sharp with Roosevelt,’ Churchill remarked half in derision, half in reproach. ‘The president showed me Stalin’s last message.’
Then, turning to Eden, he added with a laugh: ‘Stalin hasn’t always been gentle with me either… Do you remember?… But Roosevelt got it worse…’
‘Roosevelt deserved it,’ I rejoined. ‘Are you familiar with the content of Roosevelt’s message, to which Stalin replied with the message you cited?’
‘What message was that?’ asked Eden, who had clearly never heard about it.
‘Oh, it’s a remarkable message!’ Churchill exclaimed with hilarity. ‘I read it, too.’
Churchill then briefly related the content of Roosevelt’s message to Stalin, in which Roosevelt suggesting sending 100 bombers to Vladivostok with American personnel ‘just in case’ and giving the American generals permission to ‘inspect’ our Far Eastern air and naval bases. Roosevelt also proposed to send General Marshall to Moscow to discuss the 1943 campaign.
Maisky had told Harriman that Stalin saw in the request a desire to embroil Russia in a war with Japan, at a time when there was no indication of any imminent prospect of a Japanese attack; Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 198.
Eden’s face was a picture of horror when he heard of the proposal to send 100 bombers. His reaction could be interpreted in the following way: ‘How clumsy and naive the Americans are!’
‘Well,’ Churchill went on, ‘Roosevelt was, frankly speaking, enraged by Stalin’s message and wanted to send an abusive reply. But I managed to talk him out of it. I told him: Listen, who is really fighting today?… Stalin alone! And look how he’s fighting! We must make allowances… The president eventually agreed and thought better of starting a row with Stalin.’
Churchill took a long drag on his cigar and said, staring at the tongues of flame playing in the fireplace: ‘Roosevelt asked me what was the genuine reason for Stalin not attending the conference…’
‘But you know the reason,’ I interrupted, ‘and so does the president.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Churchill responded. ‘He is busy directing military operations and so on… That’s right. But that is not all. I responded to Roosevelt’s question as follows: Stalin is a realist. You can’t catch him with words. Had Stalin come to Casablanca, the first thing he would have asked you and me would have been: “How many Germans did you kill in 1942? And how many do you intend to kill in 1943?” And what would the two of us have been able to say? We ourselves are not sure what we are going to do in 1943. This was clear to Stalin from the very beginning. So what would have been the point of him coming to the conference?… All the more so as he is accomplishing great things at home.’


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But it seems that the ‘tiff’ between Stalin and Roosevelt is of real concern to Churchill. He explained to me at length how important it is for good relations and mutual understanding to exist between the leaders of the two governments – the USSR and the USA.
‘It is important now, and it will be even more important after the war.’
Here Churchill’s eyes suddenly became moist and he began speaking in a heartfelt, emotional tone: ‘For me, personally, it’s all the same… I’m an old man. I’m nearly 70. But the country, the people will remain… When peace arrives, the situation will become exceptionally difficult… I see no other salvation for mankind except close cooperation between the three of us – the USSR, the USA and England. It will be far from easy. The USA is a capitalist country and is moving fast to the right. The USSR is a socialist country. Britain will have to be the bridge between them. This is why any personal friction between Roosevelt and Stalin is extremely undesirable.’
Churchill grinned and continued: ‘England and the USSR need each other too much – in Europe, in Asia and in various common matters. They will always reach an agreement in the end. With America it’s different. The Americans think that since they are separated from you and from us by two oceans, they don’t need you and us so very much… A gross error! But you know how naive and inexperienced the Americans are in politics. That is why I’m so worried about this conflict between Stalin and Roosevelt. It would be best if they could meet. I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while…’
Churchill puffed at his cigar again and, pulling a terribly cunning face, asked me slyly: ‘Why do you think I made a stopover in Cyprus on my way back from Adana?’
I shrugged.
‘The newspapers wrote,’ Churchill went on, ‘that a regiment I once served in is stationed in Cyprus, and so on. That’s right: there is such regiment. But that’s all balderdash! The real reason I stopped in Cyprus was different: I wanted to see whether it would be an appropriate place for a meeting between Stalin and Roosevelt in the future. And it’s a jolly good thing I flew there. The island is perfect. Easily cut off from everywhere. Nobody will know a thing. It takes no more than five hours to fly from Tiflis to Cyprus. The president is ready to travel to Cyprus. After his first taste of flying, he’s developed a liking for it. He’ll get to Cyprus if needs must. I confess I’ve already given instructions for a few modest but comfortable buildings to be built on the island to accommodate three delegations.’
Churchill told me all this with manifest excitement, animated gestures and sparkles in his eyes. I could see how much he enjoys all that secrecy, all that romanticism. Truly, there is still something boyish about the prime minister of Great Britain, despite his 68 years.


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Then he suddenly gave a start and exclaimed: ‘Only please, don’t tell a soul about it!’
I promised not to say a word.
A propos Churchill’s boyishness. He described to me in great detail the measures he took to prevent an attempt on his life during the journey. He had everything you could think of: armoured cars, bullet-proof windows, automatic pistols and revolvers, secret buildings surrounded by armed guards, a sudden change of route, and much more besides. Sounded a bit like vaudeville. Of course, Churchill does have to take security measures. Yet, judging by the way he recounted his adventures, he got quite carried away by all this and approached it with quite boyish exaggeration. I asked him if the rumours were true that he had seen Franco somewhere on the way.
Churchill flared up and exclaimed indignantly: ‘Utter nonsense!’
A minute later, however, it transpired that the reason for the prime minister’s indignation had nothing to do with politics. Heaven forbid! No, Churchill flared up because his meeting with Franco could have taken place only in Gibraltar, and stopping in Gibraltar would have wreaked havoc with Churchill’s carefully worked out ‘system’ of precautionary measures. Churchill did not stop in Gibraltar. He flew from Algeria straight to England.
Churchill mentioned de Gaulle and Giraud in the course of our conversation. The prime minister is highly irritated with de Gaulle and perhaps that is why he leans towards Giraud. I’m not surprised: Churchill has never liked de Gaulle, and that episode concerning his trip to Casablanca incensed the prime minister even more.
‘I’m fed up with that Jeanne d’Arc in trousers!’ Churchill snarled.
Making the same allusion in Casablanca, Churchill added: ‘and we are looking for some bishops to burn him’; quoted by Fenby, Alliance: The inside story, p. 179.
Eden tried to mollify Churchill and calm him down, but without much success.
I fear that the entire de Gaulle movement may suffer as a result. We shall see.
Questioning Churchill’s attitude, in a letter to H.G. Wells, Maisky argued that de Gaulle was not ‘less acceptable’ than a good many other members of the Alliance. Notwithstanding his political opinions, he had ‘demonstrated great courage and determination’ in his attitude to Nazi Germany when France collapsed, and for two years had been and remained ‘the only visible standard bearer of French independence’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1141 ll.67–8, 7 Jan. 1943; Pimlott, Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, p. 549. See also F. Lévêque, ‘La place de la France dans la strategie Soviétique de la fin de la guerre en Europe (fin 1942-fin 1945), Matériaux pour l’Histoire de Notre Temps, 36 (1994).
Churchill came back several times to our victories and the Red Army. He cannot speak about the Red Army without admiration and emotion. Even his eyes glisten… You can’t help but recall 1920! How the wheel of history can turn!
Churchill was referring to Tukhachevsky’s victory over the Polish army, which brought the Russians to the gates of Warsaw. General Józef Piłsudski, however, exploited the extended Soviet line and the logistic disarray to repel the Red Army behind the Neman river.
‘Taking all factors into account,’ Churchill stated, ‘the obvious conclusion presents itself that the Russia of today is five times stronger than the Russia of the last war.’
I teased him a little: ‘And how do you explain this phenomenon?’
Churchill understood and replied in the same vein: ‘If your system gives the people more happiness than ours, I’m all for it!… Not that I’m greatly interested in what happens after the war: communism, socialism, cataclysm… Isn’t it all the same?… So long as the Huns are crushed!’


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We shall see.
Churchill is definitely growing old. Yesterday he lost the thread of our conversation several times and, turning to Eden, asked with impatience: ‘Remind me – what were we saying?’
I hope Churchill will last till the end of the war. It’s very important. England needs him. We need him too.
Maisky sent Molotov a detailed and fairly accurate report of the conversation, emphasizing, though, Churchill’s supposed concern about the rift between Roosevelt and Stalin; AVP RF, f.059 op.10 d.64 ll.23–6.
14 February (Bovingdon)
A good week! Our troops have taken Rostov, Kursk, Voroshilovgrad, Novocherkassk and Shakhty. They are on the approaches to Kharkov, some 12–20 miles from the city. The ring round the German armies in the Donbass is tightening. They have only a 60-mile corridor and a single railway line for their retreat. Will Stalingrad be repeated? The next few days will show.
New opportunities keep appearing on the horizon. What seemed an unrealizable dream just a few weeks ago is becoming a probable reality: the liberation of the Crimea, the capture of Dnepropetrovsk, and the advance into right-bank Ukraine.
What’s most important, though, is the ever-increasing number of indications that the morale of the German army is on the wane, that it has lost all its confidence, that it can no longer put up serious resistance in its hedgehogs and on its fortified lines, that its retreat is gradually turning into a stampede. I am still scared to believe this, lest disappointment should follow. It seems to me that the German army, battered though it is, still has a lot of fight left in it – as will become especially apparent once the war reaches the borders of its homeland. But the tide has turned on our front, no doubt about that. The waves spread wider and stronger. Our advance assumes the likeness of an elemental, irresistible torrent. Could victory really come this year? Now that would be superb!
It seems that Moscow intended to end the winter campaign in mid-February. But events at the front are going so well (better than could have been expected) that this intention is unlikely to be realized. We shall advance further – not, of course, at the risk of exhaustion or of running into a powerful German counterattack, but advancing all the same. Perhaps until mid-March in the south and until mid-April in the north. Somewhere near Leningrad.
17 February
Today I handed Churchill Stalin’s message, in which the latter insists on the swift opening of a second front in Europe. This message is Stalin’s reply to


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Churchill’s message of 9 February, which summarized all I had heard from the prime minister the previous evening.
I received the message in the afternoon and called Eden immediately to tell him I wanted to see Churchill in the evening in order to deliver Stalin’s message. The appointment was set for ten in the evening. But when I arrived at the PM’s apartment, Eden met me and said that Churchill was in bed with a high temperature. He’d been struggling with illness for a few days and now it had confined him to his bed. The nature of Churchill’s illness is not yet entirely clear, but evidently it’s some ailment of the bronchial tubes and of the respiratory passages in general.


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Earlier in the day, Churchill had been diagnosed with acute pneumonia. He reluctantly submitted to the doctors’ orders to stay in bed and reduce his workload to a minimum, after being told that the illness was called ‘the old man’s friend’. ‘Why?’ he had asked. ‘Because it takes them off so quietly’; quoted in Gilbert, Road to Victory, p. 340. Stalin pressed again for a second front when he realized that the Soviet offensive, successful as it was, had been contained by General von Manstein, about to be promoted to marshal for his masterly manoeuvring; Mawdsley, Thunder in the East, p. 261.
Eden accepted the message from me and took it to the bedroom, where the prime minister was lying. He returned some 20 minutes later and said that Churchill found Stalin’s message quite in line with his expectations and that the prime minister would write a reply as soon as he was in a physical condition to do so.
I was about to leave when Eden poured me a whisky and soda, did the same for himself, and proposed that we sit down and have a little chat. This ‘little chat’ proved quite long.
At first we discussed Stalin’s message and the Allies’ military plans for the summer. I insisted on the necessity of exploiting the Germans’ current confusion to the utmost and of the prompt opening of a second front in Europe. Moreover, I outlined the following concrete plan: to end the operation in Tunisia, postpone further operations in the Mediterranean (Sicily, Italy, etc.), and focus all attention on the cross-channel operations, transferring the Eighth Army to England for this purpose and appointing Alexander commander-in-chief of the entire offensive operation in France.
Eden liked my plan. He confessed that he had been in favour all along of a cross-channel operation, found operations in the Mediterranean (with the exception of Tunisia) inexpedient, and considered a direct attack on Germany through France to be undeniably preferable to indirect blows via Italy or the Balkans. Eden promised to bring up this topic with the prime minister the next morning and present my plan to him.
Then we touched upon Eden’s forthcoming visit to the USA. He is going because he has not been to the USA since the beginning of the war. Besides, he said, it is very important to maintain contact with the American government, particularly now that the end of the war is already visible on the horizon (though it won’t happen tomorrow). Specifically, Eden wishes to discuss the following issues with the Americans:
(1) the very prompt dispatch of American troops to Britain for the opening of a second front;


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(2) post-war arrangements in Europe (borders, states, what to do with Germany, etc.). Eden wants to acquaint himself with the American views on all these matters;
(3) Anglo-Soviet relations, to explain to the Americans the meaning of our 20-year alliance and the importance of Soviet participation in the post-war construction of Europe;
(4) to enter into contact with leading Republican circles so as to sound out their feelings and exercise his influence insofar as he is able – particularly in view of the likelihood of the Republicans coming to power in 1945. Eden also hopes thereby to ease somewhat the position of Roosevelt;
(5) lend-and-lease issues, particularly the interpretation of Article 7 of the relevant Anglo-American agreement.
Eden thinks he will be away for 3–4 weeks. The prime minister will replace him during that period. While in the United States, Eden wishes to keep in close touch with M.M. Litvinov. He will give me a full ‘report’ upon his return home. So long as Churchill’s illness doesn’t hold him back!… From the USA, Eden will proceed to Canada.
Eden has no luck with America! In 1938, soon after quitting the Chamberlain government, he made a trip to the United States with his wife. He met all the notables there, starting with Roosevelt, but… he failed to make a good impression on the Americans. He failed to win their hearts.
On returning from Moscow at the end of 1941, Eden tried to arrange a visit to Washington, evidently in the interests of ‘balance’: he’d been to the Soviet Union, now… spend time in the United States as well. Even though Eden had long ago decided to place his stake on Anglo-Soviet relations, it was important for him as foreign secretary of Great Britain to maintain decent relations with the United States as well. However, though many of the preparations had been made, Eden failed to visit America last year, thanks mostly to sabotage on the part of Halifax (Halifax and Eden are, after all, ‘great friends’!).
Ever since Eden was appointed leader of the House of Commons, which is seen by everyone here as preparation for the post of prime minister, visiting the USA has become imperative. It was essential for him if not to ‘win’ the hearts of Americans, then at least to ‘make his peace’ with them. Churchill decided to help Eden out when he went to Casablanca. While the PM was there, Eden told me anxiously one day that he had heard nothing from Churchill regarding this matter.
‘Maybe he is too preoccupied with other matters?’ Eden wondered. ‘Or maybe Roosevelt gave him to understand that in view of his own precarious position as a result of the Republican victory at the elections, it would be better for me not to come for the time being?’


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Eventually, however, the matter was settled. I learned about Eden’s forthcoming visit to the USA a few days ago and asked him about it over the phone yesterday. Eden promised to fill me in with the details at our next meeting. He did so today.
We shall see what Eden’s visit to America will bring. Will he be able to impress the Americans? Or, on the contrary, will the Americans succeed in influencing Eden? I don’t know. The latter, I fear, is more likely: for all his merits, Eden is not a very strong person.
In our conversation today, Eden said, among other things: ‘I’ve just had lunch with a group of MPs. They asked me about the prospects for Anglo-Soviet relations in the post-war period. Could the Anglo-Soviet alliance become a reality? Do you know what I replied?’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘I told the MPs,’ Eden continued, ‘that this depends almost entirely on the role England plays in Hitler’s defeat. If her role is substantial – on land as well – then the alliance will become a reality. Otherwise, no guarantees can be given.’
‘Quite right,’ I responded.
‘That’s why I am so strongly in favour of the opening of a second front in France,’ Eden concluded.
[Eden’s positive reaction is not to be found in his long report of the meeting, though it seems more than likely that the two were again plotting behind their leaders’ backs. Considering the altered strategic circumstances following the successes of the Red Army on the battlefield, Maisky hoped it might still be possible to reverse the strategic decisions taken in Casablanca, and thus pave the way to conducive political dialogue on post-war Europe. Such dialogue would obviously have vindicated his continued stay in London. He pleaded with Eden, far more forcefully than the diary suggests, to reconsider the postponement of the second front and the launching of Operation Husky. It left the foreign secretary wondering whether Maisky would have been ‘so emphatic if he had not received some guidance from Moscow’. Maisky’s arguments that ‘simultaneous pressure’ on the battlefield from the east and west were bound to yield the best prospects for future collaboration certainly appealed to him.
TNA FO 954/32A.
They were reinforced by an even more candid and blunt conversation that Maisky had with Boothby, who, he knew, tended to have Eden’s ear. Adhering to the line he had been advocating together with Litvinov since 1934, Maisky defined Russia’s ‘perfectly clear objectives’ in eastern Europe, which boiled down to ‘the strategic control of the Baltic & Black seas, the annexation of the Baltic States, the Curzon line in Poland, and “spheres of influence” further south’.
TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/17/A, Boothby to Eden, 25 Feb. 1943.
Litvinov conveyed the same ideas when he met Hopkins on 16 March.
Quoted in R.E. Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hopkins: An intimate history (New York, 1948), p. 713.
Their ideas dovetailed with the appreciation of Cavendish-Bentinck, the chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee. He stood fast against attempts in the Foreign Office to suggest that Maisky had some ulterior mischievous reasons for seeking the transfer of the American and British troops in North Africa to Britain ‘for the express


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purpose of causing the Americans and ourselves to incur heavy casualties’. The Russians, he concluded, ‘genuinely believe that a second front was the only operation which could bring them effective assistance’.
TNA FO 954/32 W(g)/43/22, 24 Feb. 1943.
]
19 February
I’ve just spent three days (16–18 February) sitting in parliament. Beveridge’s plan was being debated. A storm erupted, which nobody had anticipated, and which the government could have avoided, had it shown greater tactical skill. Churchill’s illness may have contributed: he was unable to take an active part in the parliamentary debates. In essence, the Cabinet accepts 70% of the plan. The MPs might have raised this percentage to 80–85% by arguing and bargaining. Not so bad. By English standards, very good indeed. There seemed to be no reason for a storm. But it erupted nonetheless! Why?
Setting out the sequence of events may provide the answer.
Anderson spoke in the afternoon of the 16th. He is a quite useless parliamentarian. He has the air of an Indian bureaucratic administrator about him. The MPs don’t like him. His manner of speech irritates the audience. This time he outdid himself: he would approve one point of Beveridge’s plan and then immediately add two reservations. Another point, and another two reservations. And so on for the length of his entire speech. As a result, although Anderson approved 70% of Beveridge’s plan, the chamber had the impression that the government was scheming, playing for time and trying to deceive the masses.
This immediately produced a strong effect on the Labourites. The British workers remember how the ruling classes ‘inspired’ them to fight in the previous war by promising them ‘homes for heroes’. They also remember how the ruling classes repaid them with poverty and unemployment for millions of people. The workers do not want a repeat of that lesson after the current war. That is why they have grabbed with both hands the Beveridge plan, which they regard as a means of preventing a repeat of what happened after 1918. There is nothing lion-like about Labour MPs. They remind one sooner of those affectionate calves that suck on two mothers. So there must have been a very good reason for the quite uncharacteristic firmness and decisiveness which they displayed, as we shall see, during the debates. It means that the pressure from the masses is exceptionally strong.
After Anderson’s speech, the Parliamentary Labour Party conferred and decided to enter a resolution expressing dissatisfaction with the British government’s stand on the Beveridge plan.
An emergency session of the Parliamentary Labour Party was held on the morning of the 17th. All Labour members of the government were present.


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Bevin kept silent for the most part, but Attlee and Morrison spoke profusely, urging the MPs to withdraw the resolution of no confidence (for that, in essence, is what it was). But the eloquence of the Labour ministers met with a stony response: the resolution was not withdrawn.
Kingsley Wood spoke on behalf of the government on the afternoon of the 17th. The message of this diehard follower of Chamberlain was that the implementation of Beveridge’s plan depended on the economic and financial state of the country and, since it was impossible to foresee the situation at the end of the war, this was not the right time for making any definitive decisions. Wood’s speech added fuel to the flames. The Labourites were furious. ‘Crisis’ was in the air.
On the morning of the 18th, Labour held another emergency session: Attlee and Morrison spoke little, but Bevin was profuse and passionate. The minister of labour demanded not only the withdrawal of the resolution entered by the Parliamentary Labour Party, but also support for another resolution approving the British government’s stand with regard to Beveridge’s plan. Bevin threatened to resign if this was not done. His threats made little impression. Only seven members of the 130 present voted in favour of Bevin’s proposal. Throughout the day Bevin tried to blackmail the faction. New rumours spread from his office every hour: ‘Bevin has decided to resign’… ‘Bevin is writing a letter of resignation to the PM’… ‘Bevin is sending his letter of resignation to the prime


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minister’, etc. This assault had no effect on the MPs: they stood firm, did not withdraw the resolution of no confidence, and actually voted unanimously in its favour. Even Morrison’s speech, which closed the debate, achieved nothing! And this, undoubtedly, was a very clever and skilful speech, the best of all the speeches on the part of the government. It was a curious scene during Morrison’s speech: the Conservatives kept interrupting him with loud cheers, while the Labour benches maintained an icy silence. What is this? A blueprint for the future? A pointer showing where Morrison is headed and where he will end up?
The resolution of no confidence was rejected by a majority of 335 against 119, with 20 abstentions. This surely represents a moral defeat for the government, particularly its Labour ministers. There are 166 members in the Parliamentary Labour Party. Twenty were absent for valid reasons; 22 are members of the government; 20 abstained (i.e. they were essentially opposed to the government, but did not dare express this openly); and 101 voted against the government. So the entire Labour faction voted against the British government and against the Labour ministers in the government. The conclusion was surely clear: the Labour ministers had to resign… But no! The Labour ministers cling to their portfolios. They will not resign so easily. Even Bevin will not quit, for all his demagogy. They will think up some wheeze or other. They will find some boyar or other to plead with Godunov to remain on the throne. Such rumours are already circulating and I have no doubt they will be proved true.
So, the recent storm in parliament is unlikely to have any notable, direct consequences for now. But it is a stark symptom… And in the future, events may take a more serious turn.
21 February
The past week on the front was simply brilliant: we took Rostov, Kharkov, Lozovaya, Krasnograd and Pavlograd. Our troops are reaching the Dnepr line. Zaporozhe and Dnepropetrovsk are the next objectives.
Churchill congratulated Stalin warmly on the capture of Rostov, and Stalin sent him a warm reply.
What are the prospects? It’s difficult to say. I’m inclined to think that our advance will slow down a little. First, the season of bad roads is almost upon us. Second, the Germans must make every effort to avoid a second Stalingrad in the Donbass or, worse still, on the Dnepr (which may happen if we take the Dnepr line before the Germans evacuate their troops positioned east of the Dnepr). Third, our troops need to rest and regroup. A three-month winter offensive is not child’s play. We shall see.


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Today the British government ceremoniously celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Red Army. A British government, that is, headed by Churchill, that same Churchill who led the crusade against the Bolsheviks during the Civil War! How times change! History has turned full circle within a quarter of a century.
I attended the event at the Albert Hall. It was all very ceremonious, even majestic. An intricate and beautiful performance was staged. Some details might be criticized from the purely artistic point of view, but that hardly matters very much. On the whole, the spectacle was very, very impressive. Especially the episode where a gigantic hammer-and-sickle flag was raised above the stage while, against this background, there rose the figure of a Red Army soldier in uniform and with a rifle.
Eden made a speech. His speech was quite OK. Stalin sent a congratulatory telegram (I saw to this beforehand).
Agniya, the Bogomolovs, Sobolev
Arkadii Aleksandrovich Sobolev, general secretary to the USSR People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, 1939–42; counsellor to the Soviet mission in Great Britain, 1942–45.
and I sat in the Royal Box. Also present were Mrs Churchill, the Sinclairs, the Griggs, the Mountbattens and other notables. Our military men and diplomats sat in special boxes. Our whole colony was given special seats, all together.
Similar meetings, at which members of the government made speeches, took place in the major provincial cities (Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow, Sheffield, Leeds, Bristol and others – 11 in all). I sent two representatives, one military and one civilian, to each meeting.
A characteristic detail: the war minister, Grigg, did not speak at any of the meetings, although he should have been the first to do so. It’s hardly surprising: Grigg gets furious at the very mention of the Soviet Union. I talked with Eden about the arrangements a few days before the celebrations and asked in passing why Grigg would not be speak at any of the gatherings.
Eden professed ignorance, but promised to find out.
‘In any case,’ he added, ‘there is nothing political in it.’
I grinned and replied: ‘I do hope not.’
Eden has not clarified the reasons for Grigg’s absence. There’s no need anyway. It’s all perfectly clear.
Oh, how crafty and clever is the English bourgeoisie!
Admiration for the Red Army in England is now unstinting. Everywhere – among the masses and in the army. To fight this wave would have been dangerous. So the government has decided to stand at its head – that is, to ride the wave. It makes it easier to smooth any rough edges. Or even to draw political profit. Hence today’s festivities.


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One can’t help recalling once again the English saying: if you can’t beat them, join them.
But this is good for us, too. Events like the one in the Albert Hall sanction interest in and admiration of the Red Army and, consequently, of all that is Soviet, throughout the machinery of state and public life in Britain. So much the better.
20 or 21 February [this was added by Maisky to his entry of 16 March]
At the official celebrations to mark the anniversary of the Red Army, which took place at the end of the week, Lyttelton represented the War Cabinet at Tyneside. Lord Ridley, the deputy mayor, gave a luncheon in his honour. In the course of the conversation over lunch, Lyttelton said that before the war we had suffered from excessive appeasement of Hitler; now, it seems, we are starting to appease Stalin excessively.
As the lunch was drawing to an end Lyttelton said it was absurd and ridiculous to send people like him to Tyneside to celebrate the achievements of people who had murdered the Russian imperial family.
The above is confirmed by a sympathetic individual who was present at the luncheon.
[To mark the twenty-fifth anniversary, Maisky held a reception at the embassy, which was ‘an immense crush and literally hundreds of cars’. However, rather ominously Stalin’s order of the day failed to mention the Allies, except for an indirect reference to the fact that the Red Army had borne the whole brunt of the war.
Bruce Lockhart papers, diary, LOC/45-49, 23 Feb. 1943.
The Albert Hall salute to the Red Army was described by The Times as:
a setting for a production in which pageantry, drama, verse, and music combined to pay tribute to the Red Army … M. Maisky and his compatriots in the audience must have felt that their country was being honoured in a way it could understand and appreciate … A huge, stylized view of a Russian city swept round in a great curve behind the tiered seats at the stage end of the all, and the producer used the arena in front of it as an artist uses a canvas. Lights from the roof and the galleries multiplied, criss-crossed, changed colour, and vanished, sometimes making the stage an impressionist design in cubism … Mr MacNeice
Frederick Louis MacNeice, Irish poet and playwright.
began with Alexander Nevsky (enacted by Lieutenant Laurence Olivier) and worked up to an over-delayed climax with the voice of Moscow Radio (Mr John Gielgud), symbolizing the resistance of the spirit of a people and its army to a destructive materialism, and, as the argument was every now and again interrupted by music and singing, so was the stage broken up by groups of men and women coming forward with their own contributions in praise of the Red Army.
The Times, 21 Feb. 1943.
]


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24 February
Complacency and the wish to resume the norms and habits of peace time, wherever possible, are growing in step with our victories, and are even overtaking them. The Court, of course, is no exception to the general tendency. There had been no receptions at the Palace since July 1941, and that party was a very modest affair, with a small quantity of guests. We drank tea and talked about the Soviet–German war that had just begun. Now the Palace has decided to arrange three parties (tea parties, as it would still be awkward to have a genuine court reception), each attended by approximately 300 guests. The first of the three parties was held today. Agniya and I were invited to the Palace, together with the Bogomolovs and Kharlamovs.
I was summoned for a talk with the king. I began by thanking the king for his intention to present ‘the sword of honour’ to Stalingrad. Eden had told me that it was the king’s own idea and I thought it would be a good thing to express my appreciation for the king’s initiative.
The double-edged two-handed Sword of Stalingrad was a bejewelled ceremonial longsword specially produced by command of George VI of the United Kingdom as a homage to the Soviet defenders of the city. It was presented by Churchill to Stalin during the Tehran Summit Conference on 29 November 1943. Sword of Honour was the title chosen by Evelyn Waugh for his brilliant trilogy on the Second World War, very much based on his own experiences in the war. The episode left a strong enough impression on him, symbolizing the cynical nature of alliances at war and the absence of any morality at their foundation.
All the more so as the idea really appeals to me.
The king was obviously flattered, but then, somewhat baffled and even, as it seemed to me, offended, he remarked that although Kalinin’s telegram in reply to the king’s congratulations of 23 February had been read over the radio and published in the press, he himself had not received it. Through whom, the king enquired, had the telegram been sent? Through me?… I replied in the negative and suggested that it had probably been sent to the British embassy in Moscow. I promised, in any case, to make the necessary inquiries and to inform the king.
Then the king asked me about the military situation, the condition of the German army, the internal situation in Germany, the probable line the Germans would try to hold, etc. Moving on to political matters, the king expressed satisfaction with the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations and asked what, in my opinion, should be done to maintain close cooperation between our countries after the war.
I replied: ‘The post-war future of Anglo-Soviet relations is currently being forged on the battlefield. We are conducting a common war against a common enemy. If both nations, the Soviet and the British, come out of this war confident that each has fulfilled its duty to the best of its ability, close alliance and mutual good feeling are guaranteed after the war. If either of the nations does not share this conviction, the outcome will be different. That is why it is so important to establish a second front. It is important from the military point of view, but it is also important from the political point of view.’
The king neither objected to nor approved my remarks. As always, he remained absolutely noncommittal. But I had expected nothing else.


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26 February
Went to see Eden today. He did not go to the USA after all because of the prime minister’s illness. Our talk was not particularly pleasant.
First, Eden told me that Churchill had decided to adhere after all to the military plans adopted in Casablanca. The morning after his evening conversation with me on the 17th, Eden conveyed my scheme to the prime minister. Churchill seemed interested and asked Eden to prepare a memorandum. Eden drafted the memorandum and Churchill passed it on to the general staff for consideration. The general staff presented its comments to the prime minister. Churchill thought over all the relevant details and reached the conclusion that my scheme was impractical. The main argument to this effect was that the troops wouldn’t be able to arrive from North Africa to England in time for the cross-channel operation. Churchill thinks therefore that operations in the Mediterranean (Sicily, Dodecanese, etc.) should be continued after the occupation of Tunisia and that heroic measures should be taken simultaneously – irrespective of the Mediterranean – to prepare the cross-channel operation. Churchill is prepared to launch this operation even without the Americans, but will, of course, pull out all the stops in order to engage the Americans as early as possible. Eden imparted all this to me by way of preliminary information. Churchill wishes to see me as soon as he recovers and speak to me about it personally.
I don’t like the sound of all this. Operations in Tunisia are dragging on because of the Americans’ latest defeats and are hardly likely to be completed before April. So operations in the Mediterranean will begin no earlier than June or July. They won’t be easy. They will probably drag on as well and I doubt they’ll go smoothly. The British will have to concentrate their attention on the transfer of reinforcements to Sicily, the Dodecanese, or wherever. Transport ships will be loaded with supplies to be carried thousands of miles from England. As for the cross-channel operation, the British government will delay it, size it up, postpone it. I know them only too well!… The English can’t do anything quickly. And here they face so many additional obstacles!… What will become of the second front? When will the Red Army get real help at last? No, I don’t like this situation one bit.
The second issue I discussed with Eden was Simon’s speech in the House of Lords on 23 February. Beaverbrook raised the question of the urgency of a second front. Strabolgi seconded him. Trenchard and Listowel
William Francis Hare (5th earl of Listowel), Labour Party whip in House of Lords, 1941–44.
argued against debating this question. Simon was the last to speak on behalf of the British government and delivered a nasty, truly ‘Simonean’ speech, the essence of which was: no second front is needed as the British fleet, the air attacks on


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Germany, the supplies to the USSR and the operations in North Africa already constitute that second front.
Having cited the most ‘criminal’ passages in Simon’s speech, I asked Eden who was telling the truth on behalf of the British government – those who promise the opening of a second front before long or those who believe that a second front already exists?
Eden replied that I should know the British government’s point of view from my talks with him and with Churchill, as well as from the correspondence between Churchill and Stalin.
I objected that the talks and correspondence were known to only a few people, while Simon’s speech was known to all. In order to avoid confusion and misunderstanding in the minds of the masses, it would be desirable to clarify the true position of the British government on the matter of a second front from a public platform.
Eden would not commit himself to anything, but promised to raise this matter with Churchill. It seemed to me he was not displeased by my démarche. Hardly surprising: there’s no love lost between Eden and Simon!
Simon couldn’t attend our reception on the 23rd as he was speaking in the Lords. He did, however, inform us an hour beforehand by telephone. Yesterday I also received a personal, handwritten letter from him in which he expresses his ‘deep regret’ at not being able to come, for he has a burning desire, don’t you know, to express his admiration personally for ‘the magnificent feats of the Red Army’… Simon! The real Simon!
Simon expressed his ‘apologies and regrets’ for failing to attend the reception: ‘I particularly wanted to do so, to pay my personal tribute to the amazing and glorious achievements of your heroic fellow countrymen’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1561 ll.6–7, 26 Feb. 1943. Maisky told Boothby that Simon’s speech was a terrible blow to Moscow and ‘had undone all the good of last Sunday’s Red Army demonstrations’; TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/17/A, 25 Feb. 1943. See also a minute in the same vein by Warner, head of the northern department, TNA FO 371 36971 N1136/172/38, 2 March 1943. Maisky’s self-censored report of the conversation, trying to minimize the damage caused by Simon but avoiding the cardinal issues, is in SAO, I, no. 191.
I told Eden about my conversation with the king at the reception on 24 February. Eden was pleased and remarked: ‘It’s very good for the king to know the true state of affairs. It’s useful.’
I also explained to Eden what had happened to Kalinin’s telegram. It had been sent plaintext from Moscow and received at the London telegraph on 23 February at 2.40 in the morning. Our radio broadcast it on the same day at 6.00 in the morning. I don’t know why the telegram was not delivered to the king until after lunch on the 24th. Eden promised to bring my explanation to the king’s attention.
[Eden sympathized with the ideas raised by Maisky. Harvey, his private secretary, noted in his diary that ‘a landing in France may be possible against diminished resistance this summer. Under the existing plan all our landing craft would be either wending their way beyond recall round the Cape or engaged in a big but not necessarily determining operation in Sicily.’
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 22 Feb. 1943, p. 222.
Considering Churchill’s resolve to pursue Husky, it is most unlikely that Eden exerted any serious pressure on him to revisit British strategy, beyond recycling a censored version of his talk with Maisky to the Defence Committee. The committee, however, decided to defer the matter until Churchill recovered from his illness. Restive, Churchill quashed the idea at its incipience, instructing the committee from his sick


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bed: ‘There can be no change of plan. I am going to telegraph to M. Stalin in a few days.’
TNA PREM3/393/14, memo by Ismay and a note by Churchill, 24 & 25 Feb. 1943.
In his memoirs,
Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 368–9.
Eden prefers to ignore the episode altogether, and to focus instead on what he calls the ‘obstructive’ attitude of the Russians, which led to the postponement of the convoys from March to November and the diversion of the supply ships to the Mediterranean area. The postponement was a double blow for Stalin. Breaking the news to him, Churchill dwelt on the insurmountable obstacles in running the convoys, but a single sentence disclosed an ulterior and decisive consideration in suspending them: ‘Assuming HUSKY goes well we should hope to resume the convoys in early September.’ In his talks with Hopkins in Washington a month later, Eden alluded approvingly to Maisky’s most detailed survey of post-war Europe, which apparently was unfolded during the meeting on 26 February. Eden’s only reservation concerned Maisky’s opposition to his own vision of federated Europe, an arrangement which Maisky referred to as ‘vegetarian – meaning, presumably, innocuous’.
Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hopkins, p. 714.
Surely the wish to muzzle Soviet criticism and tie British hands accounts for the pressure exerted by Churchill on Eisenhower on 17 February to bring forward Operation Husky through swift conclusion of the campaign in Tunisia.
Gilbert, Road to Victory, pp. 340–2; Reynolds, In Command of History, pp. 316–18.
]
26 February
Kerr, having returned to Moscow, started to display almost feverish levels of activity.
This was a bad omen for Maisky. Stalin, who got on well with Philip Kerr, preferred henceforth to conduct negotiations directly through him in Moscow, leaving Maisky in the lurch until his recall. Molotov’s report of the meetings in Moscow, which Maisky recapitulates in his diary, was merely informative and did not call for any response or action on his behalf; AVP RF f.059 p.10 d.174 ll.53–6, 24 Feb. 1943.
On 20 February, he paid a visit to Molotov and declared that he was going to engage him in a series of discussions on post-war matters, since the British government considers it absolutely essential to reach agreement on these matters with the USA and the USSR before the end of the war. Then Kerr immediately handed Molotov the plan for a post-war clearing union prepared at the inter-allied financial conference in London (by Keynes, to be precise) and asked the Soviet government to study it and give its response. Kerr said the Americans had written their own plan and perhaps it would be expedient to develop a third version on the basis of these two.
Kerr then asked Molotov to explain to him the meaning of Stalin’s statement, in his address of 6 November 1942, that the USSR is not planning to destroy the German state and the German military. These comments caused bewilderment in London. They seemed to contradict what Stalin told Eden in December 1941.
Molotov evaded Kerr’s questions and told him that Stalin would be better placed to reply. Kerr clothed his questions in the form of a letter. On 24 February, Stalin received him and gave him a written reply, the essence of which was that there was no point engaging in general non-binding talks on post-war matters, and that it would be far more expedient for official representatives of the two states to meet, discuss these matters and sign a binding agreement on behalf of the two states. This is precisely the method Stalin proposed to Eden in December 1941, but Eden would not commit himself. If the British government now deems it necessary to arrange such a meeting and to conclude


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an agreement with the USSR concerning the fate of Germany or other states, we are prepared to play our part.
27 February
Agniya and I attended a football match between England and Wales at Wembley. There were 75,000 people at the stadium. It was a splendid day: sunny and cloudless. We sat in the Royal Box together with the king, the queen, Mrs Churchill, Alexander, Attlee, Morrison, Leathers and other ministers. Tremendous excitement. Not for me, of course (I’m always calm on such occasions), but among this gigantic mass of people. The result: England beat Wales 5-3. Had it not been for the regular flow of Spitfires guarding the stadium, it would have seemed just like peace time. Yes, complacency is rapidly growing in England in parallel with our victories, and even outpaces them.
Mrs Churchill sat next to me. She is a very pleasant woman and we get along well. Mrs Churchill sometimes talks with me openly on various personal and family themes. Today she shared with me her fears and hopes concerning her husband’s health. Churchill fell ill about a fortnight ago. It was only a mild form of pneumonia, but he had a fever. He is a terrible patient. He ignores what the doctors tell him. He refuses to rest. He thinks constantly about various governmental matters. He works. He worked even with a high fever. Now he feels better. His temperature is back to normal. The pneumonia has passed. But


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the prime minister’s bedroom is dark and sunless. Mrs Churchill wants to take her husband to Chequers at the beginning of next week – for the fresh air and sunlight. He’ll recover more speedily there and have a rest.
Mrs Churchill said all this quickly, hastily, swallowing her words and laughing infectiously. She always talks like that. Then she thought for a moment and uttered with deep confidence: ‘He must get better! Nothing will happen to him: he is destined to lead his country in such times!’
I thought to myself: ‘Not bad!’
Mrs Churchill added with a note of bitterness: ‘It’s a pity the war should have happened now, when he is already 68. It would have been better had he been a bit younger. Well, it can’t be helped.’
Yes, this woman believes in fate. There you have it, the bourgeois society of today!
I turned to Mrs Churchill and said: ‘Some five or six years ago, long before the war, a friend of mine from Moscow asked me whether your husband had any chance of gaining power. Do you know what I told him?’
‘What?’ Mrs Churchill asked with the greatest interest.
‘I told him: in ordinary circumstances – no, for the mediocrities in the Conservative Party would never let him come to power. They’d be afraid lest he hindered and squashed them. But in a moment of great danger for the country, Churchill would undoubtedly take the reins.’
Mrs Churchill exclaimed with fervour: ‘How remarkable! I had exactly the same thoughts. I was always telling my husband: You will be in power when war breaks out.’
She paused and added: ‘He was born for it, after all!… But what a pity he is already 68 years old!’
* * *
Easterman came to see me and told me two stories connected with my name:
(1) The Poles are telling everyone that representatives of the Allied nations met in London recently to discuss the terms of an armistice (already!). I am supposed to have attended the meeting. The most heated debate revolved around the question of which armed force or forces would occupy Germany. Various opinions were expressed, but the majority agreed that Germany should be occupied by an international police force. I am said to have maintained a stubborn silence throughout the discussion. When the discussions were over, I allegedly stood up, thrust my hands into my pockets and scornfully declared: ‘All your talks and schemes are just so much hot air. Germany will be occupied by the Red Army.’
Then I supposedly turned round and left the room without saying another word.


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Ha-ha-ha!… Perhaps Germany will be occupied by the Red Army one day, but the strange thing is that no Allied meeting concerning the terms of an armistice has been held, and I have never said any of the things which the Poles attribute to me. The Poles’ objective is clear: to scare the British with the communist bogey.
(2) If the first story is a fact, then the second is indeed an anecdote. It is called: ‘Low’s unpublished cartoon’. The cartoon allegedly depicts a railway station in London. The entire diplomatic corps is at the station. They are seeing off the Anglo-American troops bound for North Africa. I am shaking hands with the commander-in-chief and at the same time pointing at the poster on the wall: ‘Is your journey really necessary?’ (Such posters may currently be found at all railway stations.)
(3) One more story, not related by Easterman, but also connected with me. According to this story, which is doing the rounds among Allied government people in London, the following conversation took place not long ago between an ‘ally’ and an FO official:
Ally: ‘When will the second front be opened at last?’
FO official: ‘We are ready. Everything now depends on Maisky. It’s his fault that a second front has not yet been opened.’
Ally: ‘Why? Is Maisky against the opening of a second front?’
FO official: ‘No, of course he is not against it. But he still can’t give us the exact date of the Red Army’s arrival in England so as to open a second front in France.’
(4) Finally, the last story, at least for today. Speaking to one of the Allies the other day Masaryk said: ‘The British have found their Alexander, but I can’t say whether he’ll prove to be a Nevsky.’ He was referring to General Alexander, commander-in-chief of the British forces in Africa.
Most such stories come from Allied circles. No wonder. The Allies have nothing to do. They are most dissatisfied with Britain and the USA, but don’t dare protest openly, so they find an outlet for their feelings by inventing numerous political jokes. They’re not short of wits. Masaryk, for one!
28 February (Bovingdon)
The past week has not brought us any major achievements at the front. On the contrary, the difficulties have multiplied. The Germans have brought up large reinforcements and are attacking frantically in the Donbass and the Dnepr region. Just as I expected. But this is not so terrible. The Kotelnikov episode is evidently being repeated. When Paulus’s army was encircled at Stalingrad, von Manstein and his eight divisions tried to free it by attacking Kotelnikov. Von Manstein temporarily pushed our forces back and occupied several stations


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and villages along the railway line leading to Stalingrad. But he was defeated and beat a disorderly retreat. Paulus’s fate was sealed. The threat to the German forces in the Donbass and east of the Dnepr is even greater today. Naturally enough, the German command has to apply maximum effort in order to prevent a catastrophe that might be even more dreadful than the catastrophe at Stalingrad. Hence the events of the past few days. I hope we shall manage to defeat the Germans this time too, with all the ensuing consequences. There are certain ‘buts’ of course: our troops are tired after three months of incessant fighting, the Germans have moved in more than eight divisions, the roads will soon be barely passable… Still, I remain hopeful! Well, we shall see.
It’s good we have liberated Kuban in time for sowing: as far as food is concerned, next winter will be better.
3 March
That was an original way to spend an evening.


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The Crippses invited us a while ago to dine with them and then listen to the music of Myra Hess.
Dame Myra Hess, British pianist who organized and performed in a series of daily chamber music concerts at the National Gallery in London during the Blitz and throughout the war. Her concerts were attended by over three-quarters of a million people.
We arranged to meet this evening. We met them at a French restaurant on Charlotte Street. Cripps’s daughter, who accompanied her father to Moscow, then worked at the British mission in Tehran, and now has a job at the Ministry of Information, came along, too.
We had hardly sat down to dinner than the sirens began to wail. A rare event nowadays! It will soon be two years since the air raids on London ceased. Today was a special occasion: on the night of the 1st to the 2nd March, 700 four-engine English bombers raided Berlin and obviously did a great deal of damage. Göring, of course, could not remain indifferent, and this evening 40 German bombers made a ‘retaliatory’ raid. Forty! Only forty!… Such is the extent to which the Germans have weakened (although if it came to it they could still muster 100–150 machines for a sortie on London in a single night). Only a few of these 40 ‘Germans’ reached London. The effect of the attack, of course, was negligible. But the anti-aircraft barrage from the ground was astonishing. Not at all what it was like in those memorable days of the ‘big Blitz’ of 1940. It was the barrage fire that kept us in the restaurant until nearly ten o’clock.
But we made our way to Myra Hess’s place nonetheless. I liked her apartment very much: two grand pianos, bookcases with a huge musical library, simple but


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somehow intelligent furniture, portraits of great performers and composers, a fine statuette of Beethoven on the table… All exuding high culture, the peaks of the human spirit…
Myra played us Beethoven’s ‘Appassionata’. A wonderful interpretation!
I told Myra Hess that this was Ilich’s favourite piece. Myra was greatly impressed by this fact, and the Crippses even more so.
Myra, by the way, resembles Pichuzhka very much, only she is somewhat fuller and taller. Seeing Myra at the piano in that dimly lit room, I couldn’t help wondering: ‘Isn’t that Pichuzhka playing?’
Memories of the distant past surfaced in my mind.
Further reminiscences of that evening are in Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 330–1.
4 March
The Poles are behaving quite idiotically. Not long ago the Polish government and the Polish ‘National Council’ adopted an official resolution, later made public, stating that they stand firmly by the basis of the 1939 borders.
We responded with a sharp TASS communiqué. In addition, Korneichuk
Aleksandr Evdokimovich Korneichuk, a Soviet Ukrainian playwright and literary critic.
published a brilliant article in Pravda, in which he declared that the Ukrainians


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would never again submit themselves to the rule of the Polish pans. I think the exchange of pleasantries may end with that, unless the Poles concoct further provocations. I think it would be inexpedient to take it further: why add grist to Goebbels’ mill? He is already doing all he can to foment discord in our coalition.
The Poles are a peculiar nation! Throughout their history they have vividly demonstrated a total lack of talent for serious state building (in foreign and domestic policy). Two things played an especially important role here:
(1) In the sphere of foreign policy, Poland more than once set itself objectives which were clearly beyond its real economic, political and military capabilities (e.g. the conquest of Moscow in the early seventeenth century). They ended in fiascos and heavy defeats.
(2) On the domestic front, Poland never displayed that minimal national discipline, that minimal subordination of the private and the personal to the common good without which a strong state cannot be built. The liberum veto was the shining example of this.
It is difficult to escape the conclusion that Poland is generally incapable of prolonged and sustained existence as a fully independent and sovereign national organism. The fate of Poland in the period between the two wars and the conduct of Sikorski and Co. in the last 20 months are perfect illustrations of this. Well, we shall see what the future holds in store. One thing is already clear: the Polish question will be one of the hardest ‘nuts’ to crack at the end of the war.
The Finns are another strange nation. In recent weeks there has been a lot of noise about Finland in the press and in political circles here and in America. Assertions have been flying around that the Finns want to withdraw from the war and are merely seeking an appropriate route of retreat. Particular emphasis has been placed on Tanner’s and Fagerholm’s
Karl-August Fagerholm, Finnish minister for social affairs, 1937–43 and three times prime minister of Finland, 1948–50, 1956–57 and 1958.
visit to Stockholm. Prytz was summoned to Sweden on the same matter some three weeks ago. Ostensibly he went to attend his daughter’s wedding, but in fact he was there to seek some kind of compromise with the Finns and to try to get Britain involved. Before departing, Prytz visited Eden to find out the British position on this matter. Eden replied quite reasonably: if Finland wants peace (which in itself, of course, is desirable), it should speak directly with the USSR. Britain does not wish to act as go-between.
Prytz was disappointed and began to view his mission in an even more pessimistic light than before (he had never been an optimist on this matter).


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For Prytz himself (as I heard from Gu Weijun) considered a separate Soviet–Finnish peace possible only on roughly the following basis:
(1) The borders of Finland will be definitively fixed after the war; in the meantime a temporary demarcation line corresponding to the borders of 1941 should be established.
(2) Only token forces remain on either side of the demarcation line.
(3) The Germans stationed in Finland are evacuated.
(4) The Allied nations promise to meet Finland’s minimal provisional requirements.
Prytz, however, seriously doubts that the Finns would accept this basis. He doubts this even more than he doubts the Germans’ readiness to evacuate their troops. In Prytz’s opinion, the Germans could be ‘persuaded’ to withdraw their eight divisions from Finland: they are ‘shortening’ their front line in any case and those divisions might come in handy somewhere else.
Prytz complained to a Swedish journalist before his departure: ‘I don’t understand those Finns! After all, the issue at hand is: will Finland be independent or won’t she?… But there they are clinging to scraps of territory and borders!’
Prytz is right. The Finns, as represented by their ruling classes, are pursuing an absolutely idiotic policy. It was so in the past, and it is so now.
When I was ambassador to Finland, I told her leaders (including Tanner and Ryti) more than once: ‘Remember, there are two indisputable and immutable facts: one, that Finland borders the USSR, and two, that Finland has a population of 3.5 million people while the USSR has a population of 170 million. You should construct your policy on the basis of these two facts. I believe that the only correct policy for you would be one of friendship with the USSR. This is entirely possible. The USSR has no aggressive intentions in respect to Finland. It is prepared to pursue a policy of friendship with Finland. But the prerequisite for this is the same policy on your part, with all the ensuing consequences.’
What was the response of the Finnish ‘statesmen’ (I can hardly call them by this name without using marks of quotation)?
Those ‘statesmen’ encouraged the Karelian Academic Union, which distributed maps of the future ‘Great Finland’ to foreign diplomats, on which Leningrad was marked as a Finnish domain. Sheer idiocy!
And those very same ‘statesmen’ have now brought Finland to the edge of ruin!
The doubt inevitably arises as to whether Finland is at all capable of pursuing a fully independent existence. The last 25 years would seem to suggest that she isn’t.


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This is hardly surprising: Finland was part of Sweden for 600 years, then she was part of Russia for more than 100 years, and has been an independent state only for the last 25 years. Her experience of independence proved unsuccessful. If this problem only concerned the Finns, we would have no need to rack our brains over it. Unfortunately, the USSR is vitally concerned with what is happening in Finland. The present war is the best illustration of this. That is why we can’t leave this problem solely to the discretion of the Finns. We should take a most active part in its solution. In what form? It’s still difficult to say. One thing is clear: the danger to our borders from Finland must be eliminated once and for all. From this point of view, the stubborn adherence of Tanner and Co. to their absurd policy might turn out to be not so bad for us after all. We shall see.
7 March (Bovingdon)
A good week on the front! True, there is a temporary stalemate in the Donets basin (it even seems that the Germans may have pressed us back a little – they say the Germans have assembled 22 divisions there) and there is a lull at Novorossiisk. But significant events are taking place in the north, where it is still winter. Rzhev, Demyansk and Gzhatsk were captured last week and the westward advance continues. Rzhev is especially important. This was a German ‘super-hedgehog’


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A surrounded stronghold, left unconquered by an advancing offensive, which nonetheless continues to fight.
threatening Moscow which we had vainly been trying to take all year long. Now Rzhev has fallen. The threat to Moscow has been completely eliminated and, figuratively speaking, the gates to Germany are now open, although the road to Germany is of course still long.
Between 2 and 7 March, Churchill sent Stalin three telegrams informing him of the raids on Berlin, Hamburg and other cities (700–900 bombs were dropped on each city in one night). Stalin replied with two telegrams thanking Churchill and encouraging the British air force.
9 March
On 6 March the rank of Marshal of the Soviet Union was conferred on Stalin. Excellent. He fully deserves this, the highest military honour – more than anybody else not just in our time but throughout the long history of our country.
What rare happiness has fallen the way of the Soviet people: to have had two such leaders as Lenin and Stalin over the course of the last twenty-five years, the most decisive period in our development and that of humanity in general! This is yet further proof of the untapped reserves of talent and energy that lie


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concealed in the midst of our people. Our people will, without doubt, play a very great role in the destiny of humanity.
11 March
Eden flew off to America today. He plans to be away for 3–4 weeks. We’ll have to manage without him. This is somewhat unfortunate: we have established good relations and he tells me a lot. We have also learned to catch one another’s drift. This makes our work easier. Still, it can’t be helped. I’ll have to adjust to the situation.
Yesterday I had a talk with Eden before his departure. An interesting talk.
‘Well, what farewell wishes do you have for me?’ Eden asked when I had made myself comfortable in the chair opposite him.
‘What wishes do I have?’ I echoed. ‘One wish above all others: don’t commit yourself in the USA to any issue which concerns us as well. If you bind yourself with obligations in Washington, you might find yourself in a difficult position with respect to us afterwards… This happened, for instance, during your visit to Moscow in December 1941.’
‘You may rest assured in this regard,’ Eden said with confidence. ‘I won’t undertake any obligations in America. We have an alliance with you. We must reach an agreement with you first before arranging tripartite negotiations. But before reaching such agreements, I would like to have a general idea of what the Americans think about a number of issues that concern us. That is the purpose of my visit to the USA. Nothing else.’
I expressed my approval of Eden’s line.
Conversation then turned to the main European problems. Before leaving for America, Eden wanted to run over our views on these matters in their general outline. I warned Eden that in view of the latest talks in Moscow (between Kerr, Stalin and Molotov) I could discuss the issues he was interested in only in my private capacity and express only my personal opinion. Eden was satisfied with this.
The first question concerned Germany. What should its future be after our collective victory?
This was straightforward enough. We recalled the Moscow talks on this matter (December 1941) and further statements made by Stalin and other Soviet representatives. The final conclusion was: Germany must be weakened for a long time after the war to prevent her from even dreaming of any fresh act of aggression. The means for that are disarmament, partition (perhaps in the form of a federation of several German states), and various economic measures, including reparations in kind. Eden fully agreed with this conclusion.


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The second question related to Poland. What would its future be? What should be done with it?
‘I won’t hazard any guesses on this,’ I said, ‘but one thing at least is already clear to me now: Western Ukraine and Western Belorussia will become part of the Soviet Union. It is out of the question that they might fall under Polish rule again. The British government, as it happens, is essentially of the same opinion: the Curzon line generally corresponds to our 1941 borders.’
‘But you, it seems, demand more than the Curzon line – Lvov for instance,’ Eden warily retorted.
‘Yes, we demand Lvov because it is a Ukrainian, not a Polish city,’ I answered. ‘However, Lvov is just a minor deviation from the Curzon line, while we accept the Curzon line only “in general” …There is scope for agreement here.’
Eden began complaining that a worsening of relations between the Polish and Soviet governments had been observed of late and even that we appear to have been blaming the British government for the Poles’ present stance.
‘I can assure you,’ Eden went on, ‘that from our side we are doing all we can to neutralize the current trends in the Polish government…. But it is not easily influenced.’
I did not fully agree with Eden: the British government allows the Polish press in England to publish articles which poison Polish–Soviet relations. Why does the British government do this? By doing so, it assumes a share of responsibility for the conduct of the Poles.
Eden objected: ‘But you are familiar with our attitude to the press, not only Polish, but British as well. We have freedom of the press. We can’t forbid opinions from being expressed.’
‘Mr Eden,’ I rejoined. ‘I am perfectly familiar with your ways of doing things. And my conclusion is that if the British government really wanted to prevent the Polish press from printing stupidities, it would find ways and means of doing so. Are you really unable to demand from the Poles, who are your guests, that they should behave decently or, at any rate, should not spoil your relations with other countries? I can’t believe it.’
But Eden would not agree. He told me that Sikorski and Raczyński had paid him a visit not long ago and asked him to take measures against the ‘oppositional’ Polish press. The problem, though, is that the ‘oppositional’ press – leaflets, to be more exact – is printed in secret and catching its authors is not easy.
I laughed: ‘Has Scotland Yard become so decrepit? Five weeks have passed and they have not been able to find the culprits in the assault on the Lenin monument. Now I hear that they are also unable to find Polish underground publishers. Poor Scotland Yard!’


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Eden hastened to change the topic and expressed his concern for the future of Poland. I shared his anxiety. I said that the future of post-war Poland was genuinely unclear to me. Eden knows our opinion on this matter. I stated it plainly at the very beginning of our talks about a mutual assistance pact with the Poles in 1941. We stand for an independent and free Poland, but within its ethnographic boundaries. We shall willingly help such a Poland; we shall be able to maintain friendly relations with it. We do not intend to interfere in Poland’s internal affairs. Let them arrange things as they wish. And as Eden also knows, we are not against bringing East Prussia into the future Poland – with an exchange of population. Once again, that is, we are talking about Poland within its ethnographic boundaries.
‘The trouble,’ I continued, ‘is that the Polish government in London has quite different ideas… It is full of imperialist ambitions!… This is very much in the spirit of Polish history down the ages. The Poles have never been able to create a stable and systematically developing state. Why? The reason is clear. The essence of statesmanlike wisdom consists in setting yourself political goals commensurate with the resources and means you have available. The Poles have never acted in accordance with this principle. On the contrary: they have nearly always been chasing the unattainable. To quote a Russian proverb, they’ve had one kopeck of ammunition for every rouble of ambition. It’s enough to recall their attempt at conquering Russia in the seventeenth century. How absurd!… As a result, the Poles have never managed to build a strong and viable state.’
Eden interrupted me: ‘There is much truth in what you say. You remember Bismarck’s words: “Politics is the art of the possible”?’
‘Quite right,’ I agreed, ‘but does the London Polish government understand this? No, it does not. Otherwise it would not pursue such an absurd line. It is patently clear that the USSR will be the decisive force in Eastern Europe after the war, so what sense is there in the Polish government quarrelling with the USSR? All the more so as it would be perfectly possible not to quarrel. Would it not be better for the Polish government and also for the future of Poland to make every effort to seek friendship and mutual understanding with the USSR? Such should be the sensible, statesman-like policy of the Polish government. But what does it do? It does exactly the opposite. Frankly, it is hard for me to imagine good relations between the USSR and Poland if the future Polish government should resemble the present Polish government in London. Don’t get me wrong: even in this case we shall be in favour of an independent Poland, but our relations with it will be far from ideal.’
‘And what kind of government would you like to see in the future Poland?’ Eden interposed.
‘And what kind of government would you like to see?’ I parried his question. ‘What kind of governments would you like to see in general in the countries


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liberated from German occupation – in Belgium, Holland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, France, etc.?’
Eden thought for a moment and replied: ‘What governments?… If possible, governments which are not dictatorial, which rely on elected representatives, and which are based on the broadest possible social foundation… Of course, such governments would have different political colourings in different countries.’
‘Should I understand you as saying that you would like to see popular front governments in the liberated countries?’ I specified. ‘What matters is, of course, not the label (for the term “popular front” is associated with certain memories and concepts), but the essence.’
Eden reflected again and then replied: ‘Perhaps!… But I would prefer to say national front governments.’
‘I repeat, the label is not the issue,’ I remarked. ‘You would like national front governments on the broadest possible social foundation… Well, I’m ready to agree with that. So, if in the future Poland were to have a popular front or, if you prefer, a broad national front government, I’m sure we would be able to establish genuine friendly relations with it. But will that happen? Time will tell. At any rate, Sikorski and Co. are doing all they can to hamper its emergence.’
‘I must say you are most sceptical about the London Polish government,’ Eden objected.
‘Alas! The experience of the last 20 months is to blame.’
From Poland we moved on to the Baltic States.
‘When talking with the Americans,’ I said, ‘let them understand that it’s high time to drop all those monkey tricks concerning the Baltic question. The fate of the Baltic States has been decided for us once and for all. This question, as far as we are concerned, is simply not up for discussion. If the Americans pose it all the same, nothing will come of it except bad blood between the USA and the USSR. Who needs that? The Baltic States will remain part of the USSR whatever happens.’
Eden replied that for him personally the Baltic question had been resolved. He will sound out the Americans’ attitudes to this issue during his visit. Then Eden asked: ‘And what about Finland?’
I replied that Eden was well acquainted with our point of view from our correspondence and negotiations. We want to reinstate the terms of the Soviet–Finnish peace agreement of 1940, plus Petsamo, plus a mutual assistance pact. We can’t accept any less than that. The threat to our state from Finland must be eliminated once and for all. It’s our duty towards future generations.
Eden neither objected nor agreed. His attitude, it seemed to me, could be summed up as follows: ‘As you like, just so long as it doesn’t lead to any complications with the Americans.’


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I added: ‘And if the Americans raise the issue of a separate peace between the USSR and Finland, you should remember that, as far as Moscow’s attitude is known to me on this question, we are not prepared to pay dearly for such a peace.’
‘I know that,’ Eden replied. ‘Yes, and why should you pay dearly? I see no reason for that.’
Eden was evidently disappointed, but he refrained from making any comments.
Moving on to federations, I observed that all those combinations of small powers hardly struck me as very viable. It is usually maintained that their existence would raise the level of security in Europe. I don’t believe that. First, the real power of such federations would be fragile (particularly on account of inevitable, chronic internal frictions, such as, for instance, in the Balkans); they simply would not be able to serve as a serious barrier to aggression from a major power. Such federations would be more likely to turn into an arena for all sorts of intrigues on the part of major powers seeking territorial gains. Second, the preservation and maintenance of peace in post-war Europe is conceivable only within the framework of a general European organization (political and military) headed by the USSR and Britain. I don’t know whether it will prove possible to create such an organization, but in any case it is the sole realistic path. Playing with local federations of small states will only distract attention from the main task. If a general European organization is created, every small state will find in its structure its appropriate place.
My considerations produced a noticeable impression on Eden. He nodded approvingly several times while I was speaking and eventually said: ‘I fully agree that peace can be secured only by a general European organization in which our countries will serve as the two pillars. It is possible that the question of federations of small states will fall away or, at any rate, will look different. We shall see.’
‘In conclusion,’ I said, ‘may I ask you to let the Americans understand that the worst way of improving relations between the USA and the USSR is fatherly back-slapping. Henry Wallace’s
Henry Agard Wallace, vice-president of the United States, 1941–45.
last speech was very culpable in this respect, although he may have had the very best intentions.’
I cited a few passages from Wallace’s speech which could be interpreted as follows: ‘We, the Americans, are a kind and generous people. We wish you, the Russians, all the best. But you must remember: everything depends on you. If you behave well, we shall display our benevolence. If you behave badly, World War Three will become inevitable.’


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Eden said in reply: ‘I did not like Wallace’s speech either, or, rather, it did not quite satisfy me. First, he is unjust to Britain. True, former British governments bear great responsibility for this war. But what about the United States? Haven’t they also borne great responsibility from 1920 onwards? Second, Wallace’s remarks concerning Russia were unfortunate. They can hardly facilitate the strengthening of bonds between our three countries. Well, we shall see. Now I’m off to America and I’ll see for myself how things are there.’
I continued: ‘There is a school of thought in America (I don’t say Wallace belongs to it, but its spirit is not perhaps entirely alien to him) that asserts that the twentieth century will be the “American century”. I find such slogans to be mistaken in general. Yet, if we have to speak in these terms, I think one would be more justified in saying that the twentieth century will be the “Russian century”.’
‘Why do you think so?’ Eden asked with interest.
‘For the following reasons,’ I answered. ‘If you try to imagine the general, major vectors of historical processes, then what is happening in the world today? It is quite obvious that the era of capitalist civilization is giving way to that of socialist civilization. This began in 1917. I don’t know how much time the process of change will take, but there can be no doubt about its basic line. What will the world look like, say, in the twenty-first century? It will, of course, be a socialist world. So the twentieth century will, by all appearances, prove to be a century of transition from capitalism to socialism. It becomes quite clear, from a broad historical perspective, that the USSR represents the rising sun, and the USA the setting sun, a fact which does not exclude the possibility of the relatively lengthy continued existence of the USA as a mighty capitalist power. So isn’t it obvious that there are far better grounds for naming the twentieth century the “Russian” rather than “American” century?’
Eden smiled and said: ‘There is much that is interesting and perhaps correct in what you say… Now, if the USA is a setting sun, then what do we, Britain, represent?’
‘You?’ I said, ‘You, as always, are trying to find a middle course of compromise between two extremes. Will you find it? I don’t know. That is your concern. To judge by the response to Beveridge’s report, you still don’t quite comprehend the meaning of the radical historical changes which our age is fraught with.’
I don’t know whether Eden understood me or not, or whether I succeeded in convincing him with my arguments, but one thing was certain: my thoughts interested him deeply and gave him food for his own reflections.
Eden told me on parting: ‘I’m truly grateful to you for this conversation. It will help me a great deal with my talks in America and in general…’
‘I wish you every success!’ I replied.


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We shall see what will come of it. To be sure, Eden has many good intentions and I have no reason to question his sincerity with regard to the Anglo-Soviet alliance. But he is not a very strong or firm man, and I’m rather afraid that the American surroundings may have a negative influence on him. That is why it seemed like a good idea to strengthen Eden’s ‘backbone’ a little before his departure. In essence, I did not tell him anything new. I had articulated the same thoughts to him, piece by piece, many times before on this or that issue. However, repetition (especially in a more comprehensive and finished form) can sometimes prove helpful, if the moment is right. This seemed to be the right moment.
[Maisky’s report to Molotov was rather laconic, insisting that he was only a listener – ‘at no time did I engage in conversation’.
SAO, I, no. 195.
Eden’s official report of the meeting dovetails with Maisky’s diary entry, though Eden appears to have been entirely passive, while Maisky does all the talking.
TNA FO 954/19 Pol/43/4.
In his memoirs, Eden reduced the report to a skeleton, removing any trace of his compliance with the gist of Maisky’s ideas. However, while in Washington Eden told Sumner Welles that ‘Mr Maisky had called upon him and had given him in complete detail the position of the Soviet Union.’ Eden recapitulated the position in minute detail, adding that, although he was not coming to Washington as ‘Russian Ambassador’, he believed that ‘the views expressed to him by Mr Maisky could be of value to us’. In his memoirs, over which the Cold War cast a cloud, Eden preferred to dissociate himself from those ideas, concluding with a brief judgemental sentence: ‘Most of this was stubbornly negative.’
Eden, The Reckoning, p. 371; FRUS, 1943, III, pp. 19–24.
On this occasion, Maisky’s modus operandi worked to perfection. Eden, on his return to London, described to Maisky in detail the negotiations in Washington and the president’s adherence to most of the ideas which, unbeknownst to Moscow, had in fact originated with Maisky himself. Stalin and Molotov displayed great interest in them, allowing Maisky to formulate them at the great length of a 23-page telegram on the possibility of creating a common political platform on post-war Europe.
AVP RF f.06 op.5 p.16 d.154 ll.2–25, 7 & 13 April 1943. There are no relevant entries in the diary for the meetings with Eden. For the Soviet interest in his report, see Maisky’s entry of 22 April.
However, the crisis over the Katyn massacre
See diary entry for 23 April and the preceding commentary.
which erupted a couple of days later shuffled the cards and, following the Soviet triumph in the battle of Kursk, the negotiations resumed in Moscow in a completely different atmosphere when the foreign ministers met in the autumn. By then Maisky had already been recalled.
While progress was achieved on the political front, the differences on strategy remained unresolved. On the day of Eden’s meeting with Maisky, Churchill, who was convalescing, responded to Stalin’s queries concerning the strategic plans for 1943 formulated in Casablanca. After dwelling on the progress of the operation in Tunisia and future plans for the campaign in Sicily, in the Dodecanese, and perhaps even on mainland Greece, Churchill turned to the preparations undertaken in Britain for a cross-channel attack. Although it was ‘the earnest wish’ of the president and himself to see the troops in battle in Europe, he regretted that the need to sustain the campaign in North Africa had cut supplies to Britain ‘to the bone’, and the second front could be mounted only if Germany weakened sufficiently. A premature attack ‘would merely lead


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to a bloody repulse’. Churchill therefore reserved for himself the ‘freedom of decision’ nearer the summer.
Churchill papers, CHAR 20/107.
The attitude towards Russia in London was clearly fluctuating. The enthusiasm for a second front receded considerably after the British victories in the desert war – certainly among diehard Conservatives in parliament. Sir Cuthbert Headlam, prominent among these, complained in his diary that the Russians were refusing to admit that the North African campaign was ‘clearly becoming “a second front” for Hitler’; ‘I see that that little swine Maisky is still suggesting that we are not doing all we can to help his people – I distrust this man greatly: from all I hear of him he is a real danger in this country politically.’
S. Ball (ed.), Parliament and Politics in the Age of Churchill and Attlee: The Headlam Diaries 1935–1951 (London, 2000), p. 362.
Roosevelt, too, was getting impatient with Litvinov’s ‘second front zeal’. He asked Harriman to call him to order ‘even to the point of saying we might ask for his recall’.
Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 199.
]
14 March (Bovingdon)
The situation on the front has worsened in the past week.
On the one hand, we have further successes in the centre: we took Vyazma and continue to advance westward. In recent weeks the Germans have lost three important ‘hedgehogs’: Rzhev, Gzhatsk and Vyazma. The road to Smolensk grows ever wider.
But on the other hand, the Germans had a number of major successes in the south: they have not only checked our progress towards the Dnepr but have even pressed us back considerably in the Donbass and at Kharkov. We evacuated Pavlograd, Krasnograd, Krasnoarmeisk, Kramatorsk, Barvenkovo and other centres. The Germans have reached the Donets again, but have failed to cross it as yet. The Germans have also broken through to Kharkov and are fighting on the approaches to the city and, if the Germans are to believed, inside the city too.
If we compare gains and losses over the past two weeks, they will most likely turn out even. Nonetheless, our failures in the south are a great disappointment. They derive from the fact that the Germans have succeeded in assembling a huge force in the south – 25 divisions (including 12 mechanized divisions), which were transferred from Western Europe (12 divisions), Germany and other sectors of the front. Evidently carried away by the relatively easy victories, we pushed on from Kharkov with smallish forces, overlooking the concentration of German forces. In the end we suffered a major failure.
Such is life: war is a good teacher. And the present failure will certainly prove a good lesson for us. But it is unpleasant all the same. And another thing: anger towards the English and the Americans grows all the while. Had they opened a second front, the whole situation would be different.
Included in the entry is Stalin’s telegram to Churchill from 15 March reminding him of his firm commitment to a second front in spring of 1943 and ending with a stern warning on ‘how dangerous a further delay of a second front could be for our common cause’.


Page 1403

16 March
Today I handed Churchill the message from Stalin concerning the American offer of mediation between the USSR and Finland.
Churchill’s reaction was quick and spontaneous.
‘This is entirely your own business,’ he exclaimed. ‘Finland did not attack either us or the Americans. Finland attacked you. So, it is for you to decide when and how to conclude peace with her. I’m not going to exert any pressure on you in this matter, not even indirectly. Remember just one thing: the Americans are very touchy. You should be careful with them.’
Churchill is sceptical about the possibility of concluding a separate peace with Finland at present: Finland is not yet ‘ripe’ for that. It’s hard for the Finns to free themselves from Germany’s clutches.
‘At any rate,’ Churchill concluded, ‘I don’t see why you should have to pay a high price for peace with Finland. The war situation is such that it is not you who should be courting Finland, but Finland who should be courting you. If the Finns want peace, they must address you themselves.’
In connection with Finland, Churchill recalled the Baltic States. With a sly twinkle in his eye, he muttered: ‘Once your troops occupy the Baltics, the whole matter will be resolved.’
Churchill has just one piece of advice to give us to ‘soften the hearts’ of the Americans: allow those Baltic people who do not want to live in the USSR to emigrate with all their belongings.
I shook my head in reply and said that as far as we were concerned, the Baltic question had been decided once and for all. To myself I thought: ‘But it is worth remembering his advice. Maybe it will come in handy one day.’
We moved on to the topic of Tunisia. I was dumbfounded to learn from Churchill that the Anglo-American troops will evidently need a further 60–70 days to complete their operations. That means dragging things out until mid-May! Disgusting!
Churchill hastened to console me with the news that the Sicilian operation would be carried out a month earlier, in June. As for the cross-channel operation, the plans have not changed: it will take place in August at the earliest. Churchill blames the Americans: they’re not sending their divisions to Europe. When you ask why, the reply is always the same: shipping. It’s a kind of black magic. Churchill, incidentally, says that the first half of March was most unfortunate for the Allies at sea: they lost 300,000 tons, as against 250,000 and 300,000 during the entire previous two months, January and March. I could not agree with Churchill. We argued at length. Churchill, however, stuck to his guns. Bad.
Then Churchill started complaining about our reluctance to receive 750 pilots in Murmansk.


Page 1404

‘What harm could they do to you?’ he asked in bewilderment. ‘We need them badly to guard the convoys. We shall run into enormous difficulties without them. All the more so now that we have information about the concentration of the Tirpitz, Scharnhorst, Lutzow and other ships in Narvik.’
I replied that 750 British airmen would certainly do us no harm, but the problem was that Murmansk had been burned down by German bombers and there was simply nowhere to billet them.
22 March
Prytz came to see me. Just back from Stockholm (gave his daughter in marriage).
Brought a letter from Kollontay. Spoke with her on the phone. Her condition has improved, she is writing much (letters in many foreign languages); has a secretary in the sanatorium. Prospects? Another stroke is possible.
Finnish–Soviet relations are predominant in Sweden today. (My question: Do the Finns really want peace?) The mood of the Finns (Prytz spoke with the Finnish ambassador in Stockholm Vaasenshentno…): they want peace, but don’t know how to get it. They are afraid that approaching the Soviet government again = a break with Germany (consequences, food). That is, subjecting themselves to the mercy of the USSR. What’ll happen? They wish to know our terms. They turned to the Swedes – ‘We don’t know’. Turned to the USA – ‘We don’t know’. The trip made by the US ambassador in Finland, Schoenfeld,
Hans Frederick Schoenfeld, US ambassador to Finland, 1937–42.
to the USA in December was related to this. So the Finns are marking time. They no longer believe that Germany will win, but haven’t lost hope of a ‘compromise peace’ – what’s more, they might ‘slip through’ somehow. They’re counting on a split among the Allies. In Prytz’s opinion: ‘The Finns are not yet ripe for peace; one more change of the Finnish government is required (expects it before long). Tanner is particularly harmful.’ Prytz sounded me out as to our terms. I evaded the topic. I merely said: for us the question of Finland is the question of the security of Leningrad and our north-western borders. The friendlier Finland is to us, the fewer physical guarantees (territories, bases, etc.) we can demand from it. And vice versa. Finland must never forget two constant factors: (1) they are our neighbours, and (2) there are 193 million of us and 3.5 million of them. This should be the basis on which they construct their policy. I spoke in this vein more than once with Tanner, Ryti and others when I was ambassador to Finland – but what has come of it? Prytz fully agreed with my arguments, but asked whether it might not be worth the Soviet government making a statement about its attitude to Finland. I replied: we shall not pay a high price for peace with Finland.


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Other issues. (1) Fear of Germany (Hitler), of an invasion of Sweden has passed. The [abbreviation indecipherable] that Sweden granted to Germany (passage of troops, etc.) may soon be cancelled. Nobody believes that Hitler will win, but they are not entirely sure that the Allies will gain a decisive victory either – owing to the conduct of Britain and the USA. They don’t rule out a ‘compromise’ or ‘anaemic’ victory for the Allies. There is a small group (around the Court) which fears Soviet victory, but not the masses.
(2) Germany’s internal situation remains stable. There are no signs of a crack. Difficulties with oil. The ongoing mobilization supplies the military with poor material. Hitler will (probably) revert to the defensive, seeking to stabilize the east and trying to drive a wedge between the Allies.
(3) The Swedes gave the British government their consent for two Norwegian vessels to leave Göteborg – the Germans retaliated by barring the passage of Swedish ships from the USA. Sweden is deprived of supplies from across the ocean.
25 March
About Eden’s trip.
Not much news from Eden. He will give a detailed report upon his return. Cadogan reads excerpts from Eden’s telegram.
Lunches with Roosevelt and Hopkins – general exchange of opinions. Compare notes.
Meetings – more official – with Hull, Sumner Welles, Knox,
Frank Knox, US secretary of the navy, 1940–44.
Wallace and others. Compare notes. Disputes.
So far – in flux – possibly something more substantial closer to the end. Roosevelt’s idea.
Specific issues:
(1) Shipping – a committee headed by Hopkins – the result is not yet clear.
(2) Germany – Roosevelt is for dismembering (Summer Welles particularly emphatic!), full disarmament, protracted occupation.
(3) Poland – must accept whatever the Big Three agree on. Nothing about the Baltic States.
(4) Only the Big Three to possess heavy weapons, the others – rifles (Roosevelt’s idea). Eden pointed out the difficulty of implementing such a plan.
(5) Conversations about the Balkans, Yugoslavia, Giraud, de Gaulle, etc. No conclusions as yet.
(6) Meeting with Stalin – in July.


Page 1406

29 March
Went to see Churchill. On instructions from Moscow, I informed him of our reply to the Americans on the question of Finland.
Molotov gave Standley to understand that he has little faith in the possibility of concluding a separate peace with Finland now on terms acceptable to us. However, in view of the interest displayed by the American government in this matter, he was ready to formulate for their information our minimum conditions for a separate peace. Here they are:
(1) The Finns break with the Germans immediately and German troops are withdrawn from Finnish territory.
(2) The reinstatement of the 1940 Soviet–Finnish peace treaty in its entirety, with all the ensuing consequences.
(3) The Finnish army should be demobilized and placed on a peace footing.
(4) Compensation for the damage (half, at least) caused to the Soviet Union as a result of Finland’s attack on the USSR.
Molotov noted that, considering the violation of the 1940 peace treaty by Finland and her attack on the USSR, we actually have the right to demand more, such as complete disarmament or 100% reparations. The USSR does not wish to take vengeance on Finland, however, and would be satisfied with the aforesaid.
Churchill listened to me with interest but little emotion. He said right away (once again) that he is not counting on the possibility of peace with Finland at the present time: Finland is not ‘ripe’ for that yet.
As for our conditions, Churchill had no objection to the first three points. It even seemed to me that he was surprised at how modest our territorial claims were. But Churchill did not like the fourth point at all. He said Finland was a poor country and would not be able to pay anything, that the experience with reparations in the last war was unsuccessful, and that in general it was pointless to raise such a question at this stage in the war.
I replied that I failed to understand Churchill’s attitude. Does he really think that the aggressor need not pay for the damage he has caused? We think he must. This is a matter of principle. We have adhered to it and will do so in the future. Next, why does Churchill think that Finland is not in a position to pay us for the damage she has inflicted on us? We don’t mean Finnish marks, of course, we mean payment in kind – with timber, paper, etc. Besides, we do not demand compensation in full, only half. This would seem magnanimous and realistic.
‘Well, if it’s payment in kind,’ Churchill reacted, ‘then that’s better.’
But it was evident nonetheless that he hadn’t fully accepted the fourth point.


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‘Germany is another matter,’ Churchill continued. ‘When it comes to settling scores, I’ll be all in favour of removing factories and plants from Germany in order to restore your industry, which the Germans destroyed. But Finland… Finland is different.’
The Cabinet, which met shortly after the meeting, found the Russian terms ‘not unreasonable’; TNA CAB 65/37/14.
When we had exhausted the Finnish question, I asked Churchill why the March convoy has been delayed. The ships were loaded five days ago but still no progress.
Churchill suddenly frowned and became gloomy.
‘There are some complications with the convoy,’ said the prime minister.
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’ I asked, anticipating bad news.
‘I can’t tell you anything today,’ Churchill answered sullenly. ‘I’ll inform you of the final decision tomorrow. I’m waiting for a reply from Roosevelt.’
I made another attempt to find out what the matter was, but Churchill was unbending.
Well, I’ll have to wait till tomorrow. But I don’t like this one bit. I fear things will go badly with the convoys.
30 March
Alas, my fears have materialized, and in an even worse form than I had expected.
This evening Cadogan invited me to the Foreign Office and handed me a copy of Churchill’s message to Stalin, which was sent to Moscow in the morning. It notifies Stalin that in view of the concentration of large surface ships in Narvik (the Tirpitz, Scharnhorst, Lutzow and others) the British government deems it impossible to send the next convoy to the north; that in view of the forthcoming operations in the Mediterranean it will not be able to send any convoys to Arkhangelsk and Murmansk from May onwards; and that the convoys may be resumed no earlier than in September, provided the disposition of German naval forces and the state of the sea war in the Atlantic permit this.
That the suspension was dictated not merely by the threat posed by the big ships, but more likely by British shipping and supply requirements for the operations in Tunisia and Sicily, is attested by Admiral Pound’s disclosure to Churchill, during the Cabinet meeting of the previous evening, that the ‘latest information was that the statement … in the draft telegram to Premier Stalin, as to the German naval concentration at Narvik, was no longer accurate. It was known that most of these ships had left Narvik Fjord’ and that it would take a couple of days to establish their new location; TNA CAB 65/37/14.
By way of consolation, the message promises to increase deliveries to the USSR through Vladivostok and the Persian Gulf, claiming that in August the traffic capacity of the Iranian route will increase to 240,000 tons a month. Of course, all this is sweetened with kind words and sorrowful exclamations, but what’s the use of them? The main point is that we shan’t be getting arms and raw materials from Britain and the USA for six months at least! For Vladivostok and Iran can’t compensate us for the loss of the northern convoys.


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Very bad. This will be a heavy blow to our people in Moscow. Especially at such a critical moment – on the eve of Germany’s spring offensive.
[To soothe Maisky, Churchill had resorted to rhetoric in a personal message he sent him shortly after the Cabinet meeting had sanctioned the suspension of the convoys:
My dear Ambassador
I am very much obliged to you for sending me your new film ‘Stalingrad’, and I shall be glad if you would convey my most cordial thanks to Marshal Stalin.
I have just seen the film and I must tell you that I think it is a worthy portrayal of the great feat of arms of the Red Army. I hope that it will be shown widely in this country so that all may have a chance of paying tribute once again to the immortal defenders of Stalingrad.
Yrs. Sincerely
Winston S. Churchill
Churchill papers, CHAR 20/93A/12.
At Maisky’s instigation, the Soviet government chose this moment to decorate members of the Royal Navy and Merchant Navy for valour and courage shown in sailing the Arctic convoys in appalling conditions. Maisky used the occasion on which Admiral Pound and other dignitaries were present to state that it was not only ‘an expression of gratitude for past services’ but also ‘an encouragement to the services of the future’. The Soviet people were expecting that ‘in the military campaigns of this year the Western Allies will pull their full weight in the common struggle against our common enemy’.
TNA FO 371 36989 N2497/408/38, 23 April 1943.
]
31 March
I went to see Churchill again today.
First, I had to deliver Stalin’s message, which arrived yesterday. Secondly, I thought it necessary to have a serious talk with him about the convoys.
Churchill met me looking gloomy and beetle-browed. He probably thought I was bringing with me Stalin’s reply to yesterday’s message concerning the convoys and was expecting something unpleasant. I handed him the envelope. He slowly pulled out the sheet of paper, slowly put on his glasses and slowly began to read. Suddenly the PM’s face brightened up. No wonder! Stalin was congratulating Churchill on the successes in Tunisia, expressing his hope that the British mechanized troops would give the retreating enemy vigorous chase, allowing him no respite.
Churchill jumped up from his chair, walked around the long table at which the Cabinet held its meetings, and walked up to the map hanging on the wall. There he began describing to me with fervour and great expressiveness his strategic plan: in about two weeks’ time the Germans and Italians would be pressed into the north-eastern corner of Tunisia within a radius of 50 miles


Page 1409

from Bizerta, showered with bombs from the air and cut off from the sea by the British fleet.
‘It’s not enough to drive the enemy out of Tunisia,’ Churchill exclaimed. ‘The enemy must be annihilated! This must be our Stalingrad!’
I listened to him and thought: ‘We shall see. How many times have Churchill’s sweeping declarations been frustrated by reality!’
Churchill then returned to his place and continued to read the message, where Stalin informed him that the previous evening he had watched the film Desert Victory, which Churchill had sent him. Stalin liked the film very much. And that wasn’t all. Stalin wrote that the film superbly portrays how Britain fights while at the same time exposing those ‘rascals (there are some in our country too) who claim that Britain does not fight at all but remains on the side-lines’. In conclusion, Stalin informed Churchill that Desert Victory would be widely shown to the Red Army at the front and to the masses at home.
I carefully observed Churchill’s expression. When he got to the phrase about ‘rascals’, something strange happened to him. The prime minister’s face was convulsed by a spasm, he shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them I could see tears. Churchill was so excited that he couldn’t remain in his seat. He jumped up from his chair again, walked to the fireplace and exclaimed with feeling: ‘The deepest thanks to Stalin!… You have never brought me such a wonderful message before.’
Was all this genuine? Or was it an act? There was a bit of both, it seems to me, in Churchill’s behaviour. The phrase about ‘rascals’ must have touched the prime minister deeply. He must have perceived in it longed-for recognition of his war efforts of these past three years. And from whose lips?… From Stalin’s! This could and must have moved Churchill deeply and brought tears to his eyes. The prime minister has an emotional-artistic temperament. Sudden bursts of feeling overwhelm him like inspiration overwhelms a poet. At such moments, Churchill somewhat loses control of himself and is capable of giving promises which later, when he is in a more normal and sober mood, he fails to fulfil. But Churchill is also an actor. During his years in opposition he memorized his speeches to parliament in front of a mirror. That is why at certain moments Churchill, like a good actor, gives vent to his emotional temperament and does not prevent genuine tears from watering his eyes.
Having regained control of himself, Churchill lavished praise on Stalingrad, which I had sent to him a few days ago on Stalin’s instructions.
I took the opportunity to tell him: ‘Please ask your censors not to cut out the grim spots from Stalingrad. There are some. It is important that your public should see such things.’
‘But of course!’ Churchill responded promptly. ‘Let them see it! Let them know what the Nazis are like!’


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And thus the inviolability of Stalingrad was secured.
The first topic on the agenda was exhausted. I moved on to the second.
I spoke about Churchill’s message of 30 March and said that it had left me simply astounded. After all, what does it mean? That there will definitely be no convoys until September. And I doubt that the convoys will be resumed even then, for there are too many tricky and elastic ‘ifs’ concerning their resumption. It would seem that the convoys are effectively being suspended until darkness sets in once more, i.e. November–December. This means that for the next eight or nine months we shouldn’t count on receiving remotely sufficient supplies. We can’t accept this situation at all.
‘And what effect,’ I continued, ‘will it have on the mood of the Red Army and among the population at large?… Put yourself in their shoes. This is the third summer that they are waiting for a second front from their Western Allies. Will there be a second front now or won’t there?… You know better than I do. My personal impression is that nothing definite can be said – maybe there will, maybe there won’t. And that is the best that can be said today about the opening of a second front… So, summer will come, the Germans will start their offensive and we shall once again have to survive difficult weeks and months, and what’s more – without a second front and without supplies! What will the mood of our people be? Don’t you see that they will start exclaiming with indignation: Where are our allies? And do you call these allies?… Who will profit from such feelings?’
The more I spoke, the more excited Churchill was becoming. Eventually he could no longer restrain himself. ‘Yes, I know,’ he exclaimed, ‘that this is a heavy blow for you… It’s terrible! I fear that the cessation of convoys will have a serious impact on our relations…’
Tears once again appeared in his eyes. He stood up and began pacing the room in agitation.
‘But what could I do?’… Churchill continued with great emotion. ‘I had no alternative!… Please understand, I have no right to jeopardize the entire course of the war, not even for the sake of your supplies!… I can’t do it! I can’t!… It seems strange, but our entire naval supremacy is based on the availability of a handful of first-class combat units. Your people may not understand this, but your government must!’
Churchill made another round of the room and added: ‘I considered it my duty to tell Stalin the whole truth. You mustn’t deceive an ally. Stalin should know the real situation. One should face even the most unpleasant news with courage. And Stalin is a man of courage.’
It was clear that the thought of the inevitable suspension of the convoys had engulfed Churchill entirely. I know from experience that he cannot be budged at such moments. It is useless and even harmful to try. So I began thinking about some practical alternatives which I might suggest to Churchill in order


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to mitigate the consequences of the suspension of the convoys. But before I had uttered a word, Churchill came up very close to me and, looking straight into my eyes, asked hurriedly: ‘Tell me honestly, what do you personally think about this situation?… Will it mean a split with Stalin or won’t it?’
‘I don’t deem it possible to speak for Stalin,’ I replied. ‘He will speak for himself. I know one thing for sure, though: your decision will arouse very strong feelings in Stalin.’
Churchill moved away from me a little. His disappointment was obvious. He sighed, walked round the table once again, and said quickly: ‘Anything but a split! I don’t want a split. I don’t! I want to work with Stalin, and I feel that I can work with him!… If I’m destined to live longer, I can be very useful to you… In settling your relations with America. That is very important. It is exceptionally important. Whatever happens we, the three great powers – the USSR, the USA and Great Britain – should maintain our friendship and work together after the war. Otherwise the world will perish.
Then, as if recalling something amusing, Churchill added more calmly: ‘In America they took offence at my failure to mention China as the fourth member of a possible combination when I was speaking about the post-war future in my recent radio broadcast (21 March). Hm!… How could I do it?… I like and respect the Chinese people. They are wonderful people. Just read what Pearl Buck writes about them… I wish China well. But all the same, is it possible to compare China with the USA, Britain or Russia?… No comparison is possible! To make one would be an insult to our intelligence. It’s good they have Jiang Jieshi there now. He keeps a grip on things. Just imagine Jiang Jieshi disappearing tomorrow, dying, leaving the stage – what would happen then? Sheer chaos!… No, I’m too old to lie just for the sake of cheap applause from the gallery!’
Churchill fell silent for a moment and paused. With a sudden grimace, he nodded at the message he had just received from me and exclaimed bitterly: ‘What a shame that my message about the cessation of convoys should overlap with the message you brought me from Stalin today!… But what could I do?’
I took advantage of the pause following these words to make two practical proposals:
(1) To redirect the March convoy, already loaded but not sent to the north, to the Persian Gulf.
(2) To set up a special committee chaired by Eden as soon as he returns (he will be back in a few days) which would devise ways to compensate us for the suspension of the northern convoys.
Churchill eagerly accepted both proposals. He made only one alteration: there was no need to wait for Eden to come back; the committee I mentioned


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can start working tomorrow with Lyttelton in the chair, and I can take part in it together with my experts.
With this we parted.
2 April
Yesterday Lyttelton’s committee was convened, with myself, Kharlamov and Morozovsky in attendance. I raised the matter of ‘compensation’ and asked the committee to seek corresponding measures. Leathers, Cadogan and other members of the committee took part in the debate. They outlined various paths towards the solution of the problem.
Today I handed Churchill Stalin’s reply to his message concerning the cessation of convoys (of 30 March). Considering the general situation, I had imagined that Stalin’s reply might not be especially sharp, but it turned out to be far milder than I had expected. Stalin acted most wisely: he expressed neither indignation nor irritation. He merely noted the decision by Roosevelt and Churchill to suspend the convoys and pointed out that such a decision could not but affect the position of Soviet troops in the forthcoming summer campaign.
Churchill was staggered by this. He had been very gloomy and tense when I arrived. I could feel that he was expecting a sharp, abusive response. He put on his glasses and slowly, reluctantly unfolded the message, as if trying to postpone the moment when he would have to swallow the bitter pill. And then this!
He could not remain seated. He leapt out of his armchair in a state of extreme excitement and started rapidly pacing the room.
‘Tell Stalin,’ Churchill finally said, continuing to pace out the distance around the Cabinet table, ‘that this is a magnanimous and courageous reply. He has simply crushed me with his response.
Churchill, replacing Eden at the Foreign Office during his trip to the United States, cabled the ambassador in Moscow: ‘Let me know what you think of Joe’s reply about the convoy business. My own feeling is that they took it like men.’ To which Kerr responded: ‘I have been prepared for a very tart reply and was surprised by Joe’s moderation. I share your feeling, but it should be remembered that he believes in your good faith’; TNA FO 954/3 Cosu 43/73 & 78.
Such a reply makes me feel doubly obliged to do absolutely all that is humanly possible to compensate him. I’ll be working like a horse! And I’ll find some solutions.’
Churchill made two more tours of the table, then spoke again: ‘With this response, Stalin has shown once again how great and wise a man he is… I want to work with him without fail! When the war ends I’ll spare no effort to help Russia heal its wounds as quickly as possible… We shall also help the world get to its feet as quickly as possible… Stalin is a man of great size, Roosevelt is also a man of great size… Yes, the three of us can achieve much!’
4 April (Bovingdon)
We haven’t been to Bovingdon for three weeks. I caught a cold in the middle of March and spent two weeks in a strange condition: neither sick nor well.


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My temperature was normal, but there was something wrong with my voice and nose, especially my nose. I didn’t want any complications – at such a time I can’t permit myself the luxury of being unwell and out of action for long – so I stayed at home. My health only began to improve last week, and now here we are in Bovingdon again.
There is a lull on our front. We’ve lost Kharkov, but have held the Donets and Kursk. The season of bad roads is upon us. Military actions on both sides have practically ceased, but preparations for the spring and summer are in full swing. The atmosphere is very tense. What does the future hold in store?
The keynote of British press reports from Moscow today (especially the one by Alexander Werth in the Sunday Times): we expect a fresh German offensive in spring on a major scale in the Orel–Belgorod area, i.e. against Moscow and the central front in general. Werth writes that Moscow is apprehensive of developments in the coming months. It is thought that this summer might be as grim as the last one. Who knows? Time will tell.
I’ll try myself to make sense of the future. First of all, what should any possible conjectures and predictions be based on? The following:
(1) The total mobilization being carried out by Hitler in Germany at the moment basically covers his losses in the USSR last winter – in quantity, but not quality.
(2) If so, then by mid-summer Hitler will probably have the same number of troops as he had in the summer of 1942, but of poorer quality and with somewhat lower morale.
(3) As the front line in the USSR has shortened considerably during the winter (from 2,300 to 1,200 miles, excluding the front north of Leningrad), Hitler will have strategic reserves of about 100 divisions (my calculation: 232 divisions occupy the 2,300-mile front line, meaning roughly one division every 10 miles).
(4) A serious second front in the west is not to be expected in spring or summer, but some operations will be undertaken in the Mediterranean. A serious air offensive against Germany will be undertaken as well. Hitler, however, does not know about the small likelihood of a serious second front and so he has to guess.
What conclusions can be drawn from these premises? Here they are:
(1) The above-mentioned 100 divisions represent Hitler’s last reserves. That is why he has to deploy them very carefully. In other words, he can use them either
(a) to bring the war to a definitive end, that is, to crush the USSR completely, or
(b) to gain positions which, even though they would not bring the war to an end immediately, would offer him a good chance of doing so in the more


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distant future. This, at any rate, is how any sensible commander-in-chief would reason.
(2) I doubt that after nearly two years’ experience of war with the USSR Hitler (and especially his generals) could be counting on the final defeat of the USSR with the help of his 100 divisions.
(3) As concerns point (b), only the Caucasus and Baku could represent critically important targets, providing Hitler with oil and wide-ranging possibilities in the Middle East, India and Africa. The stubbornness with which Hitler is clinging on to the Taman peninsula evidently indicates that he entertains such thoughts. However, in the opinion of all the military specialists I have spoken to, an isolated operation in the direction of the Northern Caucasus through Rostov and Taman is strategically unthinkable because our entire army would be concentrated on its left flank and communications on such a narrow section of the front would mean that only a relatively small number of forces could be supported (about 30 divisions at most). If the aim is to advance to the Caucasus, it is necessary to return to the Volga first and establish a rather broad and defensible front there. But it seems unlikely that the Germans would head back to the Volga after Stalingrad.
(4) So, if points (a) and (b) seem to fall away, what can be expected? A number of military specialists believe that the Germans will try to stabilize their front in the USSR roughly along its current line, deploying 120–150 divisions, and either (a) remain on the defensive everywhere this year, leaving the Allies to bang their heads against the walls of the ‘European fortress’ or (b) mount an easier and more promising offensive in another direction, say, in the direction of Spain, Italy or Turkey.
(5) Quite weighty arguments can be adduced in favour of the first hypothesis. The Germans must understand now that they are unable to win the war by military means alone. The best they can hope for is a more or less advantageous compromise peace. The precondition for such a peace is a split in our coalition, or at least disagreements. In the event of a split hopes could be pinned on a separate peace (which would be ideal from the German point of view). Disagreements would raise hopes for a general compromise peace (which would be worse from the German point of view but still acceptable). But time is needed for the process of disintegration to develop within any coalition. That is why it would seem advantageous for Hitler to spend the year 1943 on the defensive, keeping his 100 reserve divisions as an important card in future peace negotiations.
(6) Solid arguments can likewise be advanced in favour of the second supposition. After two years of losses, failures, indecisive battles, etc. on the eastern front, Germany badly needs some brilliant and rapid victories to lift her spirits. The ebbing morale of Italy also needs to be boosted, which can be done


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only by achieving large successes in the Mediterranean. Hitler’s encroachment into North Africa (through Spain) would present him with broad opportunities for new conquests, new sources of raw materials and manpower, and new naval and air bases for the sea war with the Allies.
(7) Yet there are a number of serious counterarguments to the arguments raised in points (5) and (6). First, according to German military doctrine, attack is the best form of defence. The German army has been brought up in that spirit. That is why it is difficult to imagine Hitler remaining solely on the defensive everywhere in 1943. Secondly, Hitler has committed himself too much in the east to retreat from there (unless he is forced to retreat, but such a situation has not yet occurred). Thirdly, Hitler must be expecting a summer offensive from us. This excludes the possibility of the eastern front being stabilized. If that is the case, he will prefer to attack himself. Fourthly and lastly, Hitler, unconvinced by the likelihood of an effective second front being opened against him this summer, may think that one more German offensive in the USSR in the absence of a second front in the west will prove the best means of splitting, or at least weakening, the hostile coalition.
So what do we have in the final analysis?
I think Hitler will launch an offensive in summer, most probably in the USSR. Where exactly? It’s difficult to say. Maybe on the central front, as they now suppose in Moscow. Since there is little hope for an effective second front in the west, we must obviously seek to forestall Hitler’s offensive by launching a counteroffensive. I see no other solution.
9 April
An unexpected summons from Churchill. What was behind it? The convoys? Or the message from Comrade Stalin that I had forwarded to him this morning? Or some other matter?
My frantic guesswork failed to hit on the real reason for the invitation.
When I entered the prime minister’s office, I immediately noticed that Churchill was in a foul mood. We shook hands in silence. Then Churchill snapped and exclaimed in fury: ‘Here, see what your correspondents write! You could have left this dirty work to Goebbels!’
Saying this, he thrust into my hand a sheet of paper containing some twenty typewritten lines.
Somewhat taken aback by this welcome, I swiftly ran my eye over the text. It was an excerpt from a BBC report. It conveyed the content of a telegram from the TASS correspondent in Algeria. The author of the telegram, reporting the Eighth Army’s seizure of a large quantity of war material, added in passing


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that these include many outdated tanks and guns (including 1917 Škoda guns) which the Germans dare not use on the Soviet front.
‘Well, what do you make of it?’ Churchill fumed. ‘Here’s Stalin sending me wonderful messages (the PM nodded at the message on the table which I had forwarded to him this morning) and attributing the very greatest significance to our victories in Tunisia, and now the TASS correspondent in Algeria wants to sully all this with dirt!’
I was about to answer Churchill, but he beat me to it, exclaiming with a new rush of anger: ‘Bracken is here in my residence. He is just waiting for the word to bring an end to this disgrace, to deprive the TASS correspondents of all their facilities! Both in Algeria, and in London…’
‘But why in London?’ I barely managed to ask.
‘What do you mean, why?’ responded Churchill abruptly. ‘The TASS office in London copied and sent this telegram.’
Sensing that Churchill, in his fury, might start breaking things any moment, I hastened to interrupt him and calm him down.
‘First of all,’ I began, ‘permit me to ask you not to draw any hasty conclusions. We need to find out what this is all about. I, for one, know nothing about it. Give me time to get to the bottom of it and then we will see what we should do. For now, I can say just one thing: I seriously doubt that the London TASS office was involved in this affair.’
My calm tone evidently had an effect on Churchill. He began to cool off and revert to a more normal state of mind.
‘All right,’ he replied, ‘make your investigations. But make sure you inform Moscow of the incident. I am so delighted with Stalin’s recent messages. I feel as if he were my brother-in-arms. And I don’t want some TASS correspondent to poison the atmosphere between us and obstruct friendly cooperation between myself and Stalin!’
Then, having fully composed himself, Churchill concluded: ‘I don’t know whether what the TASS correspondent says is true or not. But even if it is true, you’d better inform your government by cipher. What’s the point of shouting about it to the entire world?’
Once Churchill had finished with the Algerian correspondent, I asked him what news there was on the matter of the convoys.
‘I’ve been working like a horse every day,’ Churchill answered, ‘and seem to have come up with something…’
‘May I know what exactly?’ I inquired.
Churchill suddenly made a terribly cunning face, similar to the one he had made when telling me of his visit to Cyprus, and said: ‘No, I won’t tell you now! I want to inform Stalin about it myself!’


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But I could tell from various hints dropped by Churchill that it concerned the transfer to the USSR by air of those American and British fighters which had got stuck in England.
I asked when the ten British ships from the postponed March convoy would be sent to the Persian Gulf.
Churchill answered that it made no sense to send them around Africa on the eve of the capture of Tunisia. It would be better to wait another 2–3 weeks and send the ships through the Mediterranean. The cargoes of those ten ships would need to be reloaded onto other, faster ships.
‘You must understand, however,’ Churchill said, ‘that the convoy sailing to the Persian Gulf should carry only the most valuable cargo, such as tanks, planes, explosives, critical military raw materials, the cargoes sent by my wife, the cargoes sent by your wife… For the carrying capacity of the Persian route is still modest. But I’ll do it and inform Stalin about everything in a few days.’
We shall see what will come of Churchill’s promises. I am not very optimistic.
‘By the way,’ Churchill added, ‘my experts assert that the main transit difficulties through Persia lie in your zone of occupation: the railway, the ports, the shipping facilities in the Caspian Sea… Could you provide me with the relevant information?’
I said I would ask Moscow.
In conclusion, I acquainted Churchill with the upshot of Comrade Molotov’s talks with the Turkish ambassador in the USSR. It is very meagre. The Turks proposed publishing a joint communiqué confirming the existence of cordial relations between the USSR and Turkey over the past 25 years and presently. Comrade Molotov rejected this proposal, arguing that it would serve merely to devalue the Soviet–Turkish agreements currently regulating relations between the two countries. The Turks agreed with Comrade Molotov but had nothing else to offer. Comrade Molotov finally stated that the Turks were evidently not yet ready to take a real step towards improving relations between the two countries. Therefore, the Soviet government would rather wait until the Turks come up with some fresh proposals. So far, then, nothing has come of the attempt, initiated by Churchill, to bolster Soviet–Turkish friendship – and the fault is not ours.
Churchill listened to me with great interest and then replied that he considered our position to be absolutely correct, while the Turks had not moved far enough towards the Allies.
‘Just wait a little,’ Churchill added. ‘As soon as we finish with Tunisia and give the Turks some of the arms we promised, I’ll put pressure on them. I’ll demand that they interpret their neutrality in the “American sense”… Do you


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remember how the Americans conducted themselves even before they entered the war? The Turks should let us use their bases and airfields for air attacks on Rumania and the Dodecanese. Or allow us to ship munitions and raw materials to you through their territory or through the Straits. Roosevelt has promised me his assistance in exerting pressure on Turkey. I hope Stalin won’t refuse me either.’
‘You’ll have to ask Stalin yourself,’ I remarked.
‘Of course, of course!’ Churchill assured me. ‘And then I’ll give the Turks a choice: their aid to the Allies, their place at the victors’ table, and guarantees of Turkey’s inviolability or, if they refuse to help us, the status of “neutral” after the war and no guarantees of Turkey’s inviolability. We shall see what Turkey chooses.’
Back home I asked Teplov
Leonid Fedorovich Teplov, recruited to NKID in 1941; first secretary at the Soviet embassy in London, 1943–44.
(first secretary) to make the necessary inquiries and headed off to give a speech at the Bombardment Training Station, some 90 miles from London. When I returned home late in the evening the picture was clear. The London TASS office did not, of course, send the telegram which so enraged Churchill. Rather, the TASS correspondent in Algeria sent it directly to Moscow. Moscow radio broadcast it on 8 April at 9.30 p.m. The Algerian correspondent’s report was long, unbiased and unobjectionable. The ill-fated phrase came at the very end of his communication. But, after all, the whole report must have been cleared by the Algerian military censor!
I reported the incident to Moscow.
11 April (Bovingdon)
All quiet on our front. Local battles on the Donets and the steady, but slow ousting of the Germans from the Novorossiisk area and the Taman peninsula. The sooner this latter operation is completed the better! I worry about the Kuban. What’s more, the atmosphere is tense. One can feel that both sides are hastily preparing for the spring. Who will overtake whom? Who will be the first to launch an offensive?… Time will tell.
Matters seem to be reaching a conclusion in Tunisia. Yesterday the British captured Sfax. The Anglo-American–French troops are approaching Kairouan and Bizerta. Tunis is not far off. It’s time! High time! Tunisia has been a great disappointment. Its capture was supposed to be a matter of some 2–3 weeks, but the fighting has dragged on for five months! So much valuable time has been lost! And as a result so many strategic opportunities have been missed! Even though the end there is near, I look ahead without any great enthusiasm. I


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don’t see any prospect of a real second front in 1943, not at any rate this spring or summer, when it will be most needed.
On 1 April, Maisky wrote to Kollontay: ‘Unfortunately, I am not very optimistic about the contribution of our Allies this coming summer’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.111 ll.35–6.
[Maisky’s well-informed ‘guess’ was right. As he was making his way back to London from Bovingdon, the chiefs of staff were impressing on an ostensibly surprised Churchill that the transfer to North Africa of landing craft (indispensable for executing Operation Husky and exploiting its success for an operation in Italy) excluded the possibility of launching a cross-channel attack in 1943. ‘We must recognize,’ Churchill conceded to his senior advisers, ‘that no important Cross-Channel enterprise is possible this year.’ Although he continued to sanction the build-up of troops in Britain for a 1944 operation, he remained aloof and made its execution conditional on the existence of circumstances which might allow ‘taking advantage of any collapse on the part of the enemy’. He specifically noted that he wished Stalin not to be informed of the decision.
Quoted in Gilbert, Road to Victory, pp. 382–4. See also A. Danchev and D. Todman (eds), Alanbrooke: War diaries (London, 2002), p. 393.
]
18 April (Bovingdon)
Wonderful weather: warm, bright sun, blue skies streaked with light, fleecy clouds. At night, everything is bathed in soft moonlight. Just like summer.
And together with this summer weather, which set in last week, summer thoughts creep into my mind… not the summer thoughts once so familiar in those distant times of peace, but the summer thoughts that have become an integral part of our psychological processes since the beginning of the war.
The picture of what we can really count on from Britain and the USA this year becomes ever more clear:
(1) a serious and intensifying air offensive against Germany and Italy,
(2) offensive operations in Sicily, Sardinia, southern Italy, and a bit later in the Dodecanese and the Balkans.
This is realistic. In addition, a few possibilities:
(3) air bombardment of Rumania and its oil fields, provided Churchill succeeds in fulfilling his plans vis-à-vis Turkey.
(4) offensive operations across the Channel, in France, towards the end of the year.
All this, of course, is not the second front we need, but still, what effect will the above-named developments have in the east?
The following, as it seems to me:
(1) Germany’s position in the air on the Soviet front will be considerably weakened.
(2) Italy will quit the scene as Germany’s auxiliary force in the east.
(3) The supplies to the German armies in the USSR will be reduced due to the destruction of Essen, Pilsen and other centres of military production.


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(4) The morale of the German population will decline somewhat as a result of defeats in Africa and, even more so, as a result of the Anglo-American air offensive.
All this, of course, is better than nothing. But can it prevent a German offensive in the USSR this spring?
I don’t think so, unless the Red Army forestalls the German offensive by attacking first.
20 April
Moscow displayed great interest in Eden’s reports about his conversations in America. They asked me to convey to Eden the gratitude of the Soviet government for his information, and I was asked to prepare a detailed record of the talks. Our people are also prepared to discuss matters relating to air communications after the war and have declared that they will participate in the international organization of these communications.
21 April
Two days ago Churchill asked Stalin (for information has come in that the Germans are planning to use gas on the Soviet front): should he not repeat the warning concerning possible gas reprisals by Britain against Germany which he first gave last May?
Stalin replied favourably and added that we, too, have information about German intentions to use gas in battles this spring and summer.
Iris called Churchill’s secretary this morning and asked her to arrange a meeting for me with the prime minister, as I had an important message for him. Churchill’s secretary said in reply that the prime minister would like me to proceed immediately to parliament, where the Cabinet was in session.
I entered the prime minister’s office in the House of Commons at about twelve o’clock. The secretary asked me to wait a minute and went into the next room, from where I could hear muffled conversation, to report my arrival.
Suddenly the door was flung open and Churchill rushed out – looking a bit dishevelled, agitated and impatient.
The secretaries went out, leaving Churchill and me alone. The PM asked tersely: ‘You have Stalin’s reply about the gas?’
‘Yes,’ I answered and gave him the envelope.
‘I knew it,’ the prime minister said cheerfully.


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Then he rummaged frantically in his pockets for his glasses. They weren’t there: he had left them in the conference room. So I said: ‘Allow me to read the message.’
‘Please do,’ Churchill replied, giving me the sheet of paper he had just removed from the envelope.
I read the message from beginning to end. Churchill listened attentively. Then he exclaimed: ‘I shall do it without fail!’
‘When?’ I asked. ‘Time is short. The ground in the USSR is drying quickly and military operations may begin very soon.’
Churchill replied: ‘I shan’t dither! The Cabinet is meeting and I’ll raise the matter immediately.’
‘May I count on the fact that you will publish the warning tomorrow? This would be good.’
‘Agreed!’ Churchill paused, before adding: ‘Last year I gave the warning in my radio broadcast… This time I’ll publish it on behalf of the British government, from 10, Downing Street. It will be strongly worded.’
‘Permit me to request one thing,’ I began, and reminded the prime minister that in last year’s warning he had threatened the Germans with reprisals in the event of ‘the unprovoked use of gas’ in the east. The word ‘unprovoked’ made a


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very bad impression in Moscow at the time. It was as if Churchill was admitting the possibility of the Soviet government’s initiative in the use of gas. I expressed my hope that Churchill would omit the word ‘unprovoked’ in his warning this time.
‘All right,’ Churchill replied. ‘I’ll bear your suggestion in mind.’
He paused for a moment and said, shaking my hand: ‘Well, we are a great deal closer to each other today than a year ago.’
[The partition of Poland in 1939 had ended with a large number of Polish prisoners of war being interned by the Russians. Most of the prisoners were released in the wake of the Soviet–Polish agreement brokered by Maisky and Sikorsky in July 1941. Close to 20,000 officers, however, remained unaccounted for. Stalin went a long way, as the diary shows, to conceal the cold-blooded massacre of those officers, condoned by the Politburo in March 1940. No historian has come up with a conclusive and convincing explanation for the motives behind the massacre. The Germans, who had stumbled across the graves during their campaign, made full use of the affair to sow discord among the Allies. On 12 April, they publicized their report, inviting the Poles to investigate the findings jointly with the Red Cross. The Katyn affair became a serious source of embarrassment for Stalin. Had the truth about the fate of the prisoners been unearthed, it could have jeopardized the delicate fabric of the precarious alliance, just as the purges had crippled Soviet diplomacy and undermined negotiations with the West in 1939. Stalin therefore reacted violently to any accusations and conducted an aggressive cover-up operation, which even included a misleading post-mortem of the bodies dug from the grave, once the Katyn area was liberated by the Red Army.
Natalia Lebedeva was the first brave voice in Russia to expose the massacre. Her exemplary work culminated in the teamwork of A. Cienciala, N. Lebedeva and Wojciech Materski (eds), Katyn: A crime without punishment (New Haven, 2008). On the impact which a revelation might have had on the alliance, see G. Sanford, ‘The Katyn Massacre and Polish–Soviet relations, 1941–1943’, Journal of Contemporary History, 41/1 (2006), and his


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book Katyn and the Soviet Massacre of 1940: Truth, justice and memory (London, 2005). See also Roberts, Stalin’s Wars, pp. 172–3.
]
23 April
Stalin’s message arrived before lunch. It concerns Poland. Stalin informed Churchill that in view of the entirely abnormal relations between the USSR and Poland, an abnormality caused by the conduct of the Polish government, and in particular by its stance in connection with the recent German provocation (the ‘discovery’ of the bodies of 10,000 Polish officers near Smolensk), the Soviet government has been compelled to ‘break off’ relations with Sikorski’s government. The message further expressed the conviction that an agreement on this matter exists between Sikorski’s and Hitler’s governments: the campaign about the ‘discovery’ of the bodies began concurrently in the German and Polish press. Stalin expressed his hope that the British government would understand the inevitability of such a move, which was imposed on the Soviet government by the political line pursued by Sikorski’s government. Stalin sent a similar message to Roosevelt.
Stalin’s behaviour throughout the crisis was chillingly cynical, as becomes obvious from his correspondence with Churchill on the subject. The Soviet cover-up of the 1940 massacres persisted unabated until, in 1990, Gorbachev handed General Jaruzelski a list of the Polish officers murdered by the NKVD at Katyn. Beria’s proposal that the interned Polish officers who were defined as unreformed enemies of the Soviet Union should be executed without trial was approved by the Politburo on 5 March 1940.
Today is ‘Good Friday’, and it immediately occurred to me that the prime minister was probably out of town. I called his secretary myself. I was quite


Page 1423

right: yesterday evening Churchill went to spend Easter at his small country estate, Chartwell (30 miles south of London). I had to choose: either to go to Chartwell myself or to forward the message via the prime minister’s secretariat. Considering the importance of the matter, I chose the first. The secretary called Churchill and told me the prime minister would expect me for dinner in Chartwell and would send a car for me.
I left the embassy at around 7 p.m. and by 8 p.m. I was already there. Although the car was from the PM’s garage and an army driver was at the wheel, we were stopped at the entrance to the estate by military guards. Several fully armed young soldiers shouted ‘Halt!’, manifesting great zeal and even pointing their bayonets at us. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. Later Churchill said with a chuckle: ‘I don’t need them (the soldiers), but the War Office insists…’
He waved his hand, as if to say: ‘Let them amuse themselves. I couldn’t care less.’
The main building at Churchill’s country estate, where he lived in the years before the war and where I visited him more than once, was closed. Only a small wing close to the main building remained inhabited. Churchill had built it himself (he is a mason, after all!) on the site of the old stables. I remember Churchill proudly showing me his creation (in 1938, if I am not mistaken).


Page 1424

Then it served him as his study and studio for painting (for Churchill is also an artist!). Now it houses Churchill’s main apartment, where he stays when he occasionally visits his estate.
I was met by one of Churchill’s secretaries, who immediately offered me a glass of sherry.
‘The prime minister is changing,’ the secretary said. ‘He will be back soon.’
I couldn’t help wondering: ‘Has the process of “normalization” really reached the point of Churchill wearing black tie for dinner?’
I asked the secretary whether there was anyone else at home besides the prime minister. The secretary said that Mrs Churchill was at the seaside and the daughters in London. However, Bracken had come to spend the weekend with the prime minister.
‘The minister of information is taking a bath,’ smiled the secretary. ‘He too will be down soon.’
As if in confirmation of this, I heard the sound of water draining from a bathtub somewhere close behind the wall.
‘And here is the prime minister!’ the secretary suddenly exclaimed, rising from his seat and walking towards the door.
In walked Churchill. My fears proved mistaken! The prime minister was wearing his habitual siren suit. He greeted me heartily with a firm handshake.
The secretary left and I presented Churchill with Stalin’s message. He began reading it, and the further he read the darker his face became. Bracken entered the room just when Churchill had finished reading… The minister of information was in a dinner-jacket! What the devil!
Churchill passed the message to Bracken without a murmur and then, turning to me, asked: ‘What does it mean: breaking off relations?’
I replied that it meant the breaking off of relations de facto, without any public statements and without any official documents being handed to the Polish government. Those, at least, were the instructions we had received here in London. For now. As for the future, I had no idea. Much would depend on the conduct of the Polish government.
‘It is necessary at any rate to take steps to prevent the decision taken by the Soviet government being publicized,’ Churchill continued. ‘Publicity would be most unfortunate. Only the Germans would stand to gain by it.’
I said that as far as I could gather from our correspondence, the Soviet government does not currently intend to publish anything concerning the severance of relations. Churchill calmed down a little and asked Bracken to see to it that nothing of the kind should appear in the British press.
Then Churchill said: ‘I can’t believe Sikorski was in cahoots with Hitler. It’s impossible. Accusing Sikorski of having concluded an agreement with Hitler merely means that Moscow is very angry with the Poles.’


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‘But how then,’ I objected, ‘do you explain the touching coincidence in the course followed by the Polish government and Hitler?’
‘It’s very simple,’ Churchill replied. ‘The Poles are poor politicians in general, and now they’re in exile they’ve lost their heads completely. The Germans set a trap and the Poles fell into it.’
Bracken hastened to back up Churchill.
‘This conflict must be resolved at all costs,’ Churchill spoke again. ‘Whose interests does it serve? Only the Germans’. The disintegration of our coalition is precisely what they’re after – disagreements among the Allies, a split… So our task is clear.’
At that moment the butler entered the room and announced that dinner was served. We dined in a small room at a small table. There were five of us (Churchill, Bracken, myself, the secretary and the housekeeper) and I can’t say there was much space around the table. The menu was almost spartan: milk soup (edible!), a piece of fried salmon and a bit of asparagus from Churchill’s ‘own plots’. Afterwards we drank coffee and smoked. Churchill, of course, sucked at his habitual cigar.
During dinner the secretary reported to Churchill that his order had been carried out, and the content of the message had been conveyed to Eden by telephone.
‘Eden is very upset!’ the secretary added.
When dinner was over, the housekeeper and secretary left. The three of us remained, Churchill, Bracken and I. We resumed our conversation about the message.
Churchill said he had just finished writing his message to Stalin today – on the same Polish question! Had I not come, he would have sent it tonight. Now, in the light of Stalin’s message, Churchill deemed it necessary to amend his own, or perhaps to write a new one. The prime minister rang his secretary and asked him to bring the text of the unsent document. He gave it to me, saying half-jokingly: ‘There you are, if you wish read it. But then forget all about it, for this message no longer exists.’
I laughed, took the message from Churchill and quickly ran my eyes over it. Churchill informed Stalin that the worsening of Polish–Soviet relations which had recently been observed was a great worry to the British government; that a series of measures undertaken by the Soviet government (the closure of the Polish aid organization in the USSR, the declaration that all Poles who find themselves in the USSR are Soviet citizens, the refusal to let out the families of Polish soldiers evacuated from the USSR, etc.) causes great distress among Polish units in the Middle East; that while Polish émigrés in Britain and the USA did undoubtedly conduct themselves in a provocative manner, it would be desirable in the interests of the unity of the Allied front to improve Polish–


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Soviet relations, to which end it would be good to allow the families of the Polish soldiers stationed in the Middle East, as well as the 40,000 Poles fit for military service who are still in the USSR, to leave the Soviet Union.
‘A good thing you haven’t sent this document,’ I remarked, summing up my impression of Churchill’s message. ‘It would have met with ill-feeling in Moscow.’
‘Why?’ Churchill asked.
‘Simply because the thread running throughout the message is that it is the Soviet side which is most to blame for the deterioration of Polish–Soviet relations. Meanwhile, reality suggests the exact opposite.’
I explained to Churchill in detail why Polish–Soviet relations have worsened recently. I listed a number of facts: the espionage activities of the aid organization, the anti-Soviet propaganda of the Polish press in Britain, the official decision of the Polish government to claim the 1939 borders, and so on.
‘By the way,’ I continued, addressing Bracken in particular, ‘you bear special responsibility for what has happened. Why did you allow the Polish press to behave so outrageously all this time? Last year I drew Eden’s attention to these outrages more than once, but to no avail.’
Bracken began to defend himself, arguing that the law does not give him the right to close down newspapers on the grounds of their political content.
‘But you supply them with paper!’ I parried. ‘Cannot paper be an excellent instrument for influencing the Polish press?’
Bracken started describing to me in detail how paper is distributed and how the censorship system functions, suggesting that the Ministry of Information can do nothing about the disgraceful behaviour of the Polish press.
‘How come?’ Churchill interrupted Bracken. ‘Does this mean that the Poles can spread anti-Soviet propaganda from our territory and poison our relations with our ally, and we are powerless to stop them? No, it’s not on! We must find means to call them to order.’
The prime minister’s intervention confused Bracken. He began to give ground and argue that some measures against the outrageous Polish press had been taken, but it was no easy task. Bracken suggested a ‘radical’ solution of the problem: to give all the paper allocated to the Poles to the Polish government and let them distribute it between the various organs. The responsibility for the conduct of the press would then rest with the Polish government.
‘What if this system does not help either?’ I asked. ‘What then?’
Bracken spread his arms and replied: ‘Then it will be for Eden to decide. If Eden recognizes that a certain Polish organ is harmful to the strengthening of relations between the Allies, then we shall close it down.’
So, it is possible to close down a newspaper after all!


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I then touched upon the Polish government’s conduct in connection with Goebbels’ latest provocation and noted that it has exceeded all bounds. The Soviet government is aware of the significance of maintaining unity among the Allies no less than the British government. In view of this, the Soviet government has been demonstrating exceptional patience for more than a year with respect to the Polish government and Polish émigrés. But there is a limit to everything. This limit has been reached, and the Soviet government has been forced to react sharply.
Churchill asked Bracken to tell him the particulars of the recent affair. When Bracken mentioned the Polish–German plan of ‘investigating’ the circumstances of the crime through the Red Cross, the prime minister exclaimed in irritation: ‘What nonsense! What kind of investigation can there be under German occupation?’
Then, with a cunning smile, Churchill added: ‘Let the Germans first withdraw their troops from that region and then we shall carry out an investigation!… Only I doubt that Hitler would show the necessary altruism!’
I said that the entire plan of ‘investigating’ should be ‘killed’ at the outset. Yet the British government and the British press keep silent, creating the impression that while they may not necessarily favour the project, they at least have nothing against it.
‘Bracken!’ uttered Churchill. ‘This whole idiotic venture must be “killed” at once. Take the necessary measures.’
Bracken promised to fulfil the prime minister’s instruction as a matter of urgency.
Churchill continued: ‘Nonetheless, the conflict between you and the Poles is an utterly unpleasant affair. It should be resolved as soon as possible. If you were to agree to let the families of Polish soldiers and the 40,000 Poles fit for military service leave the USSR, peace could be restored. We, on our side, would take measures to pacify the Poles and make them change their behaviour… What the hell do you need those Polish women and children for? They are just a burden to you. Meanwhile, the Polish soldiers in the Middle East are on the verge of mutiny because of them. There are 80,000 of them there and they are well armed now. We could use them with profit in the forthcoming offensive on Europe. But what do we have instead? General Anders, their commander, told Sikorski recently: “Relieve me of my command, please, and let me command a regiment. It would be better. I’ve had as much as I can take.” That’s no good at all. I asked Sikorski to go himself to the Middle East and exert his influence on the troops. But I don’t know what will come of it…’
Then Churchill, with occasional interruptions and interventions from Bracken, began telling me that Sikorski now finds himself in a critical position.


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The ‘extremists’ are waging a vehement campaign against him, accusing him of weakness and servility to the Bolsheviks. It’s not clear whether Sikorski will manage to hold on. If not, who will come to power? Those very ‘extremists’ will take charge of the government. This has led Churchill to the conclusion that the present Polish government should be treated with care.
Bracken, in his turn, gave a vivid description of the ‘American danger’: Roosevelt’s position is very delicate: there are many Poles in the United States, they represent a substantial electorate, and Catholics, of whom there are 33 million in the United States, may easily choose to support them. The election is at hand. Roosevelt cannot ignore the mood of the Catholics in general and of the Poles in particular. All this may tie the president’s hands and lead to the deterioration of relations between the USA and the USSR. Bracken’s conclusion was as follows: the Soviet government should let the Polish families plus the 40,000 Poles fit for military service leave the USSR, and everything will settle down. Meanwhile, the British government’s propaganda machine will exploit this fact to the full here and in America in the interests of the USSR and of all the Allies.
Churchill seconded Bracken and added that he had talked with Anders in Egypt on his way home from Moscow last year. Anders asked him, among other things, to exert his influence on Moscow on the question of the Polish families.
‘At the time,’ Churchill went on, ‘I told Anders that I was in no position to do so. I had no victories. All I had were failures. Only once I won a major victory would I be able to address Stalin on this matter.’
I objected, saying that the Poles themselves were to blame for what had happened to their families, and I briefly outlined the current situation. In general, the Poles follow an absurd, simply suicidal, line. There are two facts which nobody can change under any circumstances, namely: (1) the Poles are our neighbours and (2) the Poles number 20 million, while we number nearly 200 million. Proceeding from these circumstances, it would seem only reasonable for the Poles to strive to maintain good relations with the USSR. This would be quite possible, and even straightforward, should the Poles pursue a sensible policy, as we mean no harm to the Polish people, we want to maintain friendly relations with them, and we are in favour of a strong and independent Poland – within its ethnographic borders. We have never concealed this. I said this directly to Sikorski and Zaleski when we opened negotiations on a mutual aid pact in 1941. But what do we see in reality? In reality we see on the part of the Polish government only malevolence, slander, anti-Soviet intrigues and outrageous aspirations. And the result? The result was contained in the message from Comrade Stalin which I had brought with me.


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‘And I should say frankly,’ I continued, ‘that the British government bears its share of responsibility for the said result. Its tolerance of Polish outrages encouraged all sorts of Polish “extremists”, who have thrown aside all restraint.’
Churchill objected, saying that the Poles have many good qualities, that they are very brave, staunch, etc.
I replied that nobody was questioning the Poles’ bravery and valour, but, regrettably, they have not a grain of statesmanlike wisdom.
‘Take, by way of contrast, the Czechs,’ I continued. ‘Our former relations with the Czechs have left a bad legacy… You surely know this.’
‘Oh, yes, I am quite aware of it,’ Churchill laughed.
‘Nonetheless,’ I concluded, ‘We have very good relations with the Czechs today. Why? Because the Czechs don’t get above themselves and know how to pursue a wise policy. They took a friendly line towards us several years before the war began, and they have shown how to behave during the war. They formed their army in the USSR, went to the front, fought bravely at Kharkov, and won the hearts of our people. A number of Czech soldiers were awarded Soviet medals, and one Czech was made a Hero of the Soviet Union. As a result, we are forgetting the past and Soviet–Czech friendship is growing and strengthening… This is what I call wise policy. And the Poles?’
Churchill kept silent and sucked slowly at his cigar. From time to time he took a sip of whisky and soda from the glass placed in front of him. Finally, he said: ‘This Polish issue needs our full attention… In the next few days. I’ll talk with Eden. And I’ll send another message to Stalin. I’ll need to think it over.’
I stayed with Churchill until almost midnight. We spoke a lot, discussing many issues. Quite a number of matters were raised besides Poland. Too many to remember. I shall note a few moments of particular interest.
Churchill stressed that of course he does not believe the German lies about the murder of 10,000 Polish officers… But is this so? At one point during our conversation, Churchill dropped the following remark: ‘Even if the German statements were to prove true, my attitude towards you would not change. You are a brave people, Stalin is a great warrior, and at the moment I approach everything primarily as a soldier who is interested in defeating the common enemy as quickly as possible.’
At a different point in the conversation, Churchill told me that a couple of days earlier he had been informed by Sikorski of several thousand Polish officers ‘missing’ in the USSR. Sikorski asked Stalin about their fate in December 1941, but ‘did not receive a clear answer’.
On a third occasion, Churchill suddenly started expounding the thought that ‘everything can happen in war’ and that lower-rank commanders acting on their own initiative are sometimes capable of ‘doing terrible things’.
Churchill may have had a soft spot for Sikorski, but less so for the Polish government in exile. Earlier in the month, he had expressed in private his impatience with the Poles in language similar to that used by Maisky: ‘We see all those elements of instability which have led to the ruin of Poland through so many centuries in spite of the individual qualities and virtues of the Poles.’ When he met Sikorski to discuss the allegations, Churchill conceded that ‘the German revelations are probably true. The Bolsheviks can be very cruel’; Dilks (ed.), Cadogan Diaries, pp. 520–1; see also Gilbert, Road to Victory, p. 376. But his uppermost interest was to suppress the horrific story rather than forgo his alliance with Stalin. Particularly at the moment that he had suspended the Arctic convoys and postponed indefinitely the second front. ‘Grim things happen in war,’ he simply told Maisky. ‘This affair of the missing Polish Officers was indeed grim. But if they were dead they could not be resurrected to life. It was the case of the living Poles in Russia that required attention’; TNA FO 954/19 Pol/43/12, 23 April 1943. Churchill held to the same view during the Tehran summit meeting, at the end of the year, telling Stalin that ‘nothing was more important than the security of the Russian Western frontier’. As Anita Prazmowska has shown convincingly, during 1943 the Polish government ‘had become increasingly irrelevant in British and United States politics, in spite of its increased military contribution to the war’; Britain and Poland, 1939–1943: The betrayed ally (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 191–2.


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I criticized Churchill firmly for his half-suspicions. He hastened to assure me that he harboured no suspicions whatsoever. But the impression remained that Churchill had some ‘mental reservations’ concerning our innocence in the murder of the Polish officers.
Churchill recalled his meeting with Stalin with great pleasure. He said, among other things, that he had put the following question to Stalin: ‘Tell me, what has been more difficult for you – this war or the collectivization of the peasants?’
Stalin, according to Churchill, said that collectivization was more difficult because he had to deal with tens of millions of stubborn people who failed to understand or see the advantages of the new system. Taking a somewhat philosophical tone, Churchill added: ‘Collectivization cost you the lives of several hundred thousand people, possibly even millions, in one generation. But the next generations will derive great benefit from it without any further losses. We would not have acted like you did. We attach too much value to each individual life. We would probably have tried to stretch out the process for many years, in order to avoid such a concentration of losses in a short space of time. Consequently our next generations would also have had to pay a ‘blood tax’ for the restructuring of the system. Which method is better? I don’t know. It could even be that yours is better. But I am quite sure that it can’t be applied in our country.’
Churchill is highly impressed not only by Stalin’s military prowess, but also by his military rank. There is even a degree of envy. Churchill told me today: ‘I no longer call Stalin premier, I call him marshal! Of course, he is marshal and commander-in-chief!’
Then, turning to Bracken, he added with a laugh: ‘Maybe I should be marshal, too?’
Bracken encouraged Churchill, but the latter retorted: ‘No, I can’t be marshal… We have no such title. Captain general, perhaps?’
Churchill burst into laughter again, but I could see that the idea of having a high military rank holds him in thrall. Then, addressing me in a more serious tone, he remarked: ‘Basically, I am commander-in-chief here. Naturally enough, I can’t always carry out what I want, but I can always prevent that which I don’t want.’
Churchill asked me: ‘How to explain the very poor performance of your army in the Finnish war? Göring even advanced a whole theory about this: that you did it on purpose to mislead Germany…’
‘What nonsense!’ I rejoined. ‘To believe Göring, we deliberately provoked Germany to attack us, to devastate the Ukraine, Belorussia, the Caucasus… Who could believe such a thing?’


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‘I certainly don’t,’ Churchill said. ‘Yet I fail to understand why your superb army performed so badly during the Finnish campaign. Why?’
‘First,’ I argued, ‘we experienced failure only in the first half of the Finnish war. The Red Army fought very well in the second half and had big successes. It is enough to recall the breach of the Mannerheim Line. Second, why did things go rather badly for us in the first half of the war? The answer is simple. We had underestimated the enemy and had not prepared properly for the war. We had to rectify this mistake as we fought.’
Churchill concluded: ‘Your explanation sounds convincing… Yet I must say that the Finnish campaign did you more harm than good. It created the impression in Germany and elsewhere, particularly among military experts, that the Red Army was weak. Had this not been so, Germany would probably not have risked attacking you…’
I asked Churchill: ‘You were a member of the government during the last war and had dealings with the tsarist government. Now you are head of the government during this war and have dealings with the Soviet government. Tell me, do you perceive any difference between the two governments and if so, what is it?’
Churchill replied: ‘Of course I do. The main thing is that the Soviet government is immeasurably stronger than the tsarist government was.’
He added: ‘But what exists for me above all is Russia… Russia… Its people, its fields, its forests, its culture, music, dances… They never change… I deal with Russia, I wage war with Russia, and I want to build the future with Russia…’
And yet in his attitude to communism, Churchill is implacable. At one point he uttered: ‘I don’t want communism! It goes against our nature, our history, our view of life… If anyone came here wishing to establish communism in our country, I would fight him just as ferociously as I’m fighting the Nazis now!’
Churchill’s voice resounded like a trumpet and his eyes burned with a hostile, angry flame.
It was past one in the morning when I returned home.
One last thing. During our talk, Churchill exclaimed: ‘I hate Hitler and I want to destroy him! Not politically, but physically! Not in the gallows, nor against the wall – those are all forms of death that may help create legends around Hitler’s name. After all, so many truly great people ended their lives in this way in the past and were later poeticized by posterity… No, I want Hitler to die in the electric chair like a criminal. Such a death cannot be poeticized! You can’t build legends from a death like that!’
25 April


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Our people know how to express themselves! Not very diplomatically perhaps, if they are to be judged by the standards of old diplomacy, but colourfully and robustly. ‘The devil and his grandmother’ (from Stalin’s message to Churchill about Darlan) made a powerful impression on governmental and political circles in England. Here is another example.
In early April, Kerr informed Molotov by letter that the Rumanians were spreading rumours in one neutral country suggesting that Germany would soon be compelled to sue for peace with the USSR, conceding Eastern Europe and the Balkans to her as ‘spheres of influence’. Comrade Molotov recently responded, also by letter, thanking the British ambassador for his communication and adding that nobody had yet approached us with an offer of peace and that if anyone (the Rumanians, the Japanese, etc.) so much as ‘poked their noses in’ with such a proposal on behalf of the Germans, we would ‘send them to the devil’.
27 April
Yesterday I was summoned urgently from Bovingdon, where Agniya and I were spending Easter.
A new message from Stalin had arrived, which I was to deliver promptly to Churchill. It turned out that, after I had left, Churchill sent Stalin a new message on 24 April concerning the Polish question, in which he asked him not to aggravate the situation, adducing the ‘American menace’ as his cardinal argument. But his message contained nothing more specific than that.
Stalin replied that the matter of the ‘severance’ of ties with the Polish government had already been settled and that Molotov had presented Romer
Tadeusz Romer, Polish ambassador to the Soviet Union, 1942–43; minister of foreign affairs, 1943–44.
(the Polish ambassador in Moscow) with a note in this vein on 25 April. Moreover: our note to Romer would be published in the Moscow evening press on 26 April.
So, the situation becomes more serious. Our objective, as it seems to me, is to explode Sikorski’s government and clear the way for the creation of a more democratic and friendly Polish government by the time or at the time when the Red Army enters Polish territory. This course is correct: over the last year and a half I have reached the conclusion that the London émigrés, including Sikorski’s government, are quite hopeless. However, pursuing this line will bring us up against certain difficulties – from the British side and even more so from the side of the USA. Well, we shall have to overcome them. Perhaps some sort of acceptable compromise will emerge along the way. Time will tell.


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I draw the following conclusion from our note: on the eve of the military events of the forthcoming summer campaign, the Soviet government feels very confident and deems this an appropriate moment to inform Britain and the USA through its actions: ‘When it comes to Eastern Europe, we are the masters!’
This is pleasing.
28 April
Masaryk told me the following story.
Berlin. 1950. A stranger enters a large pub and takes a seat at a table where a German is drinking beer. The stranger also buys a jug of beer. After a while they strike up a conversation. The stranger asks: ‘You don’t happen to know what became of that strange, loud man, do you? The one with the little moustache?’
‘With the little moustache?’ the German repeats. ‘Ah, perhaps you mean Hitler?’
‘Yes, Hitler, Hitler,’ nods the stranger.
‘But of course I know!’ the German replies. ‘He’s taken up his true occupation again: he’s a decorator in Australia.’
The stranger takes two gulps of beer and asks another question: ‘And do you know what happened to that big, fat chap?… The one who liked to cover himself with badges and medals whenever he went anywhere?’
‘Who? Perhaps you mean Göring?’ guesses the German.
‘That’s right, Göring! Now I remember!’ replies the stranger.
‘Göring?’ repeats the German. ‘Oh, Göring’s doing all right for himself: he’s a pilot for a private airline in South America.’
After another two gulps of beer, the stranger asks again: ‘And what about that small, darkish, ugly one with the squeaky voice and the lame leg, where did he end up?’
‘Squeaky voice and a lame leg?’ asks the German, scratching his head. ‘Oh, you mean Goebbels?’
‘But of course, Goebbels! How could I forget?’
‘Goebbels is just fine,’ the German says. ‘He edits a newspaper in West Africa.’
For a minute or two neither of them says anything. Eventually, the German addresses the stranger with a question: ‘And why are you so interested in all this? Who would you be?’
‘Me? I’m Lord Hess,’ replies the stranger in perfect German, but with a slight English accent.
29 April


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The Polish events are developing apace.
After delivering Stalin’s message of 26 April to Churchill, I decided to take a ‘wait-and-see’ stance. In Polish–British circles, however, there was a flurry of activity. A series of meetings was held between Churchill and Eden on the one side and Sikorski and Raczyński on the other. The main issue concerned how the Polish government should respond to Molotov’s note of 25 April. The Poles were on their high horses and the English were holding them back. The draft of the Polish communiqué was returned to the Polish government twice for revision. It was said that Churchill had given the Poles an earful for their behaviour. I don’t know how true that is. One way or another, the long-awaited and repeatedly re-drafted Polish communiqué finally appeared in the evening of the 28th. Rothstein
Andrew Rothstein, an active founding member of the British Communist Party and a close associate of Maisky; a correspondent for TASS in London, he became president of the Foreign Press Association, 1943–50.
read the text to me over the phone. It was worse than might have been expected.
At around eleven o’clock in the evening I received an unexpected call from Eden.
‘Your Soviet War News is a good newspaper,’ he said, ‘but why does it attack Sikorski and his government so fiercely? “Hitler’s agents”… “The fascists’ helpers”… Are such expressions admissible? Whatever your attitude to Sikorski, you should remember that we, the British government, recognize the Polish government and treat it as an Allied government. The Cabinet has just resolved to take measures against the excesses of the Polish press, but if the SWN continues its attacks on the Polish government, I’m afraid it will be impossible to prevent the Polish press from retaliating. What good can all these rows do? We need to establish a calm atmosphere as soon as possible. It would make it easier to solve the problems at hand… I would be very grateful to you if you could give instructions to the SWN to show more restraint and civility.’
I asked Eden which specific SWN issues or articles he was referring to. It turned out that he was speaking about reprints of articles on the Polish question from Pravda and Izvestiya. Playing for time, I told Eden that I had not yet seen that particular issue and must first acquaint myself with it before returning to the matter he had raised. As a preliminary step, though, I said that the severity of Pravda and Izvestiya pale in comparison with the unbridled licence of the Polish press with respect to the USSR. If the British government has tolerated this unruliness for over a year, why is Eden now so worked up about some editorial in a Moscow paper?
When this part of the discussion was over, Eden asked: ‘Have you read the Polish communiqué that has just been released?… The PM and I really sweated over it!’


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‘No, I haven’t read it, but I heard it over the phone,’ I replied.
‘And what was your impression?’
‘Negative,’ I snapped back.
‘Negative?’ Eden cried in disappointment. ‘But why?’
‘I would prefer not to comment until I have read the communiqué myself,’ I replied.
And that was the end of our telephone conversation.
This morning I got an urgent call from Eden to come over and see him. It was our first meeting since I had visited Churchill in Chartwell. Eden did not keep me posted during the Polish–British talks of 27 and 28 April; I learned bits and pieces from other sources. Now Eden had evidently decided to carry out his duty ‘as an ally’ and inform me officially.
First, Eden acquainted me with Churchill’s three messages to Stalin on the Polish question (25 and 25 April). Then he told me that in accordance with the prime minister’s wishes, he had met Sikorski on the 24th and obtained a number of large concessions from him – concessions which made it possible to avoid a severance of relations. Churchill informed Stalin of these developments immediately by telegraph, but…
‘Unfortunately, the prime minister’s message arrived too late. Ties had already been severed. In Moscow Kerr went to see Molotov and tried to prevent the break-off, but he also met with failure.’
Eden looked genuinely distressed.
‘In recent weeks,’ he continued, ‘everything had been going so well. Our relations with you were better than ever before. The prime minister was very satisfied. And all of a sudden such a blow!… I fear that this ill-starred Polish question may complicate relations between our countries. For my part, I’ll do all I can for this not to happen, of course, but who knows?… I’d like to ask you, for your part, to help me keep Anglo-Soviet relations on the same friendly course as before.’
I replied that Eden should have no doubts about my help, but that I did not think my assistance was at all necessary. Entirely reasonable people are sitting there in Moscow and they, for their part, will do all they can to localize the complication that had arisen. I’m not so sure the same can be said of England. Eden’s active assistance would be very useful here.
Eden assured me once more that he would do his bit.
I then moved on to the matter of the SWN. I said I had familiarized myself with the issue number which Eden had complained to me about yesterday and confessed that I had found nothing particularly vicious there.
‘Just compare it with what is written in the Polish press!’
‘But that was all in the past!’ Eden reacted. ‘Now we are taking steps to bring the Polish press into line. And we shall do so!’


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Then, as if frightened by the categorical nature of his own words, Eden hastened to play safe: ‘Provided, of course, that the Moscow press does not declare Sikorski a traitor day in day out.’
I replied that the Moscow press had the same right to express its opinion as the London press. And as for Eden’s promise to restrain the Polish press, frankly speaking, I had to take it with a grain of salt. Past experience had taught me caution in this respect.
‘No, now everything will be different!’ Eden retorted. ‘Give me some time. Remain calm for a while. And you will see the results.’
I said I would bear this request in mind.
‘By the way,’ Eden continued, ‘that woman writer of yours back home… What’s her name again?’
He rubbed his forehead, but couldn’t remember.
I tried to help him. ‘Wanda Wasilewska, perhaps?’
‘Yes, that’s it,’ he said with relief. ‘Wanda Wasilewska, exactly! A very dangerous woman!’
I laughed and replied: ‘A brilliant writer!’
‘And all the more dangerous for it!’ Eden responded.
I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Just you wait. Wasilewska’s novel The Rainbow is to be published in English translation soon. I’ll send you a copy.’
‘Very good,’ Eden replied. ‘In the meantime, let us arrange a truce in the press regarding the Polish issue.’
I said once more that I’d take his wish into consideration.
Then I referred to the communiqué. I said I had managed to read it and form a clear impression of this document. My opinion had not changed. I wouldn’t start discussing the main points of communiqué. I just wanted to ask Eden one question: ‘The “integrity of the Polish Republic” is underlined several times in the communiqué. Translated into plain language, this means the borders of 1939. Yesterday evening you told me that you and the prime minister had sweated over the communiqué. That seems to imply that you and Churchill are its co-authors. Should I deduce from this that the British government has recognized the 1939 Polish borders? It is important for me to know this before I advise my government on how it should interpret the meaning and significance of the communiqué.’
Eden was almost dumbfounded. Evidently it hadn’t occurred to him that the events of the last two days might give rise to such an interpretation.
‘Nothing of the kind!’ Eden exclaimed with uncharacteristic fervour. ‘The British government’s stance on the matter of the Polish borders has not changed one bit. Everything remains as it was. It’s wrong to name the prime minister and me as co-authors of the communiqué. Wrong! We told Sikorski bluntly: “This is your, Polish, communiqué! We are not responsible for it!” The prime


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minister and I made a few improvements to the initial Polish draft. That’s all. Do you know what was in it? Just Smolensk graves and nothing else. The prime minister told Sikorski: “Stop thinking about the dead. You can’t help them anyway! Think about the living, about what you can do for them!” The Poles yielded to our pressure. What has been published is the best that could have been achieved. But neither the prime minister nor I are co-authors.’
I let Eden finish and then said: ‘Your distinction between what represents co-authorship and what doesn’t is so subtle as to lie beyond my comprehension. But that is not the main point now. The main point is this: what can I tell my government about the British position regarding the Polish borders?’
‘Tell your government,’ Eden answered heatedly, ‘that the British government, as before, does not in any way guarantee the Polish borders of 1939!’
30 April
Today, at five in the morning, Beatrice Webb died!
She had been unwell for the past ten days, lay unconscious for several days, and finally left this world.
What a bitter loss! Beatrice Webb was over 85, of course, but what of that?… She was her usual self just a few weeks ago when we visited Liphook – lively, talkative, deeply interested in all that surrounded her. She paid particular attention to the USSR, and to all the developments on the ‘Russian front’.
What a sad blow! I had just been planning to visit the Webbs, to see them and talk to them…
So, Beatrice was the first to go of the glorious ‘four’. Such a surprise. I did not think she would be the first.
[‘We both had a feeling for her,’ Maisky wrote to H.G. Wells, ‘which it is very difficult to describe, but which contained the elements of admiration, sympathy and warm friendship in the highest degree.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1141 l.73, 5 May 1943.
]
30 April
I received an unexpected summons from Churchill today at about 5 p.m. He asked me to come immediately. On my way there I speculated as to why the prime minister needed me so urgently, and, after racking my brains and recalling his invitation on 9 April, I decided that the matter in question must be the Soviet War News.
I was not mistaken. But first Churchill declared that he wanted to inform me of a passage to be added to his message to Stalin of 28 April and to be sent to Moscow post factum following a special decision of the Cabinet. In this passage Churchill expressed his regret at Comrade Stalin’s hasty actions in terminating


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ties with the Polish government, so hasty that Churchill was unable even to complete his ‘conciliatory’ efforts. Having read the passage, Churchill added: ‘The Cabinet finds that I leaned too far in your direction and wishes to restore the balance with this addition.’
I couldn’t restrain a snigger.
However, all this was a mere prelude. The main drama followed immediately afterwards. Today’s issue of the SWN lay on Churchill’s table. It carried Wanda Wasilewska’s latest article published in Izvestiya (abridged and toned down). Poking his finger at the article and becoming increasingly heated as he spoke, Churchill roared: ‘I don’t want any more arguments about this matter! It merely poisons the atmosphere! I won’t let the Poles attack you anymore, but I also can’t allow you to attack the Poles – at least not here in London. In fact, it would be better if you were to stop attacking the Poles so much in Moscow as well. We simply have to seek ways of settling this conflict.’
Churchill continued in the same vein for a few more minutes. He became increasingly worked up, he almost started shouting, and his eyes were rolling wildly. The more the prime minister fumed, the calmer I became. When Churchill finally stopped, I said with a faint smile: ‘Mr Churchill, in the first place, it is best not to get so excited. What is the point? We’re better off speaking calmly and amicably. I’m sure we shall come to an understanding quicker that way. Secondly, you are indignant about Wanda Wasilewska’s claim that Sikorski’s government does not represent the Polish people. But is this really untrue? Whom does the Polish government in London actually represent?’
Churchill gestured vaguely with his hand and remarked: ‘You know, if we were to start applying this criterion to all governments-in-exile, who knows where we’d end up… Just try defining who represents whom.’
‘But you wouldn’t claim,’ I went on, ‘that Sikorski’s government was formed according to the letter of the British constitution, would you?’
The link between Sikorski and the British constitution amused Churchill so much that he laughed out loud and added more amiably: ‘Be warned: if you try to attack Sikorski in the Soviet War News again, I’ll publish an article in his defence in the Britansky Soyuznik.’
I replied: ‘Thirdly, Mr Churchill, if you object to the publication of articles directed against Sikorski in our organ, I shall take your wishes into consideration. But on one condition: that the Polish press in London radically changes its behaviour. From now on I shall be watching it closely and acting accordingly.’
‘No, no!’ said Churchill. ‘Rest assured: I shan’t let the Poles behave outrageously! If you notice anything untoward in the Polish press, tell Eden or Cadogan.’


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Saying this, Churchill nodded in the direction of Cadogan, who was sitting beside him (Eden was off on his ‘weekend’!).
Assuming that the matter was settled, I rose to say goodbye. At that moment Cadogan bent forward to Churchill and whispered something in his ear.
‘Yes, and by the way,’ the prime minister began again, ‘it seems that you are intending to set up a parallel Polish government in Moscow?… Bear in mind that we, the British government, will support Sikorski as before. And the Americans, as far as I know, will do the same.’
Churchill was getting worked up once again and raising his voice. Once again, I answered calmly: ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear! Germans spread false rumours, Poles pick them up, and good-natured Englishmen believe them. It’s all complete nonsense. We don’t intend to set up any kind of parallel government in Moscow.’
‘Really?’ Churchill and Cadogan exclaimed, as if they could not believe their ears. They both cheered up immediately.
‘Yes, really!’ I reassured them. ‘I can say this with absolute certainty.’
Just a few hours before my meeting with Churchill I had received a message to that effect from Moscow, asking me to refute the rumours spread by the Germans.
‘However,’ I continued, ‘we shall not be restoring ties with the present Polish government.’
Churchill’s and Cadogan’s spirits sank at once.
‘But why not?’ asked Churchill.
‘How do you mean, why not?’ I answered in surprise. ‘Has not Sikorski’s government revealed its true face through its behaviour? It is hostile, or at best semi-hostile, to the USSR. We could restore ties only with a Polish government that found ways of establishing cordial relations with us.’
Cadogan intervened and immediately sought to address the question from a practical point of view.
‘Tell me, is the present Polish government unacceptable to you in its entirety? Or do you make exceptions? Sikorski, for instance?’
I replied that the composition of the Polish government was a matter for the Poles. I would not care to interfere. As for Sikorski personally, he appears to me to be a man who understands the importance of good relations with the USSR, but unfortunately he is too weak.
‘Wait a month or two and you’ll see changes!’ exclaimed Churchill.
On parting, he remarked with admiration: ‘Stalin is a wise man!’
Shaking my hand, he added: ‘Now I’ll leave for the weekend in a calmer state of mind.’


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The weekend! Oh, that sacred British institution!
[Although convinced that a massacre had taken place, the British had been (as rightly established by the historian P.M.H. Bell) ‘consciously engaged in deception, or in later jargon, a “cover-up”’.
Bell, John Bull and the Bear, pp. 116–22.
Great care was taken not to damage Anglo-Russian relations. The Poles were urged to withdraw their demand for an inquiry, and the Ministry of Information was instructed to ensure that the British press ‘did not canvass the Russo-Polish quarrel’. Although Maisky, too, was asked to exercise restraint, he appeared to be far more fearful of Stalin than of Churchill. The Soviet embassy’s Soviet War News printed foul attacks on the Polish government, depicting the Poles as ‘accomplices of the cannibal Hitler’. This provoked a strong reaction from both Eden and Churchill. The severity of the reproach is missing both from Maisky’s diary and from his reports to Moscow. Cadogan, however, who was present, testifies that Maisky was accused of ‘disseminating poison’. ‘We kicked Maisky all round the room,’ he entered in his diary with manifest delight, ‘and it went v. well.’ Maisky, commented Churchill, ‘took all this quite well – as I am inclined to think Russians do take plain speaking’.
Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 525; Churchill’s report in TNA FO 371 35474 C5136/258/55.
]
1 May
A surprise visit. Inspector Wilkinson of Scotland Yard (the very same inspector who guarded Molotov in London last year) came on behalf of the head of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Philip Game, to offer me special protection in view of the threats to have me killed that, according to reports at Scotland Yard’s disposal, are spreading among circles of ‘irresponsible Poles’.
I took a sceptical view of these reports. But Wilkinson insisted. Eventually I consented to there being more policemen on our street, around the embassy (Sikorski’s HQ, opposite our embassy, does rather concern me), but I rejected the suggestion that I should be constantly escorted by a police car during my travels about town.
Note, 6 May
I informed Moscow of Wilkinson’s visit and my reaction to it. I received instructions from Moscow to agree to a car escort. I shall have to do so, although I will find it inhibiting. I am not fond of being surrounded by ‘pomp’ (even police ‘pomp’).
2 May
The clock ticks, and the old near their end…
This thought struck me with particular insistence when Agniya and I went to see the Shaws a few days ago. We hadn’t seen them for several months. We


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had heard from the Webbs that the Shaws were having a hard time of it: sick, down in the dumps, lonely. That they had some troubles or other with ration cards, petrol, servants. We’d been meaning to visit the old couple for some time – and now here we were.
Not much fun! Mrs Shaw is bed-bound. Agniya went into her room and spoke with her. Mrs Shaw is in a bad way: she has severe curvature of the spine and was all twisted. She’s become very small and crooked. Complains of losing her memory: reads all the time and can’t remember a word of it. Even forgets the names and faces of friends. She told Agniya that when she was 16 she fell off a horse and injured her spine. Then it passed. Mrs Shaw hurt her back on a few more occasions. While she was still in good health, she barely noticed a thing, but now nature has recalled her old sins and is taking its revenge.
‘I can feel that I’m dying,’ Mrs Shaw was saying. ‘Inch by inch…’
Mrs Shaw is nearly 90, of course, but still…what a shame!
Shaw himself is better. After all, he’s only 87! He looks much as he always has done: tall, slim, with a big grey beard and bushy, unruly white brows. His eyes are alive, restless, expressive. Only his complexion has become somehow paler, and a suspicious bluishness has begun to appear around the eyes, beneath the lids. As if his body were short of blood.
His passion for paradox and wit is intact.
‘I made a discovery recently,’ Shaw exclaimed, with a great sweeping gesture. ‘Stalin is the most important Fabian in history!’
‘How’s that?’ I replied with a laugh.
‘Because Stalin took the socialism that the Fabians merely dreamed and nattered about and turned it into reality.’
I roared with laughter. Shaw hasn’t changed.
Then Shaw launched into a furious diatribe against [Ivan] Pavlov. He’s not fond of our great scholar. It’s probably because Pavlov cut up dogs and rabbits, and Shaw, as we all know, is an anti-vivisectionist! Shaw won’t say this openly, of course, so he tries to smear Pavlov in various roundabout ways. That’s why Shaw started trying to convince me that ‘Pavlov’s so-called discoveries about the conditioned reflex and other such nonsense’ are, first of all, not discoveries, and secondly, had been made long before Pavlov…by Shaw himself!
I roared once more.
Shaw hasn’t stopped writing. At the moment he is busy compiling a ‘Guide’ for today’s politicians and public figures. He’s been working on it for two years now. He complains that the work is moving more slowly than he would like, but at least it is moving. I can just imagine the final result! If I am to believe what Shaw told me about the contents of the ‘Guide’ (although Shaw’s accounts of his own writing are not always to be trusted), it will be a very witty text, dominated by irrepressible paradox. Poor Pavlov gets it in the neck here as well.


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Then Shaw fell to reminiscing. Talked at length about his May Day – in 1889! I read about it all a few days later on the pages of Reynolds News.
How much longer will this couple hold out? I have a bad feeling about it all.
We thought we should visit the Webbs in the next few days.
Beatrice Webb died on 30 April. Maisky is writing two days later about the visit to the Shaws which had taken place a couple of days before her death. It has to be assumed that he is describing the thoughts that went through his head while at the Shaws.
We gave them our word that we would see the Shaws and distract them a little. That promise has been fulfilled. Now we can get together with the Webbs and have a good chat. Yesterday I heard that Mrs Webb is poorly. So we will have to wait a little.
Two couples. Our contemporaries. Comrades in their vision of the world, comrades in the struggle. Friends. Both world-famous. Both of similar age. In both, life’s candle is burning right to the end…
Sad.
Agniya and I have been in England for so long now! When we arrived in 1932, the Shaws and the Webbs were still so vigorous, active, energetic. Every winter the Shaws would undertake some big cruise or other around the globe, during the course of which he would write a new work, while the Webbs were still working hard at their Soviet Communism and travelling to the USSR to gather new impressions and material. The Webbs’ last trip abroad was in the spring of 1936, for a holiday after the publication of their monumental opus about the USSR. On that occasion, they visited the Balearic Islands. I saw them off at the station. They returned on the very eve of the war in Spain. How


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symbolic! It was then that Europe set foot on the ‘path to war’. Never again has the old couple left England.
3 May
Just back from Beatrice Webb’s funeral. A private affair. Only members of her extensive family were present, including Stafford Cripps and his wife. An exception was made only for Agniya and me: our friendship with the deceased was extremely close. The body was cremated in Woking. The crematorium is a quiet, solemn place: a modestly sized, handsome building in an enormous park with old, mighty trees. A service preceded the cremation, but it was very short – about five minutes long. The priest read some parting prayers, said some parting words. Then the coffin vanished in the wall, behind which lies the furnace…
The funeral was attended by more than 60 mostly ageing or even elderly people. Lots of grey hair, lots of wrinkles. After the funeral Beatrice’s sister – the youngest of the nine Potter sisters and the only one still alive – came up to us. A truly ancient woman! And in appearance nothing like majestic, inspired Beatrice.
Sidney Webb was also there. With his well-made black suit and fine black hat he exuded exceptional solemnity. His grey hair and grey beard stood out sharply against his dark attire. I was struck by Sidney’s complexion: bright pink, unusually healthy… Healthy? Perhaps this was some trick of nature? Such things happen. But his eyes! They scared me: wide open, lids swollen, filled with pain. When Sidney saw us, they glistened with tears and became even scarier. Even so, he held himself together and didn’t give in to his emotions. And in fact, according to Barbara Drake (Beatrice’s niece), who was at Passfield Corner throughout Beatrice’s final days, Sidney showed unexpected reserves of resilience, courage and restraint at this difficult time.
Returning home from Woking, Agniya and I experienced profound sadness. Gone forever was a great person, a strong spirit, a heartfelt friend of the USSR, our own close personal friend, the only one, perhaps, of all our English acquaintances that we truly loved.
[Maisky learnt of Litvinov’s recall (which heralded his own) a couple of days before he attended Beatrice Webb’s funeral, visiting the terminally ill Mrs Shaw, as well as H.G. Wells and Lloyd George.
See entry of 27 May 1943.
His meetings with his long-standing close friends betrayed a strong sense – perhaps a mirror image – of his own ageing and fragility, if not of finality. Having emerged from the funeral, Maisky composed and deposited with Agniya his own political will.
See the chapter ‘End of an Era’.
That his testament, which focuses mainly on the fate of his diary, is linked to those events is evident in the concluding words of his long personal tribute to Beatrice Webb in The Times on 3 May: ‘My only consolation is that her testament on


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the friendship between the British and Soviet peoples will become a living and lasting reality in the days to come.’]
6 May
I found the following communication in today’s ‘Monitor’:
GERMANY’S FUTURE The following is taken from a speech given by M.B. Mitin, director of the Marx–Engels–Lenin Institute, on Moscow Radio, 5 May 1943, on the subject ‘Karl Marx in the Struggle against German Reaction’ on the occasion of the 125th anniversary of Marx’s birth. M.B. Mitin noted the need for the German people to endure a period of great tribulation in order, among other objectives, to destroy German militarism once and for all, to incinerate the Nazi mob and all its satellites. ‘This must be done in order for the German people to be given a chance to take their place in the global community of free democratic nations…’
Quite right. Matches my own thoughts. A useful pointer from Moscow.
12 May
The French communist Grenier called by. He arrived in London a few months ago to work with de Gaulle, in his capacity as representative of the Central Committee of the French party. I cannot say that they have made good use of Grenier: he currently serves as an ‘adviser’ in de Gaulle’s Information Ministry, which is headed by the Christian socialist André Philip. Philip and Grenier do not get on, by all accounts, so he has no real job to do.
Grenier spoke a great deal about France’s internal situation. Two conclusions follow from his description: (1) In France, the wave of ‘Jacobin patriotism’ is rising ever higher – Grenier particularly stressed the term ‘Jacobin’; (2) the only organization that currently exists on a ‘national’ scale in France is the Communist Party. It is the CP, without doubt, that is leading the resistance movement against Germany.
Grenier drew a further conclusion from this: post-war France will be a leftist France, and the communists and elements close to them ought to play the leading role in France’s Constituent Assembly of the future.
I asked Grenier what he thought the economic system of post-war France would look like.
Grenier replied that, in all likelihood, the big industries would be nationalized.


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‘Actually nationalized?’ I queried.
Grenier hesitated. Then he said: ‘At the very least, they will be placed under public control. The same goes for the banks.’
‘And the peasantry?’ I went on. ‘Do you foresee any serious changes in this sphere as well? Something along the lines of rudimentary collectivization, the broad application of the cooperative principle?’
Grenier’s face was a picture of horror.
‘What are you saying?’ he cried. ‘The French peasant is incorrigible! He will never give up his private property, that’s for sure. I don’t see any major changes in this sphere.’
How revealing! Especially if one bears in mind that Grenier is a member of the French Central Committee.
* * *
H.G. Wells came for lunch.
Maisky invited Wells for lunch after reading his obituary of Beatrice Webb in the Manchester Guardian, which he thought ‘transcends the small happenings of every-day life’ evoking the ‘admiration, sympathy and warm friendship in the highest degree’ which he himself felt for her; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1141 l.73, Maisky to Wells, 5 May 1943.
There were three of us – me, Agniya and our guest.
Wells has aged terribly. His hands shake, he can barely walk. Just one flight of steps to the first floor and he is completely out of breath. Occasionally you can see in his eyes the sparkle of the author of War of the Worlds and The Time Machine, but for the most part they are clouded by a deathly film. Wells is 76 now and looking at him, I thought: ‘Is it worth living to such an age?’
Nevertheless, Wells is still writing. And still writing well. It’s enough to read his obituary for Beatrice Webb. It touched me deeply, and I wrote to Wells to say so. He was extremely flattered.
A young man’s organism is filled to bursting with vital energy. He has enough of it for everything: writing talented novels, studying foreign languages, playing sports and preserving a radiant complexion. The closer one gets to old age, the more limited are those reserves of vital energy and the more prudently they need to be spent: no more sports, no more foreign languages, no more radiant complexion. Whatever energy remains has to be focused on that one, most important, most essential thing – writing. This is the stage at which Wells currently finds himself. Whatever energy he still has is expended entirely on writing. He is helped, of course, by his immense experience as a writer, by his refined literary technique, by the habits and inertia of a long literary life…
We spoke at length about this and that – chiefly, about humanity’s future after the war. Wells kept emphasizing that modern technology is turning the world into one single system, while the old psychology is breaking it up into dozens of nationally isolated entities. Unless this contradiction is resolved, humanity will perish. Will it be resolved?


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Wells is not entirely confident it will. He said: ‘Either the world will advance through rapid leaps, or it will become a desert. There is no alternative.’
Wells pins his hopes on the USSR, but feels that his soul contains ‘reserves’ of some kind. I am not surprised. The muddle in Wells’ head is quite something. The contradiction he speaks of is real. The very fact that he articulates it indicates the presence of some logical thought. But when it comes to the question of how this contradiction can be resolved, all hell breaks loose in Wells’ mind and he suddenly declares: ‘We must create a “Fifth International”!’
I’m not joking. At the start of our war Wells submitted an article to Soviet War News, in which he tried to prove the necessity of forming a ‘Fifth International’. Poor [S.N.] Rostovsky came to me in a state of complete desperation: what should he do? I advised him to send the article back to the author with a note to the effect that SWN is not a newspaper and it only publishes material received from Moscow.
Wells also said this today: ‘What a giant that Lenin was!’
And then, alluding to his meeting with him in 1920, added: ‘He was right then, and I was wrong!’
Thank you for acknowledging the fact! Just a shame that Wells has needed almost a quarter of a century and a second world war to see the error of his ways. A high price!
Then the subject turned to Stalin and Wells remarked: ‘I like “Uncle Joe” very much… He’s a great man. I’m not even sure who’s greater: Lenin or Stalin. It would be truer to say that each is No. 1 in his own way.’
Well, that’s progress: Wells is acknowledging Stalin’s greatness now, without waiting for 23 years to elapse.
16 May (Bovingdon)
Three weeks since I was last at Bovingdon. A lovely day: heat, sun, blue sky, flowers all around.
I keep thinking about the future. All quiet on our front. It has been like that for almost two months. But this, one feels, is just the calm before the storm. When will the storm erupt? And where? Each new day receives my intense scrutiny. But no clarity as yet.
On 13 May operations ceased in Tunisia. Complete victory: 175,000 men have been captured along with 19 generals (including German Commander-in-Chief von Arnim).
Hans-Jürgen von Arnim, general, replaced Rommel as commander of the Army Group Africa in December 1942.
More than 1,000 weapons seized, as well as 250 tanks and about 500 planes. It is clear that in the final phase of the struggle the Germans simply ‘cracked’. There is no other way of explaining what happened. Hence the


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modest losses on the British side. A good sign. The ‘invincible’ army with its ‘invincible’ morale is beginning to show weakness. First at Stalingrad, now in Tunisia. Churchill’s personal contribution to the liberation of N[orth] Africa from the ‘Axis’ is very great indeed. Were it not for him, nothing would have happened. I can say this with confidence, having observed at close quarters all the ups and downs of Great Britain’s three-year African campaign.
What next?
Soon the British and Americans will strike against S[outhern] Italy and its islands. Will Hitler strike in the east before that happens?
There are currently two theories in play. One states that Hitler will wait it out and refrain from a large offensive in the USSR until the true intentions of the British and Americans have become clear. If these intentions turn out to be sufficiently dangerous from his point of view, he may rule out offensive operations in the east altogether. The other theory states that Hitler will strike in the east any day now and will make one final, definitive attempt to destroy the Red Army or, at any rate, weaken it to such an extent that it will cease to be an active factor in the subsequent course of the war.
Who is right?
For my part, I believe that Hitler will soon strike in the east.
20 May
The ironies of protocol: at this thanksgiving I ended up being placed next to Sikorski. A matter of diplomatic seniority? The Polish ambassador comes after me, and the seating of émigré governments is meant to follow the same principles of seniority as are applied to the corresponding ambassadors in the Court of St James’s. Sikorski greeted both me and Agniya. Raczyński and his wife ‘walked straight past’!
The fact that Sikorski and I sat next to each other has, of course, been noticed by all today’s newspapers.
26 May
The first anniversary of the Anglo-Soviet treaty. Duly celebrated in Moscow and London.
Aside from an exchange of telegrams between Kalinin and the king, and between Molotov and Eden, aside from corresponding articles in both countries’ press, and aside from corresponding statements on the BBC and Radio Moscow, there have been two ceremonial lunches.
In Moscow, Molotov invited the personnel of the British embassy and the British military mission plus Standley and Joseph Davies (the latter just


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happened to be in the USSR at the time). Our side was represented by Molotov, Mikoyan, Litvinov (who had just arrived in Moscow), Vyshinsky, Dekanozov and others. There were speeches. Kerr, incidentally, rose to eloquence, drawing a comparison between the Anglo-Soviet treaty and an infant hero requiring attentive care.
It was all rather different in London. Eden also organized a lunch, but the invitees on the British side were members of the War Cabinet (Eden, Anderson, Lyttelton, Attlee, Bevin; neither Morrison nor Churchill could attend, as the former was busy in parliament and the latter was in Washington), service ministers (Alexander, Grigg, Sinclair), deputy chiefs of staff (the chiefs themselves are in Washington), Cripps and Cadogan. Our side was represented by myself, Sobolev, Zinchenko, Kharlamov, Sklyarov, Borisenko and Dragun. Good food, but no speeches. There were, however, toasts, accompanied by ‘a few words’ – depending on the toast. Eden raised a glass first for the king and Kalinin, then for Stalin. I responded with a toast for Churchill. Then Eden proposed a toast for me, and I proposed one for him. And that was that.
To mark the first anniversary, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Information have commissioned a large painting from Salisbury that depicts the signing of the treaty. The picture is ready and will be dispatched to the USSR any day now. Its artistic quality is not high, but as a historical document it has its uses. It reproduces the office of the minister of foreign affairs. Seated at the table, in a variety of poses, are (from right to left): Sinclair, Cadogan, Attlee, Churchill, Eden, Molotov, me and Sobolev. Behind are two secretaries (the British one is not known to me; ours is Kozyrev).
At today’s lunch my neighbour to my right was Anderson (Eden was to my left). He couldn’t contain his delight about British successes at sea. During the month of May, 25 German submarines have been destroyed, i.e. more than Germany produces during the same period of time. I asked whether the current month was a welcome exception, or whether it represents a turning point in the naval war in the Allies’ favour. Anderson replied that the May successes are no whim of fate, but the result of a complex web of initiatives undertaken by the British government.
‘Yes,’ Anderson declared. ‘In the war at sea, as in the war on land, there has been a turn in the desired direction.’
Next I asked Anderson (who is closely linked to all manner of academic research in matters related to the war) whether the British had any information or even merely indirect evidence that this year the Germans have some new, unprecedented, secret and powerful weapon at their disposal against which no


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antidote has yet been devised and which they can deploy on the Soviet (or some other) front.
Anderson replied that, although such surprises can never be ruled out in theory, in reality the British have not yet received any reports or even indirect hints about German possession of new and secret types of weapons, including gas weapons.
If that is the case, Germany has no way out. It cannot avoid being destroyed. It is just a matter of time.
Eden spoke with great empathy about the dissolution of the Comintern: ‘This is a very wise step, whose effect will be very considerable, especially in America.’
* * *
The British give the following statistics about the deployment of front-line German aircraft at the current time: 1,800 in the USSR, 1,600 in the west, including Norway, 900 in the Mediterranean. The total quantity, therefore, is 4,300.
27 May
Yesterday Agniya and I went to see Lloyd George at Churt.
The old man is becoming more and more decrepit. Age has really caught up with him in the last 5–6 months. This is not the Lloyd George I used to know. How long will he last?…
We drank tea. Chatted. Lloyd George is in an irritable, carping mood. Especially when it comes to Churchill. Lloyd George finds something dark and sinister in whatever Churchill does. Might it be because the old man has been twiddling his thumbs during this war, and now he is taking it out on Churchill?
Churchill’s statement to the press in Washington has prompted gloomy thoughts in Lloyd George. Lloyd George is convinced that a decision has been taken to divide the Allied forces equally between the west and the F. East. I objected, citing Eden. But Lloyd George does not believe Eden and claims that from now on the USA will only really be fighting with Japan; in Europe, it will limit itself to a ‘symbolic’ operational role. From this Lloyd George drew the conclusion that the war will drag on and require gigantic losses; there can be no question of the war in Europe ending in 1944.
We also spoke about Poland. Lloyd George supports our position and criticizes the Poles. He recalled how many troubles the Poles caused in the last war.


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‘There wasn’t one sensible man among them!’ Lloyd George exclaimed. ‘All dreamers, megalomaniacs, impudent aggressors!… The best of the bunch was Paderewski,
Ignacy Jan Paderewski, Polish prime minister and foreign minister in 1919, representing Poland at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919.
but he was clueless when it came to politics and weak in character. Egged on by Clemenceau, the Poles lost all restraint and refused to listen to me or Wilson. The consequences are now plain to see.’
Lloyd George believes that the USSR would be best off ignoring the Polish government and putting off its ‘reorganization’, since it would be impossible to make up a satisfactory government in any case: there are no such people outside Poland. When the Red Army restores the 1941 borders, everything will fall into place by itself.
I think Lloyd George is right about this. My thoughts have often leaned in the same direction.
Over tea, Lloyd George suddenly asked me: ‘Have you ever looked closely at Hitler’s signature?’
I looked at Lloyd George in bewilderment and simply replied: ‘No!’
Lloyd George got up from his chair, hobbled somewhat towards his desk and, returning with a piece of paper, gave me a demonstration of Hitler’s signature. As he did so, the last two letters in Hitler’s surname dropped sharply. Pointing to them, Lloyd George said with a very meaningful air: ‘Now pay attention to this. There’s a reason behind it.’
Again I looked at him in bewilderment and asked: ‘And what is it supposed to mean?’
Lloyd George hesitated for a moment before replying, with a very particular grin: ‘Who knows? A great deal, perhaps… The signature of the late leader of the Conservative Party, Bonar Law, was distinguished by the very same characteristic.’
I still did not understand what Lloyd George was getting at. Then he condescended to my ‘ignorance’ and gave the following explanation: when, during the last war, Asquith hit rock bottom and the question of the next prime minister arose, the first candidate earmarked for the role was Bonar Law. Everything was agreed, every group and authority had given its blessing. But at the very last moment Bonar Law chose to behave like [Gogol’s] Podkolesin:
Maisky refers to Gogol’s comedy The Marriage, where Podkolesin mirrors Gogol’s (a lifelong bachelor) ambivalent attitude to the institution of marriage.
he got cold feet and rejected the post. As a result, Lloyd George became prime minister. Now the old man is thinking: mightn’t the same thing happen with Hitler? Mightn’t he get cold feet at the last minute and fail?…
I listened to these deliberations and couldn’t help recalling the pitiful cry of Taras Bulba: ‘Oh, old age! Old age!’
* * *


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Today I had a long conversation with Eden about Britain’s post-war prospects and Anglo-Soviet relations.
28 May
I can’t help thinking back to my first meeting with the old queen. On 8 November 1932, I presented my credentials to the king. The next day, 9 November, Agniya presented herself to Queen Mary (at the time George V was king). I accompanied Agniya.
Queen Mary received us in her boudoir. It was obviously costing her a great effort to do the ‘Bolsheviks’ this honour. And she was hardly concealing her feelings. The entire audience lasted no longer than five minutes. The queen asked Agniya when she arrived and whether she had visited England before. She kept her eyes fixed above our heads, staring straight at the wall. She sighed with relief when we took our leave.
Nevertheless, the queen received Agniya immediately after I presented my credentials. She did not receive Sokolnikova [wife of the previous ambassador, G.Y. Sokolnikov] for almost a month and a half after her husband presented his credentials and only did so after Kagan made the corresponding démarche in the FO.
That is what the English call progress!
29 May
A week has passed since the Comintern was dissolved. The upshot?
First and foremost: this is a very important milestone in the development not only of the USSR but of the entire world. It means that we are not counting on revolution after the war. Needless to say, the war can and will result in all manner of disturbances, strikes, uprisings and so on in various countries, but that is something different. A real, full-blooded proletarian revolution is clearly not anticipated. Which is no surprise to me after the conversations I had in Moscow in December 1941.
But if not a proletarian revolution, then what? This still remains vague, and it cannot be otherwise. Time will tell. But I certainly do not rule out the appearance after the war of a new International – not a second and not a third, but some other kind.
Next: why was the Comintern dissolved? The reasons are clear: fundamentally, the Comintern has been dead for a long time, but its ghost created major difficulties in relations between the USSR and other powers, and also in relations between local communist parties and other workers’ parties


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and organizations in various countries. Now, when the most essential task is to consolidate a united front of all forces to destroy Hitler’s Germany, this ghost has had to be liquidated.
Thirdly: what was the reaction of the outside world to the dissolution of the Comintern? Most favourable. On the one side, Goebbels is livid (he has been deprived of his most effective propaganda scarecrow), on the other, the average American has sighed with relief (no more scary ‘Reds’ under his bed). In England, the Conservatives couldn’t be happier. Churchill, when asked by a journalist in Washington what he thought of the dissolution of the Comintern, gave a brief but telling reply: ‘I like it.’ And Eden told me just the other day: ‘This is a very wise step, one which will have extremely favourable consequences – especially in the USA.’ The Tory press (in particular, The Times) warmly welcomed Moscow’s decision. Only the Telegraph said nothing, but that, too, is understandable. Camrose
William Ewart Berry (1st Viscount Camrose) and his brother Viscount Kemsley (see below) were the owners and chief editors of numerous papers, among them the Sunday Times (1915–37), The Telegraph, The War Illustrated and the Financial Times.
is unsympathetic to the notion of an Anglo-Soviet union being preserved after the war. Camrose and Kemsley (Sunday Times and others) have not forgotten Chamberlain.
In Labour circles, by contrast, the dissolution of the Comintern has elicited mixed feelings. On the one hand, the Labourites are pleased, because they understand how important this is from the foreign policy and military point of view. But on the other hand, they are displeased, because they understand that the dissolution of the Comintern has greatly complicated their situation, from the point of view of internal politics. And one can see why: it has deprived them of a crucial weapon against the communists. The Labour leaders, needless to say, will find some other way of excluding the Communist Party from its ranks, but all the same its position vis-à-vis the communists has been weakened, while the position of the communists vis-à-vis the Labour Party has been strengthened. Attlee and Co. were confident that the Communist Party’s request for affiliation would meet with swift rejection at the forthcoming Labour Party conference, on 11 June, but now – who knows? Rejection, I expect, is still guaranteed, but will it be swift? Time will tell. Besides, even if the Communist Party remains outside the Labour Party, as before, its appeal will undoubtedly increase, thanks to the dissolution of the Comintern. So Labour will have a more dangerous competitor than in the past. That is also unpleasant.
In order to get out of this situation, Labour has put out a slogan: if the Communist Party is sincere in its concern for the unity of the workers’ movement, then it should follow the example of the Comintern and dissolve itself. They must think we are stupid!


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Bevin came for lunch the other day. In the course of conversation, he asked: ‘Tell me, has the Comintern really, properly been dissolved?’
I looked at Bevin in astonishment and replied: ‘Why, do you think we are just fooling around?’
Bevin was embarrassed and beat a quick retreat. We moved on to another topic. After a short while Bevin asked again, as if in passing: ‘But do you not think that the dissolution of the Comintern may be followed by the dissolution of the CPSU?’
Once again I looked at Bevin in astonishment and asked in my turn: ‘And what will take the place of the CPSU?’
Bevin thought about it and replied without much confidence: ‘I don’t know, military dictatorship… or something of the kind.’
I laughed at Bevin, but the train of his thoughts was entirely clear to me. After all, wouldn’t it be wonderful if the CPSU dissolved itself and in its place there arose a Russian version of the Labour Party! How easy it would be then to do away with all the communist parties in the world, especially the English one!
The intellectual subtlety of the Labour leaders does not bear thinking about!
It is hard to predict the future, but it seems to me that right now, after the dissolution of the Comintern, the Brit[ish] Communist Party actually has a fighting chance – providing, of course, it can capitalize on this opportunity. Can it? I don’t know. Time will tell.
The reasons for this opportunity are as follows. A revolution in England would be possible, even inevitable, only in the event of its Empire being lost. It is already clear now, however, that England will come out of the war having not just retained, but even augmented its Empire, if only in an indirect form. Its ruling class, therefore, will be able to get by without fascism and to continue governing nation and empire with velvet gloves. One of the probable consequences of this course of events will be a split in the Labour Party after the war. There will be a repeat, more or less, of what happened in 1931, when MacDonald, Snowden, Thomas and others defected to the Conservatives – only on a much larger scale. In such circumstances, the Communist Party could play a major role in the fate of the British workers’ movement. But will it? We will see.
[The Comintern had been a millstone around the neck of Soviet diplomacy since the late 1920s. In the midst of his desperate attempts to appease Germany in mid-1941, Stalin was resolved to free himself from the ideological shackles which limited his political manoeuvrability by taking initial steps to dissolve it.
See a detailed account of the dissolution in 1941, in Gorodetsky, Grand Delusion, pp. 199–201.
The formal dissolution in May 1943 served the same purpose, but now paved the way for a post-war arrangement with the Allies. Maisky went on to explain to his interlocutors in the Foreign Office that in reality the Comintern had been ‘moribund for years’ and its dispersal was a


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natural result of ‘Stalin’s policy of nationalism … Lenin thought the Russian revolution could only survive if there were world revolution; Stalin thought Russia big enough to make the experiment alone and if she succeeded that would be the best propaganda for communism.’


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Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, p. 261. Maisky used similar words speaking to the American ambassador in London; FRUS, 1943, III, pp. 532–4. See also Roberts, Stalin’s Wars, pp. 168–70.
Maisky vehemently rejected Lloyd George’s suggestion that communism was bound to triumph in Germany once Nazism collapsed. Russia’s wish, he insisted, was ‘not to make Communistic revolutions for other countries, but to secure frontiers and generally to secure the restoration of [Russia]’.
Sylvester papers, diary, A54, 7 Sep. 1943.
]
30 May (Bovingdon)
Still quiet on our front. True, resistance remains stubborn near Novorossiisk, and there are quite serious local skirmishes near Lisichansk, Sevsk and so on. But that’s not the same thing. I was expecting a big German offensive in mid-May. Our press also warned the army and citizenry about the likelihood of major developments in May. But May has passed and calm continues to reign over the Soviet–German front. This is, needless to say, the calm before the storm, but still: however one looks at it, we have gained three weeks. Last year the Germans began their offensive – in the Crimea – on 8 May. Today is 30 May, and there is no sign of an offensive. Well, even three weeks is not to be sniffed at!
1 June
Eden has flown to Algiers. For the following reasons.
From Washington, Churchill went to N. Africa by aeroplane, as Eden told me last week. He surmised that this was related to preparations for operations against Italy. On Saturday, 29 May, I arranged a meeting with Eden for Monday, 31 May, at 4.30 p.m. But yesterday, at about 3 p.m., Eden’s secretary called and informed Iris that unfortunately Eden would not be able to see me that day. At my instruction, Iris requested another time for my visit. Eden’s secretary fixed an appointment for today. But this morning Harvey (Eden’s private secretary) called me directly and proposed a meeting with Cadogan rather than Eden. I asked him what this was all about. Harvey replied that he would like to see me and discuss the matter. As it happens, I was about to go to parliament for the debate on the future of civil aviation. We agreed that Harvey would come to parliament as well. He did indeed arrive and informed me that Churchill had summoned Eden to Algiers as a matter of urgency, and that Eden had flown there yesterday.
At 4 p.m. I called on Cadogan and enquired about the reasons behind such an unexpected turn of events. Cadogan replied that he did not know the full story himself.
Maisky, according to Cadogan, was ‘frightfully inquisitive about A’s trip. Told him all I (and A[Anthony Eden] knew), which wasn’t much, and M. was not satisfied’; Cadogan papers, diary, ACAD 1/11, 1 June 1943.
On Sunday, 30 May, a telegram addressed to Eden came


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through from Churchill in which the prime minister said that, if the situation in parliament permitted, it would be a good thing for Eden to fly to Algiers forthwith. ‘Much is happening here,’ Churchill added, ‘that requires your presence.’ Churchill did not clarify what he meant by ‘much’. Eden was already on his way to the airfield when a second telegram arrived in which Churchill mainly touched on French affairs, adding: ‘Here we are expecting the marriage of groom (i.e. de Gaulle) and bride (i.e. Giraud). It would be useful if you could be present in the capacity of best man.’ Still, according to Cadogan, the second telegram was formulated in such a way that it remained not entirely clear whether Churchill wanted to see Eden only on account of the French or for other reasons as well. In any case, Eden is now in Algiers. Cadogan is expecting his return later in the week.
I also talked to Cadogan about the new convoy across the Mediterranean Sea, about our provision of Mosquito aeroplanes, and other things.
2 June
Butler came for lunch. We spoke a great deal about England’s post-war prospects (aside from being nat[ional] education minister,
Actually president of the Board of Education at this time.
Butler is also chair of the Conservative Party’s Committee on Post-War Problems). Butler anticipates that Britain’s future development will take the following paths:
(1) A mixed type of economy, i.e. some sectors (electricity, the railways, possibly coal) will be nationalized, some (road and sea transport, civil aviation, etc.) will come under public control, and the rest will remain in the hands of individual entrepreneurs.
(2) The ‘constitutional factory’ will gradually emerge, i.e. factories in which workers’ representatives will participate in the management of the business. Among the supporters of this idea is Butler’s father-in-law Courtauld (artificial silk).
(3) The education system should be democratized, i.e. almost all public schools should be abolished (though Butler would like to keep two or three of them) and the number of state bursaries in secondary schools should be greatly increased.
I asked Butler: ‘So you want England to develop along Fabian lines?’
Butler replied: ‘Call it what you will. We English, you know, can do revolutionary things, so long as they are done under the old names.’
Fabianism, of course, is not revolution. But for the Conservatives it might as well be. Butler (who undoubtedly reflects the mood of the ruling Tory elite) is clearly thinking of Fabianism, though he doesn’t want to name it.
Then Butler spoke at length about the need for friendship and collaboration between our countries after the war, before asking: ‘If England develops along


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what you call Fabian lines, will this, do you imagine, help to strengthen relations between us?’
‘I think it will,’ I replied.
Butler was visibly impressed by my reply.
[Butler informed Eden of the ‘long entre tien’ with Maisky. He thought that ‘Psychologically his general approach is not at all uninteresting and I have never taken the view that he is either quite uninformed of his country’s views or without influence.’ The candid conversation very much revealed the strength and consistency of Maisky’s belief that Anglo-Soviet interests coincided and that at present both were facing the danger of the United States ‘entering upon a period of Imperialism’. The Americans, he maintained, ‘had always been pushing towards a frontier, and now their frontier would be the world, and they would stretch out their tentacles as far as they could’. With the end of his mission looming on the horizon, Maisky allowed himself to be in an exceptionally expansive mood. He seemed to be, noted Butler, ‘in a more carefree, philosophical and historical frame of mind than usual’. Digressing into history, he argued that the French Revolution had marked ‘the bridge between Feudalism and Capitalism’, while the Russian Revolution could mark ‘the bridge between Capitalism and Economic Democracy’. In clairvoyant fashion, he argued that economic controls would have to be removed on the international scene. He went on to ‘praise the genius of Marshal Stalin’ who knew how to time strategic and political moves accurately. The move to disband the Comintern was ‘an indication that the Soviet Union were looking ahead to real international collaboration, both in Asia and in Europe’.
TNA FO 371 36983 N3547/315/38, Butler to Eden, 2 June 1943.
]
3 June
Morrison came for lunch. It so happened that our conversation also revolved for the most part around the subject of post-war problems. Morrison expounded on ideas with which I was already familiar from his speeches, published a few days ago in the small collection Prospects and Policies. The more Morrison spoke, the more I was struck by the convergence of his views with those of Butler. Of course, there are certain differences of nuance and emphasis between the two men, but essentially they share the same fundamental platform. Astonishing! Listening to Morrison, I thought how easy it will be after the war for the Conservatives to reach agreement with Labour on matters of internal reconstruction in England, assuming, of course, that the proletariat will allow the likes of Morrison to continue playing their game… I fear they will!
Morrison said that he is still undecided in his own mind about the question of whether or not to continue the coalition with the Conservatives after the war. He even asked my advice. But I side-stepped the role of counsellor.
My general impression is that, in the absence of any utterly exceptional circumstances, Morrison will eventually decide in favour of a coalition.


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4 June
Agniya and I went to see Webb.
The house we know so well is still there. But approaching it on this occasion, we were not met, as in the past, by a tall, beautiful old woman with lively eyes and a profoundly spiritual face…
Inside, the house is just as it was. Clean, cosy, tidy. A faint smell of carbolic acid. The same two elderly Scottish women who, in the capacities of cook and maid, served the Webbs for so many, many years. They still look after the old man. There is also the Nurse.
We went through to the drawing room, where we were such frequent guests in the past. We sat in the armchairs, as in the past. Once again, the lady of the house was not to be seen in her usual place – the low step by the fireplace. But on the bookcase nearby was a large white urn – with the ashes of she who was never to return.
‘I’ve found a spot in the woods,’ said Webb, slowly, ‘which is just right for this urn, but it takes so long for orders to be processed at the moment and I am still waiting for the bronze slab with the inscription…’
Then, after a period of silence, the old man added: ‘That’s where I will end up, too.’
Webb is clearly unable to shake off thoughts of his own approaching death. I picked up several other signs of this. No wonder: he is 83, five years ago he experienced a stroke from which he has still not fully recovered, and his companion of half a century, with whom he formed a single physical and spiritual whole, has just gone for good.
‘I feel very lonely,’ he said in passing.
Before adding: ‘I can no longer write, I find it difficult to walk, I’m losing my memory… I can still read, but I get nothing out of it…’
Agniya said what a marvellous woman Beatrice was and described the conversation we had with Lloyd George about her a few days ago. Lloyd George also considers Beatrice an utterly exceptional phenomenon in English history. Together we had gone through a list of other great daughters of England and come to the conclusion that the only one who can compare with Beatrice in stature is Queen Elizabeth. All this evidently pleased the old man. You could see that he often thinks about such things himself. At a certain point he asked pensively: ‘And Florence Nightingale?’
It would seem, then, that it is precisely Florence, that wonderful woman, whom the old man considers most comparable to Beatrice.
Webb, however, has not lost all interest in the present day. I told him about my recent talks with Butler and Morrison. Webb listened attentively, then said: ‘That isn’t surprising. It would not be the first time in our history that the Tories


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have taken their opponents’ agenda and made it a reality. It is perfectly possible that the socialization of England – along Fabian lines – will be carried out by the new breed of Conservatives. That would be entirely in the English spirit.’
The old man told me that almost all the books put out by the Webbs were written by him. The idea for the book, the outline, the gathering of material and so on would all be done jointly. But the actual process of writing was Webb’s responsibility. Usually, Beatrice would just cast a critical eye over the text, make corrections and additions – after joint discussion, of course. Webb always wrote evenly, assiduously and quickly – by hand. He just couldn’t get used to typewriters. An example: the book Soviet Communism (more than 1,000 pages long) was written over two years. ‘Written’ in the narrowest sense of the word. The gathering of material, the thinking, etcetera, took another two and a half years or so.
Webb’s account surprised me a little. I already knew that, in this marvellous ‘union of two’, spiritual primacy belonged to Beatrice. I had observed this in practice on numerous occasions. I also knew that most of the drafting was carried out by Sidney, that Beatrice usually provided the thoughts, the idea, the general outline and plan for the book, which Sidney filled in with figures and facts. I had imagined that Sidney usually wrote most of their books, with Beatrice contributing only the crucial, summarizing chapters. But I had never thought that practically all of the writing fell to Sidney.
Webb said that after his death their entire home, with all its books, manuscripts and materials, would be handed over to the London School of Economics. As for Beatrice’s memoirs (which went up to 1911) and her diaries (which she kept almost until her death), their fate would be determined by the five Trustees she had chosen during her life: Barbara Drake, Harold Laski, Margaret Cole, [John] Parker (secretary of the Fabian Society) and Saunders (director of the School of Economics).
As we were leaving, the Scottish women started complaining to Agniya about food shortages: the old man needs apples and fruit, but there are hardly any to be found. Agniya promised to take action.
5 June
On 1 June, I spent almost the entire day in parliament, attending the debate on civil aviation. I listened closely to all the speeches, all the arguments, fears and hopes…
My personal view is that the first practical steps towards solving the problem of civil aviation after the war might be roughly as follows:
(1) The USSR, the Brit[ish] Empire and the USA – each should have its own civil air fleet, operating within the confines of each. These three chunks of the


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world are so large (while also possessing sizeable aviation industries) that they can each lay claim to their own independent, ‘national’ air fleet.
(2) In Europe (i.e. in the geographical space between England and the USSR) an international community for civil aviation should be formed. It will include all European countries, including the USSR and England. Taken individually, the European countries are too small in territorial terms, and too weak in aircraft construction, for any plans to be viable.
(3) In Asia (i.e. in the geographical space between the USSR, the Brit[ish] Empire and the USA) a similar type of international community should be formed as in Europe. It will include the USSR, China, Holland, the Brit[ish] Empire, the USA, Siam.
(4) France and its empire could, I suppose, be a member of two schemes – that of the British Empire (since France’s possessions are geographically mixed up with Britain’s) and that of the European community.
(5) Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Egypt, Arabia, Abyssinia – the Middle East in general – could all be joined either to the European, or to the British, or to the Soviet scheme.
(6) Southern and Central America would, naturally, enter the American scheme.
(7) It would make most sense to put air traffic across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans in the hands of the European and Asian schemes.
(8) Germany, Italy and Japan should be deprived of the right to participate in any such civil aviation scheme.
(9) There should be agreement between all the separate schemes that passengers can travel without impediment along all the global air routes. Formalities should be reduced to a minimum. Timetables should be precisely aligned. At the head of each of the schemes there should be a worldwide council to regulate all matters of global air communication.
(10) The right to fly over the territory of the USSR should belong, as a rule, only to Soviet aviation, over the territory of the USA – to American aviation, over the territory of Britain and its larger possessions – to British aviation. The right to fly over other territories (Europe, Asia, the oceans) should be granted to a mixture of aircraft industries in accordance with special agreements.
These are the fundamental principles on which, it seems to me, civil aviation can be based in the initial post-war period. This, of course, is merely a sketch. Each of the aforementioned points requires further thought and refinement. It is possible, indeed certain, that adjustments will have to be made to the plan I have outlined. But what matters most here is the fundamental idea. A higher level of internationalization in the nearest future is not, in my view, practicable.


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6 June (Bovingdon)
Still quiet on our front – at least, on the ground. The major German offensive that was expected this summer has still not materialized, and General Dietmar (the main German radio commentator) has even started claiming that it is now in Germany’s interests to take up defensive positions. Some German newspapers go so far as to say that Germany must have a year of relative calm in order to prepare for the next phase of the war. All of this sounds most suspicious. More like disinformation. Let’s see.
In the skies, however, the battle becomes ever fiercer, and today’s communications from Moscow make one think that, alongside the uncertainty surrounding the second front, the relative weakness of the Germans in the air is another reason for the postponement of the offensive. Indeed, within the space of a single day – 2 June – the Germans lost 243 aeroplanes, 162 of them over Kursk. It is unsurprising that, having lost the dominance in the air to which they are accustomed, and instead coming face to face with the aerial dominance of the enemy, they should be so hesitant about the offensive. After all, the Germans are down to their last reserves. If these reserves are eliminated without yielding a resolution to the war, at least on the eastern front, then Germany is ruined. It has no choice but to exercise caution, to think twice before it acts.
Nevertheless, I still do not think there are grounds for excluding the possibility of a major German offensive this summer.
* * *
In Bovingdon today, Negrín received a visit from [Jules] Moch, the French socialist, a former minister in several French governments, and a man close to Blum. He fled France and arrived in England about two months ago. Now he is quite an important figure in de Gaulle’s fleet and wears the Croix de Lorraine on his chest.
I asked Moch about the mood in France and the probable political post-war prospects. In contrast to Grenier, Moch is of the view that the events of the past three and a half years have not brought about any radical change in France’s political configuration. Loathing for the Germans is universal, of course, but people’s loyalties to political parties have changed relatively little. Thus, if elections were to be held in France tomorrow, the new chamber would not look radically different to how it did before the war.
This is a very important statement. I do not know how accurate it is, but it should be remembered. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere between Grenier and Moch.
As for the attitude of the average Frenchman to the USSR, Moch says even now: ‘Oh, it goes without saying that he’s filled with admiration for the heroism


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of the Red Army and the Soviet people. He is aware of the fact that the USSR is fighting for the freedom of all subjugated nations, for the freedom of France… But there’s one comment that comes up again and again: if only the Soviets had signed a treaty with England and France instead of Germany, there would have been no war.’
Another important statement that must not be forgotten.
7 June
Saw Eden. He has returned from Algeria refreshed and very tanned. He ascribes his summons to North Africa chiefly to the fact that Churchill felt exhausted after Washington and wanted to have one of the senior members of the War Cabinet at his side, to carry most of the burden of the work, meetings, etc. – all the more so because Churchill was sure that the Giraud–de Gaulle negotiations would place a great strain on him. In reality, everything went much more smoothly than could have been expected. Eisenhower and Alexander had done so much preparatory work in the military sphere that Churchill was left with no real decisions to make. All he had to do was inspect. And this is what Churchill and Eden were mainly doing. Both went to Tunis. Both gave speeches in the dilapidated stadium of ancient Carthage. According to Eden, the stadium’s acoustics are remarkable: there were more than 4,000 people there but you could speak effortlessly, in an ordinary voice, and every word would carry to the last row.
‘I’m jealous!’ I joked. ‘You’ve visited the grave of my heroine, Salammbô!’
Eden provided me with vital information about the military operations under preparation in the region of the Mediterranean Sea and added that Alexander takes an optimistic view of the Allies’ prospects, certainly as regards the first phase of the operation. I am wary of this British military optimism! It has proved misplaced so many times already. Let’s see.
There also turned out to be much less work regarding French matters than Eden had expected. In the end, he didn’t even intervene in the de Gaulle–Giraud negotiations. Where such intervention was required, it was carried out by Macmillan. And the results are not bad. A unified French Committee has been created. True, we don’t know what will happen next. Eden is inclined to take a cautious view of the committee’s prospects, but he still said that the Brit. Gov. would, in all probability, gradually transfer to it all the rights and obligations which formerly belonged to de Gaulle. Eden asked me to clarify the position of the Soviet government vis-à-vis the Algerian committee. He is clarifying the position of the American government. I promised to ask Moscow.
Eden told me a few interesting things. Peyrouton, realizing that his time was up, decided to have his revenge, and perhaps postpone his fall, by setting


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the two generals against each other. It was for this reason that he wrote to de Gaulle to inform him of his resignation. Without breathing a word to Giraud, de Gaulle immediately sent his reply, accepting Peyrouton’s resignation and moving him to the army. Not only that, de Gaulle even appointed Peyrouton’s successor as governor-general of Algeria. Also without consulting Giraud. Peyrouton has thus proved himself a good psychologist, laying a clever trap into which de Gaulle duly fell.
After de Gaulle had committed himself beyond the point of no return, Peyrouton sent a similar letter of resignation to Giraud. The latter, learning of de Gaulle’s actions, was furious. An argument ensued. The generals exchanged sharp letters. Peyrouton exulted. The fate of the treaty was up in the air. And this is when Macmillan intervened. He invited de Gaulle for a conversation and pointed out the incorrectness of his actions – particularly since, at the time of the events just described, the committee had not yet been formed and, therefore de Gaulle had no right at all to accept Peyrouton’s resignation. De Gaulle reacted to Macmillan’s words with the cry: ‘Haven’t I always told you that Peyrouton is a scoundrel? Well, here’s your proof.’
Eventually, Macmillan succeeded in calming things down and bringing the feuding generals together. The committee was established. On the day of their departure from Algiers (4 June) Churchill and Eden took part in a ‘friendly’ lunch, organized to mark the birth of the committee. All the French notables were present, as well as all the Allied military and political leaders. The atmosphere was warm. The speeches (incl. those by Churchill and Eden) appeared to leave no doubt about the desire of all the participants to work together in the task of fighting the enemy and restoring France. The next day Macmillan – so Massigli claims – even reported back to London that at the end of a long session ‘de Gaulle and Giraud embraced’. Aren’t these Frenchmen a funny lot!
Even so, the future is unclear. My personal view is that the current arrangement, whereby Giraud and de Gaulle are co-chairmen with equal rights, is unlikely to last. It is simply too artificial. Besides, the committee’s political composition is too right-wing and does not correspond to the mood of the masses in France. After all, it includes four generals (de Gaulle, Giraud, Catroux, Georges
Alphonse Joseph Georges, general, was commander of the French field armies at the outbreak of the Second World War. Churchill was vetoed by Roosevelt when he wanted to make him commander of the French forces in North Africa in early 1942.
), of whom just one, de Gaulle, can be considered relatively progressive, and even then only with major reservations. Other members of the committee include one representative of the ‘200 families’ – Monnet,
Jean Monnet, the disillusioned deputy secretary general of the League of Nations went on to pursue business interests in Asia during the 1930s, only to re-emerge as a leading economic planner during the war.
one


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representative of the ‘conciliatory’ diplomacy of the pre-war period – Massigli, and one representative of the ‘resistance front’ in France itself – the Christian socialist André Philip (i.e. in reality the representative of only a small section of this front). The committee contains not a single communist, not a single socialist, not a single genuine Democrat with republican leanings. And all this at a time when the foundation of the ‘resistance front’ in France is provided by communists and, to a lesser extent, socialists. In such circumstances, how can the Algerian committee count on a lengthy and effective existence?
I shared these thoughts quite openly with Eden. At the end I said: ‘Post-war Europe, which is what we need to be thinking about now, will be a democratic Europe that leans notably to the left…’
Eden objected: ‘Democratic?… Yes!… But I am far from certain that it will lean to the left.’
‘Time will tell,’ I answered.
As for the special Algerian committee, Eden acknowledged that there was much truth in my remarks, but consoled himself with the fact that the current arrangement is temporary and that a great deal may yet change for the better.
12 June
Dejan came to say goodbye. He used to be a professional diplomat. The first secretary, if I am not mistaken, of the French embassy in Berlin. Went over to de Gaulle a long time ago. For a considerable period he was his ‘commissar for foreign affairs’ and had dealings with me in this capacity, especially when relations were being established between ourselves and de Gaulle (end of 1941). Then de Gaulle removed him from his post, apparently because he was too weak towards the British. For a time he was more or less unemployed. Eventually, following the arrival of Massigli and the latter’s appointment to the post of commissar for FA in de Gaulle’s ‘National Committee’, Dejan was made Massigli’s deputy. Now that the united Committee of National Liberation has been formed in Algiers, Dejan is following de Gaulle over there. I asked: ‘And what are your plans?’
‘I myself am not yet sure,’ Dejan replied. ‘For now, I am going to Algiers. Then I hope to do a tour of South America and arrange a few things there… That’s to say, I want to establish relations between the Committee and various S[outh] American states, and also inject some clarity and order into the minds of the Frenchmen living in S[outh] America, including French diplomats… Confusion reigns in the minds of my compatriots in America – some support Vichy, some de Gaulle, some Giraud, many are unsure… And of course, if you are going to S[outh] America, you must first pass through Washington: that is where the key to S[outh] America is to be found. But these are just plans. How


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everything will work out in reality I cannot say. My wife will remain in London for now.’
And then, in a rather different tone, Dejan added: ‘You know, I have the sense that it would be good to fade into the background of French affairs for a while… There is so much fighting in our ranks at the moment, so much squabbling between the generals… So many personal feelings involved… It would be better to do something useful somewhere on the margins and wait it out.’
Dejan may be right. He is not a major figure, but he is not stupid and he is decent enough. Quite well disposed to the USSR. Understands contemporary politics. Could be useful in the future. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to overcommit himself to any side.
Dejan told me that in Algeria alone there are 183 French generals, 27 admirals and 65 air force generals, yet there are only 40 French planes! What an extraordinary picture! The vast majority of the generals are old men who have had their day, but they hang on to their ranks and decorations for dear life and are in no hurry to die. This is why the atmosphere in Algeria and N. Africa is so pervaded by intrigues of every kind among the generals.
* * *
Laski told me a perfectly Chekhovian story today.
In the Labour Party’s head office there is a certain Gillies, the Labour Party’s secretary for foreign affairs. A fool, an ignoramus and a rabid enemy of the USSR whose loathing for the ‘Bolsheviks’ sometimes takes on a pathological character.
Over the course of two years Cudlipp, editor of the Daily Herald, did all he could to avoid having anything to do with Gillies. Gillies eventually caused a fuss and as a result Cudlipp had to invite Gillies for lunch. Over lunch, Cudlipp offered Gillies a glass of sherry. He drank it. Cudlipp offered another – Gillies refused. Cudlipp asked why. Gillies replied that his heath forbade it, then confessed that he suffers terribly from constipation.
‘You know,’ Gillies continued, ‘I’ve been having this nightmare for two years now… I keep imagining that, as a result of the war, production of cascara will cease, but cascara is what I live on. So every time I walk past a chemist, I always drop in and buy a bottle of cascara. I have enough to fill a larder.’
Cudlipp, who is far from stupid and sometimes cutting, remarked: ‘As it happens, I know a chemist who makes cascara.’
Gillies’s face lit up and he could barely contain his excitement: ‘Really?’
Cudlipp confirmed that this was so and that, if Gillies wished, he could help him acquire the necessary quantity of cascara.
The next morning Cudlipp received a letter from Gillies, with a cheque attached, asking to be supplied with twelve dozen bottles of cascara!


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13 June
Another week has passed. Still quiet on our front – at least, on land. No serious fighting even in the Kuban region. Only in the air do we continue to show great activity, bombing the enemy’s fortifications, railways and lines of communication, as well as aerodromes. Our raids become ever more massive – 500, 600, 700 machines. We are managing to destroy many of the enemy’s planes on the ground. Our own losses are very small. In sum: it is plain that we are dominating the Germans in the air. Will we be able to maintain this superiority in the future? We will see.
So: the Germans have already lost five spring/summer weeks in comparison with last year. We, by contrast, have gained five. And for the time being there are no signs of an imminent and large-scale German offensive on our front. Why not? One’s thoughts keep returning to this question ever more often and insistently. Only history, of course, will supply a full and accurate answer, but now, on 13 June 1943, in the light of everything I know at this moment in time, it seems to me that the reasons for German inactivity are as follows:
(1) The collapse of Axis resistance in Tunisia some three months earlier than the German general staff had reckoned on. Citing the captured General von Arnim, who was in charge in Tunisia, Eden told me that Berlin had reckoned on holding out in Tunisia until August. Berlin had also assumed that the Allies would need another two months or so after the fall of Tunis to prepare for their offensive against Italy. In other words, Hitler was not expecting that offensive to occur before October and was even hoping that bad weather in the Mediterranean Sea in October would cause further delay. Thus, concentrating his divisions on the Soviet front in March and April, Hitler calculated that he had at least five months at his disposal (May–September) for operations in the USSR before the threat of an Anglo-American attack to the west or the south became serious. In reality, things turned out differently: by that same German calculation, Hitler ended up with not five but only two months at his disposal for the ‘east’. The entire strategic plan, as previously drawn up, was in tatters. There was no choice but to adapt to a completely new and unexpected situation. Deployment plans, in particular, had to be changed, first and foremost in the air, and secondarily on the ground. Hence the delays, hesitations, temporizing: it is exceptionally dangerous to commit yourself in the east until you can at least gain an approximate notion of the size of the threat coming from the opposite direction.
(2) The dominance of Soviet over German aircraft that has become so patent in recent weeks all along the eastern front. This dominance is explained on the one hand by the sharp growth of our air power over the course of the winter, and on the other by the diversion of significant German air forces in the


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direction of the Mediterranean Sea and the west. Our dominance has been a surprise for Hitler, too. As a result, he has once again been compelled to change previous plans, for without adequate air cover not a single army (least of all the German one) can now undertake a successful offensive in summer conditions.
(3) The heavy aerial attacks against Germany from the west that have been observed during the past two months. Everything would suggest that the strength and concentration of these attacks, as well as their systematic nature, have also caught Hitler by surprise and forced him to reassess previous plans. On the one hand, he has had to concentrate far more people, anti-aircraft guns and aeroplanes to defend the Ruhr and other regions than had been anticipated; on the other hand, the damage caused by the Allied air offensive to German military production and German morale has proved more significant than was first calculated. But without a guaranteed flow of supplies in adequate quantities, no serious offensive is possible.
(4) The more effective work done by partisans behind German lines in the USSR. This stems on the one hand from the improved organization of the partisan movement in 1943 when compared to 1941 or even 1942, and on the other from its improved morale as a result of the general swing towards the Allies on every front.
But can a large German offensive in the USSR in the course of this year be discounted? No, that would be premature. A large German offensive is still possible, and we must be ready for it.
14 June
A few days ago (9 June) Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris, the head of RAF Bomber Command, came with his wife for lunch. Harris is a striking representative of the camp that believes that the war can be won from the air. I asked Harris whether he continues to hold that view.
‘Of course I do!’ Harris cried. ‘Now more than ever. Everything depends on the number of bombers you are able to deploy. I assure you quite categorically that if I had the capacity to send a thousand heavy bombers to Germany every night that we fly, Germany would surrender within three months at most. And then the entire army of occupation could consist of just three policemen – American, English and Soviet, who would take Berlin not only without meeting resistance, but with the enthusiasm of the local population.
According to Harris, current navigation technology means that about twenty days each month are suitable for carrying out air raids on Germany. That is the average. In certain periods the number is higher. But this only applies to night flights. By day the situation is different and the Americans, for example, who specialize in precision bombing by day, are, for now, only able to fly 5–6 days a


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month. The weather does not permit any more: the air is not clear enough for them to take aim from a height of 20–25,000 feet. It is possible, however, that the situation may yet improve.
Harris’s comments deserve serious attention. After all, his school of thought is currently enjoying great popularity. Three weeks or so ago, Bevin told me that aerial warfare is the most economical form of war, at least as regards the loss of human life. The capture of Pantelleria and Lampedusa by aerial assault alone provides the Harris school with a very effective (albeit far from wholly convincing) weapon. It’s certainly true that in the last 2–3 days the British press has been playing endless variations on this theme: look, we have taken a stronghold with a garrison of 15,000 men at the cost of 20 planes and 40 pilots! How incredibly cheap!
15 June
Jules Moch told me the following story:
In autumn 1942, not long before his escape to Algiers, Giraud did a tour of the garrisons of the towns in unoccupied France and gave speeches at officer meetings. He gave the same speech wherever he went. It was composed of two parts. In the first, Giraud appealed, in extravagant French style, to his audience’s patriotism; in the second, he gave practical answers to certain political questions. This second part is particularly interesting.
‘Who is our enemy?’ Giraud would ask, before immediately replying: ‘Germany.’
‘Who is our friend?’ Giraud would continue, before immediately replying: ‘Our Friend No. 1 is the USA. There have never been wars or major conflicts between France and the USA. They are natural allies. They have been and ought to remain sincere friends.’ (Needless to say, the names of La Fayette, Pershing and others were very prominent in this part of the speech.)
‘Who else is our friend?’ Giraud continued, and replied: ‘Our Friend No. 2 is England. It is true that in the past there have been quite a few difficult episodes between England and France – Trafalgar, Fashoda, Oran. Moreover, the English are sly and they are only out for themselves. But in the current circumstances, England must be viewed as Friend No. 2.’
‘There is one other state,’ Giraud went on, ‘that is also waging war with Germany, but the less said about it, the better. This state is the enemy of religion, the family, civilization. Of course, the Russians are killing plenty of Germans, while the Germans are killing plenty of Russians – and a good thing, too. France will only gain from it.’
‘Who will come out on top from the current struggle?’ Giraud finally asked, before replying: ‘Probably the Allies, while Germany, in all likelihood, will be


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destroyed. The conclusion? The “National Revolution” headed by Pétain has been good for France, but if France remains with Germany, then the “National Revolution” will also perish under the ruins of a vanquished Germany.’
For these reasons Giraud would like to convince France to break away from Germany in time and cross to the Anglo-American camp. Then the ‘National Revolution’ would be saved.
While the events just described were taking place, Moch was in France, playing an active part in the internal ‘resistance front’. Moch had received reports about Giraud’s speeches from three towns, and all three reports converged on the fundamental points.
That’s Giraud for you. But perhaps he has undergone ‘re-education’ over the past six months? I doubt it. French generals are not prone to mental revolutions at the age of 64, and in any case all the reports from N. Africa confirm that, deep down, Giraud has not changed. All his ‘democratic’ gestures (which are mainly confined to internal politics) are dictated by the Americans and especially the English. The political nudity of the Americans’ chosen one was truly repulsive. It was all very awkward. The Anglo-Americans will have to find a way round this.
And how typical of Giraud that the USSR is nowhere to be seen in any of his public speeches! Either he does not mention us at all or, when he cannot avoid doing so, he mentions us hurriedly, in passing, so that ‘no one notices’. Moch’s account explains why this should be so.
Giraud is a nasty piece of work. De Gaulle is also far from ideal, but he is infinitely more tolerable. At the current stage, at least.
16 June
Went to see Eden. At first we spoke about various matters of the day: about our supplies of Mosquito planes, about the imminent organization of a second convoy to the Persian Gulf, and about the shipment of a larger quantity of petrol to us in Abadan.
Then Eden informed me that [General] Alexander, who was in England just a few days ago, has been instructed to expedite ‘Husky’ by every means. It is possible, therefore, that the operation will begin earlier than planned. I wouldn’t object, but I doubt it will happen. We’ll see. Then Eden said that an agreement has been reached with the Americans about the bombing of Rome’s railways (half a year ago, Washington was opposed to any bombing of Rome).
I asked about Turkey. Eden was unable say anything reassuring. The Turks are still ‘sitting on the fence’. In recent days they have been emphasizing their neutrality more strongly than ever. Two vessels (of a promised five), dispatched by the British specifically to carry weapons, have been employed by the Turks


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for sabotage that has nothing to do with the war. The British government became angry and decided not to supply the other three boats. Churchill was on the point of making a scene with the Turks, but Eden restrained him and advised laying off them until the operations against Italy began in earnest. In the meantime, Rear Admiral John Cunningham (cousin of Andrew Cunningham, commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean fleet) has been sent to Turkey. He is meant to exert a certain mental pressure on the Turk. Gov. and military circles and thus pave the way for Churchill’s démarche.
Next I asked about Argentina. Eden replied that Ramírez’s
Pedro Pablo Ramirez Machuca, admiral, founder of Argentina’s fascist militia, was the Argentinian president in 1943–44 and maintained Argentina’s neutrality during the war.
new government is an improvement on the previous one but that sensational developments are not to be expected in the nearest future. After all, this is still a military government with all the ensuing consequences. Having said that, the FA minister (an admiral) is pro-Allies. Eden is of the view that, after a while, Argentina will probably break with the Axis.
We also spoke about French affairs. Eden showed me a series of Macmillan’s telegrams. From them the following emerges: on 9 June, de Gaulle submitted his proposals for army reforms to the committee. They boil down to two points: (1) much younger officers, i.e. most of the old generals should retire (there are currently 176 army generals gathered in Algiers, 63 air force generals – though the French air fleet has just 40 aeroplanes – and 27 admirals); (2) restructuring of command, i.e. the commander-in-chief should not be a member and president of the committee, but stand outside and beneath it, while all military affairs should be managed by a minister of war – a member of the committee and, if necessary, its president. The minister of war de Gaulle has in mind is, of course, de Gaulle.
De Gaulle’s proposals enraged Giraud, who made a gigantic scene. Then, on 10 June, de Gaulle sent a letter to the committee tendering his resignation. Turmoil ensued. Many committee members asked de Gaulle to retract his letter. Macmillan had a conversation with him to the same effect. Meetings are still ongoing in Algiers. Conciliatory phrases are being sought, letters and notes exchanged. A solution has yet to be found.
[The diary entry on the meeting with Eden (and the subsequent silence) avoids mentioning the bitter clash between Churchill and Stalin which triggered the recall of Maisky from London. Following the final defeat of the Axis forces in North Africa, Churchill felt confident enough to openly adhere to his peripheral strategy. He now envisaged a post-war world based on the special and equal relationship with the Americans. His impatience with Stalin impacted on Maisky’s standing. Even before setting off for Washington for his fifth summit meeting with Roosevelt, he warned Eden


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that ‘it would be a great pity to establish the principle that Ambassador Maisky should receive copies of all telegrams other than operational which I send to Marshal Stalin. I should object very strongly to this.’
TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/46, 5 May 1943.
Churchill left for the US on 5 May, on board the Queen Mary, with an entourage of 150 advisers, including the chiefs of staff. ‘It is an amusing form of megalomania on Winston’s part,’ jotted down Halifax in his diary, ‘but he would no doubt feel the war would gravely suffer if he did not move so attended.’
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 6 May 1943.
Churchill believed he could convert Roosevelt once again to his strategic and political vision, the implication of which was a definite postponement of the second front to spring 1944, at the earliest, and the introduction of various diversions in the Mediterranean, as well as in the Far East. He hoped also to dissuade the president from ending the war with an international structure which included the Soviet Union and perhaps China as equal partners. The former American ambassador to Moscow, Joseph Davies, was indeed busy conducting clandestine talks in the Kremlin to secure a bilateral meeting between the two leaders.
Fenby, Alliance: The inside story, pp. 187–94.
Eager to gain the president’s support for an invasion of Italy, Churchill continued to dwell on the unresolved difficulties involved in landing on the continent – an operation which could only be undertaken once ‘a plan offering reasonable prospects of success could be made’. The turbulent summit ended with Avalanche, the plan for the Italian campaign, finally confirmed, while the invasion of France was now set for spring 1944.
Gilbert, Road to Victory, ch. 23. Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 16 May 1943.
Both Admiral Pound and General Dill complained to Halifax about Churchill’s indecisiveness,


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while Brooke, the chief of staff, grumbled that Churchill was thinking ‘one thing at one moment and another at another moment. At times the war may be won by bombing and all must be sacrificed to it. At others it becomes essential for us to bleed ourselves dry on the Continent because Russia is doing the same. At others our main effort must be in the Mediterranean, directed against Italy or Balkans alternatively, with sporadic desires to invade Norway and “roll up the map in the opposite directions simultaneously irrespective of shortages of shipping!”’
Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 16 May 1943; Danchev and Todman, Alanbrooke, p. 405.
‘Isn’t he a sly rogue?’ was Maisky’s reaction to information coming out of Washington. ‘Not only does he want to preserve control over the Mediterranean for Britain and not to allow the Americans to look in there, he intends to do it at the expense of US forces and resources.’
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 157.
Indeed, when Maisky met Churchill as soon as he returned to London, his fears that the prime minister now considered the Italian campaign, combined with the air offensive, to be a substitute for the cross-channel campaign were confirmed. Churchill remained deliberately noncommittal when the possibility of bringing the war to a conclusion in Europe in 1944 was raised by the ambassador.
TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/52-4-5; SAO, I, no. 224, 9 June is Maisky’s report of the meeting which he sent to Moscow; see also Churchill papers, CHAR 20/93B/174, Churchill to Maisky, 13 June 1943.
Having gleaned from Maisky what had transpired in Washington and Algiers, Stalin bitterly remonstrated with Roosevelt about the exclusion of the Soviet Union from the strategic discussions while she was facing ‘single-handed a still very strong and dangerous enemy’. His indictment of the Allies (a copy of which was transmitted to Churchill on 11 June) warned of the grave consequences that the decision would have on ‘the people and the army of the Soviet Union’. With Avalanche now firmly secured, Churchill reminded Stalin of his determination to ‘never authorize any cross-Channel attack which … would lead only to useless massacre’. He could hardly see ‘how a great British defeat and slaughter would aid the Soviet Armies’. Stalin retorted with accusations of perfidy on the part of his Western Allies, again referring to the ‘colossal sacrifices’ made by the Red Army. On 26 June, Churchill, maintaining that his ‘own long-suffering patience [was] not inexhaustible’, removed the gloves: he recalled that, as a result of the Ribbentrop–Molotov Pact, Britain had been ‘left alone to face the worst that Nazi Germany could do to us’, and that presently ‘a more hopeful and fruitful strategic policy’ had opened up ‘in another theatre’.
Based on Gilbert, Road to Victory, ch. 25.
In a frenzy, Maisky found it difficult to reach Eden, who had been advised by Churchill ‘not to have anything to do with him’. When he finally did get through, it was to break the news of his recall to Moscow.
‘I don’t like this’, was Cadogan’s brief but perceptive observation in his diary; Dilks, Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, p. 539. Halifax and Hopkins reacted similarly: Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 1 July 1943.
However, even at such a dramatic moment, Maisky had not given up on his persistent efforts to defuse the tension between the two leaders. He appealed to Beaverbrook at the eleventh hour to intervene with the prime minister.
Beaverbrook papers, BBK\D\140, record of meeting with Maisky, 30 June 1943.
Finally, he secured a meeting with the prime minister on the eve of his departure. According to Churchill, the ambassador was ‘extremely civil’, repeatedly assuring him that he ‘ought not to attach importance to the tone of Stalin’s messages’. On the thorny issue of the second front, it quickly transpired that Churchill clung on to his belief that the Mediterranean strategy was ‘gaining Russia valuable breathing-space to regather her strength’. Depicting the ‘great sufferings and losses of Russia’, Maisky explained that although Stalin was harsh in scolding the prime minister, there was nothing sinister in his messages. Eager not to return to Moscow empty-handed, he succeeded in extracting from Churchill an undertaking to continue working with Stalin. He wished to ensure that the failure to embark on joint strategy would not impair the negotiations now taking place on the post-war order. Here he was partially successful,


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encouraging Churchill to send Eden to Moscow, thereby paving the way for the Moscow summit meeting of the Allied foreign ministers in the autumn.
TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/65, 2 July 1943.
]
17 June
The contours of our post-war politics are gradually emerging.
Over the course of the last few months, the British (especially Kerr in Moscow) have been informing us of various ‘amicable soundings’ on the part of official and unofficial Hungarians, and every so often they have asked our opinion. On 7 June, Molotov responded to Kerr with a letter setting out our point of view on a whole host of post-war matters. The main points of the letter boil down to the following:
(1) Responsibility for the war and wartime atrocities is borne not just by the Hungarian government but by Hungarian society as well (I interpret this formulation to mean that various ruling elements are intended, including the intelligentsia, the kulak class, etc.)
(2) The obligatory conditions that we would set Hungary (and other satellite countries) are:
(a) Unconditional surrender.
(b) The return of captured territories.
(c) Compensation of losses occasioned by the war.
(d) Punishment of war culprits.
(3) The arbitrary award of 30 August 1940 transferring northern Transylvania to Hungary cannot be considered fully justified. Reappraisal cannot be discounted.
(4) Negotiations and contact with oppositional elements in Hungary (and also, obviously, in other satellite countries) are possible, but in the course of the negotiations no promises should be given that contradict the conditions listed above under points (2) and (3). The negotiations should be conducted after the exchange of preliminary information.
(5) On the question of plans for a federation of Poland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Greece, Hungary, Austria, our view is that:
(a) Now is certainly not the time to commit ourselves.
(b) Hungary and Austria, at any rate, should not be members of such a federation.
All this is very important and interesting. It sets the line.
There is also an indication, later on, of our position in relation to de Gaulle and Giraud. We support de Gaulle for two reasons:
(a) de Gaulle takes a completely uncompromising position in relation to Germany and demands its complete destruction; the same cannot be said of Giraud.


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(b) de Gaulle supports the restoration of the Republican-democratic order in France and will not compromise with Vichy; the same cannot be said of Giraud.
Quite right. I have held fast to this line since last November. Now it has been confirmed in Moscow. A good thing too.
19 June
Coates said that at the Labour conference he has seen Petrov (in the capacity of ‘guest’) with his wife and two children. Petrov looks very old: his face is deeply furrowed with wrinkles, his hair is white and he has lost all his teeth. His wife looks even worse…
A distant scene surfaces unbidden in my mind. London. 1913. 1 May. Bright sun. Blue sky. A small May Day demonstration progresses along the city’s sooty, sultry streets, in the direction of Hyde Park. Two to three thousand people. Dozens of red flags flutter in the air. The sound of singing… of socialist and revolutionary songs. And, though the procession is not large and the singing not especially loud, everyone is in the most wonderful spirits. Cheerful, animated, full of joy. Everyone is living for the future, and this future seems so bright, broad, so full of promise. Another year, it seems, another five, another ten at the very most – and everything these people are thinking, dreaming, talking and singing about will become reality. Socialism will triumph!
I, too, am walking in the ranks of the May Day procession and my heart, too, is jumping for joy. How magnificent the world is! How wonderful the prospects opening up before us! Forward! Forward! Quick! Quick! To victory!…
At my side walks Petrov, and at his side – a young, blooming girl of 23. This is a German social democrat recently arrived in London, a pleasant, cheerful, intelligent creature. Petrov is Peter Petroff, the legislator, leader and dictator of the Kentish Town Branch of the British Socialist Party. He is about 30. Tanned, black-haired, with sharp facial features and a booming voice, Petrov speaks well (the London type of street corner speaker) and within his own party his popularity keeps rising. He is being taken seriously in the party; a big political future is predicted for him. Petrov met the girl who is now walking alongside him by chance, met her and immediately fell in love. Petrov’s love affair is progressing at a gallop, although it has not yet reached its logical conclusion. It is clear, though, that Petrov and the German girl will soon marry. At this May Day demonstration, they cling very close to one another, exchange glances and smiles, like people who share a special language inaccessible to anyone else. They are having fun. They are bursting with enthusiasm. Their personal emotions merge so well with the general mood of the procession. And both of


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them feel that life is unveiling before them a long and broad path, filled with joy, splendour, success…
Yes, 30 years have passed since that day.
How cruelly life has deceived Petrov!
He arrived in Russia in 1918 or 1919. He received a magnificent welcome: at that time his old London friends – Chicherin, Litvinov, Rothstein and others – held leading posts in the Soviet administration. Petrov even got to see Lenin. His prospects, evidently, were brilliant. But alas.
By nature, Petrov is almost an anarchist. Accustomed to being a dictator on the scale of Kentish Town, he did not manage to become a useful link in a large machine on the scale of the USSR. Petrov kept having clashes, squabbles and rows with his work comrades and with the leaders of party and state. He almost always turned out to be in the wrong. His star began to fall. On my way from Moscow to London in 1925, I met Petrov outside the Berlin embassy. He was working at the time for our trade mission in Germany (as an economist, if I’m not mistaken) and looked rather ragged. He was in a bad mood. He was annoyed with everything and everyone. Then I lost sight of him. The years passed. Every now and again I heard rumours that Petrov was acting oddly, that there was something wrong with him, that he was switching to the anti-Soviet side…
And then a few years ago, out of the blue, Petrov suddenly showed up in England again – already an old man, a wreck, and an undisguised enemy of the USSR. Gillies, needless to say, took him under his wing. For a while Petrov campaigned furiously against the Soviet Union – especially after 23 August 1939 – and I even had to take some countermeasures. Then, when Germany attacked the USSR, all this died down. Petrov vanished completely. I didn’t even know whether he was alive or dead. And now Coates has reminded me of him once more.
The life cycle of Petrov and his wife is complete, or almost complete. What a bitter, stupid, vile fate!
20 June (Bovingdon)
Still quiet on our front. The Germans are spreading rumours via foreign correspondents in Berlin that the major offensive against the USSR has been postponed indefinitely, since the fundamental task this summer, allegedly, is the safeguarding of the borders of the stronghold – Europe. Sounds suspicious. Whatever the truth, another week has been gained.
It is cold and windy; grey clouds sweep across the sky. I have caught a cold. There is a hum in my left ear.
2 July
Tomorrow I am flying to Moscow.
About a week ago, I received a telegram summoning me to Moscow for consultations on post-war matters. Very good. I’m glad of the chance to see my people and ‘touch native soil’ once more.
I think, however, that there is more to this than consultations. My recall, it seems to me, may also be a way of expressing our dissatisfaction with the British government for failing to keep its word on the second front. This is precisely how Eden interpreted the announcement of my departure. He was greatly alarmed and exclaimed: ‘What? You are leaving London at such a moment?’
‘What particular moment?’ I retorted. ‘After all, there won’t be a second front now. So there is no reason why I should not fly to Moscow for a period of time.’
It took a week to arrange the flight. The British are putting a plane at my disposal in which they will also be sending out some employees bound for their embassy in Moscow. One of our military men, who is returning to the USSR, is flying with me. The route is interesting: Gibraltar–Cairo–Habbaniya–Kuibyshev–Moscow. I’ve never been to Egypt – I’ll see the pyramids!
Bon voyage!


Page 1475



Page 1476

End of an Era: Maisky’s Recall
Maisky’s departure for Moscow on 3 July via Cairo started off inauspiciously. His brief stopover in Gibraltar gave rise to a conspiracy theory which continued to haunt him for years and which was revived in the wake of Poland’s regained independence. It suggests that the crash of Sikorski’s plane shortly after take-off in the early hours of the following morning (the plane had been parked on the tarmac next to Maisky’s) was a result of Soviet sabotage. This theory feeds on an earlier attempt on Sikorski’s life (when an incendiary device was found and defused by the pilot who was flying him to the United States) and the fact that Kim Philby, the notorious Soviet mole at MI6, happened to be in Spain at the time of the crash. The earlier attempt on Sikorski’s life was, however, attributed to Sikorski’s opponents, who were resentful of the Polish–Soviet agreement he had signed with Maisky in July 1941. An exhaustive investigation by the British security services established that the pilot had faked the incident simply to draw attention to himself.
On this episode, see TNA KV 3/275, and Halifax papers, diary, A7.8.19, 5 May 1942.
Suspicion of Maisky’s complicity in the fatal crash lingers on, despite an official investigation, carried out in 1943, which blamed the crash on a technical malfunction. In its most extreme version, the conspiracy suggests that the murder had been ordered by Churchill, who then tried to implicate Maisky and the Russians.
D. Irving, Accident: The death of General Sikorski (London, 1967). The net is swarming with ‘information’ about the crash. A good example is J. Kazimierz Kubit, ‘Was General Sikorski a victim of the Katyn massacre?’, at www.polishnews.com/historia-history/historia-polskipolish-history/537-was-general-sikorski-a-victim-of-the-katyn-massacre.
Maisky was met in Gibraltar by the governor, General Mason-MacFarlane, who, until recently, had been the British military attaché in Moscow. Bound by ‘the laws of wartime hospitality’, Mason-MacFarlane reluctantly invited him to the official residence in the fortress. Embarrassingly, Mason-MacFarlane had already extended an invitation for Sikorski (who was due from Cairo a few hours earlier) to spend the night at his palace. The governor arranged with the Foreign Office that Maisky’s arrival would be delayed until breakfast. As soon as Sikorski arrived, Mason-MacFarlane informed him of the mishap and begged him to ensure that none of his party left their rooms until he waved a white handkerchief to signal that Maisky had departed and that the coast was clear. He further took special precautions to have two sentries present by the locked plane and an NCO inside. Maisky apparently heard of the plane crash that claimed the life of Sikorski over breakfast in the Cairo residence of Lord Killearn shortly after his landing in Cairo the following morning. Only then did it dawn on him ‘why MacFarlane was in such a frightful hurry to get [him] off the Rock’.
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 369; Irving, Accident, pp. 51–2, 166–7.
Both Litvinov and Maisky chose to present their recall to Moscow as a remonstration against the decision to postpone the second front, rather than as a personal rebuff in the protracted struggle between the old school of Soviet diplomacy and Stalin’s now fully erected authoritarian edifice. They were most anxious to impress on their interlocutors


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in the West that their promotion to the position of deputy foreign minister within the ministry reflected their personal appreciation by the Kremlin and their continued relevance. Maisky’s confidants, notably Lord Beaverbrook, echoed him in attributing the recall to Stalin’s deepening suspicion of British intentions, the fault for which ‘lay entirely with the Prime Minister who was fundamentally anti-Russian and who was too old now to change’.
Beaverbrook papers, BBK\D\140, 30 June 1943; Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, II, 3–4 July 1943.
Litvinov left Under Secretary of State Welles with the impression that it was he who had insisted on returning to Moscow to directly influence Stalin’s foreign policy. And yet, in the same breath, he complained of being completely ‘bereft of any information as to the policy or plans of his own Government’.
FRUS, 1943, III, pp. 522–3.
Bruce Lockhart, an old Russia hand, describes how Maisky was most anxious to figure out how public opinion in Britain reacted to his recall. When he learned that there were two conflicting schools of thought – one attributing it to Stalin’s dismay of British inaction and the other suggesting that Stalin ‘would benefit from the presence in Moscow of so great a connoisseur of England as himself’ – his ‘eyes twinkled’ as he admitted that ‘in Moscow there were also two interpretations’.
TNA FO 800/872, memo on a meeting with Maisky, 2 Sep. 1943.
The third option, of being out of favour, was thus avoided.
Once in Moscow, the unrelenting Maisky was quick to brief the British press about his new ‘elevated’ position and the fact that he, as they put it, was ‘held in high regard by Joe’.
G. Bilainkin, Second Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent (London, 1947), p. 106.
The Times reported that Stalin wished him ‘to remain at his right hand, with M. Molotov’, while Russia was preparing her post-war policy, considering his ‘direct knowledge and understanding of Great Britain’, as well as his rare and shrewd views on ‘Germany, France, and other countries’.
The Times, 18 July & 26 Aug. 1943. See also Ambassador Standley falling into this ‘trap’, FRUS, 1943, III, pp. 567–8.
The bleaker reality, more accurately surmised by Time Magazine, was that ‘Little Maisky’ would ‘get lost in the bureaucratic maze of the Narkomindel (signifying that his tireless bouncing around London had displeased his superiors)’.
Time Magazine, 26 August 1943.
Ironically, it was Maisky who had had a similar observation about Vansittart’s ‘promotion’ in 1938: ‘the new appointment will have to be regarded as a demotion or, more precisely, as a retirement ticket, only with uniform, decorations and a pension’.
See diary entry for 4 January 1938.
Stalin and Molotov had been seeking the removal of Maisky and Litvinov from London and Washington, which the two ambassadors considered to be their ‘personal territory’.


Page 1540

V. Zubok and C. Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War: From Stalin to Khrushchev (Boston, 1996), pp. 28–33. Uldricks, ‘Impact of the Great Purges’, pp. 193–5, had convincingly argued, even before Soviet archives were open, that the recall marked the completion of the process of the transformation of the revolutionary Narkomindel into a Stalinist Foreign Ministry. He further argued that the ‘promotion’ of Maisky and Litvinov to the position of ‘deputy foreign minister’ in fact deprived them of the power they had exercised.
Neither returned to Moscow willingly. The memory of the horrifying fate of their colleagues who had been summoned to Moscow was still painfully fresh. Averell Harriman remembered Litvinov being ‘ebullient’ up to the moment of his recall: ‘I have never seen a man collapse so completely. His attitude showed that he was in a rather tenuous position with Stalin and he must have feared for his life in the event that his Washington mission ended in disgrace.’ Litvinov’s wife Ivy, who for a while stayed behind in Washington, confided to friends that she feared she might never see her husband again.
Harriman and Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, p. 199.
In her unpublished memoirs, she describes emphatically how her husband ‘went nearly mad … he wanted to stay … he started what he longed for more than anything else [writing his memoirs] because he did not want to go back to Russia’. She goes on to describe how he ‘did nothing but quarrel with Stalin at that time – unappeasably quarrel with Stalin … he could do nothing but quarrel with everybody … with Molotov … with everybody, and nothing they could do was right’.
Ivy Litvinov papers, Box 10/3.
Back in Moscow, Ivy cast ‘a heedful eye on every side. She begged her friends not to send books to Litvinov nor to come and see them, that was “safer for both”.’
Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, II, pp. 348–9.
The presentation of the recall as a protest against the West has led historians down a false track. The decision to withdraw Litvinov, it should be remembered, had been taken


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earlier, in late April, prior to the eruption of the major conflict between the Allies.
G. Roberts, ‘Litvinov’s lost peace, 1941–1946’, Journal of Cold War Studies, 4/2 (2002).
It signalled to Maisky that his days in Britain were numbered. As soon as the news from Washington came through, he wasted little time in depositing a political will with his wife:
Dear Agniya, My instructions for whatever happens: (1) My notes (the diary, or my Old Lady, as I like to call her), should be sent to Comrade Stalin. They are in my two little suitcases. (2) You yourself should go through all my papers and sort them out into those which are of public and those which are of personal nature. Those which are of public interest should be given to Comrade Molotov. All these materials are in my personal safe, in the iron cupboard next to the safe, in the small suitcases, as well as in other places in our apartment. (3) I should like my childhood memoir to be published.
From the private archives of Voskresensky’s family, quoted in Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, p.126.
In his memoirs, Gromyko, who at the time was very much under Molotov’s spell, describes how Maisky’s appointment to the post in London had ‘shocked many’: how could someone who had served in the Menshevik government in Saratov during the Civil War assume such a prominent diplomatic position and for such a long period? His activities in London, he claims, ‘were always assessed with some reserve … the political past of this man prevailed over all appraisals of his work’. As the war dragged on, his ‘unjustified’ long telegrams, describing in detail his meetings with British politicians ‘drowned in his own description of the situation’, had become ‘irritating to the leadership’. Gromyko finally recalls a conversation with Molotov, when the latter and Stalin decided that ‘Maisky had to be replaced.’
Gromyko, Pamyatnoe, I, pp. 416–18. Not in the English edition.
Stalin did not, however, shy away from drawing on the unrivalled connections and familiarity with the West of Litvinov and Maisky, though under close surveillance and within limited scope. Maisky was nominally put in charge of the commission on reparation, but was kept at arm’s length. His request that the commission should ‘enjoy sufficient authority and independence’ and that he personally should be ‘directly subordinated’ to Molotov was not heeded.
AVP RF f.06 op.6 p.62 d.834 ll.97–8, 22 July 1943.
Litvinov fared slightly better. He met Stalin five times during 1943, and his expert advice was welcome in the impending meeting of the Allied foreign ministers and at the following summit meeting in Tehran. Maisky was denied access to the Kremlin. ‘I asked Stalin to receive me, in order to report to him direct on the British situation and all the problems connected with it,’ he remembers, ‘but he did not find it necessary to talk with me.’
Istoricheskii Arkhiv, 4 (1998), and Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 378.
Keeping Litvinov and Maisky in the wings was a typical method used by Stalin for his divide-and-rule tactics – asserting his power and curtailing Molotov’s increasing influence in the formulation of foreign policy.
V. Mastny in ‘Reconsiderations: The Cassandra in the Foreign Commissariat – Maxim Litvinov and the Cold War’, Foreign Affairs, 54 (1986), overplays the importance of Litvinov after his return to Moscow.
A good indicator of Maisky’s perilous position was his desperate effort to avoid Kerr, the British ambassador in Moscow, who was most eager to get him, Litvinov and the American ambassador ‘to come and dine for a no fig-leaf kind of talk’. The ambassador, reported Kerr, ‘had so many conferences, that he didn’t know what to do’, while later on he was ‘in the country and would let me know when he got back’. Maisky met him finally only on the official turf of Narkomindel, confessing that he did not yet


Page 1479

know what his tasks would be. His plans, however, to return to England for a short while made it clear to Kerr ‘that there [was] no hurry about his taking up his new job in Moscow’.
TNA FO 371 36956 N5158/66/38, 10 Aug. 1943.
Neither Stalin nor Molotov could watch with equanimity the popular cult of Maisky in London, which reached dimensions second only to the cult of Stalin himself.
Foster, ‘The Beaverbrook press and appeasement’, p. 15.
Maisky had always been heedful of being seduced by the bourgeois environment, an inescapable consequence of the nature of the diplomatic profession. The high esteem in which he was held, especially after Molotov’s visit in May 1942, could quickly turn against him – an unresolved paradox of which he had been fully aware from the outset of his ambassadorship.
See the chapter ‘Making of a Soviet Diplomat’.
While flattered by the cult evolving around him, Maisky was anxious to keep it on the back burner. He was quick to turn down an invitation by the sculptor Epstein to attend the private viewing of his works at Leicester Galleries, using the flimsy excuse that he did ‘not think it would be appropriate for me to be present as the bust of my own head will be shown there’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1194 l.4, 14 July 1943.
A similar source of discomfort was the publication of his biography, shortly after the recall, by the Russian-born journalist Bilainkin, who had always been welcome at his ambassadorial residence. Not only did Maisky dissociate himself from the author, but he appeared extremely anxious to find out from his trusted colleagues at the embassy whether it contained any incriminating information. He likewise declined an offer by Birmingham University to bestow on him an honorary doctorate a few days before he was called back to Moscow.
TNA FO 371 33021 N3178/3178/38, FO minutes and correspondence, 24–26 June 1943; Sylvester papers, diary, A54, 31 May 1943 & B74, letter to Lloyd George, 3 June 1943; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.79 l.12, Maisky to Zinchenko, 21 April 1944.
When the Treaty of Alliance was signed in London, following Molotov’s visit in May 1942, Lord Cecil and other speakers in the House of Lords went out of their way to praise Maisky for his ‘valuable contribution to Anglo-Russian understanding … over a long period of years’. They paid tribute to his ‘patient and exceedingly difficult work … undertaken for many years past’. In the Commons debate, Eden paid similar tribute to the ‘valuable contribution to Anglo-Russian understanding’ made by Maisky ‘over a long period of years’. Only passing references were made to either Stalin or Molotov.
Hansard, HL Deb 11 June 1942, vol. 123, cols 359–64 & Hansard, HC Deb 11 June 1942, vol. 380, cols 1347–54.
Likewise, a week later, during a formidable rally at the Albert Hall in support of a second front, Cripps mentioned Molotov en passant, before going on to say: ‘I could not omit in mentioning … a very special reference to one other Soviet statesman. We regard him more generally as a diplomat but I can assure you that he is a statesman too, Soviet Ambassador, M. Maisky.’ Maisky tried in vain to play down such an homage. ‘One has to understand,’ he explained to his friends, ‘that in all these events the first and foremost honour belongs to our great people and to our brilliant leadership.’
The speech is reproduced in full in the Maisky diary entry of 20 June 1942 but is omitted from this edition. Letter to Negrín, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1040 l.4, 20 June 1942.
Even after his departure from London, farewell letters from ministers kept streaming in and surely would have raised an eyebrow or two in the Kremlin. ‘I need not say,’ wrote Noel-Baker in one such typical letter, ‘and I am sure hundreds of other people have already written to you similarly – how ever sorry we all are that you and your wife are leaving London; how very much you will be missed; and how long and how gratefully your memory will be kept alive here. As I am sure the Government have said to you officially, we all feel an immense debt of gratitude for your services in bringing our countries closer together.’
Noel-Baker papers, NBKR 4/639, 15 Sep. 1943. See also similar examples in RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1267 l.26, d.1399 l.11, Vansittart and Cranborne to Maisky, 13 Sep. 1943.
Under any normal circumstances, such recognition would have endeared an ambassador at home, but in the Kremlin it would have confirmed the independent position Maisky had assumed, certainly not the servile diplomat now characterizing Molotov’s Narkomindel.


Page 1480

One of the worse consequences of the uncalled-for cult of personality was a most powerful portrait of Maisky, done by the famous Austrian painter Oskar Kokoschka shortly before his withdrawal. The whole experience was far from pleasant for both. Unusually for him, Maisky was uneasy. He ‘read The Times throughout the sittings’, grumbled Kokoschka in his memoirs. ‘I could not get him to talk: perhaps he regarded a portrait as some new form of brainwashing. Finally, after hours of sitting, I suggested he reverse the paper behind which he was hiding, for I had finished reading the part turned to me. At length he became a little more talkative, and told me about his student days in Vienna and Munich.’
O. Kokoschka, My Life (London, 1971), p. 34.
However, the worst was yet to come. A benefactor was found, who agreed to contribute the sum of the purchase to a Stalingrad Hospital Fund, stipulating, though, that it would care for both German and Russian wounded soldiers. As embarrassing for Maisky was the artist’s wish for the painting to be given to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Moscow. The idea of ‘a small token of Anglo-Russian goodwill’ was raised with Eden, who passed it on to Maisky as soon as he returned to England to wind up his affairs before his final departure.
I am grateful for information given to me by Beatrice von Bormann, a thoughtful curator of Kokoschka’s portrait exhibitions, and Anna Müller-Härlin, an art historian who is pursuing research on Kokoschka; see also Richard Calvocoressi’s Kokoschka Catalogue (Tate Gallery, 1986).
The intermediary, Beddington-Behrens, a patron of the arts, was urgently invited to the Soviet embassy. He left a most disturbing description of Maisky’s state of mind at the time of his recall:
As I waited outside, a little peephole in the door was opened, from which I saw two eyes peering at me. When at last I was admitted to the Embassy I was followed into the waiting-room by two men, who remained there but did not speak a word to me. Finally, I was shown into the ambassador’s room, where I also found MADCme Maisky. To my astonishment, the first thing Mr Maisky did was to take the precaution of locking the three doors leading into the room. Then he asked me not to press for the picture by Kokoschka to be sent to the Moscow Art Gallery … He also asked me to omit any mention of the proposed gift of the portrait in any official communications to the Embassy concerning the generous donation of the money. His wife begged me to do as he wished, and I suddenly realised that Maisky was probably a victim of one of Stalin’s ruthless purges. Both of them appeared to be very nervous, and I was quite moved by MADCme Maisky’s obvious devoted love for her husband, and her anxiety to shield him in any way that lay in her power.
E. Beddington-Behrens, Look Back Look Forward (London, 1963), pp. 165–6.
Maisky’s fears proved justified when Kokoschka went ahead with his offer, only to be flatly rebuffed by the Soviet government. The painting was then donated to the Tate Gallery.
Always torn between fear and conceit, Maisky faced a similar conundrum when Epstein offered him a bronze copy of the bust he had made of him three years earlier. The correspondence concerning the gift was conducted with the embassy after Maisky’s departure and seems to have embarrassed him, considering the negative impact his popularity in London was having on his relations with the Kremlin. While, in his customary way, he was making meticulous arrangements for the safe shipping of the bust, he tried to persuade his successor that the sculpture was done ‘not of my own will, but at [Epstein’s] own initiative’.
This was only partially true. It was very much manipulated by Agniya (see the commentary following the diary entry for 14 February 1941). Maisky later expressed to Epstein his ‘debt of gratitude’ for the ‘fine piece of work’ and ‘appreciated very much your wish to do it’; RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1194 ll.8–9, 21 March 1944.
Distressed by the Kokoschka affair, Maisky went on


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to excuse himself for not taking appropriate precautions concerning Epstein’s possible use of the bust, as he had considered him to be ‘generally of a progressive leaning and unlikely to misuse it’. He claimed that there was no way of refusing to accept the bust done by ‘the most famous contemporary sculptor in England and on top of that a person with much sympathy towards us’.


Page 1541

RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1194 ll.6–7, Maisky to Gusev, 25 Dec. 1943.
Notwithstanding his extreme cautiousness, Maisky found it increasingly difficult to conform to the new role assigned to him as a passive ambassador in London. It is hardly a surprise that he was incensed at being involved in fighting a losing battle over the attempts by Molotov to reduce diplomats to pure messengers.
See the commentary following the diary entry for 4 April 1940.
The attitude in the Kremlin to the ambassadors, considered to be the vestige of the ‘old guard’, evinced contempt and resentment. Pavlov (the personal interpreter of Stalin and Molotov) left an account of Maisky’s recall. Significantly, his narrative is bound together with his earlier devastating critique of the ambassador and his wife at the time of Molotov’s visit to London in May 1942.
See the commentary following the diary entry for 6 April 1942.
The institutionalization of diplomacy, through the imposition of military order and hierarchy, symbolically deprived diplomats of their individuality and segregated them from their foreign colleagues. The new style was perhaps an allusion to Peter the Great’s ‘table of ranks’, which had militarized the civil service and secured loyalty to the tsar, service to whom became the only criterion for advancement. The whole drift, seemingly innocuous in itself, signalled the emasculation of Soviet diplomats abroad and their growing dependence on Moscow.
Shortly before learning of his recall, Maisky addressed Molotov with a personal rebuff, of the sort the commissar was hardly accustomed to:


Page 1482

Dear Vyacheslav Mikhailovich,
Rumours travel faster than light, and it has reached my ears that a decision concerning uniforms to be worn by diplomats has been reached in Narkomindel – moreover, that the uniform has already been designed and, if one is to believe the rumours, it even includes … a dagger! Is it true, a dagger?
May well be an allusion to Macbeth’s famous line: ‘Is this a dagger which I see before me?’
I understand that if a sailor carries a dagger it symbolizes to a degree his military profession. But what is the relevance of a dagger to diplomacy? And what is it supposed to symbolize in this case? As far as I can recall, neither English diplomats nor the French, nor the vast majority of diplomats of other nations, carry daggers.
Voskresensky’s private archives, quoted by Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, p. 126, 28 May 1943.
Such an unprecedented and blunt criticism of Molotov hardly endeared him to Moscow and must have further contributed to the decision to recall him – which saved him from wearing the uniform in London, but not in Moscow. In November, now nominally in a high position at Narkomindel, he was given his new uniform. A strange blend of estrangement and suppressed vanity emerges in his diary:
The uniform is better, more comfortable and more handsome than I had expected. But I feel awkward in it just the same. I haven’t worn any kind of uniform for 40 years, ever since my expulsion from St Petersburg University in 1902. I’ve been in civilian clothes all my life. Now, nearly 60, I find myself wearing uniform once more. It’s only natural that it should feel a bit strange. I’ll have to get used to it. And another thing: I have a high rank and Marshal shoulder-straps, which attract the attention of passers-by. The military salute me. This also feels novel and awkward.
Maisky, diary entry for 5 November 1943, written in Moscow after his return to the Soviet Union.
The diplomatic correspondent of The Times, who visited Maisky at the ‘shabby old ministry of foreign affairs’, commented on how odd it was to see the face of the ‘old revolutionary’ looking out at him ‘from between the glistering, Tsarist-style epaulettes on the uniforms – greyish fawn’.
McDonald, A Man of the Times, p. 93.
Assuming the withdrawal of the ambassadors to be mainly an expression of protest, the Foreign Office failed to see the significance of the metamorphosis of Narkomindel. Embracing Maisky (as they did at this point) did little but intensify the Kremlin’s mistrust of him, and the suspicion that his loyalties no longer lay with Moscow. Indeed such accusations figured prominently in his trial in 1955.
See the chapter ‘The Price of Fame’.
Kerr disputed openly with Molotov the wisdom of withdrawing Maisky from London, even if his services were urgently needed in Moscow. Maisky was, Kerr tried to impress on him, enjoying in London ‘a position which no ambassador has had ever before’. It was a ‘unique position in every sense’. He was ‘loved in England by all from the left to the right, for all he [was] trustworthy’. Listening politely, Molotov did not even blink, but proceeded to ask an agrément for the new ambassador. Kerr did not give up. Although the Soviet Union had 180 million inhabitants, he argued, it would ‘be difficult to find among them a successor for Maisky’. ‘Eden,’ he now resorted to the heavy guns, would ‘certainly be sorry to see Maisky go.’ When Kerr referred to the love engulfing Maisky in London, Molotov cynically replied that ‘we in Moscow also like Maisky’. He mentioned how, during his visit to London, he was able to appreciate the extensive contacts Maisky had forged – a compliment for any ambassador, but not in Stalin’s Russia. Kerr was misled


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to inform Eden in his brief report of Molotov’s ‘warm praise of Maisky’, which he took at face value. In a follow-up telegram, he criticized Eden for ‘reading too much into the appointment’ of a new ambassador. He wrongly assumed that as a result of the purges there were ‘only a handful of men of the calibre required’ in Moscow and Maisky’s presence was imperative.
For Molotov’s most detailed report of the meeting, see AVP RF f.06 op.5 p.17 d.159 ll.74–81, and Kerr’s brief one in TNA FO 371 36925 N4253/22/38 and a follow-up in TNA FO 371 36925 N4375/22/38, 7 Aug. 1943.
The decision of the Foreign Office ‘to make a bid … to retain him in London’ would also have an adverse effect on Maisky. Eden instructed Kerr to tell Molotov ‘how much we appreciated M. Maisky’s services in the cause of Anglo-Soviet co-operation and how greatly we regret the departure of such an old and trusted friend’. In conversations with the Soviet chargé d’affaires, Eden ‘noted with regret’ the withdrawal of Maisky. He even went so far as to question whether ‘it was really more important to be one of six Assistant Commissars than to be an Ambassador in one of the principal capitals’.
TNA FO 371 36925 N4323/22/38; SAO, I, no. 238, 29 July 1943.
Unlike Eden, many were misguided enough to assume that Maisky was indeed being promoted. Sir Charles Trevelyan, the radical Labour MP, for instance, congratulated him on the ‘great advancement to the very responsible place … which will make your advice effective in the critical decisions of the next few years. Like many others I have formed the highest opinion of your judgment. What we lose in England by your leaving us the world will gain from Moscow.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1616 l.41, 5 Aug. 1943.
The remonstrations were becoming a source of personal and political embarrassment to Maisky, who brought them to an end in a formal, and hardly sincere, message (most likely dictated to him) to Eden:
We appreciate your feeling but I am sure you will understand how happy I am after so many years abroad to live again in my country and to work at Narkomindel. I will tell you more about it when I will come to London to say good-bye. I hope that you will establish best relations with my successor.
TNA FO 954/26 SU/43/75, Kerr to Eden, 8 Aug. 1943.
The choice of Fedor Tarasovich Gusev as the new ambassador, despite his apparent lack of experience, was a well thought-out move. He was the antidote to Maisky, just as Gromyko was to Litvinov in Washington. His appointment signalled what the new profile of Soviet diplomacy would be – a signal lost on the Foreign Office. They opted to ignore Stalin’s and Molotov’s statements to Kerr that plenipotentiaries were there ‘to sign agreements rather than exchanges of views’. Gusev, a loyal party member, had studied law and had worked in various institutes in Leningrad. He was recruited to the ministry during the purges. Following Molotov’s takeover, he was put in charge of its West European department. His British interlocutors in Moscow had a poor opinion of his ‘abilities & character’ and thought he was ‘rather uncouth’. His English was ‘sparse and peculiar … he took no initiative and had the appearance of having come from a collective farm after a short course of GPU training.’ When approached, he would refuse to say anything except for ‘I will refer the matter to my superiors.’ In a nutshell, Kerr summed up, he was a man ‘without grace, and his appearance is distressing’. When General Brooke met Gusev for the first time, at a luncheon given in the ambassador’s honour at the end of October, he was not at all taken by ‘“frogface” Gousev, a former butcher’, who was ‘certainly not as impressive as that ruffian Maisky was!’ Few in London entertained any illusions concerning Gusev’s appointment. They anticipated that it would ‘certainly make any kind of free exchange of views in London virtually impossible’. Slowly it sank in that rather than being promoted, Maisky was


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‘being demoted, being placed under Molotov in the Moscow Foreign Office’, while being succeeded in London by a diplomat who was ‘quite unable to replace him for the purpose of any serious political discussions’. Maisky’s warnings that a failure on post-war Europe might encourage the Russians ‘to plough a lonely furrow’ seemed to be materializing.
TNA FO 371 36925 N4253/22/38 & TNA FO 371 36925 N4375/22/38, minutes by Warner, Sargent, Cadogan and Eden, 27–28 July & 4–7 Aug. 1943. Danchev and Todman, Alanbrooke, p. 464.
Until his recall, Maisky had succeeded in masterly fashion at navigating the stormy turns of his career – a career in which diplomatic achievements and personal survival were tightly intertwined. Now the moment of truth had come. The recall threatened to wipe out, at a stroke, his political assets, while compromising his standing at home and in Britain. Ostensibly the recall was a result of the Russians’ grievances over their exclusion from Casablanca, Churchill’s unannounced visit to Washington and the decision to postpone the offensive across the Channel until spring 1944 without consulting the Soviet Union. Maisky genuinely feared the ‘grave’ consequences of the lack of a strategic and political dialogue, which was bound to ‘endanger our relations not only in the closing stages of the war but in the post-war settlement’. A successful Soviet winter offensive could bring the Russians to the German border and enhance the feeling in Moscow that the Allies had played only a minor part in the victory, thus leading to unilateral arrangements and Soviet isolation. His professional future in Moscow hinged on sustaining the collaboration which he hoped to foster, should he be allowed to return briefly to London.
Maisky shared his candid outlook with General Spears, the British minister in Damascus, with whom he had fostered close relations even during the difficult early days of his ambassadorship. See TNA FO 954/26A, Spears’ report to Eden, 6 Oct. 1943. On the very special relations between Spears and Maisky, see Spears papers, SPRS 1/221, letter to Maisky, 5 April 1945.
In a series of personal letters and telephone conversations with Molotov (reminiscent in style of his pleadings with Litvinov in the 1920s),
See the chapter ‘Making of a Soviet Diplomat’.
Maisky resorted to mundane reasons for seeking permission to return to London: he was concerned about Agniya, who had been left behind and could hardly face a journey back alone in the hazardous wartime conditions, about her ‘ear condition’ which made it hard for her to fly, about her ‘susceptibility to sea-sickness’, and about the ‘vast amount of luggage (I have many books and other things)’ which he wished to ship to Russia. His presence in London – he threw the bait to Molotov – could save the government money, as the British were bound to put at his disposal the appropriate means of transport. Molotov was decisively against, arguing that it would nullify the protest which the recall evoked. But Maisky persevered. He was certain that the British government, which had ‘become accustomed to linking [his] name with the idea of Anglo-Soviet cooperation’ would have perceived his departure ‘as a symptom of our displeasure at British policy, as a symptom of the fact that some cracks have grown in the Anglo-Soviet relationship’. His sojourn in London, which he promised would be ‘a careful farewell’, could further help ‘prepare the ground a little’ for Gusev, his successor. True to himself, however, Maisky perceived his recall as a personal setback. His wish to return to England was genuinely motivated by the need (as he wrote in a draft letter to Molotov and then crossed out) to ensure that the ‘Soviet government’s discontent with the policy of the British government would not appear to foreigners, and still less to our Soviet people, to indicate discontent with the Soviet government’s ambassador in London (if, of course, such dissatisfaction actually does not exist)’. In his memoirs, published during the de-Stalinization period, he describes how he looked ‘meaningfully’ at Molotov, telling him that ‘above all’ he wished to go to London to prevent the spreading gossip concerning his recall. He goes on to explain that:


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In the years of the great man cult there were many cases when Soviet Ambassadors were unexpectedly recalled to Moscow and then vanished without a trace – either into the grave or behind the bars of some camp. Therefore in the West there had been created the impression that, once a Soviet Ambassador was recalled to Moscow, some unpleasantness or other was awaiting him at home. I wanted to protect myself against this kind of interpretation and suspicion.
A letter to Molotov and a draft letter from the private archives of Voskresensky’s family, quoted in Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, pp. 128–9; Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, pp. 380–2. A year later, Eden made a similar observation, following a most frustrating meeting with Gusev, Maisky’s successor: ‘Tried to impress upon him the difficulties Russian methods make for us. He appeared to understand, but God knows whether he did. One misses Maisky very much, for it was always possible to have a heart to heart with him. Which is perhaps the reason why Mr Maisky did not stay with us’; Eden, The Reckoning, p. 450.
Molotov, who could see through Maisky, was determined to remove the final stumbling block to his complete control of the ministry. After almost a month of beseeching, Maisky was granted merely five days to wind up his eleven-year sojourn in London, rendering it impractical for him to engage in extensive political conversations. Placed in a straitjacket, Maisky found it most embarrassing to concede to his British friends the restrictive terms of his return. Former acquaintances who came to bid farewell found him ‘sad and depressed’ and ‘in a subdued mood’. There was ‘a queer distant look in his Mongolian eyes which seemed to indicate that he was sad to leave London’.
Bruce Lockhart papers, special diary/45, 9 Sep. 1943; Bruce Lockhart, Comes the Reckoning, p. 256.
Short of time, he had to resort to flimsy excuses in turning down numerous invitations – even an invitation from Churchill’s wife, Clementine, to attend an Allied rally.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1172 l.2, 7 Aug. 1943.
Maisky’s intentions were, just as they had been in 1939,
See the commentary following the diary entry for 28 April 1939.
to return to Moscow with tangible political achievements concerning post-war collaboration and the definition of European borders. In a last-ditch attempt to mollify his masters in Moscow, and to exhibit his new formal status to London, Maisky exploited his short sojourn in London to embark upon a series of lightning unauthorized negotiations with Churchill and Eden. He once again plotted with Eden, who was concerned about the way Churchill was becoming ‘dangerously Anti-Russian’.
Harvey, War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, pp. 41–5.
The two met on almost a daily basis, at one point three times a day. Maisky was most candid with Eden, expressing his own private views ‘off record’. Eden, though, found it difficult to decide whether Maisky’s words ‘expressed only his own opinion, and to what degree it had reflected the opinion of his chiefs’.
On this see DPSR, II, Doc. 32, record of conversation between Raczyński and Eden, 3 Sep. 1943.
Maisky sought a quick agreement – before the military reality on the battlefield dictated the political outcome of the war – leading to the establishment of an indivisible Europe, where both British and Russian interests were taken into account. Personally, he told Eden, he was ‘fundamentally opposed to any Russian domination in Central Europe and has always dreaded Pan-Slavism almost as much as he hates Pan-Germanism’. He remained faithful to his enduring belief that no conflict of interests existed between Britain and the Soviet Union on spheres of influence. He visualized the establishment of consensual independent democracies in Europe, expecting them to be centre-left in their orientation. Like Litvinov, he rejected any idea of setting up revolutionary regimes in the liberated countries. Russia’s sphere of interests, according to his scheme, went only slightly beyond Russia’s 1941 borders, extending into the Balkans and the Black Sea littoral.
Having witnessed at close quarters the extent of the devastation in Russia and the high price paid on the battlefield, Maisky hoped he could help dispel the growing suspicion in Moscow that both Churchill and Roosevelt were interested in prolonging the war. Although he had not been authorized to pursue the matter with Eden, he knew that Stalin and Molotov attached great importance to an imminent convening of


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the Allied foreign ministers and the setting up of a permanent commission in Sicily to coordinate the strategic conduct of the war. He still favoured a second front in France (this would be Maisky’s last appeal in the relentless campaign he had pursued over the previous two years), but he now advocated such a front ‘anywhere, including the Balkans’, provided it drew away from the Russian front a sufficient number of divisions and brought the war to a quick conclusion. It is worth noting that Eden gained the right impression that Maisky ‘seemed to wish to attend’ the projected conference, which he hoped would be convened in London. Stalin, however, fully backed by Roosevelt (to Churchill’s manifest dismay and Maisky’s disappointment), was determined to hold it in Moscow.
TNA FO 371 36956 N4977/66/38, 31 Aug., FO 954/26A & FO 371 36956 N5232/66/38, Eden’s meetings with Maisky, 31 Aug., 3 Sep. & 9 Sep.; TNA FO 800/872, Lockhart’s memo on


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a meeting with Maisky, 2 Sep. 1943; Eden, The Reckoning, pp. 404–5. See also S. Kudryashov, ‘Stalin and the Allies: Who deceived whom?’ History Today, 45/5 (1995).
Maisky also met Churchill on 9 September to transmit Stalin’s response to Churchill’s report on his American trip, but alas no record of their last meeting has survived.
Maisky obviously found it difficult to reconcile himself to the fact that he was no longer the serving ambassador in Britain and reckoned that a diplomatic coup might make it possible for him to extend his stay in London. The reaction from Moscow, however, was chillingly cynical advice from Molotov not to ‘waste his strength and endanger his health in vain’. He was encouraged to return promptly to Moscow.
Sokolov, ‘“Avtobiograficheskie zametki”’.
At the same time, the young Soviet chargé d’affaires, Arkadii Aleksandrovich Sobolev (one of Molotov’s new recruits) was praised for his harsh uncooperative dealings with Eden. This did not prevent him from writing to Maisky a year later that Gusev was ‘no good’ and was ‘undoing’ all the good work done by the former ambassador.
See a representative uncritical article by V. Shustov, ‘A.A. Sobolev: A portrait of excellence’, International Affairs, 50/3 (2004); Young, Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, II, p. 348.
Understandably, Maisky was eager to keep a low public profile. ‘The less that was said in public by either of us,’ he pleaded with Eden, ‘the better.’ He was relieved by Eden’s assurances that there were to be no public speeches at a farewell luncheon. Yet it was as important for him to display in Moscow his powerful standing in London, which could secure for him a favourable role as an influential go-between. The farewell lunch at the fashionable Dorchester Hotel, attended by Halifax, Lloyd George, Bevin, Brooke, Cripps and many other prominent British politicians, certainly served that end.
TNA FO 954/13B, 7 Sep. 1943; Danchev and Todman, Alanbrooke, p. 451; Lloyd George papers, LG/G/14/1, 8 Sep. 1943.
But the double-edged strategy could not be received with equanimity in Moscow, particularly not by Molotov, who surely resented newspaper headlines such as ‘Eden, Maisky Open Wide Talks Today’, exalting Maisky’s new role in the ministry:
Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden will meet Ivan M. Maisky, Vice Foreign Commissar and former Ambassador to London, tomorrow for the first of a series of discussions that, it is hoped in diplomatic circles, will lead to a conference attend by Vyacheslaff M. Molotoff, Russian vice premier and foreign Commissar; Cordell Hull, United States Secretary of State, and the British Foreign Secretary sometime this autumn. Tomorrow’s meeting and those that follow should help to dispel rumors of a serious break between the western allies and Russia.
New York Times, 28 July 1943; see also The Times, 6 Sep. 1943.
The eagerness to present his return to Moscow as a promotion, and his absence as merely a brief interlude, is evident in the dozens of letters Maisky wrote to prominent politicians of his acquaintance during the short time he spent in London. He assured Butler, after informing him of his departure and new appointment that, ‘although now we part we shall meet again in the future, as the world is a very small place, and there is always an opportunity to meet at one place or another’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.848 l.23, 2 Sep. 1943. See also letters in the same vein: RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1192 l.19, to Walter Elliot, 2 Sep.; d.1132 l.29, to Charles Philips Trevelyan, 3 Sep.; d.946 l.13, to Cadogan, 11 Sep.; d.953 l.7, to Keynes, 11 Sep.; d.869 l.11, to Brendan Bracken, 11 Sep. 1943; Greenwood papers, box 128, letter to Greenwood, 11 Sep. 1943; Garvin papers, letter to Garvin, 4 Sep. 1943.
In a letter to Vansittart,


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Maisky announced in great pomp and circumstance his departure ‘to take up my new duties at the Foreign Commissariat in Moscow’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.876 l.19, 8 Sep. 1943.
Although most of the letters were almost identical, each of them included a specific personal tribute to endear him to the addressee. Bernard Pares, the renowned British historian of Russia, for instance, was captivated by Maisky’s recognition of his ‘important work … getting the Russian people understood by the British people’, and his ‘excellent’ translation of Krylov’s fables. He considered the letter to be ‘among those which I value highest’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1074 l.13, 12 Sep. 1943. See also B. Pares, The New Russia (London, 1931), pp. 362–3.
Some letters aimed at securing the friendship he had forged with outstanding intellectuals and writers over decades of acquaintance. ‘I shall always remember our talks on various occasions,’ he sought to impress Bernard Shaw, ‘for the pleasure your wit, your eloquence, your erudition and your creative vision gave me … it was a joy to follow the brilliant pulsations of your mind. After all life would be a terribly dull affair without a certain spiritual draught to disperse the fumes of petty-fogginess and the tuppenny-halfpenny sagacity of everyday traditionalism, and you are just the man to dispense this.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1184 l.25, 12 Sep. 1943.
On the morning of his departure, Maisky flipped through the pages of The Times, as was his daily habit, and his heart sank on seeing the death notice of Bernard Shaw’s wife, whom he and Agniya had visited only recently. He followed up with a second letter of condolence, revealing the warm relations that had existed between the two for over 25 years: ‘This year has brought us the loss of two very dear friends – your wife and Beatrice Webb. I wish I could have seen you before leaving to express the sympathy I feel for you in person.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1184 l.26, 14 Sep. 1943. On their close friendship, see Maisky, ‘Bernard Shou’.


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Maisky arrived in Cairo with seven trunks full of personal belongings and some 70 pieces of heavy luggage, which required six three-ton trucks for the long drive from Cairo to southern Russia, via Palestine, Iraq and Iran. All attempts to separate Maisky from his luggage, in spite of the long slow journey ahead at 15 miles per hour, were stubbornly rejected. The security arrangements, testified the British intelligence officer in charge of the convoy, were ‘out of all proportion for a retiring ambassador’. He could see no reason why anyone would be interested in assassinating him or ‘why a grave situation should arise if he was killed’. The convoy consisted of 11 cars. Once in Cairo, Maisky decided to send ahead to Tehran the three Soviet diplomatic couriers assigned to accompany him. ‘Obviously a suspicious man,’ thought Major Sansom, ‘presumably he did not trust them either.’ When any of the vehicles broke down, Maisky insisted on stopping the whole convoy while he ‘watched the repairs unblinkingly from start to finish’.
A.W. Sansom, I Spied Spies (London, 1965), pp. 152–9.
The British minister in Damascus, General Spears, was flabbergasted by the enormous quantity of books and documents which were taken out from the trucks in bundles to Maisky’s room, while there were ‘always two men involved in each journey, as it was so arranged that never was a single man left in charge of a consignment. And the men looked terrified. I do not suppose I will ever have to describe a line of men in a queue on the steps to the guillotine. If I had to, I would only have to recall the expressions of these Russian couriers.’
Spears, Fulfilment of a Mission, pp. 285–6.
Having achieved remarkable progress in defusing the crisis in Anglo-Soviet relations and securing Eden’s visit to Moscow, Maisky intended to exploit his presence in the Middle East to make a bold move aimed at drawing the Zionist Yishuv into the Soviet orbit. His initiative was prompted by information he had gleaned from Chaim Weizmann, the president of the World Zionist Organization, on the eve of his departure,


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concerning Anglo-American plans for the settlement of the Jewish–Arab conflict which left Russia out in the cold. Maisky’s confidence seems to have been bolstered by the positive reaction in the Soviet capital to the establishment of diplomatic relations with Egypt, which he had brought about during his July visit to the Middle East. ‘When I received a telegram recalling me to Moscow,’ he later reminisced, ‘the idea immediately flashed through my mind: “Aha! When I pass through Cairo I will try and come to an agreement about diplomatic relations directly with Prime Minister Nahas Pasha.”’
Maisky, Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador, p. 372. On his earlier meeting with Weizmann, see the diary entry for 3 February 1941.
Having already prepared the ground in London, Maisky arrived in Cairo, according to the British ambassador, ‘with all his ideas nicely taped: exactly what he wanted to do and when … As I had expected one of the first items on his agenda was to see our local Prime Minister … the result was a foregone conclusion, the elimination of all points of difficulty in the way of the immediate opening of relations between Cairo and Moscow.’
TNA FO 371/35589, Miles to Eden, 15 July 1943. See also Rami Ginat, The Soviet Union and Egypt, 1945–1955 (London, 1994).
On his way home in October, Maisky spent three crucial days in Palestine, which gave him a unique opportunity to gain a first-hand impression of the viability of the Zionist movement in Palestine and of the ability of the country to absorb a considerable Jewish immigration. Defying the British high commissioner, Maisky spent time visiting the old religious Jewish quarters in Jerusalem and touring the modern part of the city. He further met Ben-Gurion, Golda Meirson (Meir) and other leaders of the Jewish Yishuv in the exemplary kibbutzim of Ma’ale HaHamisha and Kiryat Anavim. Despite his lifelong deliberate effort to distance himself from his Jewish origins, the visit appears to have ‘captivated him’. Agniya was ‘intensively involved; she wanted to know what everything was called in Hebrew’. The affinity was undoubtedly enhanced by the sense of familiarity Maisky must have felt in Palestine. Most of his interlocutors spoke fluent


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Russian, displayed confidence in the efficacy of the Zionist movement as a political force, once the British left Palestine, and embraced genuine socialist ideas.
See J. Ben-Tov, ‘Contacts between Soviet Ambassador Maisky and Zionist leaders during World War II’, Soviet Jewish Affairs, 8/1 (1978); B. Pinkus, The Soviet Government and the Jews, 1948–1967 (Cambridge, 2008); and N. Levin, The Jews in the Soviet Union from 1917 to the Present (New York, 1991), pp. 395–7.
As part of his desperate attempts to play up his own status, Maisky misled Ben-Gurion (and subsequent historians) into believing that he was conveying his government’s views. He was now, so he boasted, ‘number three in foreign affairs’, after Stalin and Molotov, and as the expert on Europe it was ‘up to him’ to deal with the future of the region.
CZA S100/40, Ben-Gurion’s report to the meeting of the Jewish Agency Executive, 4 Oct. 1943.
Oblivious to Maisky’s precarious standing at home, the Zionist leaders later maintained that a direct link existed between Maisky’s visit to Palestine and the surprising Soviet decision in November 1947 to support partition, paving the way to the creation of the State of Israel.
AVP RF f.017 op.1 p.4 d.39 ll.58–9, Ben-Gurion to Maisky, 8 Aug. 1943; AVP RF f.0118 op.7 p.4 d.4 l.1, A. Sultanov’s reports on a meeting with M. Shertok in Cairo, 4 Oct. 1943. Ben-Gurion continued to provide Maisky with information about the ability of the country to absorb a large number of Jews in Palestine, unaware of the changing fortunes of the deputy foreign minister; see AVP RF f.017 op.1 p.4 d.39 ll.58–9, 8 Aug. 1944.
Though apparently Maisky did prepare a glowing report for Stalin, on his return he found the doors to the Kremlin bolted, while he was pretty much incarcerated in the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, his activities confined to research work on reparations and post-war plans.
See information gleaned by Sulzberger and reported in the New York Times, 30 October 1943.
It is little known that in spring 1947, Stalin in fact instructed the Soviet delegation to the United Nations to advocate the creation of ‘a single, independent and democratic Palestine’, where the Jews would have been a minority. His dramatic volte-face in support of partition into two states had little to do with the Arab–Zionist conflict as such, but was a result of the emerging Cold War and of Western attempts to exclude him from the arrangements concerning the Middle East.
G. Gorodetsky, ‘The Soviet Union’s role in the creation of the State of Israel’, Israeli Studies, 22/1 (2003).
After two days in Tehran, Maisky set off on his arduous but ostensibly adventurous trip, finally reaching Tabriz, where he boarded a train to Moscow.
There was little, however, to genuinely boost Maisky’s standing in Moscow on his return. Although his persistence might have contributed to the convening of the summit meetings, he had failed to ensure any concrete Western commitment. Rather than pledging a cross-channel attack in 1945, the British prime minister was determined to follow a ‘sound strategy’ so long as he could not rule out ‘a startling [German] comeback’.
TNA FO 954/3B, Churchill to Eden, 18 Oct. 1943.
Maisky arrived in the Soviet capital too late to take part in the conference, which he had laboured so hard to assemble. Within days, his assignments were defined: he was to work together with Litvinov on post-war issues, while ‘gathering ammunition for future peace talks’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.79 ll.4–5, Maisky to Zinchenko, 25 Nov. 1943.
He was manifestly disappointed to be entrusted with the issue of reparations, while Litvinov was granted the major commission dealing with post-war issues. He instructed Gusev, his successor in London, to publicize the fact that both were engaged in work on the peace agreement, but Gusev was specifically told to avoid mentioning the nature of the work assigned to each.


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RAN f.1702 op.4 d.52 l.1, 26 Nov. 1943.
Maisky tried in vain to establish warm and personal relations with Molotov. On the occasion of his own sixtieth birthday, Maisky presented Molotov with his youth memoirs. ‘It is said,’ he wrote to him, ‘that writing memoirs is a sign of old age.’ Boasting that he still possessed ‘enough gunpowder in the cannon’, he vowed to continue active work in the service of the party and the nation.
From the private archives of Voskresensky’s family, quoted in Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, p. 137.
It was just as important for him to impress on his successor and colleagues in London, who in a flash had cut him out, that he was engaged ‘up to the neck’ in work on reparations, enjoying the support of the teamwork within Narkomindel,
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.52 l.3 & d.79 l.7, letters to Gusev and Zinchenko, 27 Jan. 1944.
and also to maintain the special relations he believed he had forged in London. He sent his memoirs to Churchill as ‘one man of letters to another quite apart from our official positions … reminiscences of a man with whom you were so closely associated


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in the darkest days of our great struggle against the common foe’.
Churchill papers, CHAR 20/144A/36, 20 March 1944.
The book to Eden arrived with a short letter highlighting his ‘important and interesting job’ on post-war problems, which kept him ‘fully engaged in planning the future’.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.940 ll.42–3, 20 March 1944.
All to no avail. He must have felt deeply humiliated when, a year later, he was instructed by Molotov to publish in the newspapers highly critical articles on British politics which were hardly congruent with his own views.
See, for example, Voskresensky’s family archives, Maisky to Molotov, 6 April 1944, quoted in Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, p. 143.
Regardless of the dramatic twist in his political fortunes, Maisky did not budge, as he told Eden, from his old belief in the ‘similarity’ of the historical development of Britain and Russia ‘and the complementary nature of our national interests. We were both on the fringes of Europe. Neither of us wished to dominate Europe, but neither of us would tolerate any other Power doing so.’ But this was the sober swan song of the old school of Soviet diplomacy. It was a generation, he wrote to the aged Lloyd George, when presenting him with his memoirs, ‘which so much contributed to the building of the modern Russia – the USSR’, but which had vanished.
Lloyd George papers, LG/G/14/1/35, 21 March 1944. See also a letter to Cripps in the same vein, RAN f.1702 op.4 d.973 l.14, 21 March 1944.
His and Litvinov’s removal from London and Washington left unchecked the triumphant march of Stalin’s authoritarian foreign policy, just as the clouds of the Cold War were gathering on the horizon.
TNA FO 954/26A, Eden on meeting Maisky, 3 Sep. 1943.


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The Price of Fame: A Late Repression
Sequestered in the back rooms of Narkomindel while the anti-cosmopolitan campaign and the drift towards confrontation with the West raged on, Maisky was destined for oblivion – particularly as he was anxious to steer clear of his British acquaintances. When one of them turned up unannounced at his apartment in Moscow, ‘Maisky refused to let him in, whispering in urgent tones, “You will only endanger me if you try to see me.”’
Beddington-Behrens, Look Back Look Forward, p. 166.
His correspondence with his friends on the British political scene was reduced to brief, infrequent and predictable messages. Churchill’s greetings for the new year of 1945 were acknowledged, for example, in a single sentence: ‘Sincere thanks for your kind greetings and good wishes for 1945, which we both reciprocate.’
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.1677 ll.23–4, 7 Jan. 1945. In Men of Influence, pp. 281–4, Dullin analyses most competently the political and administrative workings of Narkomindel, acutely identifying the waning influence of the ‘old guard’ of Soviet diplomacy.
When Maisky and Litvinov were visited by the diplomatic correspondent of The Times, Litvinov did not hide his frustration: ‘You’ve come to see me to learn about Soviet foreign policy? Why me? What do I know about it? Does my government ever consult me? Oh dear me no. I am only Litvinov. I am only the man who was charged with the conduct of foreign


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policy for many years, who knows America, who knows Britain. They don’t need my advice, thank you very much.’
McDonald, A Man of the Times, p. 93.
The return to Moscow also entailed previously unknown economic hardship. It necessitated coming to terms with an entirely different lifestyle. When Maisky was away at the Yalta conference, Agniya spent his entire salary on new cutlery (as it was becoming ‘embarrassing to use the old stuff’); she hesitated to tell him how much it cost, lest he accuse her of thoughtlessness.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.565 ll.41–2, Agniya to Maisky, 6 Feb. 1945.
The Yalta summit was going to be Maisky’s last glorious moment on the international scene. He could be observed by Churchill, Eden and Roosevelt seated next to Stalin (though mostly as an interpreter). While his expertise on reparations won him great plaudits (admittedly exclusively from the Western side), his apparent prominence was deceptive.
The record of the conference and Maisky’s role in it is described in TNA CAB/66/63/12 P(45)157, 12 March 1945.
In a letter to Agniya, he suggested that the work ‘was proceeding better than expected’, but he added cautiously that ‘one should not count one’s chickens before they are hatched’. Being accommodated in ‘dull and primitive’ lodgings with no bath, he knew where he stood.
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.155 l.50, 7 Feb. 1945.
Molotov, apparently deliberately kept him away from the conference until he was urgently summoned by Stalin to replace Pavlov, whose interpreting was manifestly unsatisfactory. Stalin’s rude treatment of Maisky, despite his excellent performance, perhaps best epitomized their relationship. According to Maisky, Stalin turned to him angrily and asked: ‘“Why didn’t you turn up for the first session?” I replied that I had not been told that I was needed in that session. Stalin continued in a rage: “You weren’t informed? What do you mean by – you weren’t informed? You’re simply undisciplined. Following your own will. Your oversight has cost us several lend-leases.”’
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.79 ll.66–7, Maisky’s interview with P.T. Komarev, deputy chairman of the Control Committee of the CPSU, Feb. 1957.


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Maisky still made a brief appearance at the Potsdam summit, but Churchill’s defeat in the elections and the ‘surprising appearance’ of Attlee and Bevin, with whom he had a rather distant (if not hostile) relationship, further underlined his irrelevance. Rather paradoxically, it had been Maisky’s high standing with the Conservatives which gained him Stalin’s respect, while his relations with the members of the Labour government could now prove a pitfall. Those in power in the Kremlin (Kollontay explained to Kerr before he left Moscow to take up the Washington embassy) ‘could not forget that [Bevin] was a man of the “old International” which had been against the Bolsheviks in 1917’, and it would ‘take a long time to live this down’. In the new circumstances, Maisky no longer proved an asset, particularly as Soviet mistrust of Labour would rekindle similar suspicions concerning Maisky’s own Menshevik past.
Inverchapel papers, Box 61, Kerr to Bevin, 29 Jan. 1946.
Back from Potsdam, Maisky was kept at arm’s length in the ministry. Relieved of his position as head of the reparations committee, he was given no new assignment. He could not even secure an audience with Molotov. He was finally received by the foreign minister, after repeated pleas, in March 1946 – only to be castigated for ‘passivity in writing and lack of involvement in the everyday working of the People’s Commissariat’ and for the work on reparations, which was ‘weak’. He was further humiliated, assigned to a large team which was collectively preparing a Soviet diplomatic dictionary. He surely found the work – a highly censored monument to Molotov’s transformation of the ministry – humiliating.
Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, pp. 532–3.
Maisky’s survival instincts now led him to reinvigorate his status in the less hazardous, yet prestigious, sphere of the Russian Academy of Sciences. Sensing earlier that his career at the ministry was drawing to an end, Maisky was quick to take charge of his own destiny. He resorted to flattery, congratulating Stalin personally on being made a ‘Hero of the Soviet Union’:
… my heart is full of joy. I can remember no other occasion than this when the reward so well matched the effort. It is difficult for me to imagine what would have happened to our people, to our party, to all of us if you had not throughout these years, and in particular these terrible last four years, been the leader of the Soviet Union. And one more thing: what a marvellous speech it was you made at the last reception in the Kremlin! It was deep and very timely. Yours with deep respect I. Maisky
Voskresensky’s family archives, quoted in Myasnikov, Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska, II, p. 164, 7 June 1945.
Maisky now made a bold personal appeal to Stalin, arguing that his literary and research skills could be better employed at the Academy of Sciences – an appeal accompanied by two expensive British pipes from a leading manufacturer. At 62, he wrote to Stalin, it was ‘right to think of a more serious move to the academic and literary environment’. ‘If you have no objection to my plan,’ he suggested, ‘I would be most grateful to you were it to be implemented. It so happens that the Academy is committed to reinvigorate its ranks through the recruiting of fresh forces … candidates’ names need to be put forward no later than 24 June.’ It did not require much persuasion on the part of Stalin to ensure that a month later Maisky was unanimously voted into the Academy.
RAN f.1702 op.3 d.418 ll.1–2 & op.2 d.157 l.4, 3 May & 20 June 1946.
Though he was brilliantly qualified for such a position – boasting an


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extensive bibliography of close to 250 publications and vast experience as a penetrating analyst of contemporary history – the circumstances of his appointment nonetheless raised an eyebrow or two. Endorsing the appointment, Stalin went on amusing himself by offering membership of the Academy to politicians he no longer trusted. While Vyshinsky accepted, both Litvinov and Molotov declined the honour.
Sheinis, Litvinov, p. 343.
The transition was timely: in January 1947, Maisky was relieved of his work at the ministry, and by a unanimous vote was stripped of his candidate membership of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. The stifling atmosphere of the terror, which resumed to some extent in the early 1950s, hampered any serious work at the Academy. The projects he was entrusted with hardly lifted his spirits. As the nephew of Tarle (the famous Russian historian who stood by the Maiskys during his arrest and trial) observed: ‘Maisky had turned from a careful but very self-confident diplomat into a know-nothing academician working on some kind of problems of Spanish history that only he knew about and even he didn’t care about.’
L. Yakovlev, ‘Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii s suprugoyu svoeyu Agnei Aleksandrovnoi’, Shtrikhi k portretam i nemnogo lichnykh vospominanii (Kharkov, 2005).
Maisky’s cohort of colleagues from the ‘Chicherin–Litvinov school of diplomacy’ had thinned, through purges, natural causes – and often through ‘diversions to other work’. One could still run into a gloomy Litvinov, somewhere in the House on the Embankment. Sensitive acquaintances, who had once adored the grand Maisky couple, quickly vanished ‘and the inseparable childless couple were left on their own, fearfully waiting’. The anti-cosmopolitanism campaign deplored the ‘worship of foreign things’ with which Maisky was associated. How sad it was to see the fragile, ageing and sick Kollontay obliged to remove from her walls the portraits of Swedish King Gustaf Adolf and his son, which were given to her as an appreciative souvenir for her services in Stockholm.
Sheinis, Litvinov, p. 347.
Over dinner at a friend’s dacha, Maisky, ‘an avowed story-teller who had been accustomed to assume centre stage, was now dull and passive, while Agniya bloomed like a rose when she felt like an ambassador’s wife, but suddenly stopped when she remembered who she really was now’. It was ‘hard to shake a sense of fear coming from them’.
Yakovlev, ‘Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii’.
The year 1952 saw the death of Litvinov, Surits and Kollontay, the last survivors of the old ‘Narkomindel’. A critical appraisal of Maisky’s work in October at the Academy of Sciences was a premonition of things to come. By the end of the year, his relations with Molotov had deteriorated to the point that the latter told Khrushchev he suspected Maisky of being ‘an English spy’.
A. de Baets, Censorship of Historical Thought (London, 2002), p. 487; A. Nekrich, Forsake Fear: Memoirs of an historian (London, 1991), p. 57.
It was no surprise, therefore, when on 19 February 1953, Maisky was indeed arrested and accused of ‘high treason’. The arrest followed the new wave of purges triggered by the ‘doctors’ plot’ of January 1953, when the Kremlin doctors (mostly Jews) were accused of plotting to murder Soviet leaders. Maisky was quick to ‘confess’ that he had been recruited as a British spy by Churchill. He was, however, saved by the bell when Stalin died on 5 March, but the amnesty which followed was not extended to him.
Stanford archives, Nekrich interview with Maisky, July 1973.
Maisky, who was interned in a cell at the basement of the Lubyanka, was subjected to 36 interrogations prior to Stalin’s death. It must have been devastating for the 70-year-old revered diplomat who had so resourcefully steered clear of the worst phases of the repressions in the 1930s.
Unless otherwise stated, the story of Maisky’s arrest (19 February 1953 to 22 July 1955) is based on his own 14-page narrative, attached to an appeal for rehabilitation sent to the Military Court; RAN f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.1–14.
The trauma of finding himself in jail on his seventieth birthday was movingly expressed in a poem he wrote to his wife. In tone it echoes Beethoven’s Fidelio, alluding to Florestan’s cry of solitude from prison, as he longed for his lover and for freedom:
Translation by Oliver Ready.


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… Today I am seventy years old!
Movements, revolutions, wars, openings-up Of our world have I seen over these years! In another time this would be enough for three centuries… I absorbed all of this With the proud thought of a man Who knows that it is the course of history that leads him to the place Where the banner of communism will shine brightly, I spent my life under the banner of work, I spent my life believing in the study of optimism … I brightly lived, and brightly fought and suffered, I did not spare my strength for the battle, I lived life in a major key … And now my star has flickered out in a dark sky, And the way forward is hidden in a dark shroud, And I meet this day behind a stone wall; … My darling! Today, on this cherished day, From my half-dark room I call my greetings to you And in my mind hug you to my bosom. Thank you so much, my dearest, For all the happiness you gave me, For the love which, shining and playing, Has given me so much warmth and delight In times of struggle, in times of toil, in times of thought …


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RAN f.1702 op.1 d.820 ll.41–5, 19 Jan. 1954. As Maisky was forbidden to have any contact with the outside world, he composed poems in his head and wrote them down only after his release. Some 57 such poems were written, but only a few have survived.
The arrest crushed Agniya. Acquaintances recall how all her pretentiousness and self-importance vanished without trace: ‘From an English-style lady in trousers she became a downtrodden old lady begging for meetings and trying to find out how he was doing “there”.’
Yakovlev, ‘Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii’.
His image was further tarnished when he was officially declared ‘an enemy of the people’ by the Institute of General History, while each of his students was called upon to publicly denounce him.
Nekrich, Forsake Fear, pp. 69–70.
The need to regain his party membership and be fully rehabilitated led Maisky to blot out the short-lived association he had formed with Beria at the time. ‘As I have long noted,’ commented his student and confidant, the prominent historian Aleksandr Nekrich, ‘I.M. does not like to be questioned about that topic.’
Stanford archives, Nekrich interview with Maisky, 7 Aug. 1973.
His prolific literary output categorically avoided commenting on the period following his return to Moscow in 1943, and particularly his arrest and trial. His friends realized that it was a ‘bleak period’ in his life and that there were ‘considerations on that account which he did not intend to share with [them]’. On the rare occasions he referred to the association with Beria, Maisky maintained that throughout his life he had only met him twice – at official luncheons at the Kremlin during the war. All he was prepared to volunteer was that ‘facing the threat of harsh physical torture’ after his arrest, he had ‘entered on the road of self-slander … in a moment of weakness’.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.79 ll.9–13, Maisky’s description of the nature of his relations with Beria in a letter to Voroshilov, 5 Aug. 1955.
He went a long way to impress on his student Nekrich that he had been personally tortured by Beria – though when he expounded the events in a letter to Khrushchev, he claimed to have met Beria for the first time only


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after Stalin’s death and in far more convivial circumstances. Likewise he apparently told Valentin Berezhkov, Stalin’s interpreter and later a senior Soviet diplomat, that he had been personally interrogated by Beria and ‘hit with a chain and a lash’ to force him to confess his spying activities. The interrogation led him to believe that ‘Beria was trying to get at Molotov’. Indeed some of his few subordinates in London who had survived the repressions were also arrested and expected to substantiate Stalin’s wild theory that when Molotov had a tête á tête with Eden on board the train taking him to London from the airport in 1942 he was recruited to British intelligence.
On Molotov’s visit see the commentary following the diary entry for 6 April 1942.
Unwillingly Maisky once again found himself on a collision course with Molotov. What Maisky admitted to only a few close friends was that being perceived as Jewish also contributed to his arrest, which happened shortly after the episode of the ‘murderers in white gowns’.
The doctors’ plot.
After all, it was Maisky who had been trying to reconcile Stalin with Zionism.
V.M. Berezhkov, At Stalin Side, p. 340. On the Jewish aspect, see B. Efimov and V. Fradkin, ‘Slozhnaya sud’ba diplomata’, in B. Efimov and V. Fradkin, O vremenakh i lyudyakh (Moscow, 2000), and J. Ben-Tov, ‘Contacts’, p. 54. See the chapter ‘End of an Era’ and the diary entry for 3 February 1941.
Though his life was spared, the arrest and trial took an ominous turn, haunting him for the rest of his life. Later, trying to seek his rehabilitation, Maisky concocted a story that on 13 May 1953, once he heard of Stalin’s death, and on his own initiative, he sought an interview with his interrogator, Lieutenant General Fedotov, and demanded to recant his earlier false confessions. The interview with the head of counter-intelligence at the Ministry of the Interior was cut short by a personal call from Beria, demanding to see Maisky ‘at once’. Maisky insists that this was the only occasion on which he met Beria after his arrest. What exactly happened at this meeting – by no means an interrogation – has been shrouded in mystery. New archival material makes it now possible to reconstruct more faithfully the course of events. It explains why throughout the rest of his life Maisky made a supreme effort to conceal the unfortunate association with Beria. Not only did it cost him two more years of incarceration, but it reinforced the suspicion and hostility towards him due to his Menshevik past, which he would never succeed in discarding.
What is indisputable is that between 15 May and 5 August, the period roughly coinciding with Beria’s alleged bid for power, there was, to quote Maisky himself, an inexplicable ‘break in the interrogations’. Sergio Beria claims in his memoirs that while his father had a poor opinion of Litvinov (whom he considered ‘weak, yielding to pressure from above’), he ‘particularly esteemed’ Maisky, whom he regarded as ‘more quick witted than Litvinov … a real diplomat who loved his job’. There is no reason to question the testimony of Beria’s son concerning Maisky’s relations with his father, particularly as Sergio was not particularly fond of the ‘agile little Jew who resembled a mouse’. Beria, according to his son, would have preferred to see Maisky replace Litvinov as foreign minister already in 1939, but he was not yet in a position to make his voice heard. He further claims that during Maisky’s sojourn in England, his father ‘kept up close relations with him – more frequently than with other diplomats’ and Maisky ‘used to visit us’. Beria’s high esteem of Maisky would fit only too well with his admiration of Britain, his support of the triple alliance in 1939, and his impressive library at home boasting scores of books on British history and culture. After Stalin’s death, Beria encountered strong opposition from Molotov over his plans to relax the Soviet grip on Eastern Europe and to seek accommodation with the West. ‘Seeing how stupidly obstinate’ Molotov was, Beria even proposed that he should be replaced by Maisky. He even clashed openly with Molotov over the conduct of foreign affairs, telling him bluntly: ‘If you don’t agree, you can resign.’ Beria further saw to it that Molotov’s power in the ministry was curtailed,


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insisting that major issues of foreign policy should be dealt with by the Presidium of the Council of Ministers.
S. Beria, Beria My Father: Inside Stalin’s Kremlin (Bristol, 2003), pp. 47–8; Watson, Molotov, p. 244.
In his memoirs, Molotov indeed claims that in 1953 Beria intended ‘to appoint Maisky as minister of foreign affairs’ to replace him. He even recalls their ‘sharp clash’ during the week following Stalin’s death. No wonder Molotov returned to his office from that meeting ‘in a highly excited state’.
Resis, Molotov Remembers, pp. 341–2.
Maisky had in fact learnt of Stalin’s death and had an adequate knowledge of the political realignment of forces at the Kremlin much earlier than he would like us to believe. On 31 March he addressed Georgii Malenkov, the newly elected chairman of the Council of Ministers, with a handwritten letter admitting his guilt in betraying the motherland and expressing ‘a burning desire to do something that could at least to a small degree atone for the evil’ he had inflicted on the USSR. He was prepared ‘to accept any form of redemption which will be decided by the relevant “instantsiya”’. Aware of Maisky’s wide net of contacts in Britain, which could be conducive for implementing his grand design of a thaw in relations with the West, Beria withheld the letter.
On 7 May, Maisky, contrary to his later version, was summoned by Fedotov for an interrogation where, fearing a provocation, he continued to admit his guilt. Four days later, he sought a second meeting. Far from recanting, as he later suggested, he wished to supplement his initial statement. The third interrogation on the evening of 13 May was interrupted by the phone call from Beria, summoning him to his office right away. As he entered the room, Beria at once told him: ‘you have spun your testimony’, letting him understand from the tone of the conversation ‘that he believed my testimony had been untrue’. ‘By so doing,’ admitted Maisky to his interrogators, ‘Beria encouraged me, if not explicitly told me, to file an official statement renouncing my previous statement.’ Beria promised to rehabilitate him, and proposed placing him in charge of work with the intelligence in Britain under the auspices of the Ministry of the Interior. Subsequently, within a day, Maisky indeed handed in his written recantation. To facilitate his work, he was to be elected chairman of the Society for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries. Insisting that he had not ‘the slightest shadow of suspicion’ concerning Beria’s plans for a coup d’état, Maisky happily obliged, submitting to Beria a detailed outline for action shortly before the latter’s arrest at the end of June.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.79 ll.9–13, Maisky description of the nature of his relations with Beria in a letter to Voroshilov, 5 Aug. 1955. Much of the information revealed here is derived from the report on Beria’s interrogation on 20 August 1953, and segments of the reports of Maisky’s interrogation a day earlier with which he was confronted, RGASPI f.17. op.171. d.466. ll.201–10.
It is, of course, inconceivable that such plans were prepared by Maisky in his cell. Berezhkov recalls Maisky telling him that he was escorted from the prison cell to Beria’s office, where the table was laid with fruit and a bottle of Georgian wine. He was given back his clothes and personal belongings and allowed to go home.
Berezhkov, At Stalin’s Side, pp. 340–1.
There is a grain of truth in this recollection, but the far more likely scenario is that provided by Lieutenant General Pavel Sudoplatov, in charge of counter-intelligence and special operations at the Ministry of the Interior. The essence of this version was confirmed by the interrogation of Beria after his arrest. Sudoplatov was entrusted with Maisky by Beria, described as ‘the ideal man to present to the West’ the new Soviet foreign policy.
P. Sudoplatov, Special Tasks: The memoirs of an unwanted witness – a Soviet spymaster (London, 1994), p. 344.
Maisky, however, could not be released right away. He had been implicated by slanderous testimony forced out of the leaders of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee before they were executed. Their case still had to be fully reviewed. The solution found for the interregnum was to keep Maisky ‘in hiding’, residing with his wife in comfortable conditions in the rooms adjacent to General Fedotov’s office. Agniya told her friends that the conditions ‘there’ were now excellent and he had even started writing his memoirs. This, alas, was where the ill-disposed Molotov and Malenkov found him when Beria was arrested.
Sudoplatov, Special Tasks, pp. 344–5; Yakovlev, ‘Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii’. See also Berezhkov, At Stalin’s Side, pp. 340–1; Efimov, O vremenakh i lyudyakh.


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The insurrection of 16 June in East Germany provided Khrushchev with a pretext to rally opposition against Beria and halt his reforms. Beria was arrested on 26 June and placed in military custody to prevent the domestic security forces from coming to his aid. In presenting the case against Beria before a special plenary session of the Central Committee, both Molotov and Khrushchev blamed him for the events in Germany, which they attributed to his attempts to liberalize relations with the West. Beria was accused of ‘getting cues from the chiefs of foreign intelligence’.
Zubok and Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War, pp. 163–4. According to A.I. Mikoyan, Tak bylo: razmyshleniya o minuvshem (Moscow, 1999), ch. 47, Beria did not wait long after Stalin’s death to signal that he was ‘preparing the ground’ for seizing power. A. Knight, Beria, Stalin’s First Lieutenant (Princeton, 1993). See also The Telegraph, 28 July 2001; and R. Service writing in The Guardian, 30 June 2001.
Once Beria was detained, Khrushchev and Molotov, fearing a backlash from the Ministry of the Interior, were quick to intern his associates, too. Given Molotov’s deep-seated distaste for Maisky, who, he claimed, had ‘given his consent to Beria’ to replace him, it is hardly surprising that (as Molotov put it laconically) ‘Maisky was checked out too.’ Although most documents relating to Maisky’s arrest are under lock and key, the little evidence available suggests that Maisky was rearrested as soon as Beria was taken into custody, and unsurprisingly, he suffered a nervous breakdown.
Resis, Molotov Remembers, pp. 341–2, 264; Gromyko, Memoirs, p. 322; Sudoplatov, Special Tasks, p. 345.
This course of events is confirmed in Ivy Litvinov’s unpublished draft autobiography. Apparently she remained Agniya’s ‘only friend at that time, nobody went to see her, she was absolutely lonely’. From Agniya she learned that ‘the reason Maisky got into trouble after Stalin’s death was because of Beria, because he was friendly with him’. She gleaned from Agniya that during the agonizing moments of his arrest, ‘Maisky had appealed to Beria. He didn’t know what he was doing.’ This hardly surprised Ivy, who knew that paradoxically ‘Maisky couldn’t fail to be arrested – because he was friendly with everybody.’ Keeping in step with her husband, Agniya later changed her story, arguing that after Stalin’s death absurd charges were pressed against Maisky for ‘embezzling Government funds’.
Draft memoirs of Ivy Litvinov, Stanford University.
The indictment of Beria was based on an alleged plan ‘of creating the type of bourgeois order which would be useful to the Eisenhowers, Churchills, and Titos’. ‘Skilfully, like a spy,’ it continued, Beria ‘wove a web of all-manner of intrigues’, aiming at placing his own people in key administrative positions. The sentence of the Supreme Court of the USSR, handed down on 24 December 1953, specifically mentioned Beria’s ‘criminal-treasonous activity’ in establishing ‘secret ties with foreign espionage’. Seen from this perspective, Maisky, placed by Beria in charge of such activities in Britain, and presumably destined to be foreign minister, implicated him in the eyes of the insurgents, particularly Molotov, his lifelong adversary.
D.M. Stickle (ed.), The Beria Affair: The secret transcripts of the meetings signalling the end of Stalinism (New York, 1992), pp. 158, 195–7; Nekrich’s report of an interview with Maisky in Stanford and Forsake Fear, pp. 84–6; Sudoplatov, Special Tasks, p. 372.
Though he was not specifically mentioned in Beria’s sentence, Maisky’s assumed complicity became public knowledge following a letter that was sent to all party organizations. It suggested that it had been Beria’s intention to release ‘the British spy’ Maisky from imprisonment and install him as his own minister of foreign affairs. It further included excerpts from Maisky’s earlier forced confessions that ‘having spent so many years working abroad, he had lost the feeling of belonging to his homeland’. When Agniya saw the letter, she turned ‘crazy with worry’, assuming it implied Maisky’s guilt. She was further humiliated by her own party cell, required to produce an account of her relations with her husband. Others who had placed their bets on Beria, including Dekanozov and Merkulov, former head of foreign intelligence, with whom Maisky was now associated, were executed by firing squad. Foreign policy returned to the hands of Molotov.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.73 ll.128–9, Draft letter to Malenkov, 1 July & ll.159–60, letter to Molotov, 8 July 1954; Nekrich, ‘The arrest and trial of I.M. Maisky’, pp. 317–18.
The interrogation of Maisky resumed on 5 August, when he was placed in the custody of the state procurator, rather than the Ministry of the Interior. He was now charged – according to article 58/1,10 and 11 of the penal code – with ‘counter-revolutionary’


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activities, aimed at the overthrow, subversion or weakening of the Soviet state. In one of the few references ever made by Maisky to his arrest, he summed up the grave accusation in the single word ‘treason’, thereby relating it to the absurd accusations of espionage which had been levelled against him by Stalin’s henchmen. However, the new accusations were, as he himself was quick to recognize at the time, an attempt ‘to implicate me in the Beria case’. The most serious accusation levelled at Beria, himself under investigation at the time before his execution in December, was that ‘right up to his arrest’ he had ‘cultivated secret contacts with foreign intelligence services’ in preparing his coup d’état. The basis for such accusations was Beria’s decision to close Maisky’s file and put him in charge of communication with Churchill and intelligence circles in England.
S. Dorril, MI6: Inside the covert world of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service (London, 2002), p. 506; Sudoplatov, Special Tasks, ch. 12.
Maisky was now removed from the Lubyanka to Butyrka prison, where, apparently fearing provocations through inmates, he demanded to remain in solitary confinement. He successfully resisted the attempts of ten interrogators to extract a confession from him, which would have been used in the ongoing proceedings against Beria. The punitive response was the removal of all books from his cell, while he was denied the use of pen and paper for the next two years of his detention.
The abortive protracted interrogations, throughout the summer of 1954 and early 1955, were accompanied by Maisky’s repeated pleas to Khrushchev and Voroshilov to drop the accusations and fully rehabilitate him. He remained in jail for another year before charges were formally brought against him. In mid-May 1955, he was finally given the 39-page indictment – and a pencil. Having refused a defence counsellor, he was allowed to use the reverse of the document to prepare his case personally. After Beria’s execution, the interrogators had made futile attempts to frame Maisky through confessions which had been extracted from his colleagues in the embassy following their arrest in 1937. They also forced G.A. Deborin, a professor at the Military Academy, to dig into Maisky’s confiscated papers and come up with incriminating material concerning his ambassadorship in London.


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When Maisky set off for London in 1932, he had been tipped off by Litvinov that his achievements ‘would be measured in Moscow by the close personal relations he would forge in London’. His outstanding success, however, now proved his downfall. Once the accusations of espionage and complicity with Beria were dropped, the main corpus of the indictment was based on information which was retrieved from his confiscated diary, allegedly exposing excessive intimacy in his relations with Churchill and Eden, as well as initiatives which he had concealed from his government. Moreover, he was accused of withholding from it vital information, sending disinformation, and providing wrong advice concerning the triple negotiations and the campaign for a second front. Though generally absurd, there was a grain of truth in the accusations. Maisky successfully exposed the falsity of what he described as ‘Arabian nights fairy tales’, but he found it difficult to convince the court that the intimacy he had established with the British elite was only motivated by ‘alter ego’ reasons. The inept handling of the case by the procurator, culminating in slanderous and unsubstantiated accusations of treason, could no longer secure indictment in the post-Stalinist period. The more so as no hard evidence was produced, while the historical context of the accusations was never properly explored.
The procurator did finally stumble on a delicate matter which proved to be a source of embarrassment for Maisky. The new indictment, and eventual conviction according to article 109 of the penal code, cited abuse of his power, ‘having allegedly hidden from the Soviet government a microfilm of the British White Paper of 1939 on the triple negotiations between the Soviet Union, Britain and France’. Maisky belittled the significance of the White Paper. He contended that it had been an attempt to discredit the Soviet Union, and was eventually scrapped, as it would also have revealed the conflict between the French and the British concerning the conclusion of a triple alliance. Moreover, he claimed that it was in the second part of July 1941, after the conclusion of the Anglo-Soviet treaty, that he received from ‘some English friends of the Soviet Union’ a microfilm of the White Paper. It being wartime, the courier service was disrupted and it was difficult to pass it on to Moscow. Moreover, he wished to ascertain further that the documents and the commentary had not been falsified. However, because of the burden of work at the time, he set it aside among his papers and forgot about the documents, which he ‘did not even read’. His vast archives, he reminded them, contained some 80 large boxes, which were pretty much in a chaotic state. The microfilm, ‘the size of a small match box, disappeared like a needle in a haystack’. Only during the investigation, he asserted, ‘turning over in his head every small detail’, did he ‘suddenly remember the microfilm’ and informed his investigators, of his own volition, of its location. Rather than a deliberate action, it was ‘forgetfulness’; rather than ‘a crime’, it was ‘negligence … a lapse’.


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Forty-six pages of the draft defence prepared by Maisky are in RAN f.1702 op.2 d.75 ll.1–46. Maisky never tired of trying to persuade the court, and subsequently politicians, that holding back the microfilm was a mere ‘slip-up’ and was therefore a result of ‘forgetfulness and the extreme pressure of work during the war period’. See, for instance, RAN f.411 op.3 d.349 ll.64–6, letter to president of the Academy of Sciences & f.1702 op.2 d.79 ll.40–8, and speech to the Party Control Committee.
He contended that, had he not revealed the existence of the microfilm, it would never have seen the light of day, as ‘no one in the London embassy or in Moscow’ knew of its existence. But this fevered argument only served to emphasize the significance he had attached to it in the first place, its compromising nature and the secrecy which involved its procurement, most likely already back in 1940.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.24–8, Maisky to Gorkin, president of the Supreme Court, 7 May 1956. See Maisky’s diary entry of 8 January 1940, where he admits to having learned of the contents of the White Paper, the exposure of which at the time would have seriously jeopardized his position.
In a draft letter to Khrushchev concerning the incident, shortly after his release from prison, Maisky carefully crossed out argumentative sentences which might have sounded apologetic, but which nonetheless revealed his true state of mind.
RAN op.2 d.79 ll.32–3, 25 Oct. 1956. See also the speech to the Party Control Committee in RAN f.1702 op.2 d.79 ll.40–8.
The narrative concocted in court was repeated in his personal appeal to Khrushchev for full


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rehabilitation four years later.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.38–9, 21 April 1960.
It was accepted – with great scepticism – when a final decision on his rehabilitation was approved at the end of 1960. By then, however, the struggle for power within the party had been decided, Molotov had been sidelined, and the issue had lost all its political relevance.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.47–8, Maisky’s response to queries by Khrushchev, 14 July 1960.
In facing the Supreme Military Court, Maisky apparently conducted his defence brilliantly. The testimony of former subordinates at the embassy – Kharlamov, the naval attaché, and Zinchenko, the first secretary – was ‘somehow toothless’ and even supportive of his case. According to Maisky, the virulent Deborin was ‘torn to pieces’ by him. Exposed as ‘a liar and a scoundrel he became confused, lost his composure’ and responded to the counter-interrogation with ‘complete silence’. Maisky was aware that the political atmosphere was changing when, before being returned to prison, he was offered ‘coffee and waffles’.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.75 l.57, 18 June 1955.
The summing up of the defence was scheduled for 2 June, but the meeting was postponed. Maisky rightly assumed that the court was ‘seeking instructions from the Central Committee which failed to arrive’. Following a second appeal to Voroshilov, he was finally summoned on 12 June to be sentenced. The charge of abuse of power and privileges while at his ambassadorial post carried with it six years of internal exile. This appears to have been a compromise reached between Molotov and Khrushchev who, as primus inter pares, had established himself firmly in the saddle. These developments unexpectedly played to Maisky’s advantage. Maisky was hastily pardoned by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, spared punishment and allowed to return home. And yet, a special decree had been issued the day before, specifically excluding Maisky from the amnesty of 27 March 1953, which would have led to his full rehabilitation.
The decision to release Maisky seems to have been motivated by Khrushchev’s clash with Molotov over the course of Soviet foreign policy. In July 1955, Khrushchev was due to attend a summit meeting in Geneva. Keeping Maisky in prison would have been most embarrassing when he met Anthony Eden (the newly elected prime minister, who was heading the British delegation), who had enjoyed such an intense and close relationship with the former ambassador in London. Full rehabilitation, though, came only in 1960, once Khrushchev had succeeded in consolidating his grip on the Party and overcoming the challenges posed to him by Molotov.
O. Troyanovskii, Cherez gody i rasstoyaniya (Moscow, 1997), p. 173. On the background to the struggle, see the excellent survey by Y. Gorlizki and O. Khlevniuk, Cold Peace: Stalin and the Soviet ruling circle, 1945–53 (Oxford, 2004). See also Watson, Molotov, p. 251, and V.V. Sokolov, ‘Molotov Vyacheslav Mikhailovich’, Diplomaticheskii vestnik (July, 2002).
Convicted of an administrative rather than a political crime, Maisky was now, at his request, provided with a desk, paper and stationery. He now felt confident enough to complain to the director of the prison that the desk he had been given had ‘legs of different lengths and the surface wobbles, and there is no space for me to put my legs as I write. The desk is also too low. Would it not be possible to bring me even the simplest kitchen table, which would at least give me somewhere to put my legs when I write?’
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.75 l.57, 18 June 1955.
His first action was to scribble a plea for clemency to Voroshilov. This was followed two days later by a detailed critique of the verdict, introducing some 60 corrections to the protocol of the trial.
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.76 ll.38–9, appeal for rehabilitation by Maisky to Khrushchev, 21 April 1960.
These were accepted by the court and, ‘after protracted haggling’, he was granted permission to include in the protocol his defence speech and a poem which he had addressed to the judges at the end of the trial:
Beneath a stony vault, on a prison bunk, I lie abandoned, forgotten, alone… Confined… By whom?… Not enemies, no!


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Confined by friends under lock and key!
Oh, such madness! Am I really a foe? And is this how enemies behave? Thirty long years we have walked the same road, Shoulder to shoulder, keeping in step! We walked and we struggled, and higher And higher the victory banner was hoisted. Many of us died… Yet Communism’s flames Flickered from afar to those who remained. Then sudden confusion!… Into the dungeon I am hurled, cast out, named an enemy. And why? For what? For which terrible deeds? By whom am I slandered? And who is rejoicing? … Oh citizen judges, look with eyes open At the living truth, as duty commands! Before you today there stands not a criminal But an honest Soviet fighter and patriot!
RAN f.1702 op.2 d.75 l.47, 13 June 1955.
Maisky devoted the rest of his time in jail to penning an allegoric novel he had composed in his head during the two years of prison, Close and Far Away (Blizko-Daleko). On 22 July, the Presidium of the Supreme Council of the USSR granted the plea


Page 1504

for clemency. Maisky was driven home right away from the Butyrka prison by the officer who had brought the clemency certificate to the prison.
Back at the Academy of Sciences, deprived of many of his rights – including his salary – Maisky was sidelined to work on Spanish history. Only after his full rehabilitation and re-admittance to the party in 1960 (and increasingly after the creation of the Institute of General History) was he able to again steer his career in the direction he had set for himself – writing his memoirs, though always remaining attuned to the winds blowing from the Kremlin.
See the ‘Introduction’.
The outpouring of his prolific writings was barely affected by a severe stroke he suffered at the age of 81. His convalescence was, however, set back by severe criticism of his work following Khrushchev’s fall. A ground-breaking book by his disciple, A.M. Nekrich, June 22, 1941, was publicly denounced and the author expelled from the Party. The English version of Maisky’s own memoirs, which included criticism of Stalin’s conduct on the eve of the German invasion of Russia, was condemned as ‘subjective’.
Sovetskaya Kultura, April 1966.
In an unusual move, the ever-cautious Maisky signed a petition, together with the human rights activist Andrei Sakharov and others, protesting against attempts to rehabilitate Stalin.
The Times, 17 March 1966.
Confined to his dacha outside Moscow, shielded and pampered by Agniya, he remained lucid and continued to write his memoirs until his death on 3 September 1975. Despite his distinguished position at the Academy of Sciences, Maisky remained a solitary figure. He never again rode the crest of the Soviet political and cultural elite, and was forced to dissociate himself from the powerful and close friends he had made in London. Coveting his glory days in London, Maisky appeared envious of his friend, the radical lawyer Pritt, who was still a ‘great globetrotter’, while his own life was ‘more sedentary’, spent in the dacha with his wife ‘busy gardening’, while he continued to write his memoirs.
RAN f.1702 op.4 l.27, 5 May 1962.
How tragic it must have been for Maisky to go on paying a heavy price for his survival until his very last day, forced to atone for his ‘ancient’ mistakes – forgiven but not forgotten. Only a fragmentary draft was left of his last manuscript, Memoirs of Churchill, his Circle and his Times. It was rejected, and then lost, by his publishers, Nauka. ‘The blow struck by the publishing house,’ Maisky wrote to them, ‘is all the more painful as I am now 91 years old and have been working on my book for the last five years, and had hoped that it would be the culmination of my work (I realize that I am now not that far from the end of my life).’
RAN f.1702 op.3 d.541 ll.13–16.
Maisky’s long sojourn in London remained undoubtedly his ‘finest hour’. The last 20 years of his life at the Russian Academy of Sciences were entirely devoted to recording those formative and dramatic years. ‘He sincerely loved Britain and the British,’ attested the head of the military mission at the embassy during the war. ‘[He] spoke fluent English, admittedly, with a noticeable accent … [and] seemed to know every connotation of every word.’
Kharlamov, Difficult Mission, p. 53.
His nostalgia is encapsulated in a letter he sent shortly before his death to the then Soviet ambassador in London:
… We spent 11 years in London, and there has been nothing like that! … and I also spent five years there (1912–1917) as an émigré from tsarist Russia. Naturally, I got attached to this town, and more specifically to particular sites, buildings and monuments … I find myself even now sometimes wondering: How did he set up his study? And what does their dining room look like? And


Page 1505

are there any remnants around from the time of the blitz in the Second World War?
The tremendous concrete shelter installed in the gardens of the embassy (see commentary following 12 October 1940) proved far too expensive to remove, and is still a monumental feature of the grounds.
… We keep remembering the friendships we forged with the Webbs and Bernard Shaw. Of course, the London of your days will be very different from the London of our time …
RAN f.1702 op.4 d.240 ll.2–3, Letter to M.N. Smirnovsky, 3 July 1971.
Visiting Maisky shortly before his death, his loyal student, the renowned historian Nekrich, found him
‘moving’, literally, pushing a straw chair in front of him and leaning on it, taking heavy steps with one leg and then the other. If it hadn’t been for his legs you would never have imagined that I.M. was pushing 90: his dark eyes were mobile, gleaming with thought, and although he spoke slowly and, I would say, slightly falteringly, his speech was entirely coherent and logical and it was clear that he had an excellent command of his memory.
Asked by Nekrich how he had managed to survive, being on the brink of catastrophe so often, Maisky looked at him, ‘smiled slightly, and said, “I always kept a cool head on my shoulders.” And I thought: Had Stalin lived just a month or two longer, nothing would have helped Ivan Mikhailovich.’


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Nekrich papers, report of his interview with Maisky, and Forsake Fear, p. 87.


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Page 1547

Select Bibliography
The bibliography is not a comprehensive list of works on the topic; it includes only those books and articles which are referred to in the commentary and notes.
The major state archives researched by the editor and their abbreviations are:
• Archives of the Russian Foreign Ministry (AVP RF) • Archives of the Russian Security Services (TsA FSB RF) • Russian State Archive of Socio-Political History (RGASPI): Papers of Maisky, Stalin, Litvinov and Molotov • Archives of the Russian Academy of Sciences (RAN) • The National Archives, London (TNA): Archives of the Foreign Office (FO), Prime Minister’s Office (PREM), Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), Chiefs of Staff (COS), Joint Planning Staff (JP), Ministry of Economic Warfare (MEW), War Office (WO), Cabinet Offices (CAB), Defence Committee (DO), Cipher and Signal Department (KV) • The National Archives, Washington, DC (NA): State Department (SD), Military Archives (RG)
The following abbreviations are used in the endnotes for the volumes of published documents:
DDF – P. Renouvin and J.B. Duroselle (eds.), Documents diplomatiques francais, vols. for 1932–1939
DGFP – Documents on German Foreign Policy (London, 1956), Series D (1937–1945)
DPSR – General Sikorski Historical Institute (ed.), Documents on Polish–Soviet Relations 1939–1945 (London, 1961)
DVP – Dokumenty vneshnei politiki SSSR (Moscow 1958–2000)
FRUS – Foreign Relations of the United States, vols. 184–221 (1937–1943)
God Krizisa – Russian Foreign Ministry, God krizisa: 1938–1939: dokumenty i materialy (Moscow, 1990), 2 vols.
SAO – G.P. Kynin, P.P. Sevostianov and V.P. Suslov, Sovetsko-angliiskie otnosheniya vo vremya Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny, 1941–1945 (Moscow, 1983), 2 vols.
SPE – A. Gromyko et al. (eds.), Soviet Peace Efforts on the Eve of World War II (September 1938–August 1939) (Moscow, 1973)
VSD – I.M. Maisky, Vospominaniya sovetskogo diplomata, 1925–1945 gg. (Moscow, 1987)


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***
The following collections of private papers were consulted and used by the editor in writing the commentary for these volumes:
Russia
I.M. Maisky papers, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow.
Great Britain
A.V. Alexander, Churchill Archives, Churchill College, Cambridge.
L.C. Amery, Churchill Archives, Churchill College, Cambridge.
N. Astor, Reading University Library.
C.R. Attlee, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
A.W. Beaverbrook, House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.
R. Bruce Lockhart, House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.
R.A. Butler, Trinity College Library, Cambridge University.
A. Cadogan, Churchill Archives, Churchill College, Cambridge.
A.N. Chamberlain, Birmingham University, Special Collections Department.
W. Churchill, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
R.S. Cripps, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
P. Cunliffe-Lister, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
H.J. Dalton, London School of Economics Library, Archives Division.
G.G. Dawson, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
C. Eade, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
J.L. Garvin, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center Library, University of Texas at Austin.
V. Gollancz, Modern Records Centre, Warwick University.
Lord Inverchapel, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
Lord Halifax, Manuscript Department, University of York.
B. Hamilton, House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.
O. Harvey, Manuscript Department, the British Museum.
L. Hore-Belisha, Churchill Archives, Churchill College, Cambridge.
T.W.H. Inskip, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
E.I.C. Jacob, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
J.M. Keynes, King’s College, Archive Centre, Cambridge University.
B.H. Liddell Hart, Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College, University of London.
D. Lloyd George, Department of Collection, National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth, and House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.


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H.D. Margesson, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
G.C. Marshall, Marshall Museum, Lexington, Virginia.
W.T. Monckton, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
I. Montagu, People’s History Museum, Manchester.
G. Murray, Bodleian Library, Special Collections and Western Manuscripts, Oxford University.
P.J. Noel-Baker, Churchill Archives, Churchill College, Cambridge.
Lord Passfield, London School of Economics Library, Archives Division.
H.L. Samuel, House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.
W. Seeds, papers with his granddaughter, Corinna Seeds, Hydra, Greece.
E.L. Spears, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
Lord Stamford papers, accessed by courtesy of his family.
A.J. Sylvester, diary and papers, Department of Collection, National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth, and House of Lords Record Office: The Parliamentary Archives.
R.G. Vansittart, Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge.
B. Webb, London School of Economics Library, Archives Division.
United States
A.A. Berle papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, NY.
J.E. Davies papers, Washington, Library of Congress.
H.L. Hopkins papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, NY.
F. Kuh papers, Special Collections Research Center, George Washington University.
I. Litvinov papers, Stanford, Hoover Institution Archives.
G. Marshall papers, Marshall Research Library, Virginia.
A. Nekrich papers, Stanford, Hoover Institution Archives.
F.D. Roosevelt papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, NY.
W.H. Standley papers and diary, University of Southern California, Los Angeles.
H. Stimson, Manuscripts and Archives, Yale University Library, New Haven, Connecticut.
L. Truscott Papers, US Army Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
Other
Ada Nilsson papers, Göteborgs universitetsbibliote, Sweden.
D. Ben-Gurion papers, Central Zionist Archives, Jerusalem.
Diaries, Memoirs and Biographies
Alliluyeva, S., Twenty Letters to a Friend (New York, 1967)
Amery, L.S., My Political Life (London, 1955)
Assarasson, V., I Skuggan av Stalin (Stockholm, 1963)
Aster, S., Anthony Eden (London, 1976)
Atholl, K.S., Working Partnership (London, 1958)
Ball, S. (ed.), Parliament and Politics in the Age of Churchill and Attlee: The Headlam diaries 1935–1951 (London, 2000)


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Banac, I. (ed.), The Diary of Georgi Dimitrov, 1933–1949 (New Haven, CT, 2003)
Bardens, D., Portrait of a Statesman (London, 1955)
Barnes, J. and D. Nicholson (eds.), The Empire at Bay: The Leo Amery diaries (London, 1988)
Bartlett, V., I Know What I Liked (London, 1974)
Beddington-Behrens, E., Look Back Look Forward (London, 1963)
Beneš, E., Memoirs of Dr Eduard Beneš (London, 1954)
Beneš, E., The Fall and Rise of a Nation: Czechoslovakia, 1938–1941 (New York, 2004)
Berezhkov, V.M., At Stalin’s Side: His interpreter’s memoirs from the October Revolution to the fall of the dictator’s empire (Secaucus, NJ, 1994)
Beria, S., Beria My Father: Inside Stalin’s Kremlin (Bristol, 2003)
Bilainkin, G., Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent (London, 1942)
Bilainkin, G., Maisky: Ten years ambassador (London, 1944)
Bilainkin, G., Second Diary of a Diplomatic Correspondent (London, 1947)
Boothby, R., Recollections of a Rebel (London, 1978)
Bullard, J. and M. Bullard (eds.), Inside Stalin’s Russia: The diaries of Reader Bullard, 1930–1934 (Charlbury, 2000)
Butler, E., Mason-Mac: The life of Lieutenant-General Sir Noel Mason-MacFarlane (London, 1972)
Butler, R., The Art of the Possible (London, 1970)
Carlton, D., Anthony Eden: A biography (London, 1981)
Carswell, J., The Exile: Life of Ivy Litvinov (London, 1983)
Churchill, W.S., The Second World War: The gathering storm (London, 1948)
Churchill, W.S., The Second World War: Their finest hour (London, 1949)
Churchill, W.S., The Second World War: The grand alliance (London, 1950)
Churchill, W.S., The Second World War: The hinge of fate (London, 1950)
Citrine, W., Men and Work: An autobiography (London, 1964)
Clarke, P., The Cripps Version: The life of Sir Stafford Cripps 1889–1952 (London, 2002)
Cohan, M.J. (ed.), The Letters and Papers of Chaim Weizmann (Jerusalem, 1979)
Colville, J., The Fringes of Power: 10 Downing Street diaries 1939–1955 (London, 1985)
Crozier, W.P., Off the Record: Political interviews, 1933–1943 (London, 1973)
Dalton, H., The Fateful Years (London, 1957)
Danchev, A. and D. Todman (eds.), Alanbrooke: War diaries (London, 2002)
Delpha, F. (ed.), Les papiers secrets du Général Doumenc, un autre regard sur 1939–1940 (Paris, 1992)
Dilks, D. (ed.), The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945 (London, 1971)
Duranty, W., The Kremlin and the People (New York, 1942)
Dutton, D., Neville Chamberlain (London, 2001)
Eden, A., The Eden Memoirs: Facing the dictators (London, 1962)
Eden, A., The Eden Memoirs: The reckoning (London, 1965)
Ellsworth, B., Wendell Willkie, Fighter for Freedom (Michigan, 1966)
Epstein, J., An Autobiography (London, 1955)


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Fischer, L., Men and Politics: An autobiography (London, 1941)
Gafencu, G., Prelude to the Russian Campaign (London, 1945)
Gilbert, M., Winston S. Churchill, Companion Vol. V, Part 3, The Coming of War, 1936–1939 (London, 1982)
Gilbert, M., Winston S. Churchill: Finest hour, 1939–1941 (London, 1983)
Gilbert, M., Winston S. Churchill: Road to victory, 1941–1945 (London, 1986)
Gilbert, M. (ed.), Winston Churchill and Emery Reves, Correspondence, 1937–1964 (London, 1997)
Gilbert, M. (ed.), The Churchill War Papers (New York and London, 2001)
Gilbert, M., Winston S. Churchill: The prophet of truth, 1922–1939 (London, 2009)
Gleasor, J., War at the Top: Based on the experiences of General Sir Leslie Hollis (London, 1959)
Gnedin, E.A., Vykhod iz labirinta (Moscow, 1994)
Golikov, F.I., On a Military Mission to Great Britain and the USA (Moscow, 1987)
Golikov, F.I., ‘Sovetskaya voennaya missiya v Anglii i SShA v 1941 g.’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 2 (2004)
Gollancz, V., Reminiscences of Affection (London, 1968)
Gorodetsky, G., Stafford Cripps in Moscow, 1940–1942: Diaries and papers (London, 2007)
Gromyko, A., Memoirs (London, 1989)
Gromyko, Pamyatnoe (Moscow, 1990)
Harriman, W.A. and E. Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, 1941–1946 (New York, 1975)
Harvey, J. (ed.), The Diplomatic Diaries of Oliver Harvey 1937–1940 (London, 1970)
Harvey, J. (ed.), The War Diaries of Oliver Harvey, 1941–45 (London, 1978)
Hilger, G. and A. Meyer, The Incompatible Allies: A memoir-history of German–Soviet relations, 1918–1941 (New York, 1950)
Hill, L., Weizsäcker-Papiere, 1933–1950 (Berlin, 1996)
James, R.R., Bob Boothby: A portrait (London, 1991)
Karpov, V., Generalissimus (Moscow, 2012)
Kershaw, I., Making Friends with Hitler: Lord Londonderry and the British road to war (London, 2004)
Kessler, H., The Diaries of a Cosmopolitan, 1917–37 (London, 1971)
Kharlamov, N., Difficult Mission: War memoirs of a Soviet admiral in Great Britain during the Second World War (London, 1986)
Khlevniuk, O. et al. (eds.), Stalin i Kaganovich perepiska, 1931–1936 gg. (Moscow, 2001)
Kimball, W.F. (ed.), Churchill and Roosevelt: The complete correspondence (Princeton, 1984)
Kitchen, M., Speer: Hitler’s architect (London, 2015)
Knight, A., Beria, Stalin’s First Lieutenant (Princeton, 1993)
Kokoschka, O., My Life (London, 1971)
Kollontay, A.M., Diplomaticheskie dnevniki, 1922–1940 (Moscow, 2001)


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Korotkov, A.V. and A.A. Chernobaev (eds.), ‘Posetiteli kabineta Stalina: 1938–1939’, Istoricheskii Arkhiv, 5–6 (1996)
Kotkin S., Stalin: Paradoxes of power, 1878–1928 (London, 2014)
Kvashonkin, A.V. Sovetskoe rukovodstvo: perepiska, 1928–1941 (Moscow, 1999)
Liddell Hart, B.H., The Liddell Hart Memoirs (London, 1965)
Lockhart, B., Comes the Reckoning (London, 1947)
MacKenzie, N. and J. MacKenzie (eds.), The Diary of Beatrice Webb (London, 1985)
Maclean, F., Fitzroy Maclean (London, 1992)
Maisky, I.M., Sovremennaya Mongoliya (Irkutsk, 1921)
Maisky, I.M., Before the Storm (London, 1943)
Maisky, I.M., ‘Bernard Shou – Vstrechi i razgovory’, Novy Mir, 1 (1961)
Maisky, I.M., Journey into the Past (London, 1962)
Maisky, I.M., Who Helped Hitler? (London, 1964)
Maisky, I.M., ‘V Londone’ in Ya.I. Koritskii, S.M. Melnik-Tukhachevskaya and B.N. Chistov (eds.), Marshal Tukhachevskii: vospominaniya druzei i soratnikov (Moscow, 1965)
Maisky, I.M., ‘The British and I’, Atlas World Press Review, 11 (1966)
Maisky, I.M. Spanish Notebooks (London, 1966)
Maisky, I.M., Memoirs of a Soviet Ambassador: The war, 1939–43 (London, 1967)
Maisky, I.M., B. Shou i drugie: Vospominaniya (Moscow, 1967)
Maisky, I.M., The Munich Drama (Moscow, 1972)
Maisky, I.M., Vospominaniya sovetskogo posla v Anglii (Moscow, 1960)
Maisky, I.M., Vospominaniya sovetskogo diplomata (Moscow, 1987)
Mal’tsev, V. et al. (eds.), Dokumenty po istorii myunkhenskogo sgovora 1937–1939 (Moscow, 1979)
Martin, K., Editor (London, 1968)
Martov, Y., ‘Vospominaniya renegata’, Sotsialisticheskii vestnik, 9 December 1922
McDonald, I., A Man of the Times (London, 1976)
Merekalov, A.F., ‘Missiya polpreda Merekalova’, Voenno-istoricheskii zhurnal, 12 (2002)
Mikoyan, A.I., Tak bylo: Razmyshleniya o minuvshem (Moscow, 1999)
Minney, R.J. (ed.), The Private Papers of Hore-Belisha (New York, 1961)
Montefiore, S., Stalin: The court of the Red Tsar (London, 2003)
Moran, Lord, Churchill: Taken from the diaries of Lord Moran (London, 1966)
Morrison, H., An Autobiography by Lord Morrison of Lambeth (London, 1960)
Myasnikov, V.S. (ed.), Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii: Izbrannaya perepiska s rossiiskimi korrespondentami (Moscow, 2005)
Myasnikov, V.S. et al., Ivan Mikhailovich Maiskii: Dnevnik diplomata, London, 1934–43 (Moscow, 2006)
Nekrich, A., Forsake Fear: Memoirs of an historian (London, 1991)
Nicolson, N., (ed.), Harold Nicolson: Diaries and letters, 1939–1945 (London, 1967)
Novikov, N.V., Vospominaniya diplomata: Zapiski 1938–1947 (Moscow, 1989)
Pares, B., A Wandering Student: The story of a purpose (London, 1948)


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Sokolov, V.V., ‘“Avtobiograficheskie zametki” Pavlova – perevodchika I.V. Stalina’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 4 (2000)
Pawle, G., The War and Colonel Warden: Based on the recollections of Commander Thompson, personal assistant to the prime minister, 1940–1945 (London, 1963)
Pechatnov, V.O. and E.E. Magadeev, Perepiska I.V. Stalina s F. Ruzvel’tom i U. Cherchillem v gody Velikoi Otechestvennoi voiny (Moscow, 2015)
Pimlott, B. (ed.), The Political Diary of Hugh Dalton (London, 1986)
Pimlott, B. (ed.), The Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, 1940–45 (London, 1986)
Pritt, D.N., The Autobiography of D.N. Pritt (London, 1965)
Resis, A. (ed.), Molotov Remembers: Inside Kremlin politics, conversations with Felix Chuev (Chicago, 1993)
Retinger, J., Memoirs of an Eminence Grise (London, 1972)
Rhodes, R., (ed.), Chips, the Diaries of Sir Henry Channon (London, 1967)
Ribbentrop, J. von, The Ribbentrop Memoirs (London, 1954)
Roberts, A., ‘The Holy Fox’: A biography of Lord Halifax (London, 1991)
Roberts, G., Molotov: Stalin’s cold warrior (Washington, DC, 2011)
Roosevelt, E., As He Saw It (New York, 1946)
Roosevelt, E. (ed.), F.D.R. His personal letters, 1928–1945 (New York, 1950)
Rose, N. (ed.), Baffy: The diaries of Blanche Dugdale, 1936–1947 (London, 1973)
Rose, N., Vansittart: Study of a diplomat (London, 1978)
Rothenstein, J., Brave Day Hideous Night, The Tate Gallery Years, 1939–1965 (London, 1966)
Rzheshevsky, O.A., War and Diplomacy: The making of the Grand Alliance – documents from Stalin’s archives (London, 1996)
Sansom, A.W., I Spied Spies (London, 1965)
Self, R. (ed.), The Neville Chamberlain Diary Letters: The heir apparent, 1928–33 (London, 2002)
Self, R. (ed.), The Neville Chamberlain Diary Letters: The Downing Street years, 1934–40 (London, 2005)
Sheean, V., Between the Thunder and the Sun (London, 1943)
Sheinis, Z., Maxim Litvinov (Moscow, 1990)
Shustov, V. ‘A.A. Sobolev: A portrait of excellence’, International Affairs, 50/3 (2004)
Smart N., (ed.), The Diaries and Letters of Robert Bernays, 1932–1939: An insider’s account of the House of Commons (London, 1996)
Smith, A. (ed.), Hostage to Fortune: The letters of Joseph P. Kennedy (New York, 2001)
Sokolov, V.V. (ed.), ‘“Avtobiograficheskie zametki” V.N. Pavlova – perevodchika I.V. Stalina’, Novaya i noveishaya istoriya, 4 (2000)
Soviet Foreign Ministry, Correspondence between the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the USSR and the Presidents of the USA and the Prime Ministers of Great Britain during the Great Patriotic War of 1941–1945 (Moscow, 1957)
Spears, E., Fulfilment of a Mission: The Spears mission to Syria and Lebanon, 1941–1944 (London, 1977)


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Standley, W., Admiral Ambassador to Russia (Chicago, 1955)
Sudoplatov, P., Special Tasks: The memoirs of an unwanted witness – a Soviet spymaster (London, 1994)
Sylvester, A.J., Life with Lloyd George: The diary of A.J. Sylvester, 1931–1945 (London, 1975)
Taylor, A.J.P. (ed.), Lloyd George: A diary by Frances Stevenson (London, 1971)
Taylor, A.J.P., Beaverbrook (London, 1972)
Tedder, Lord, With Prejudice: The war memoirs of Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Lord Tedder (London, 1966)
Trotsky, L., The Revolution Betrayed (London, 2004)
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Illustration Credits
Photographs from Agniya Maisky’s album are published with the permission of the Voskressenski family, owners of the copyright and Ivan Maisky’s heirs.
The following illustrations are from the private photo albums of Ivan and Agniya Maisky, deposited in the archives of the Russian Academy of Sciences and reproduced here by courtesy of the Scheffer-Voskressenski family, the copyright owners: numbers 1, 3–17, 20–24, 29–42, 44–54, 57–59, 61–62, 64–80, 82–106, 108–128. Numbers 18–19 and 25–28 are reproduced by courtesy of the Russian Foreign Ministry. I would like to thank Corinna Seeds for the rare photo (55) of her father, Sir William Seeds. The David Low cartoons, figures 43, 56, 60, 63 and 107, are published by permission of the London Evening Standard. Figure 81 is reproduced by courtesy of the late Lady Anne Theresa Ricketts (Cripps).


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Page 1567

Index of Names and Places
Page numbers in italics indicate photographs. For longer entries, boldface bracketed numbers indicate years. As the thread of the narrative of the entire diary is the relations between the Soviet Union, Britain and France, and the reader will encounter them on almost every page of the diary, the references to these countries were excluded from the index.
Abercrombie, Lascelles, 75 Abetz, Otto, 1003 Abramovich, Rafail, 56 Abyssinia, 130–31, 136, 139–42, 145–47, 158, 166, 169, 190, 195, 198, 204, 213, 224, 255, 259, 267, 277, 290, 296, 365, 394, 1026, 1458 Acland, Sir Richard, 696, 1250–51 Adams, Vyvyan Trerice, 239, 261, 270, 375–76 Adamson, William, 62 Ahlefeldt-Laurvig, Count and Countess Preben Ferdinand, 245–47, 792 Aitken, William Maxwell (1st Baron Beaverbrook). See Beaverbrook, 1st Baron Akers-Douglas, Aretas (2nd Viscount Chilston), 85, 111, 113, 258, 324, 414n17 Aktai, Haydar, 726, 1003, 1008 Alba, Duke of (Jacobo Fitz-James Stuart), 463, 757, 983n81, 1087 Albania, 501–2, 542–43, 898, 987, 1047–48, 1050, 1054, 1182 Albert of Saxe-Coburg, Prince, 148. See also George VI Aleksandrov, Aleksandr Vasilevich, 617 Aleksandrovsky, Sergei Sergeevich, 320, 435n79 Alexander, Albert Victor: [1939]: 497; [1940]: 738, 804, 810, 845, 858, 910–12, 934, 948, 982n56, 983n78; [1941]: 1028–29, 1033, 1038–39, 1073, 1167, 1182, 1184–85; [1942]: 1220, 1245, 1295, 1311, 1313; [1943]: 1340, 1374, 1386 Alexander, Harold George, 1237, 1388 Alexander I (Yugoslavia), 10, 52 Alice (Duchess of Athlone), 155 Alksnis, Yakov Ivanovich, 59–60 Alphand, Charles, 85, 128 Alter, Viktor, 681 Amery, Leopold, 357, 361, 389, 451, 575, 641, 801–3, 811, 889–90, 893, 969n108, 983n82 Ammon, Charles, 890–91 Anders, Władysław, 1128, 1427 Anderson, John (1st Viscount Waverley), 471, 912–13, 920, 1087, 1164, 1215, 1377, 1447–48 Angell, Sir Ralph Norman, 749 Anne, Queen of Great Britain, 828 Antón, Francisco, 477 Aras, Tevfik Rüştü: [1939]: 482, 486, 489–90, 538, 673–74, 694; [1940]: 724, 726, 738, 760, 773–74, 789, 815, 832–33, 874, 878, 898; [1941]: 994, 997–98,


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1003, 1008–9, 1016–17, 1027–28, 1036, 1052–53, 1057, 1061–62, 1067, 1090–91, 1192
Archimbaud, Léon, 36 Arita, Hachiro, 796 Arnim, Hans-Jürgen von, 1445, 1464 Ashton-Gwatkin, Frank Arthur, 126, 136–37, 140, 161, 315, 418n56, 651 Asquith, Herbert Henry, 645, 1020, 1080, 1449 Asquith, Lady Helen Kelsall (Lady Oxford), 631 Asquith, Margot (Lady Oxford), 1020 Astakhov, Georgii Aleksandrovich, 60, 62, 68, 520, 568–69, 594 Astor, Lady Nancy, 39–40, 85, 87, 238–39, 255, 266, 278, 297, 387, 415n19, 431n32, 435n74, 483, 575, 609, 782, 802, 809, 844–45, 1020, 1284 Astor, Lord Waldorf, 783 Atatürk, Mustafa Kemal, 1052 Atholl, Duchess of (Katharine Marjory Stewart-Murray), 172, 239, 250, 261, 599 Attlee, Clement Richard: [1934]: 41; [1936]: 168; [1937]: 204–5, 208, 237, 243, 245; [1938]: 270, 278, 284, 327–28, 330, 337–38, 348, 351, 354, 362, 370; [1939]: 446, 492, 497, 609, 634, 641, 675, 690, 698; [1940]: 729, 733, 741–42, 757, 760, 763, 775, 788, 791–92 (792), 795, 798, 803–5, 808, 810, 817, 857, 874–75, 883, 888, 912–13, 937, 947, 949, 978n12; [1941]: 988, 991, 1009–12, 1033, 1038, 1087, 1117, 1164, 1185; [1942]: 1220, 1222, 1228, 1245, 1248, 1263, 1320–21; [1943+]: 1377–78, 1386, 1447, 1451, 1494 Auchinleck, Sir Claude John, 1277–79, 1290 Auriol, Jules-Vincent, 338, 851 Australia, 23, 198–99, 201, 371, 386, 431, 835, 844, 884, 887, 921, 1032–33, 1210–11, 1221, 1223, 1226, 1229, 1231–32, 1237, 1248–49, 1253, 1332, 1432 Austria: [1934]: 15, 61; [1935]: 78, 136–37, 141, 413n5; [1936]: 167, 170, 419n15; [1937]: 192, 207, 220, 230, 236, 239–41, 425n37; [1938]: 255, 257, 259–60, 265, 267–68, 272, 277, 284, 299, 317, 319, 394, 429n12, 430n24, 431n33; [1939]: 484, 610, 658, 678; [1940]: 729; [1941]: 1000, 1024, 1093, 1101; [1942]: 15, 61, 1262, 1278; [1943]: 1332, 1471 Aveling, Edward, 780–81 Avenol, Joseph Louis, 339, 380, 542–45, 551–53, 692 Azaña y Diaz, Manuel, 460, 462, 470 Azcárate y Florez, Pablo de, 273, 317, 319, 339, 447, 453, 455, 457–58, 460–64, 469–70, 477–79, 526, 589–90, 850, 874, 1360
Badoglio, Pietro, 1352 Bahadur S.J.B. Rana, 42, 116–19 Baldwin, Stanley, 6, 409n36; [1934]: 17–18, 23, 38, 42, 43–45, 57, 411n58; [1935]: 80, 82, 92–93, 95, 108, 112, 130, 136–37, 144–47, 413n3, 416n45, 418n62; [1936]: 149, 154, 155, 157, 161, 165, 170, 175–76; [1937]: 192, 194, 201, 204, 217, 242; [1938]: 264, 279, 291, 306, 358, 390; [1940]: 811, 836, 842; [1941]: 1022, 1067, 1079, 1085, 1174–75; [1942]: 1211, 1224 Balfour, Arthur James, 808, 1014 Balitsky, Vsevolod Apollonovich, 51 Balkans: [1934]: 34, 61, 63; [1935]: 135, 138; [1936]: 158; [1937]: 232; [1938]: 291, 392, 473, 490, 492, 521, 532; [1939]: 633, 638–39, 649, 663, 665–66, 673–74, 685–86, 694–95, 707; [1940]: 716, 725–28, 732, 738, 740, 759, 765, 771, 773–77, 784, 789, 795, 802, 815, 832–33, 835–36, 841, 843, 863, 866–67, 871–72, 898, 900, 903, 926, 937–39;


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[1941]: 987, 1000, 1003–4, 1008–10, 1015–17, 1020, 1023–24, 1034, 1036–38, 1040, 1044–45, 1049–55, 1064, 1080, 1101, 1115, 1148, 1154–55, 1158, 1181–82, 1190, 1515n128; [1942]: 1229, 1231, 1329; [1943]: 1331, 1338, 1352, 1368, 1374, 1398, 1405, 1418, 1431, 1469, 1485–86, 1533n14
Baltic States: [1934]: 10; [1935]: 132; [1937]: 189, 427n62; [1938]: 280; [1939]: 492, 510, 513, 517–18, 529, 536, 538, 540–41, 555, 560–61, 564–67, 575–77, 594, 620, 638, 646, 667–68, 670, 672, 687, 689, 695, 697, 969n103, 969n105; [1940]: 748, 772, 775, 784, 790, 795, 797, 835, 839, 857, 866, 869, 882, 884–85, 887–89, 891–92, 900–901, 909, 911, 924–25, 929–30, 936–38, 940, 944, 958; [1941]: 993, 996, 1001, 1038, 1075, 1089, 1099, 1116, 1206; [1942]: 1210, 1226–28, 1233, 1304; [1943]: 1376, 1398, 1402–3, 1405 Balutis, Bronius Kazys, 38, 460, 490–91 Baring, Rowland Thomas (Lord Cromer), 189, 225 Barmin, Aleksandr, 229 Barnby, Lord (Francis Vernon), 22, 53 Barthou, Jean Louis, 10, 12, 52, 133, 243, 408n23 Bartlett, Vernon, 39, 525, 699, 890, 946, 1164, 1337 Bastianini, Giuseppe, 650–51, 664 Baxter, Sir (Arthur) Beverley, 580, 1092 Beaumont, Hubert, 1244 Beaverbrook, 1st Baron (William Maxwell Aitken): [1934]: 15, 411n58; [1935]: 121, 134, 139, 417n48, 418n59; [1936]: 167–69, 420n28; [1937]: 200, 236; [1938]: 283, 292–93, 300–301, 307, 369–70, 433n52; [1939]: 474, 489, 523–24, 569, 577, 592, 671–72; [1940]: 715–16, 748–49, 767, 776, 787, 799–800, 810, 847, 858, 878, 891, 912–13; [1941]: 991, 1026, 1028, 1039, 1087–89, 1108–12, 1115, 1123–24, 1127, 1147, 1150, 1160–61, 1164–66, 1169–70, 1172, 1174, 1179, 1185, 1191–93, 1195–96, 1198–1201, 1206–7, 1515nn132, 135, 1517n158, 1519nn174, 177; [1942]: 1210, 1215–18, 1220–22, 1227–28, 1236, 1240–41, 1244, 1248, 1254, 1256, 1266, 1275, 1303, 1305, 1309, 1318, 1324, 1524n77; [1943]: 1365, 1383, 1470, 1477, 1533n2 Beck, Józef, 12, 31, 485, 490, 500, 872, 965n42 Beddington-Behrens, E., 1480 Belgium: [1934]: 10; [1935]: 140; [1936]: 164; [1937]: 185, 224, 233–35, 241; [1938]: 263, 284, 289, 316, 360, 382, 384, 386; [1939]: 448, 518, 551, 564, 601–2, 604–5, 626, 661–62, 664, 671, 699, 706; [1940]: 725, 726–27, 740, 754–55, 775, 784, 790–91, 803, 805–6, 809–11, 816, 819–20, 823, 827, 847, 857, 860, 862, 868, 887, 899, 910, 918, 931, 953; [1941]: 1017, 1024, 1044, 1048, 1069, 1080, 1087, 1093, 1101, 1139–40; [1942]: 1142, 1181, 1237, 1285, 1301; [1943]: 1360, 1397 Bellenger, Frederick John, 1092, 1244 Belorussia, 622, 630, 649, 658, 848, 941, 1111, 1395, 1430 Beneš, Edvard: [1935]: 82; [1936]: 170; [1937]: 423n19; [1938]: 291, 299–300, 310, 329, 322, 345, 352, 434n65, 438n106; [1939]: 543–45, 552, 590, 601–2, 626–27, 677–79, 974n173; [1940]: 728, 848; [1941]: 1173, 1513n113 Ben-Gurion, David, 1001, 1489–90 (1489), 1542n70 Bennett, Richard Bedford, 91, 419n1, 1198 Berezhkov, Valentin, 1497–98, 1531n232 Berger, H., 926 Bergeret, Jean Marie, 1349


Page 1570

Beria, Lavrentii, 1 note i, 528, 1029 note ii, 1230, 1496–1501, 1537n66, 1544n34
Bernays, Robert Hamilton, 269, 659–61 Berry, John Seymour (2nd Viscount Camrose), 481–82 Berry, William Ewart (1st Viscount Camrose), 1451 Bessonov, Sergei Alekseevich, 20 Besteiro (Fernandez), Julián, 470 Bethmann-Hollweg, Theobald von, 710, 807 Bevan, Aneurin, 27, 391, 883, 893, 1182–84 (1183), 1281–83, 1314, 1517n157, 1528n159 Beveridge, William Henry, 1337, 1377–78, 1400 Bevin, Ernest: [1939]: 977n210; [1940]: 739, 804, 810, 835, 842, 845, 879, 912–13, 925–26, 957; [1941]: 988, 991, 995–96, 1004 note i, 1006, 1033, 1038, 1075, 1085, 1087, 1117, 1173, 1192, 1447; [1942]: 1218, 1220, 1222; [1943+]: 1377–79 (1378), 1447, 1452, 1466, 1486, 1494 Bingham, Robert Worth, 25, 199, 213, 1054 Birkenhead, Lord (Frederick Edwin Smith), 29, 995 Biryukov, I., 325, 769 Bismarck, Otto von, 48, 834, 951, 1397 Black Sea, 281, 555, 594, 633, 638–39, 663, 685, 774, 863–64, 867, 975n195, 1008, 1010, 1016, 1146, 1162, 1366, 1485 Blomberg, Werner Fritz von, 256 Blum, André Léon, 170, 181, 186, 203–4, 221, 237, 422n48, 849, 851, 851 note i, 1459 Blume-Grégoire, Isabelle, 1119, 1139 Boev, Ivan V., 80 Bogomolov, Aleksandr Efremovich, 1168–69, 1262, 1307, 1380, 1382, 1526n120 Boheman, Erik Carlsson, 871 Bolton, W.J., 62, 70 Bondfield, Margaret Grace, 172 Bonnet, Georges-Etienne: [1938]: 295–96, 313, 318–19, 322, 329, 331–32, 334–35, 337–38, 348, 358, 380, 392, 434n63, 437n95; [1939]: 448, 455, 489–90, 505, 544, 546 (546), 548–49, 551, 965n43; [1940]: 775, 836 Bonnet, MADCme, 860 Boothby, Robert John Graham, 16, 30, 57, 329, 362, 476, 592, 601, 615, 624, 626, 802, 829–30, 889, 916–17, 965n41, 983n82, 1376 Boris III, 927 Bossom, Alfred Charles, 165 Botvinnik, Mikhail Moiseevich, 73–74 Bourquin, Maurice, 551–53 Bowater, Sir Frank Henry, 23, 380 Bracken, Brendan Rendall, 508, 666, 735–36, 800, 818, 822, 829, 847, 1048, 1067–70, 1164, 1215, 1316, 1327, 1415, 1422–27 (1423), 1429 Bradley, Omar Nelson, 1345–46 Brailsford, Henry Noel, 117, 125, 174, 176, 178, 760, 1140 Brătianu, Ion I.C., 758–59 Bricker, John William, 1338 Brockdorff-Ranzau, Ulrich Graf von, 178 Brooke, Alan, 877, 1032, 1193, 1258, 1294, 1469, 1483, 1486, 1511n80 Brown, Ernest, 609 Brown, Sir William, 373 Bruce, Stanley Melbourne, 1231–32 Brüning, Heinrich, 1328 Buccleuch, Duke of (Walter John Montagu Douglas Scott), 1088 Bucknill, Sir Alfred Townsend, 1216 Budenny, Semen, 1116, 1144, 1151, 1186 Bulgaria: [1934]: 38, 412n65; [1935]: 78, 138; [1937]: 425n33; [1939]: 490, 549, 569, 661, 665, 695; [1940]: 729, 740, 757, 841, 848, 898, 927, 939, 953; [1941]: 1003–4, 1009, 1015–16, 1020,


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1022–24, 1028, 1037, 1048, 1051–52, 1061, 1064, 1182
Bullard, Sir Reader, 1224–25 Bullitt, William Christian, 713 Bulwer-Lytton, Victor Alexander, 169, 394 Burdukov, Alexei Vasilevich, 514, 712 Burgin, Edward Leslie, 57, 186, 360–61, 452–53, 651, 698, 837, 895 Burma, 289, 878, 882, 884–85, 892, 913, 1078, 1223, 1237, 1248–50, 1280 Burnett, Charles Stuart, 590, 592, 593 Butler, Richard Austen: [1938]: 261, 271, 328–29, 339–42, 370, 373, 379, 395; [1939]: 450–51, 474–75, 548–49, 551, 554, 581, 648–49, 684–86, 689, 694–96, 699–700, 976n201, 977n210; [1940]: 713, 718, 736–38, 750–51, 760, 763–65, 769, 771, 776, 787, 798, 823, 825–29, 830–31, 834–35, 852–53, 858, 864–65, 884–86, 888–89, 911, 917–18, 934; [1940]: 939, 946, 949, 979n23, 980n27; [1941]: 996, 1014–15, 1029, 1040, 1046–47, 1060–61, 1082, 1118, 1127; [1943+]: 1454–56, 1486
Caballero, Francisco Largo, 195, 470, 477 Cadogan, Alexander: [1934]: 11; [1935]: 112; [1937]: 210; [1938]: 253–54, 260, 273, 291, 356, 429n6, 439n112, 440n118; [1939]: 445, 455, 458–59, 493–96, 501, 508, 522, 538, 554, 575, 701, 962n18, 963n32–33, 964n37, 977n209; [1940]: 716, 721, 734, 823, 833, 892, 982n55; [1941]: 1029, 1097–98, 1114–15, 1127, 1131, 1134, 1151–52, 1508n17; [1942]: 1259–61, 1263, 1264, 1266, 1269, 1290, 1314, 1318–19, 1522n42, 1524n86; [1943]: 1404, 1407, 1411, 1438–39, 1447, 1453–54, 1538n79, 1539n90 Cajander, Aimo Kaarlo, 680, 689–90 Çakmak, Marshal Mustafa Fevzi, 1355 Cambon, Pierre Paul, 708 Cambon, Roger, 309, 848 Campbell, John Ross, 645, 983n71 Campinchi, César, 859 Camrose, 1st Viscount (William Ewart Berry), 1451 Camrose, 2nd Viscount (John Seymour Berry), 481–82 Canning, George, 203 Cárdenas, Lázaro, 1361 Carlyle, Thomas, 36 Carol II of Rumania, 217–18, 258, 385–86, 423n19 Carrillo (Solares), Santiago, 470 Cartier de Marchienne, Emile de, 360, 609, 805–6 Casado (López), Segismundo, 469, 470 notes i, iii, 477–79 Casares Quiroga, Santiago, 1119 Catlin, George Edward Gordon, 98 Catroux, Georges, 1349, 1461 Cazalet, Victor Alexander, 126 Cecil, Lord (Robert Gascoyne-Cecil), 96, 120, 135, 169, 273, 285, 394–95, 408n23, 1058, 1187–89, 1479, 1518 Chamberlain, Arthur Neville, 6; [1934]: 10–11, 29 note ii, 39; [1935]: 90, 113, 126; [1936]: 165; [1937]: 192, 194, 198, 200–201, 204–5, 213–17, 220, 225, 232, 234–38, 240–45, 250; [1938]: 251, 254, 256–57, 260–63, 264–75, 277–79, 282, 284–87, 290–96, 299–301, 303–4, 306–9, 312–13, 317–18, 322, 324, 327–30, 332–40, 342–45, 347–52, 354–63, 366–71, 373, 377, 379, 381, 383–91, 394–95, 409n36, 424nn21, 28, 29, 425nn32, 37, 429n6, 430nn24, 27, 432nn34, 40, 435n70, 428nn106, 109–10, 439n112, 440nn122, 126; [1939]: 446, 450–54, 465–69 (465, 468), 474, 476, 481, 483, 486, 488–89, 491–95, 497–501, 504, 507–9, 522, 524–25,


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527, 531–32, 534–35, 537–38, 547–49, 554, 555, 559, 563, 570, 575 note ii, 576, 578–82, 586–87, 589, 592–94, 599–601, 604, 606, 609–14, 619–21, 623–25, 634–35, 639, 641, 643–45, 654, 658–59, 671–75, 690–91, 697–99, 707, 709–10, 961n8, 962nn11, 13, 15, 964–65nn37, 40, 41, 42, 966n51, 969n108, 970n115, 971n140, 972n145, 974n177, 976n197; [1940]: 714–15, 718–20, 722, 729, 732, 738, 741, 746, 749–50, 752–53, 755–58, 763, 766, 772–73, 777–79, 784, 788–89, 797–805, 807–11, 817–18, 822–23, 830–32, 836, 840, 842, 845–47, 868, 872–73, 891, 893–94, 896–97, 911–13, 943, 956, 980n39; [1941]: 1022, 1034, 1044, 1067–68, 1073, 1079, 1085, 1106, 1143, 1174–75, 1183, 1185, 1201; [1942]: 1211, 1214–15, 1218, 1224, 1248, 1275, 1284; [1943]: 1358, 1375, 1378, 1451
Chamberlain, Ivy, 268 Chamberlain, Joseph, 808 Chamberlain, Joseph Austen, 58, 105, 148, 158, 170, 213, 263, 268, 773 Channon, Henry, 965n41, 969n108, 970n115, 977n210, 979n23, 983n84 Charvériat, Emile, 551, 553 Charwat, Franciszek, 34–35 Chatfield, Alfred Ernle Montacute (Lord Chatfield), 525, 534, 614 Chautemps, Camille, 203–4, 242, 838 Chernov, Mikhail Aleksandrovich, 128 Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi), 209, 253, 312, 669, 686, 795–96, 1041, 1054, 1059, 1138, 1411 Chicherin, Georgii Vasilevich, 176–78, 228, 406n4 (Prelude), 1473, 1495 Chichibu, Prince Yasuhito, 102 Christian X of Denmark, 37 Churchill, Clementine, 1020, 1120–21, 1180, 1184, 1283–84, 1302, 1354, 1380, 1386–87 (1386), 1422, 1485 Churchill, Lady Randolph (‘Mrs. R.’), 1121, 1220 Churchill, Randolph, 275, 316, 321, 395, 481, 773, 818, 822, 829, 838, 858, 886–88, 927, 946–47, 965n41, 972n145, 985n104 Churchill, Sir Winston Leonard Spencer, 6, 399–400n10; [1934]: 16, 29 note ii, 42, 44, 58, 411n58; [1935]: 121, 133, 135, 418n59; [1936]: 160–61, 165–66, 168, 175, 181, 420n29, 421n44; [1937]: 195–96, 200, 204, 211, 213, 225–27 (226), 234, 239, 425n36; [1938]: 261–62, 270, 275–83, 292, 294–95, 316–17, 320–21, 327, 335, 356–59, 361–62, 365, 370, 378, 386, 395, 431n31, 436n84, 439n112; [1939]: 452, 460–61, 474, 481, 523–24, 528, 537, 547, 563, 575–76, 614–15, 625–26, 635–40, 642–43, 647, 649, 654, 665–73, 679, 683, 691, 961–62n9, 965n41, 969n108, 972n145, 975nn195–96, 977n207; [1940]: 715–16, 732–33, 735, 746, 749–50, 752, 761, 763, 778, 783–84, 787, 789, 799–802, 803–5, 807–8, 810–13, 818–19, 821–23, 827, 829, 837, 840–42, 844–47, 856–58, 862, 865–66, 868, 873, 875–78, 883, 885–87, 891, 893–97, 901–2, 908, 911–13, 920, 926, 933, 943, 952, 954, 956–57, 978n13, 980n34, 981n39–40, 982n70, 983nn72, 81, 984n86; [1941]: 988, 997, 1004, 1004 note i, 1006, 1010, 1015–17, 1019–21, 1023–24, 1030, 1034, 1037, 1044, 1046, 1047–50, 1060, 1068–69, 1073–77, 1079–80, 1082, 1085–88, 1090, 1092–94, 1096–98, 1103, 1106–10, 1112, 1115, 1118, 1120–24, 1126–27, 1129–30, 1141, 1143–47, 1149–64, 1166–67, 1169–71, 1173–74, 1180–82, 1184–86, 1191–93, 1195–99, 1201, 1206, 1510nn50–52, 1511n82, 84, 1513n112, 1514nn118, 120, 125, 1515nn132, 134, 1516n136, 1517n158,


Page 1573

1518nn163, 169, 173, 1519n175, 176; [1942]: 1209–11, 1214–20, 1222–29, 1233–42 (1238), 1244, 1247–51, 1255–59, 1263–69 (1263, 1265), 1276, 1278, 1280–90, 1293–1310, 1314, 1316–29, 1521n21, 1522n42, 1523n65, 1529nn178, 192, 1530n210, 1531nn229, 232; [1943+]: 1331–32, 1337–41, 1347–49, 1351–52, 1354–59, 1364–75, 1377, 1379, 1382–87, 1394, 1401–3, 1405–12, 1415–31, 1433–39, 1446–48, 1451, 1453–54, 1460–61, 1468–71, 1476, 1484–86, 1490, 1492–95 (1493), 1500–1501, 1504, 1533n1, 1534nn18, 24, 1535nn25–26, 28–29, 30–32, 1536n39, 1537n57, 59, 62, 67
Churchill, Winston (son of Randolph), 946, 1121 Ciano, Gian Galeazzo, 333, 603, 651, 880 Citrine, Walter McLennan: [1934]: 56, 61–68, 70, 72, 413n72; [1935]: 124; [1938]: 254, 322, 332, 338, 354; [1939]: 570, 644, 681–82; [1940]: 729, 733, 739, 835, 926, 978n12; [1941]: 1117, 1144, 1201; [1942]: 1276–77 Clemenceau, Georges, 672, 809, 1314, 1449 Clive, Sir Sidney, 155, 170, 173, 192, 273, 596, 1040 Clynes, John Robert, 62, 64, 125 Coates, William, 603, 675, 791, 995, 1009, 1172, 1472–73 Cocks, Frederick Seymour, 1244 Colban, Erik Andreas, 33, 784–85, 788, 798–99, 854, 856, 1087, 1138, 1168 Cole, G.D.H., 51–52, 55, 60, 412n63 Cole, Valerie, 466 Collier, Laurence, 88, 141, 161–62, 224, 428n72, 446, 629, 701, 944, 1312 Colville, Sir John Rupert ‘Jock’, 126, 298, 476, 750, 979n15, 1513–14 Comert, Pierre, 1001–3 Cooper, Duff Alfred, 21, 154, 156, 160, 165, 235, 239, 357, 361–62, 393, 623, 635, 801–2, 849, 1024–25, 1063, 1096, 1118–19 Corap, Andre-Georges, 813 Corbin, Andre Charles, 90, 154, 170, 203, 225, 233, 242–43, 286–87, 299, 309 note iii, 318, 321, 360, 393, 420n15, 480, 489, 538, 609, 848, 963n26, 1054 Cot, Pierre, 793–94, 849, 851, 859–61, 863 Courtauld, Samuel, 864, 1454 Coward, Sir Noël, 1177–78 Craigie, Robert Leslie, 252, 295, 302 Cranborne, Viscount (Robert Arthur Gascoyne-Cecil), 162–63, 211, 261, 269–71, 361–62, 395, 1056, 1085, 1185, 1215, 1218–19, 1249 Crete, 898, 1062–63, 1065, 1089, 1091–92, 1107, 1280, 1294, 1323, 1360, 1368 Crimea, 633, 867, 1151, 1179, 1190, 1193, 1202, 1254, 1260, 1264, 1373, 1453 Cripps, Lady, 1118 Cripps, Richard Stafford: [1934]: 410n42; [1935]: 89n4, 91; [1936]: 419n1; [1937]: 205, 440n125; [1938]: 366; [1939]: 440n125, 559, 563, 641, 644, 655–56, 665–66, 675, 976n200; [1940]: 760, 795–96, 815–16, 818, 822–29, 831, 839–40, 852–53, 860, 863–66, 869, 882–84, 889, 892, 896, 899, 913–14, 918, 924–25, 929–31, 937–38, 941, 943–45, 981nn43, 54, 982nn55, 70; [1941]: 996–98, 1014–16, 1025, 1029, 1049, 1071, 1072, 1094, 1097–1105 (1100), 1107, 1114, 1117, 1123, 1126, 1133–35, 1150–51, 1163, 1169–70, 1179, 1193, 1195, 1507n14, 1514–15n125, 1519n176; [1942]: 1214, 1216–20, 1222–23, 1225, 1237–38, 1240–41, 1247, 1249–50, 1255, 1275, 1304–5, 1321, 1521n18; [1943]: 1334–35, 1389–90, 1441, 1442, 1447, 1479, 1486, 1533n3 Cristabel, Princess Alice (Duchess of Gloucester), 466 Croft, Henry Page, 44, 411n58


Page 1574

Cromer, Lord (Rowland Thomas Baring), 189, 225
Cronin, Archibald, 577 Crussol, Marquise Jeanne de, 859, 1002, 1020 Csáky, István, 789 Čubrilović, Vaso, 1202 Cudahy, John Clarence, 1069, 1095 Cummings, Arthur John, 98, 175, 333, 409n37, 623, 632 Cunard, Maud, 297 Cunliffe-Lister, Phillip, 81, 116, 165 Cunliffe-Owen, Hugo, 1028 Cunningham, Andrew Browne, 1038, 1223 note i Cunningham, John, 1468 Curzon, George Nathaniel, 263, 679, 808, 1085, 1256–57, 1269–70, 1376, 1395 Cvetković, Dragiša, 1015, 1043 Cyprus, 1036, 1356, 1371, 1416 Czechoslovakia: [1934]: 10, 32, 40; [1935]: 81–82, 123, 133, 137, 141; [1936]: 157, 160, 164, 167, 170, 176, 419n15; [1937]: 207, 220, 222, 227, 239–41, 245; [1938]: 257, 259, 272–74, 276, 280–81, 285, 289–91, 294–97, 299–303, 305–11, 313–16, 318–20, 322–24, 326–29, 331–38, 340–47, 349, 352, 354, 357–59, 361, 363, 369, 376–77, 382, 394, 431n33, 434nn63, 68, 435n79, 437n94, 438n105, 439n112, 441n127; [1939]: 480–81, 483, 487, 491, 601–2, 626–27, 658, 664, 677–79; [1940]: 715, 728–29, 747, 766–67, 848; [1941]: 1000, 1023–24, 1039, 1169, 1181; [1943]: 1360, 1397, 1428, 1471
Daladier, Edouard: [1938]: 290, 318, 332, 334, 336–38, 347–48, 352, 355, 358, 385, 434n63, 436n92; [1939]: 448, 548, 606, 654, 677–79, 699, 702; [1940]: 713–14, 747, 755, 763, 793–94, 802, 813, 836, 850–51, 859–60, 982n71; [1941]: 1002 Dallas, George, 254 Dalton, Hugh: [1934]: 11; [1935]: 414nn8; [1936]: 168; [1937]: 231, 248; [1938]: 332, 334, 338, 362, 366–67; [1939]: 491, 493, 497, 509, 519, 533, 570, 578–79, 599–600, 640, 642, 690, 964n37, 971n140; [1940]: 716, 760–61, 766–67, 791, 798, 804, 810, 817–18, 823, 831–32, 839, 858, 882–83, 900–901, 912, 934; [1941]: 996–99; [1943]: 1337 Dan, Fedor Ilich (Gurvich), 56 Darlan, Jean François, 838, 1002, 1332–33, 1351, 1431 Daudet, Alphonse, 1066, 1169 Davidson, Basil Risbridger, 605 Davies, David Lord, 585–89, 623 Davies, Joseph E., 1256, 1267, 1447, 1469 Davis, Clement Edward, 845–46, 1183–84 Davison, William Henry, 1173 Dawson, Bertrand, 460, 976n199 Dawson, Geoffrey George, 238, 244, 278, 322, 411n58, 431n32, 439n110, 460, 549, 809, 980n36 Deborin, G.A., 1500, 1502 de Gaulle, Charles, 859, 941, 1167, 1245, 1333, 1336, 1342–43, 1348–49, 1372, 1405, 1443, 1454, 1459–62, 1468, 1471–72, 1516n138, 1523n65, 1535n29 Degville, Howard, 595 Dekanozov, Vladimir Georgievich, 1029, 1071–72, 1447, 1499 De La Warr, Lord (Herbrand Edward Dundonald Brassey Sackville), 234–35, 239, 323, 329, 338, 340–42, 346, 354, 370, 379, 395, 433n57, 439n112 Delbos, Yvon, 203, 242–43, 859 del Vayo, Julio Alvarez, 339, 453, 455, 460, 462, 477–79, 526 Demuth, Helene ‘Lenchen’, 781


Page 1575

de Portes, La Comtesse Hélène, 859–60, 941, 1002, 1020
Derevyansky, Vladimir Konstantinovich, 513, 515 De Valera, Eamon (Edward), 342, 857, 876, 956 Deverell, Cyril, 223 Dewey, Thomas Edmund, 1332, 1338 de Wiart, Henri Victor Carton, 699 Dill, Sir John Greer, 797, 1016, 1021, 1024, 1027–28, 1032, 1037–38, 1046, 1057, 1108, 1115, 1143, 1157–58, 1163, 1193, 1229, 1258, 1305, 1469, 1507n14, 1518n169 Dimitrov, Georgi Mikhailovich, 55, 61, 63, 142–43, 412n65, 413n72, 629 Dirksen, Herbert von, 298, 381 Disraeli, Benjamin, 203 Dobbie, William George, 949, 995, 1342 Dodd, William Edward, 219 Doletsky, Yakov Genrikhovich, 46–47 Donovan, William Joseph, 1051, 1255 Doriot, Jacques, 861 Doshchenko, Aleksei Aleksandrovich, 701, 715, 734–35, 752 Douglas-Hamilton, Douglas (Duke of Hamilton), 1088 Doumenc, Joseph Édouard Aimé, 593, 598–99 Dovgalevsky, Valerian Savelevich, 3 Downie, John, 729 Drax, Admiral Reginald Aylmer Ranfurly Plunkett-Ernle-Erle, 590–93, 973n156, 998 Dufferin, Lord (Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood, Basil), 481 Dugdale, Thomas Lionel, 659–60 Dulanty, John Whelan, 1051–52 Duncan, Andrew Rae, 912, 1220 Duncan Sandys, Edwin, 946
Easterman, Alexander, 1042, 1387–88 Eden, Anthony Robert: [1934]: 10, 16, 30–31, 410n45; [1935]: 80, 82, 84, 86, 89–90, 93–114 (110–14), 120, 123, 133, 135, 144, 413n3, 414nn6, 8, 11, 18, 415nn19–21, 29, 33, 416nn34, 36, 39, 46, 418n62; [1936]: 154–56, 159–65, 167, 170–71, 181, 419n6; [1937]: 184–86, 189, 192–95, 198, 200–201, 204–5, 209–13, 217–19, 222, 234–36, 238–42, 244–45, 248, 422n1, 423n8, 425nn32, 37; [1938]: 252, 256, 258–72, 277, 280, 292, 294–95, 303–4, 306–8, 311, 327, 335, 359, 361–62, 370, 378, 386–91, 395, 429n6, 430n15; [1939]: 506, 524, 537, 562–63, 575, 600, 609–10, 614–15, 642–43, 648–49, 654, 665, 672, 691, 962n18, 969n108, 975n195, 976n199; [1940]: 716, 719, 737, 763, 787, 810–11, 846, 862, 865, 875–76, 881, 908–9, 911–12, 934, 938, 957–59, 979n24, 984n90; [1941]: 1006, 1014–17, 1021, 1024, 1027–29, 1034, 1036–39, 1042, 1046–47, 1049–50, 1057, 1060–61, 1063–64, 1068, 1071, 1075, 1078, 1085–88, 1094–98, 1105–10, 1112, 1114–15, 1117–20, 1122–24, 1127–36, 1138, 1140, 1143, 1145–47, 1152–53, 1155, 1157–61 (1159), 1164–67, 1169, 1174–79, 1181–85, 1191–93, 1195–98, 1200–1201, 1203–8 (1205–7), 1507n14, 1508n19, 1510nn50, 63, 1511n69, 1513n115, 1514nn118–20, 1515nn131–33, 1516n136, 1517n154, 1518nn161, 163, 1519nn174–76; [1942]: 1209–10, 1215–20, 1222–23, 1225, 1228–29, 1231, 1233–37, 1238, 1241–49 (1243), 1255, 1257, 1259–61, 1262, 1263–66 (1263, 1265), 1269, 1277–80, 1288, 1290, 1294–96, 1298, 1302, 1305, 1307, 1309–11, 1313–14, 1317–18, 1320, 1322, 1325–28, 1479, 1520n2, 1522n42, 1524n85, 1526n10, 1527n155,


Page 1576

1528nn160, 178, 1530n205, 1532n236; [1943+]: 1332, 1335–41, 1344, 1347–49, 1352–54, 1359, 1364–65, 1367–68, 1370, 1372–76, 1380, 1382–85, 1392, 1394–1401, 1404–5, 1411, 1419, 1421, 1424–26, 1428, 1433–36, 1438–39, 1446–48, 1450–51, 1453–55, 1460–62, 1464, 1467–68, 1470–71, 1474, 1480, 1482–83, 1485–86, 1488, 1490–91, 1493, 1497, 1501–2, 1533nn3, 9, 1538n79, 1541n48
Edward, Prince George (Duke of Kent), 32, 40 Edward VIII, 28, 148, 150, 156–57, 171, 842, 880–81 Egypt: [1935]: 136; [1937]: 185, 224, 425n33; [1938]: 296; [1939]: 609, 663, 699; [1940]: 725, 841, 857, 878, 887, 909, 917, 927, 934, 938, 942, 951, 953; [1941]: 987, 1012, 1016, 1023, 1028, 1034, 1039, 1050, 1055, 1062–63, 1065, 1069, 1077–78, 1082, 1089–90, 1124, 1153–54, 1177; [1942]: 1235, 1248, 1250, 1277–79, 1282, 1285–87, 1301–2, 1305, 1308, 1318–19; [1943]: 1341, 1427, 1458, 1474, 1489 Ehrlich, Henryk, 682 Eisenhower, Dwight David, 1226, 1256, 1290, 1305, 1336, 1347, 1385, 1460, 1499 Elizabeth II, 189, 892, 1456 Elliot, Walter: [1934]: 42, 57; [1935]: 84, 87, 95; [1936]: 154, 165; [1937]: 234–35, 239; [1938]: 269, 298, 357, 361, 378, 395; [1939]: 455, 506–7, 595, 640, 642, 649, 659–60, 665, 676–77, 683, 975n195; [1940]: 895; [1941]: 1048; [1942]: 1314 Elmhirst, Leonard Knight, 1341–42 Elvin, Herbert Henry, 237, 925 Epstein, Jacob, 1004–6 (1005), 1012–14, 1025–27, 1479–81, 1540n32 Erkko, Juho Eljas, 515, 517, 680 Erskine-Hill, Alexander Galloway, 1314 Erskine May, Thomas, 829 Evans, Edward, 919–23 (921), 1139 Ewer, William Norman, 98, 144–45, 298, 454, 501, 525, 944, 946, 968n98, 970n128 Ezhov, Nikolai Ivanovich, 288, 528
Fabricius, Wilhelm, 309 Fagerholm, Karl-August, 1392 Faure, Paul, 851 Fedorovna, Aleksandra, 545 note i Fedorovna, Mariya, 246 Fedotov, General Petr, 1497–98 Feonov, Nikolai Ivanovich, 735, 1271 Fethi Bey, Ali, 30 Feuchtwanger, Lion Jacob, 691 Fierlinger, Zdeněk, 728 Filov, Bogdan Dimitrov, 1022 Finland: [1934]: 10, 34, 51; [1937]: 1–3; [1938]: 338, 441n138; [1939]: 447–48, 505, 513, 515, 517, 534, 550–53, 557, 560, 564, 567, 576, 609, 646, 654–55, 665–68, 670, 672, 676, 680–81, 683, 685–97, 699–700, 702, 704–5, 708–10, 961n1, 977–78n212; [1940]: 714–16, 720–25, 728–34, 737–38, 741–42, 744–62, 765–69, 771–73, 790–91, 797, 802, 808, 839, 851, 867, 885, 903, 926, 929–30, 940, 978n12, 979nn15, 23, 24, 980n32; [1941]: 993, 1069, 1101, 1116–17, 1138–39, 1148, 1155, 1165, 1187, 1190, 1197–99, 1518n173, 1519n174; [1942]: 1228, 1235, 1284; [1943]: 1330, 1392–93, 1398, 1402–6, 1430 Firebrace, Roy, 1339 Fischer, Louis, 350, 782 Fisher, John Arbuthnot, 1080 Flandin, Pierre Étienne, 81, 104, 242, 413n2, 775, 794, 831, 850–51, 861, 953, 1002


Page 1577

Fletcher, R.T.H., 690
Florestan (poet), 1495–96 Foot, Michael, 1220 Forughi, Mohammad Ali Khan, 1224–25 Franckenstein, Georg Albert von und zu, 192, 394 Franco, Francisco: [1936]: 179, 181, 420n29; [1937]: 185–86, 192, 195, 202–3, 207, 210–14, 242; [1938]: 252, 255, 260, 273, 286, 297, 304, 308, 318, 346, 391, 434n64, 435n71; [1939]: 446, 449–50, 453–56, 458, 460–64, 469, 470 note i, 478, 478 note i, 479, 526, 590, 615; [1940]: 723, 850, 874–75, 878, 947–48; [1941]: 1009, 1051, 1061; [1943]: 1332, 1337, 1372 François-Poncet, André, 98, 379 Fraser, Peter, 1110 Freeman-Thomas, Freeman (Lord Willingdon), 911 Funk, Walther, 372
Gafencu, Grigore, 520, 523 Gallacher, William, 144, 352, 606, 613, 698, 817, 885–86, 1183 Gamelin, Maurice Gustave, 348, 438n108, 626, 662, 702, 813, 816, 851 Gandhi, Mohandas Karamchand, 18–19, 709, 795, 891 Garvin, James Louis, 18, 50–51, 162, 176, 238, 266, 278, 393, 414n7, 418n59, 431n32, 574, 632, 776, 846, 1227 Gavrilović, Milovan, 1063 Geddes, Campbell Auckland, 1252 Georges, Alphonse Joseph, 1461 George V, 36, 148–50, 171, 217, 231, 385, 1450 George VI, 189, 224–25, 385, 1536n39. See also Albert of Saxe-Coburg, Prince Géraud, Charles Joseph André (Pertinax), 849, 859 Gershelman, E.E., 86, 151 Giraud, Henri Honoré, 1336, 1342–43, 1348–49, 1372, 1405, 1454, 1460–62, 1466–68, 1471–72 Girshfeld, E.V., 325 Gladstone, William Ewart, 203, 205 Glasgow, George, 176, 632, 772, 881–82, 1042–43 Gloucester, Duchess of (Cristabel, Princess Alice), 466 Gloucester, Duke of (Prince Henry William), 37, 466 note i, 609, 1056, 1281, 1283 Godunov, Boris, 1096, 1191–92, 1379 Goebbels, Paul Joseph, 562, 573, 872, 1095, 1144, 1271, 1273, 1292, 1391, 1415, 1426, 1432, 1451 Goga, Octavian, 258 Gogol, Nikolai, 1538n75 Goldman, Nahum, 568 Golikov, Filipp Ivanovich, 1114, 1115, 1362 Gollancz, Victor, 427n59, 573, 623 (623), 893, 1006, 1183 Gondomar, Count of (Sarmiento de Acuna, Diego), 1319 Gordon-Lennox, Victor, 95, 98, 632, 944, 946 Gorelkin, Nikolai Vasilevich, 714 Göring, Hermann Wilhelm, 219, 240–41, 286, 296, 483n1, 523, 581, 621, 674, 762, 855, 872, 962n13, 981n40, 1095, 1390, 1430, 1432 Gort, Lord (John Standish Surtees Vereker), 595–96, 718–19, 849, 930 Goschen, William Edward, 827 Grabar, Igor Emmanuilovich, 387 Grandi, Dino, 23, 38, 139, 190–91, 201–2, 210, 213–14, 225, 259, 267–69, 286, 381, 650, 958, 1054 Granville, Edgar Louis, 1092 Graziani, Rodolfo (Marquess di Neghelli), 191, 938


Page 1578

Greece: [1934]: 15, 36–37, 963n22; [1937]: 425n33; [1938]: 371–72, 425n33, 482, 502–4, 537, 551, 564, 601, 665, 685, 848, 880, 898, 926, 930, 938, 953; [1939]: 482, 502–4, 537, 551, 564, 601, 665, 685; [1940]: 848, 880, 898, 926, 930, 938, 953, 994, 996, 998, 1009, 1016, 1023–25, 1028, 1036–38, 1042, 1044–48, 1050, 1053; [1941]: 994, 996, 998, 1009, 1016, 1023–25, 1028, 1036–38, 1042, 1044–48, 1050, 1053, 1055–57, 1060, 1062–65, 1069, 1073, 1079, 1089, 1092, 1107, 1154, 1167–68, 1182, 1190, 1231, 1280, 1294, 1316; [1942]: 1231, 1280, 1294, 1316; [1943]: 1360, 1368, 1401, 1471, 1533n14
Greenwood, Arthur: [1936]: 168; [1937]: 243; [1938]: 330, 337–38, 348–49, 354, 370; [1939]: 492, 497–98, 578–79, 599–600, 604, 606, 610–11, 614, 622, 624, 644, 675, 698, 964n37, 974n177; [1940]: 742, 763, 775, 791–92, 795, 798, 803–4, 808, 810, 857, 883, 912–13, 937, 978n12; [1941]: 1009–11, 1033, 1038, 1062–63, 1087, 1182; [1942]: 1219, 1248–49, 1251 Grenfell, David Rhys, 394, 635, 879, 1182 Grey, Edward, 827 Griffiths, James, 1092 Grigg, Edward, 176, 1014, 1016, 1182, 1219, 1340, 1380, 1447 Gripenberg, George Achates, 694, 1087 Gromyko, Andrei Andreevich, 519, 1321, 1478, 1483 Grzybowski, Wacław, 622 Guderian, Heinz, 1151, 1203, 1361 Guinness, Walter Edward (1st Baron Moyne), 1219 Günther, Christian Ernst, 753 Guo Taiqi, 31, 127, 192, 210, 218–19, 253, 295, 360, 372, 407n8, 515, 525, 582, 598, 609, 693, 713, 724–25, 738, 761, 893, 1041, 1053–54, 1057, 1059–60 Gusev, Fedor Tarasovich, 785, 1483–84, 1486, 1490, 1541n48 Gustaf VI Adolf, 881 Gutt, Camille, 1142 Gu Weijun (Wellington Koo), 218–19, 680, 694, 1041, 1392
Haakon VII of Norway, 37, 156, 798, 855–56, 874 Habsburg, Otto von, 678, 1332 Hácha, Emil Dominik, 607 Hailsham, Viscount (Douglas Hogg), 21, 23, 90, 97, 134–35, 165, 238, 240 Haldane, Richard Burdon, 233 Halifax, Earl of (Wood, Edward Frederick Lindley), 116 note; [1934]: 39, 411n58; [1935]: 116; [1936]: 154, 163; [1937]: 188, 209, 227, 232–33, 235–38, 240–42, 244–45, 425n37; [1938]: 260–63, 266, 271, 284–85, 289–91, 294–99, 303–6, 309, 312–13, 317, 321–24, 327, 329, 334–35, 337–38, 345, 348, 352, 354, 356–57, 359–60, 362–68, 374–75, 379–80, 394, 430n15, 432n33, 433nn57–58, 434nn63, 68, 436n84, 438n106, 439nn111–12, 440n38, 440n124; [1939]: 447–50, 455, 460–64, 467, 474, 483, 486–88, 491, 493–94, 496–504, 520–23, 527, 529–35, 538–49 (546), 551, 554–58, 560–63, 566–67, 574–83, 592, 614, 627–31, 633, 637, 639, 645–46, 649, 650, 654–55, 666, 670–72, 677, 679–85, 696, 709, 961–62n9, 963nn32, 33, 964nn37–40, 965n46, 966n47, 967n66, 968n98, 969n107, 970nn127–28, 971n133, 972–73n154–156, 974n170, 975n195, 976n199, 976n200, 977nn205, 209; [1940]: 714–15, 717–18, 720–21,


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724–26, 746–48, 750, 759–60, 763, 765, 769–72, 774–75, 785, 795, 798–99, 807–8, 810, 818, 823–26; [1940]: 828, 832–33, 836, 852, 865–66, 868–72, 875, 892–93, 895–96, 911–13, 919, 934, 939, 943–45, 947–49, 957–58, 978n12, 979n24, 980n31, 980–81n39–40, 982nn70, 71, 983nn76–77, 85, 984n92, 985n103; [1941]: 992, 998, 1068, 1087, 1174–76, 1182–83, 1517n150; [1942]: 1214, 1222, 1225–26, 1228, 1242–43, 1255–56, 1259, 1310, 1329, 1524n77; [1943]: 1375, 1469, 1486
Hamilton, Duke of (Douglas Douglas-Hamilton), 1088 Hamilton, L.H.K., 1297 Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood, Basil (Lord Dufferin), 481 Hankey, Maurice Pascal Alers, 109, 168, 614 Hansson, Per Albin, 752 Hardie, James Keir, 125 Hare, William Francis, 1383 Harriman, William Averell, 985n104, 1031, 1036, 1150, 1161, 1164, 1169, 1195, 1211–13, 1220, 1221, 1228, 1244, 1297, 1303, 1324, 1401, 1477, 1535n27 Harris, Air Marshal Sir Arthur Travers, 1309–10, 1314, 1465–66 Harris, Percy, 1198, 1314–15 Harvey, Oliver Charles, 577, 1384, 1453, 1525n107, 1526n130 Haw-Haw, Lord (William Joyce), 710 Hayashi, Senjuro, 193–94 Hemming, Arthur Francis, 318, 346, 651 Henderson, Arthur, 3, 31, 41–42, 61, 263, 808 Henderson, Nevile, 197, 219, 240, 296–97, 309, 312, 367, 487, 517, 521, 524, 600, 604–7, 611, 612, 788 Henlein, Konrad, 280–81, 296, 299, 307, 308–9, 315, 318, 323, 328 Henry William, Prince (Duke of Gloucester), 37, 466 note i, 609, 1056, 1281, 1283 Herbert, Alfred Edward, 250 Hernández, Jesus, 477 Herriot, Édouard, 143, 147, 331, 412n64, 677, 849 Hertzog, James Barry Munnik, 384, 614–15 Hess, Dame Myra, 1389–90 (1389) Hess, Rudolf, 241, 872, 1072, 1081–82, 1088, 1093–95, 1107, 1327–28, 1433 Heywood, Thomas George Gordon, 590, 592, 593 Hicks, George Ernest, 62, 65, 67–68, 70, 124–25, 739, 749, 791, 995 Hilger, Gustav, 602 Hilton Young, Edward, 115–16, 134 Himelfarb, Hershl, 681 Himmler, Heinrich Luitpold, 1095 Hindenburg, Paul Ludwig von, 15 Hitler, Adolf: [1934]: 9–11, 15, 20, 29 note ii, 31, 39 note i, 43, 56, 63, 411n61, 413n72; [1935]: 80, 82–85, 91, 93–96, 99, 103–6, 108–9, 111, 114–16, 120, 123, 130, 132, 134, 141, 413n3, 414n8, 415nn25, 29, 416n33, 417nn55–56, 418n59; [1936]: 148 note i, 158, 160–67, 176, 179, 181–82, 419n15, 421n44; [1937]: 184–85, 188, 194, 197–98, 202, 204, 206–7, 219–20, 223, 234–38, 240–41, 244–45, 423n8, 424n28–29, 425nn31, 37; [1938]: 255–57, 260, 262, 265, 272, 280–84, 286, 288, 290–92, 295–300, 302–3, 305, 307–8, 311–16, 318, 320–22, 324, 326–30, 332–35, 337–45, 348–52, 356–57, 360, 362, 365–67, 370, 373–79, 382, 384, 386, 390, 392–95, 429nn11–12, 430n22, 431n33, 432n34, 437nn94, 101, 438nn103, 106, 110, 440n122, 441n131; [1939]: 445–52, 454, 464, 468, 480–81, 483–85, 491–92,


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496, 498–501, 507–8, 519–21, 523, 527, 529, 531, 536, 541, 547–48, 556–57, 559, 561, 568–69, 578–79, 581, 592–93, 595, 600–608, 611–12, 619, 621–22, 625–26, 633–35, 637–38, 641–42, 644, 646, 648, 651, 653, 657–62, 664, 671–74, 694, 697, 706–7, 961n3, 967n65, 971n132, 974n170, 976n197; [1940]: 715, 722, 727, 740, 747, 749, 756, 761–64, 766–67, 772–73, 790, 794, 802–3, 807–8, 810, 814, 820–24, 831, 834–37, 841–42, 845–46, 851–52, 857–58, 867, 872–73, 875–78, 882, 885–87, 889, 894, 900–901, 908–9, 917, 925, 931, 933–35, 938–39, 944, 951, 953, 958, 980n29, 982n56, 983n85, 984n97; [1941]: 987–89, 991, 994, 1009, 1015–16, 1018–20, 1022–23, 1025, 1033, 1040, 1044–45, 1050–52, 1061–62, 1064–66, 1068–69, 1071–74, 1077–78, 1081–83, 1088–89, 1093–95, 1098, 1101–5, 1107–10, 1113–14, 1122, 1124–26, 1130, 1137, 1140, 1142–43, 1145, 1148, 1151, 1153–54, 1156–57, 1170–72, 1174–75, 1177, 1181–82, 1186, 1190, 1193–94, 1196–97, 1203–4, 1507n14, 1515n128; [1942]: 1222, 1226, 1229–30, 1235, 1239, 1247, 1253–54, 1265, 1268, 1272–73, 1291, 1293, 1300, 1316, 1321–22, 1327–28; [1943]: 1334, 1349, 1352–54, 1361, 1376, 1381, 1401, 1404, 1412–14, 1422, 1424, 1426, 1430, 1432–33, 1439, 1446, 1449, 1451, 1464–65, 1534n17
Hoare, Samuel John: [1934]: 39; [1935]: 90, 97, 119–20, 122, 130–31, 137–39, 144–47, 416n45, 417nn52, 53, 418n62; [1936]: 157–58, 161, 163, 166; [1937]: 194, 198, 225, 235, 238, 240, 423n17; [1938]: 263, 266, 269, 278, 335, 360–61, 363, 368, 370, 381–83, 395; [1939]: 453–55, 497, 503, 564–66, 614, 671–72, 709; [1940]: 715–16, 746, 778, 783, 799–801, 808, 810–11, 823, 826, 857, 874, 882, 884, 947; [1941]: 1174 Hodža, Milan, 299 Hoesch, Leopold von, 15, 82, 84, 102, 1054 Hogg, Douglas (Viscount Hailsham), 21, 23, 90, 97, 134–35, 165, 238, 240 Hogg, Quentin, 698 Hohenlohe, Stephanie Julianne (von), 298 Holland: [1935]: 129; [1936]: 158; [1937]: 199, 224, 234–35; [1938]: 288, 327, 376; [1939]: 450, 512, 518, 565, 574, 576–77, 580, 583, 605, 626, 661–62, 664, 671, 705, 708; [1940]: 726–27, 740, 755, 775, 784, 790–91, 802–3, 806, 809, 823, 843, 847, 857, 860, 862, 868, 887, 899, 900, 910–11, 913, 918, 953; [1941]: 955, 983n85, 1024, 1044, 1065, 1093, 1101, 1181; [1942]: 1210, 1215, 1221, 1223, 1229, 1232, 1237, 1270–72, 1285, 1291; [1943]: 1332, 1338, 1360, 1397, 1458 Holsti, Eino Rudolf Woldemar, 551–53, 699 Hoover, Herbert, 54 Hope, Victor Alexander John, 889 Hopkins, Harry Lloyd, 1018, 1123–27, 1129, 1136–38, 1147, 1169, 1212–13, 1222, 1255–56, 1258, 1263, 1267, 1289, 1297, 1306, 1315, 1376, 1385, 1405, 1523n65 Hore-Belisha, Leslie, 223, 235, 239, 291, 357, 361, 373, 379, 438n108, 471, 522, 609, 614, 661–62, 671, 679, 718–19, 749–50, 757, 760, 802, 1092, 1281, 1314 Horne, Robert Stevenson, 1269 Horner, Arthur Lewis, 926 Howard, Roy Wilson, 481–82 Howell, William Gough, 584 Hudson, Robert Spear, 57, 453, 455, 461–62, 467, 470–77, 480–81, 484, 485–88, 493–94, 496, 505–6, 581, 589, 961n8, 962n13, 963nn19–20


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Hugessen, Sir Hughe Montgomery Knatchbull-, 1147
Hull, Cordell, 80, 140, 741, 1213, 1486, 1526n133 Hull, David, 164 Hungary, 52, 78, 170, 280, 291, 392, 549, 552, 665, 678–79, 695, 728–29, 740, 789, 963n23, 1199, 1228, 1235, 1362, 1471, 1518n173 Hyndman, Henry Mayers, 781–82
Ibárruri Gómez, Isidora Dolores (La Pasionaria), 477n2, 479 Iliffe, Edward Mauger, 1180 Ingram, Arthur Foley Winnington, 23 Inskip, Thomas (1st Viscount Caldecote), 192, 234, 237, 360, 363, 370, 379, 395, 471, 609 Iran/Persia: [1934]: 48; [1937]: 185, 194; [1939]: 639, 686; [1940]: 755–56, 758, 839, 841, 843, 878, 903, 943; [1941]: 997, 1023, 1034, 1065, 1067, 1078, 1118, 1120, 1122, 1146–47, 1151–52, 1156, 1162, 1174, 1186, 1513–14n118; [1942]: 1224–25, 1232, 1235, 1239–40, 1301, 1517n149; [1943]: 1407, 1416, 1458 Ironside, William Edmund, 740, 748, 752, 767, 846–47, 877 Isaacs, Rufus Daniel (1st Marquess of Reading), 263 Ismay, Hastings, 1120, 1122, 1166, 1169, 1201, 1519n177 Ismet İnönü, 997, 1147, 1354–55, 1367 Italy: [1934]: 12, 14; [1935]: 80, 130–32, 136, 139–41, 145–46; [1936]: 157–58, 163–64, 181–83; [1937]: 187, 190–95, 198, 201–3, 210–15, 219–20, 223–24, 250; [1938]: 255, 259–63, 265–72, 277, 280, 286, 295–96, 303–4, 306, 308, 333, 365–66, 371, 379–80; [1939]: 448, 452, 454–55, 502, 526, 542–43, 603, 634, 650–51, 663–65, 673–74, 686; [1940]: 715, 723, 728, 776–77, 784, 795, 807, 815, 830–36, 841–44, 857, 874, 886, 898, 913, 927, 930, 934, 947, 951–53; [1941]: 987, 994, 1023, 1028, 1038, 1041, 1069, 1123, 1204; [1942]: 1285, 1287, 1329; [1943]: 1331–33, 1336–38, 1348, 1351–52, 1368, 1414, 1418, 1453, 1469 Ivanov, Nikolai Nikolaevich, 860 Jacob, Sir Ian Claud, 1325 Japan: [1934]: 13, 16, 18, 21–22, 25, 31–32, 49–50, 53, 55–57; [1935]: 89, 102, 115, 127, 129–30, 134–36; [1936]: 157, 182–83; [1937]: 187–88, 193–94, 198–99, 209–10, 218–19, 225, 232, 250; [1938]: 252–55, 282, 284, 287–88, 293, 295, 302, 304–5, 312, 372, 380, 392; [1939]: 467–68, 481–82, 541, 563, 582–83, 669–70; [1940]: 713, 795–96, 882, 884, 913–14, 944–45; [1941]: 1015, 1045, 1059, 1063, 1065–66, 1090–91, 1101, 1123, 1138, 1179; [1942]: 1221, 1223, 1235, 1237, 1248, 1284, 1296, 1345; [1943]: 1448 Jarvie, J. Gibson, 85, 89 Jenkins, Arthur, 791 Jiang Jieshi (Chiang Kai-shek), 209, 253, 312, 669, 686, 795–96, 1041, 1054, 1059, 1138, 1411 Jiang Tingfu (Ts’ang Ting-fu), 210 Johnson, Hewlett (Red Dean of Canterbury), 571–73 (572), 858 Johnson, Louis Arthur, 741, 971–72n142 Johnstone, Harcourt (‘T. Johnston’), 1182, 1184 Jones, Ernest, 1056 Jones, Morgan, 41 Jones, Roderick, 250, 564–65 Jordan, William J., 375–76, 544, 729–30 Jordana Sousa, Francisco Gómez-, 1337 Jouhaux, Leon, 739


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Jowitt, William Allen, 1251
Joyce, William (Lord Haw-Haw), 710 Juliana van Oranje-Nassau, Princess, 37
Kagan, Sergei Borisovich (Samuil Bentsionovich), 4, 14, 43, 60, 62, 67–68, 70, 88, 109, 144, 149, 152, 230, 256, 331, 333, 346, 429n9, 721, 1450 Kaganovich, Lazar Moiseevich, 514, 518 Kalinin, Mikhail Ivanovich, 149, 164, 556, 655, 668, 853 Kamenev, Lev Borisovich, 182, 1270 Kandelaki, David Vladimirovich, 231 Karakhan, Lev Mikhailovich, 228 Kayser, Jacques, 339 Kean, William, 62 Kemal Atatürk, Mustafa, 1052 Kennedy, Joseph Patrick, 263, 274, 318, 431n30, 609, 621, 761, 844, 942–43, 980n38, 982n58, 985n103, 1030, 1126 Kent, Duke of, 32, 40 Kenworthy, Joseph Montague (Baron Strabolgi), 285, 360, 527, 624, 729–30, 749, 949 Kerensky, Aleksandr, 179 Kerillis, Henri de, 849, 859 Kerr, Archibald Clark, 785 note i, 796, 1246–48, 1259, 1318, 1324, 1356, 1361, 1385, 1395, 1431, 1434, 1447, 1471, 1478–79, 1482–83, 1494 Kerr, Philip Henry (Lord Lothian), 182, 395, 1536n46, 1537n62 Keyes, Roger, 801 Keynes, John Maynard, 75, 121, 577, 834–35, 1007, 1385 Kharlamov, Nikolai Mikhailovich, 1115, 1157, 1260, 1266, 1295, 1311, 1313, 1339–40, 1382, 1411, 1447, 1502 Khrushchev, Nikita, 1261 note i, 1495–96, 1499–1502, 1504 Killearn, Lord, 1476 Killik, Sir Stephen Henry Molyneux, 22 Kindersley, Robert, 1007 Kingsley Wood, Howard, 238, 240, 304, 312–13, 335, 362, 524, 575, 609, 614, 746, 810, 912–13, 991, 1007, 1087, 1164, 1215, 1218, 1378 Kiosseivanov, Georgi, 490 Kirillovna, Kira, 37 Kirke, Sir Walter Mervyn St George, 661 Kirkwood, David, 675, 817 Kirov, Sergei Mironovich, 42–43, 45–46, 51, 58, 60, 62, 65–67, 70, 252 note i, 411n57, 412n62, 413n72 Kitchener, Horatio Herbert, 1080 Kleist, Paul Ewald von, 569, 1511, 1204 Kluge, Günther von, 1203 Klyshko, Nikolai Klementevich, 125 Knox, Frank, 1405 Knox, Sir Alfred, 732, 752 Koht, Halvdan, 854–56 Kokoschka, Oskar, 1006, 1480 Kollontay, Aleksandra Mikhailovna (née Domontovich): [1934]: 9; [1935]: 418n59; [1936]: 172–73, 180; [1937]: 228–31, 426–27n55; [1938]: 293–94, 329, 331, 339, 403n19, 415n28; [1939]: 513, 517, 527, 558, 600; [1940]: 797; [1941]: 1139; [1942]: 1210, 1231, 1264, 1320; [1943+]: 1403, 1495 Kong Xiangxi (Hsiang-his K’ung), 218–19, 222 Konoe, Fumimaro, 1179 Korda, Alexander, 577 Korneichuk, Aleksandr Evdokimovich, 1391 Koryzis, Alexandros, 1064, 1168 note i Korzh, Mikhail Vasilevich, 510, 580, 591, 599, 618, 701, 721, 787, 828, 979n25, 1127 Kot, Stanisław, 1127–29 Kozlovsky, Yuri M., 554 Krainsky, Anatoly (Ariel) Markovich, 787, 904


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Krapivintsev, Pavel Nikolaevich, 508, 518, 769
Krasin, Leonid Borisovich, 35, 125, 1269–70 Kreisler, Fritz, 744 Krestinsky, Nikolai Nikolaevich, 228 Kreuger, Ivar, 850 Krofta, Kamil, 299, 320 Krupskaya, Nadezhda Konstantinovna, 783 Krylenko, Nikolai Vasilevich, 74 Krylov, Ivan Andreevich, 778, 783, 1487 Kuh, Frederick, 1360 Kustodiev, Boris Mikhailovich, 387
Labonne, Eirik, 860 Lang, William Cosmo Gordon (Archbishop of Canterbury), 23, 28, 30, 191, 284, 572, 881, 1026, 1173, 1250, 1275 Langsdorff, Hans Wilhelm, 756 Lansbury, George, 41, 62–64, 66–70, 72, 124–25, 205, 352, 641, 644, 674–75 Lasker, Emanuel, 74 Latham, Charles, 995 Lathan, George, 62, 67 Laval, Pierre: [1934]: 36, 55; [1935]: 77, 81–82, 85, 93–94, 104, 109, 127–28, 137, 143, 145–47, 413, 417n55, 418n62; [1936]: 157–59, 163, 166; [1937]: 242; [1939]: 490; [1940]: 775, 794, 831, 850–51, 861, 868, 876, 953; [1941]: 1002–3 Law, Andrew Bonar, 361, 773, 1218, 1449 Law, Richard Kidston, 361, 1127, 1167 Layton, Sir Walter, 77, 250, 333, 370–71, 394, 508–9, 776, 787 Lazyan, I., 45 Leathers, Frederick James, 1089–90, 1386, 1411 Lebedeva, Natalia, 1537n65 Lebrun, Albert, 490, 851, 861 Lee, Baroness Janet (Jennie), 27 Leeper, Reginald Allen (‘Rex’), 87, 94 Lees-Smith, Hastings Bertrand, 890, 1092 Leith-Ross, Frederick William, 126–27, 136, 161, 193, 289, 373, 456, 462, 620, 651, 888, 1252 Lelong, General Albert, 662–63 Lenin, Vladimir Ilich, 19, 28, 45, 77, 397, 252, 405n68, 436n90, 441n138, 977n206, 1070, 1394, 1396, 1445, 1453, 1473 Leonard, William, 895 Leonardo da Vinci, 1091 Leopold of Belgium, 224–25, 233, 604, 819, 827, 1142 Le Rougetel, John Helier, 827–28 Levanevsky, Sigizmund Aleksandrovich, 60 Libya, 142, 191, 878, 1010, 1032, 1046, 1049, 1069, 1146, 1156, 1162, 1166, 1185, 1204, 1206, 1211, 1214, 1223, 1237, 1242, 1266, 1277–81, 1285, 1294, 1316, 1516n136, 1519n176 Liddell-Hart, Basil, 378–79, 395, 527, 718–19, 726, 758, 806, 961n3 Lie, Trygve Halvdan, 1138–40 Lindemann, Frederick Alexander, 1144 Lister, Enrique (Forjan), 457, 477, 479 Little, John Carruthers, 896 Litvinov, Ivy, 179, 180, 408n27, 421n38, 433n52, 527, 994, 1477, 1499 Litvinov, Maksim Maksimovich (M.M.): [1936]: 151, 156–59, 163; [1937]: 218; [1938]: 256, 258, 260, 309, 310, 319–20, 323, 326, 328, 331, 332, 333, 335–37, 339–43, 346–48, 350, 356, 370, 441n127; [1939]: 486, 489, 493, 497, 509, 545, 689, 699, 701; [1940]: 782; [1941]: 1006, 1194–95; [1942]: 1246; [1943+]: 1375–76, 1401, 1442, 1447, 1473, 1476–78, 1483–85, 1490–91, 1492, 1495 Llewellin, John Jestyn, 1219 Lloyd, George Ambrose, 134


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Lloyd George, David: [1934]: 29; [1935]: 89, 112; [1936]: 165, 179, 181; [1937]: 201–8, 211, 213, 245, 423n19, 424n21, 425n37; [1938]: 262, 264, 270, 273, 292, 306, 323, 329, 358–59, 386, 392, 395, 431n31, 436n92, 440n122; [1939]: 469, 499–500, 520, 537, 579, 589, 599–600, 604, 614, 618–20, 633–35, 644, 650, 703–4, 706–10, 964n38, 965n41, 968n98; [1940]: 743–47 (744), 758–59, 763, 772–73, 777–78, 782–83, 787, 790, 801–2, 806–9, 811–12, 819–20, 822, 836–38, 841, 845–47, 865, 867–68, 891–92, 895, 899, 912, 931, 935–36, 952–53, 956–58, 979n22; [1941]: 1017–21, 1049–51, 1075, 1077–80, 1085, 1093, 1142–44, 1159, 1160, 1184, 1515nn129, 132, 1517n158; [1942]: 1211, 1218, 1248, 1259, 1269–70, 1273–74, 1310, 1314–16, 1521n21; [1943+]: 1332, 1344–45, 1347, 1360, 1442, 1448–49, 1453, 1456, 1486, 1491
Lloyd George, Gwilym, 89, 520, 558, 706, 1077, 1184 Lloyd George, Megan, 89, 1074, 1184 Lobkowicz, Maximilian, 1282 Lockhart, Bruce, 1221, 1225, 1477, 1508n19, 1511n80, 1528n160 Londonderry, Lady (Edith Vane-Tempest-Stewart), 1020 Londonderry, Marquess of (Charles Vane-Tempest-Stewart), 23, 53, 162, 297, 743 Longuet, Jean Laurent-Frederick, 539 Longuet, Robert, 539 Lopukhova, Lidiya, 75, 121, 577, 834 Low, David, 15, 278, 353, 394, 431n32, 507, 525, 539, 561, 571, 1348, 1387 Lozovsky, Solomon Abramovich (Dridzo), 929–30, 1144 Luke, George Lawson Johnston, 79 Lukes, Igor, 437n94 Lupescu, Magda, 385 Lyons, Joseph Aloysius, 198–99 Lyttelton, Oliver, 912, 1166, 1381, 1411, 1447 Lytton, Victor Alexander Bulwer-, 169, 394
MacArthur, Douglas, 1275 MacDonald, Ishbel, 23, 166, 391 MacDonald, Malcolm John (Jr.), 239, 269 Maček, Vladko, 776 Maclean, Donald, 413n1 MacLean, Neil, 476, 640, 675, 696, 791, 895, 995 Maclean, Sir Fitzroy, 496, 828, 944 Macmillan, Harold Maurice, 18, 375–76, 395, 757, 766, 802, 1336, 1460–61, 1468 Macnamara, John, 609, 1092 MacNeice, Frederick Louis, 1381 Maginness, Sir Greville Simpson, 74 Maiorsky, N., 87 Maiskaya, Agniya Aleksandrovna (A. or A.A.): [1934]: 11, 33, 37–38, 40, 59–60, 71; [1935]: 76, 87, 95, 105, 117n1, 124, 138, 142, 144; [1936]: 149, 151, 152, 154, 155–56, 158–59, 166; [1937]: 1–4, 189, 197, 224, 230–31, 246–47; [1938]: 256, 273, 284, 293–94, 306–7, 324, 326–27, 330, 330, 337, 343, 347–48, 350, 379–80, 386, 391, 429n10; [1939]: 443, 455, 475, 477, 503, 505, 510, 512–13, 539, 553, 564, 572, 583, 584–86, 588, 600, 608, 659, 684, 704, 711; [1940]: 715, 735, 779, 781, 792, 797, 809, 811, 834, 862, 875, 904, 906, 918–19, 922–24, 927, 946; [1941]: 989–90, 1006, 1016–17, 1058, 1084, 1087, 1099, 1105, 1108, 1119–20, 1126, 1131, 1138–39, 1142, 1159, 1168, 1170, 1172–73, 1178, 1180, 1184, 1207, 1515n135, 1516n144; [1942]: 1262, 1275, 1282, 1302; [1943+]: 1356, 1380, 1382, 1385, 1431, 1440–43, 1442, 1444, 1446, 1448, 1450, 1456–57,


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1540n32, 1478, 1480, 1484, 1487, 1489, 1493, 1495–96, 1498–99, 1504, 1505
Makins, Roger Mellor, 1222 Malenkov, Georgii, 1498 Mandel, Georges, 334, 677, 738, 762, 859, 982n71 Mander, Geoffrey Le Mesurier, 135, 145, 332, 604, 609, 690, 788, 1314 Mannerheim, Carl Gustaf Emil, 700, 704, 728, 731, 733, 747–49, 752, 978n12, 1430 Manstein, Erich von, 1360–61, 1388, 1535n32 Manuilsky, Dmitrii Zakharovich, 480 Manuwajwimonnat, Phra, 915 Margaret Rose, Princess (Margaret Rose Windsor), 189 Margesson, David Reginald, 271, 424n28, 612, 802–3, 810, 988, 1115, 1166, 1174, 1185, 1215, 1218–19 Marín, Manuel González, 470 Marina, Princess, 32–33, 36–37, 40, 410n47 Marquet, Adrien, 861 Marshall, George Catlett, 1226, 1255–59, 1267–68, 1289–90, 1305–6, 1327, 1329, 1345–46, 1351, 1370, 1527n142 Marshall, Horace Brooks, 28, 30 Marshall, Sir Alfred, 76, 136, 161–62 Martin, Ajas, 163, 224, 290, 394 Martin, Kingsley, 1338–39 Masaryk, Jan Garrigue, 81, 160, 170, 220, 241, 291, 296–99, 303–4, 308–9, 327, 334, 345, 355–56 (355), 360, 376–77, 394–95, 425n30, 1388, 1432 Mason-MacFarlane, Sir Frank Noel, 1108, 1150, 1222, 1476 Mastek, Mieczysław, 682 Matallana (Gómez), Manuel, 478–79 Mather, Loris Emerson, 74 Matsudaira, Tsuneo, 24–25, 31, 37, 102 Matsuoka, Yosuke, 1015, 1045, 1072 Maugham, Frederic Herbert, 575 Maxton, James Richard, 352, 363, 675 Maze, Sir Frederick William, 31 McEwen, John, 1131, 1136 McGovern, John, 604, 757 McGowan, Harry Duncan, 129–30, 250 McKenna, Reginald, 564 McNaughton, Andrew George, 1301 Meirson (Meir), Golda, 1489 Menemencioğlu, Hüseyin Numan, 1355 Menéndez López, Leopoldo, 477–79 Merekalov, Aleksei Fedorovich, 348, 508, 519–20, 568–69, 1499 Metaxas, Ioannis, 926, 1056 Miaja (Menant), José, 470, 477–78 Micara, Cardinal Clemente, 805 Micescu, Istrate, 258 Middle East: [1934]: 21, 48; [1939]: 663; [1940]: 917; [1941]: 1003–4, 1011, 1024, 1032, 1050, 1074, 1078, 1082, 1089, 1094, 1108, 1124, 1156–57, 1162, 1177; [1942]: 1256, 1258, 1280–81, 1285–90, 1305; [1943]: 1413, 1425–27, 1458, 1488–90 (1489). See also Egypt; Libya; Palestine Middleton, James Smith, 62, 67–70, 72, 834 Mikoyan, Anastas Ivanovich, 288, 472, 493, 505–6, 518, 568, 925, 930, 1099–1100, 1447, 1544n34 Milner, Alfred Lord, 589, 808 Milyukov, Pavel Nikolaevich, 56 Mirabeau, Comte de, 52, 68 Mitchison, Naomi, 27 Mittelhauser, Eugène-Désité-Antoine, 849 Modesto, Juan, 434n64, 457, 477, 479 Moghaddam, Mohammad Ali, 755–56 Molokov, Vasilii Sergeevich, 60 Molotov, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, 3; [1934]: 43, 51, 411n57; [1935]: 84, 96, 106, 110, 113; [1936]: 149; [1938]: 288, 294, 429n4; [1939]: 451, 501, 508, 518–19, 526, 528–31, 533, 543, 547, 549, 554–56, 558, 562–64, 566–69,


Page 1586

574–75, 580–82, 594–95, 598, 600, 620, 622, 628–29, 654, 668, 673, 675, 682, 686, 692, 699, 703–4, 970nn119, 128, 971n132, 974n183, 976n201, 977nn207, 209; [1940]: 714, 720–21, 734, 737, 754, 769, 776–77, 785, 796, 827–28, 852, 869, 889, 892, 913, 917, 927–29, 931, 937–39, 943–44, 979n23, 980n32, 982n70, 984nn97, 99; [1941]: 996, 998, 1003, 1044, 1070–72, 1100, 1102, 1105–6 (1106), 1112, 1114, 1118, 1124, 1133, 1135, 1138, 1172, 1179–80, 1195, 1201, 1205, 1514n118, 1518n163; [1942]: 1214, 1227, 1229–30, 1246–47, 1255–57, 1259–69 (1261, 1262, 1263, 1265), 1280, 1285–86, 1289–90, 1297, 1300–1301, 1305, 1307, 1309, 1318, 1320–26, 1525n119; [1943+]: 1385, 1395, 1400–1401, 1405, 1416–17, 1431, 1433–34, 1439, 1446–47, 1470–71, 1477–79, 1481–86, 1490–91, 1493–95, 1497–99, 1502, 1535n31
Momchilov, Nicola, 661, 841, 898, 1009, 1015–16, 1026 Monck, John B., 4, 152–53, 171–72, 262–63, 1056 Monckton, Walter, 823, 896–97, 898, 1028–29 Mond, Henry (b. Alfred, Lord Melchett), 129–30 Monnet, Jean, 1461 Monsell, Bolton Meredith Eyres-, 165 Monteiro, Armindo, 1090–91, 1337 Montgomery, Bernard Law, 1328–29, 1347 Moore-Brabazon, John, 918, 1174, 1185, 1192, 1219, 1223, 1241, 1514n121 Morgan, John, 840 Morrison, Herbert Stanley, 27, 124, 270, 332, 338, 362, 366–67, 570, 641, 644, 801, 803, 835, 912, 915, 934, 936–37, 1033, 1038, 1184, 1337, 1377–79, 1386, 1447, 1455–56 Morrison, William, 269, 804, 810, 830, 841, 845 Mosley, Sir Oswald, 844 Mounsey, George, 462–63 Mountbatten, Lord Louis Francis Albert, 1266, 1289, 1380 Moyne, Baron (Guinness, Walter Edward), 1219 Munters, Vilhelms, 339 Murray, Gilbert, 96, 394 Muselier, Émile Henry, 1167, 1245 Mussolini, Benito: [1934]: 45; [1935]: 119, 130, 139, 142, 145–47, 417n55, 418n62; [1936]: 169, 178, 182; [1937]: 190–91, 193, 195, 202, 204, 213–15, 220, 224, 236; [1938]: 255, 258–60, 262–63, 265–68, 270, 272, 286, 296, 301, 306, 308, 352, 366, 369–70, 373, 391, 394, 430n15, 432n34; [1939]: 445–46, 448, 450, 454, 468, 484, 507, 541, 547, 559, 604, 611, 621, 642, 650–51, 657, 664–65, 673, 707; [1940]: 715, 726, 738, 762–64, 767, 773, 789, 807–8, 814, 821, 835, 858, 875, 886–87, 898, 933, 951–52, 958, 980n29; [1941]: 987, 994, 1072
Naggiar, Paul-Émile, 563, 714 Nahas Pasha, 1489 Nashat-Pasha, Hassan, 1090–91 Natasha (Maisky’s daughter), 514–15 Nathan, Harry Louis, 1110 Negrín, Juan, 318, 435n71, 437n98, 453, 455, 460, 462–64, 477–79, 526, 590, 850–52, 859, 874–75, 882, 927, 947–49, 961n8, 983n78, 1103 Nehru, Jawaharlal, 891 Nekrasov, Nikolai Alekseevich, 230, 792 Nekrich, Aleksandr, 1496, 1504, 1505 Nepal, 42, 116, 118–19, 989 Neurath, Konstantin von, 12, 58, 205, 241, 429n11


Page 1587

Newbold, John Turner Walton, 144
Nicholas (Prince of Greece), 32 Nicholas II (Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov), 150, 157, 473, 545 Nicolson, Harold George, 165, 241, 271, 294, 307–8, 361–62, 394, 451, 581, 609, 635–36, 716, 802, 965n41, 1037, 1124, 1516n135 Ninčić, Momčilo, 1043, 1116 Noel-Baker, Philip John, 245, 254, 284, 640, 675, 729, 874, 884–85, 1119–20, 1182, 1479 Noguès, Charles Auguste Paul, 848–49 Norman, Montagu Collet, 134–35, 225, 643, 697 North Africa: [1941]: 848, 878, 1024, 1053, 1055, 1061–62, 1065, 1069, 1077, 1107, 1126, 1204; [1942]: 1211, 1256, 1258, 1279, 1285–90, 1306, 1319, 1323, 1327–28, 1332–33, 1342–43, 1346–49, 1351–52; [1943]: 1370, 1376, 1388, 1401, 1414, 1418, 1468 Norway: [1934]: 33–34, 37; [1935]: 137; [1936]: 156; [1939]: 618, 685; [1940]: 716, 723, 725, 728, 740, 745–48, 752, 755, 760, 766–67, 771, 775, 784–85, 788–91, 794–95, 797–802, 818, 836, 843, 847, 854–55, 857, 859, 862, 867–68, 874, 887, 900, 910, 953, 977n204; [1941]: 1024, 1037, 1040, 1044–45, 1073, 1079–80, 1101, 1121–22, 1138–39, 1163, 1181, 1197–98; [1942]: 1237, 1253, 1266, 1280, 1284, 1290, 1294, 1297, 1299, 1301, 1304, 1316, 1323; [1943]: 1330, 1360, 1404, 1448, 1469 Novikov, Kirill Vasilevich, 1029, 1089–90, 1096, 1105, 1112, 1115, 1125, 1127, 1129, 1133, 1150, 1165, 1275, 1320, 1508n19 Nye, Sir Archibald Edward, 1237
O’Brien, Tom, 925 Oliphant, Lancelot, 301–2, 304, 434n65, 554–55 Oliveira, Raul Regis de, 32–33, 263, 1295 Ormsby-Gore, William, 165, 239, 269 Osouský, Štefan, 334, 626, 678 Ovey, Esmond, 84 Owen, Frank, 1357 Ozersky, Aleksandr Vladimirovich, 43, 74, 78–79, 152, 161, 230, 294 Paasikivi, Juho Kusti, 754, 929 Paderewski, Ignacy Jan, 1449 Paish, George, 131, 146–47, 563 Palestine, 130, 169, 887, 987, 999–1001, 1077, 1286–87, 1489–90. See also Middle East Palewski, Gaston, 941 Palmerston, Lord (Henry John Temple), 203 Palmstierna, Baron Erik Kule, 35, 152, 453, 880 Papen, Franz von, 1067, 1366 Pares, Bernard, 1487 Pascua, Marcelino, 455, 464, 526 Pasionaria, La (Isidora Dolores Ibárruri Gómez), 477n2, 479 Patijn, Jacob Adriaan Nicolaas, 327 Paul, Prince, 37 Paul-Boncour, Augustin Alfred Josef, 10, 336, 340, 699, 713, 849 Paulus, Friedrich Wilhelm Ernst, 1352, 1362, 1388 Pavelić, Ante, 1055 Pavlov, Ivan Petrovich, 121, 121, 417n49, 586, 1440–41 Pavlov, Vladimir Nikolaevich, 1261–62 (1261), 1321, 1481, 1493 Payart, Jean, 313, 319, 321, 324, 329, 331, 337, 435n79, 437n95, 527, 554, 794, 970n119 Pease, John William Beaumont, 78–79 Pertinax (Charles Joseph André Géraud), 849, 859


Page 1588

Pétain, Henri Philippe, 838–39, 848–49, 851–52, 858–59, 861, 868, 889–90, 953, 1002–3, 1062, 1343, 1467
Peter II, 1045, 1056–57, 1061, 1063, 1202 Peterson, Sir Maurice Drummond, 146, 823, 828 Pethick-Lawrence, Frederick William, 55, 61, 891 Petrescu-Comnen, Nicolae, 328, 385 Peyrouton, Marcel, 1002–3, 1460–61 Phidias, 1012 Philby, Kim, 1476 Philips Price, Morgan, 642 Phillips, William, 761–62 Phipps, Eric, 106, 197, 296 Pierlot, Count Hubert Marie, 805 Piłsudski, Józef Klemens, 597, 872, 1535n30 Pirow, Oswald, 383–85 Pitt, William the Younger, 707, 1128 Pius XI, 128 Pleven, René, 1349 Plotnikov, V.A., 1081 Plymouth, 2nd Earl of (Ivor Miles Windsor-Clive), 186, 210, 259, 273, 286–87, 318–19, 346, 432n34 Poland: [1934]: 9–10, 14–15, 51, 67; [1935]: 81, 102, 104, 127–28, 141, 417n54; [1936]: 157; [1938]: 282, 319, 345, 392, 438n105; [1939]: 475–76, 484–86, 488, 490–93, 495–500, 502–4, 509–10, 520–21, 529–31, 534–37, 540–41, 564, 568–69, 594, 597–603, 605–15, 621–31, 633, 649, 651, 658, 664, 671, 675, 680–83, 688–89, 693, 707, 964n37, 976n197, 1420; [1940]: 715, 718, 721, 747, 756, 762, 766–67, 847–48, 871–72, 886, 941; [1941]: 1000–1001, 1024, 1039, 1044, 1066, 1087, 1093, 1104, 1127–36 (1128), 1164–65, 1169, 1420–21; [1942]: 1236, 1257, 1259, 1263, 1270, 1327, 1331–32; [1943]: 1360, 1376, 1387, 1391–92, 1395–98, 1405, 1421–22, 1423–29, 1431, 1433–39, 1446, 1448–49, 1471, 1476 Pollitt, Harry, 143, 623, 645 Polonskaya, Elizaveta, 60 Polonsky, Lev, 60 Poludova, Feoktista (Feka), 59 Ponsonby, Arthur, 284–85, 431n33 Popov, I.S., 510, 787 Portal, Charles, 1157, 1163 Postan, Michael, 828, 839 Postyshev, Pavel Petrovich, 51 Potemkin, Vladimir Petrovich, 85, 166, 180, 228–29, 245, 258, 313, 345, 359, 404n33, 412n64, 422n49, 426n42, 508, 518, 532–33, 556–57, 562–63, 622, 714 Pound, Sir (Alfred) Dudley, 1121, 1123, 1143, 1157–58, 1163, 1174, 1259, 1294–1304, 1311–14, 1317, 1407, 1469, 1537n59 Priestley, John Boynton, 696, 1013, 1178 Prieto, Indalecio (Tuero), 590 Prince of Wales, 28. See also Edward VIII Pritt, Denis Nowell, 27, 644, 675, 696, 718, 791, 822, 885–86, 899, 1033, 1504 Prytz, Björn, 620–21, 723, 731, 747, 753, 797, 836, 849–50, 855, 880–81, 911, 1028, 1039–40, 1076, 1156, 1270–71, 1360, 1392–93, 1403–4, 1510n51 Pugh, Sir Arthur, 62 Putna, Vitovt Kazimirovich, 88, 151, 230–31, 294
Qavām os-Saltaneh, Ahmad, 1224 Quisling, Vidkun, 799, 818, 1088, 1149 Raczkiewicz, Władysław, 886 Raczyński, Count Edward Bernard, 102, 127, 152, 490, 578, 609, 680, 1087, 1169, 1396, 1433, 1446 Radev, Simeon, 138 Ramirez Machuca, Pedro Pablo, 1468 Ramsay MacDonald, James, 5–7, 17, 23, 27, 29, 42, 47, 54, 78, 80–82, 85, 90, 92–93, 104, 108, 115, 144, 165–66, 199, 263,


Page 1589

405n65, 409n36, 413nn2, 3, 645, 674, 946, 1020, 1026, 1085, 1452
Rasputin, Grigorii Efimovich, 545 Rathbone, Eleanor Florence, 890 Reed, Douglas, 98 Rendel, George William, 193–94 Reynaud, Paul, 334, 677, 762, 772, 774–75, 793–94, 813, 831, 834, 838, 859–60, 941, 982n71, 1002 Ribbentrop, Joachim von: [1934]: 31; [1935]: 31, 108; [1936]: 164–65; [1937]: 185, 188–89, 193, 201–2, 210, 225–26, 234, 423n9; [1938]: 257, 259, 296–98, 300, 312, 392, 429n11; [1939]: 490–91, 517, 581, 592, 594–95, 599, 601–3, 610–12, 629, 632, 642, 651, 653, 657, 694, 704, 975n189; [1940]: 763, 765, 928, 951; [1941]: 1072, 1095 Ridley, George, 1244, 1381 Ritchie, Sir Neil Methuen, 1223 Robeson, Paul Leroy, 1026, 1390 Rodin, François Auguste René, 1004 note i, 1013, 1025 Rokosovsky, Konstantin, 1363 Romanov, Kirill Vladimirovich, 37, 473, 545 Romanov, Nicholas Alexandrovich (Nicholas II), 150, 157, 473, 545 Romer, Tadeusz, 1431 Rommel, Erwin, 1211, 1223, 1266, 1268, 1277–78, 1281, 1286–87, 1301, 1308, 1328–29, 1336, 1445 note i Roosevelt, Franklin Delano: [1935]: 91, 140; [1937]: 199, 204, 218–19, 428n77; [1938]: 316, 318, 320, 394, 431n30; [1939]: 454, 602, 604, 642, 651, 655, 657, 668, 671, 680, 707; [1940]: 726, 731, 746, 761–63, 834, 838, 900, 942–43; [1941]: 991–92, 1030, 1043, 1086, 1088, 1095, 1124–26, 1136–37, 1140, 1143, 1145, 1147, 1155, 1169, 1194; [1942]: 1210–13, 1219–20, 1222, 1225–29, 1233, 1242–43, 1246–47, 1255–60, 1264–68, 1280, 1282, 1286, 1288–90, 1294, 1297, 1301, 1303, 1306, 1319, 1321, 1323–25, 1329, 1520n14, 1526n133, 1527n142; [1943+]: 1331–33, 1337–38, 1345–47, 1349, 1351, 1354, 1368, 1370–71, 1375, 1401, 1405–6, 1411–12, 1417, 1422, 1427, 1461 note i, 1468–69, 1485–86, 1493, 1533n2, 1535n31 Rosenberg, Alfred, 43 Rosso, Augusto, 714 Rothenstein, John, 962n9 Rothenstein, William, 75, 460, 894 Rothermere, Viscount Harold Harmsworth, 139, 162, 169, 298, 411n58, 474, 1026 Rothstein, Andrew, 438n107, 1433, 1473 Rozenberg, Marsel Izrailevich, 168 Rozenblyum, Boris Danilovich, 140 Rubinin, Evgenii Vladimirovich, 791, 805, 811 Rumania: [1937]: 200, 217; [1938]: 258, 280–81, 309, 319, 328, 341, 385–86, 392; [1939]: 483–87, 489–90, 492, 495–96, 502–4, 510, 518, 520–21, 523, 529–31, 534–37, 540–41, 549, 598–99, 624, 665, 685, 695, 703; [1940]: 729, 733, 740, 758–60, 772, 839, 871, 882, 963n28; [1941]: 1003, 1011, 1015, 1028, 1051, 1064, 1081, 1148, 1182, 1199; [1942]: 1228, 1235; [1943]: 1343, 1362, 1366, 1417, 1419, 1431 Runciman, Walter, 165, 188, 291, 299–301, 305, 308, 310, 315, 322, 434n63, 575 Ryti, Risto Heikki, 692, 697, 754, 1393, 1404
Sakharov, Andrei, 1504 Salazar, António de Oliveira, 1332 Salisbury, Lord (James Edward Hubert Gascoyne-Cecil), 44 Salter, Arthur, 375–76 Saltykov-Shchedrin, Mikhail Evgrafovich, 122 Samsonov, Aleksandr, 1143, 1154


Page 1590

Samuel, Sir Herbert, 131, 409n36
Sandler, Rikard, 327, 543–44, 550–53, 590, 747 Sankey, Viscount John, 23 Sansom, A.W., 1488 Saraçoğlu, Mehmet Şükrü, 649, 656, 997, 1008, 1027, 1036, 1355 Sargent, Sir Orme, 114, 120, 160–61, 1016, 1165 Sarmiento de Acuña, Diego (Count of Gondomar), 1319 Schacht, Horace Greeley, 137, 219, 256 Schnurre, Karl, 568–69, 594 Schoenfeld, Hans Frederick, 1404 Schulenburg, Friedrich-Werner Graf von der, 309, 310, 491, 568–69, 594–95, 938, 975n189, 1003, 1029, 1044–45, 1071–73, 1102, 1230 Schuman, Maurice, 98 Scott, Charles Prestwich, 1055–56 Scott, Robert Falcon, 920–21 Scott, Sir Walter, 381 Scott, Walter John Montagu Douglas (Duke of Buccleuch), 1088 Seeds, William: [1938]: 395; [1939]: 451, 486–88 (487), 493–94, 497, 502–5, 509, 527–30, 534–35, 538, 554–55, 557–58, 561, 563, 566, 570, 574, 577, 580, 582, 642, 649, 654, 660, 961n8; [1939]: 970n119, 976n199; [1940]: 714, 718, 720–21, 746, 752, 798, 823–25, 853 Sekulić, Miloš, 1202 Selassie, Haile (the Negus), 146, 164, 169, 224, 290, 1026 Selby, Walford, 170 Semenova, Marina Timofeevna, 106 Shaposhnikov, Boris Mikhailovich, 972n154, 1151 Shaw, George Bernard, 403n14; [1934]: 11, 39 note i, 40 note i; [1936]: 149, 167; [1937]: 248–49 (249); [1939]: 596, 642, 977n205; [1940]: 779–83, 918; [1941]: 1013, 1926; [1943+]: 1346, 1440–42, 1487, 1538n71 Sheridan, Clare Consuelo, 159 Shigemitsu, Mamoru, 193, 302, 380, 1015, 1019, 1090–91 Shinwell, Emmanuel, 675, 883, 890, 1038, 1073, 1119 Shi Zhaoji (Dr Sao-ke Alfred Sze), 218 Sholokhov, Mikhail Aleksandrovich, 75–76 Shtein, Boris Efimovich, 180, 293, 328, 346–47, 517 Shvernik, Nikolai Mikhailovich, 1211, 1276 Sicily, 1024, 1049–50, 1065, 1204, 1287, 1336–38, 1348, 1351–52, 1360, 1368, 1374, 1383–84, 1401, 1403, 1418, 1485, 1534n18, 1537n59 Sikorski, Władysław Eugeniusz: [1939]: 679–80; [1940]: 847, 886; [1941]: 1127–36 (1128, 1130), 1169, 1222, 1513n115; [1943]: 1332, 1392, 1396, 1398, 1421, 1422, 1424, 1427–29, 1431–39, 1446, 1476, 1537n67 Silverman, Samuel Sydney, 690, 1118 Simon, John Allsebrook: [1934]: 8–13, 17, 20, 23, 30–31, 42, 50, 53–54, 57, 408n22, 409n39, 410nn44–45, 412n64, 413n69; [1935]: 80–82, 84–90, 92–97, 99–104, 106–9, 120, 124, 146, 413nn2–3, 414nn8, 17, 415nn19, 21, 25, 29, 416n45; [1936]: 154, 165; [1937]: 194, 233, 235–36, 238, 240; [1938]: 257, 263, 269, 278, 289, 309, 311, 318, 335, 361, 362, 368, 381; [1939]: 497, 506, 524, 609, 614, 671, 709; [1940]: 715, 720, 746, 763, 782, 801, 808, 810, 836, 845; [1941]: 988, 1007, 1187; [1942]: 1224; [1943]: 1383–84, 1536n40 Simopoulos, Charalambos, 371–72, 482, 880, 898, 926–27, 938, 994, 1036–37, 1087, 1167–68


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Simović, Dušan, 1043, 1047, 1060, 1116, 1202
Simpson, Mrs (Bessie Wallis), 881, 892, 983n84 Sinclair, Archibald, 248, 278, 335, 352, 362, 474, 476, 577, 606, 610–11, 614, 624, 634–35, 641, 645, 698, 749, 757, 763, 766–67, 788, 803, 810, 912, 934, 1185, 1192, 1248, 1340, 1380, 1447 Sklyarov, Ivan Andreevich, 1014, 1447 Śmigły-Rydz, Edward, 872 Smillie, Robert, 645, 674 Smirnov, Andrei Andreevich, 1225 Smuts, Jan Christian, 23, 25, 29, 44, 385, 614–15, 808, 1287 Snell, Henry, 284, 394, 525, 1118 Snowden, Philip, 645, 674, 1452 Sobolev, Arkadii Aleksandrovich, 1380, 1447, 1486 Soheili, Ali, 1224–25 Sokolin, Vladimir Aleksandrovich, 326, 346, 552, 554 Sokolnikov, Grigorii Yakovlevich, 1, 229–30, 1450 Sosnkowski, Kazimierz, 886 Spaak, Paul Henri Charles, 805, 1139–40, 1142, 1222 Spain: [1936]: 179, 181–83, 421nn44, 46; [1937]: 184–86, 193, 195, 202–3, 208, 211–15, 228, 232, 423n14, 425n31; [1938]: 257, 259–60, 262–63, 267, 286–87, 300–301, 304–6, 308, 312, 317–18, 391, 430n15, 434n64; [1939]: 445–50, 453–58, 460, 462–64, 469–70, 477, 526, 590, 708; [1940]: 723, 737, 748, 850, 857, 874, 948; [1941]: 995, 1009, 1051, 1061, 1066, 1077; [1943]: 1361 Spears, Edward Louis, 176, 889–90, 969n108, 1488 (1488), 1541n46 Stalin, Iosif Vissarionovich, 2, 400n23, 403n14, 404n33; [1934]: 9, 16–18, 39, 43, 45, 51, 408n26, 411n57, 413n72; [1935]: 85n2, 100–101, 103, 106, 111, 113, 413n4, 415nn19–20, 29, 416nn34–35; [1936]: 167, 179, 182, 421n38; [1937]: 204, 206, 227–28, 231, 424n28, 427nn59, 64; [1938]: 261, 273, 276, 287–89, 292–94, 360, 397 (397), 428n3, 431n31, 435n79, 437n94, 440n123, 441n138; [1939]: 451, 480–81, 488, 491, 496, 501–2, 508–9, 518–20, 522, 526–30, 547–48, 556, 568–69, 592, 594–95, 628–29, 631, 633, 639, 689, 707, 961n3, 972n154; [1940]: 721, 757, 768, 782–83, 824, 858, 866–67, 869, 882, 930, 939, 982n70; [1941]: 993, 1016, 1021–23, 1045–46, 1049, 1070–73, 1078, 1082, 1094, 1097, 1107–8, 1112, 1113, 1114–16, 1121, 1123–26, 1129, 1133, 1135–37, 1141, 1149–51, 1153, 1158, 1160–61, 1163, 1166, 1169–70, 1174, 1179, 1191, 1193–1202, 1205–8, 1514n120, 1515nn128, 134–35, 1516n137, 1518n173, 1519nn174, 176; [1942]: 1209–10, 1212–13, 1220–22, 1225–31, 1233–34, 1236–37, 1241–44, 1247–48, 1255–57, 1259, 1264–68, 1290, 1292, 1297, 1306–7, 1309–11, 1317–29, 1522n42, 1523n75, 1525n107, 1529n192, 1530n210, 1531n232, 1532n239; [1943+]: 1330, 1334–35, 1339–41, 1344–47, 1351–52, 1356–57, 1360, 1364–71, 1379–81, 1384–85, 1394–95, 1401–2, 1405, 1407–8, 1410–12, 1415–19, 1421–22, 1424–25, 1427–29, 1431, 1434, 1437, 1439–40, 1445, 1447, 1452–53, 1455, 1468–70, 1477–79, 1481, 1485–86, 1490, 1493–95 (1493), 1497, 1504–5, 1514n120, 1515nn128, 134–35, 1516n137, 1518n173, 1519nn174, 176, 1522n42, 1523n75, 1525n107, 1529n192, 1530n210, 1531n232, 1532n239, 1533n1, 1534nn18, 24,


Page 1592

1535nn25–27, 31–32, 1536nn39, 46, 1538n67
Stalingrad, 1304–5, 1310, 1327, 1329, 1334, 1336, 1343–44, 1352–53, 1356, 1360–63, 1382, 1388, 1407–9, 1413, 1446, 1480, 1536n39 Standley, William Harrison, 1230, 1405, 1447, 1523n75, 1530n210, 1539n8 Stanhope, James Richard, 360, 575, 579 Stanley, Henry Morton, 647 Stanley, Oliver Frederick, 154, 235, 239, 269, 357, 361, 450, 487, 575, 646, 654–56, 665–66, 677, 682, 700, 702, 746, 763, 800 Steed, Henry Wickham, 148–49 Steel-Maitland, Arthur, 89 Stefanov, Boris, 695 Steinhardt, Laurence, 741, 1138 Stevenson, Frances, 1142 Stimson, Henry, 1226, 1255–57, 1289–90, 1297, 1305, 1321, 1327 Strachey, Evelyn John St Loe, 91, 623, 893 Strang, William, 109–10, 532, 539, 557–58, 560–61, 563, 566, 661, 717–18, 720, 970n128, 1028, 1068, 1127, 1133, 1135, 1175–76, 1222, 1513n115 Strauss, George Russell, 391 Streicher, Julius, 55 Stronski, Stanisław, 1127 Stuart, Jacobo Fitz-James (Duke of Alba), 463, 757, 983n81, 1087 Studd, Sir John Edward Kynaston, 26 Subbotić, Ivan, 613, 695, 740, 776–77, 873, 903–4, 926, 938, 1003–4, 1015–16, 1023, 1043, 1046–47, 1060–61, 1063–64, 1080–81, 1087, 1168 Sudoplatov, Pavel, 1498 Sumner Welles, Benjamin, 602, 746, 761–64, 767, 774, 1109, 1210, 1226, 1228, 1242, 1255, 1266, 1400, 1405, 1477 Suñer, Ramón Serrano, 1051–52 Sun Fo, 284, 287–89, 295, 669–71 Sun Zhongshan (Sun Yat-sen), 287 Surits, Yakov Zakharovich, 1495; [1934]: 20; [1936]: 179; [1937]: 229, 231, 404n33; [1938]: 325, 328, 333, 336, 343, 346, 347, 348, 349, 350, 353, 434n65; [1939]: 443, 505, 508, 517, 532, 539, 558, 568, 598, 965n43; [1940]: 726, 742, 746, 768–69, 785, 793, 978n11 Suvich, Fulvio, 109 Svinhufvud, Pehr Evind, 687–88 Swithenbank, Harold William, 864 Sylvester, Albert James, 438n110, 634, 772–73, 809, 956, 974n177, 1049, 1269, 1315, 1517n158
Tadayon, Mohammad, 1224–25 Tagore, Rabindranath, 1013–14, 1158 Taiqi. See Guo Taiqi Tanner, Jack, 1224, 1392–93, 1404 Tanner, Väinö Alfred, 676, 689–90, 692, 747 Taqizadeh, Hassan, 1232 Tedder, Arthur William, 1323 Teleki de Szék, Pál, 789 Temple, Henry John (Lord Palmerton), 203 Temple, William (Archbishop of York), 1173, 1250 Teplov, Leonid Fedorovich, 1417 Te Water, Charles Theodore, 375–76, 385 Thomas, James Henry, 995, 1452 Thomas, Sir Godfrey John Vignoles, 29 Tilea, Virgil Viorel, 482–83, 486, 492, 504 Timoshenko, Semen Konstantinovich, 1116, 1151, 1170, 1186, 1194, 1202, 1204, 1217, 1264, 1275 Tiptaft, Norman, 1275 Tirpitz, Alfred von, 613 Tito, Josip Broz, 1499 Titulescu, Nicolae, 200, 385, 423n19 Tōjō, Hideki, 1179, 1517n154 Tolstoy, Leo, 381 Torma, August (Schmidt), 1087 Trenchard, Hugh Montague, 575, 1383


Page 1593

Trevelyan, Sir Charles, 1483
Trifonov, Valentin Andreevich, 19 Trotsky, Leon, 16, 157, 177n4, 227, 276, 404n33, 436n90 Troyanovsky, Aleksandr Antonovich, 80, 138, 229, 253 Tsouderos, Emmanouil, 1168 Tukhachevsky, Mikhail Nikolaevich, 96, 151, 154–56, 160, 231, 1535n30 Tupolev, Andrei Nikolaevich, 59–60 Turkey: [1934]: 48; [1937]: 228, 425n33; [1939]: 489–90, 510, 521, 538, 633, 638–39, 646, 649, 663, 665, 673–74, 676, 685–86, 694–95, 725–26; [1940]: 738, 758, 772, 774, 777, 815, 822, 832–33, 841, 848, 864, 866–68, 871, 874, 878, 883, 898, 903, 930–31, 939, 953; [1941]: 987, 997, 1003, 1008–10, 1016–17, 1023–25, 1027–28, 1036, 1038, 1042, 1047–48, 1050–53, 1061–62, 1064–65, 1067, 1077–78, 1090–91, 1146–47, 1162; [1942]: 1231, 1235; [1943]: 1338, 1351–52, 1354–55, 1364–68, 1416–17, 1458, 1467–68 Turnour, Edward (Lord Winterton), 359, 363–64, 367–69, 373–75, 390, 441n127, 890, 1073, 1092, 1344
Ukraine: [1934]: 16, 48, 408n26; [1938]: 281, 374, 390, 392; [1939]: 451, 454, 480, 492, 501, 622, 627, 630, 639, 649, 658, 679; [1940]: 747, 848, 858, 941; [1941]: 999, 1042, 1048, 1050, 1144–45, 1148, 1162–63, 1170, 1181–82, 1186; [1942]: 1230, 1253, 1273; [1943]: 1373, 1391, 1395, 1430 Umansky, Konstantin Aleksandrovich, 741, 1161, 1164, 1194–95, 1321 Urbšys, Juozas, 490–91 Vainshtein, Samuil Osipovich, 74 Vane-Tempest-Stewart, Charles (Marquess of Londonderry), 23, 53, 162, 297, 743 Vane-Tempest-Stewart, Edith (Lady Londonderry), 1020 Van Kleffens, Eelco Nicolaas, 1271–72, 1291 Vansittart, Lady, 92–93, 150 Vansittart, Robert Gilbert: [1934]: 10–14, 47, 52, 56, 58, 408n25, 411n61, 412nn64, 69; [1935]: 80–84, 86–88, 90, 92–97, 107–9, 113–15, 119–24, 127, 135, 137–38, 143, 146, 413n3, 414nn6, 8, 416n46; [1936]: 152, 158, 166; [1937]: 188, 191, 194, 197–98, 200, 217, 220–21, 231, 233, 235–36, 240–41, 243–44, 422n1, 425n30; [1938]: 251–52, 254, 257, 260, 273, 280, 294–95, 310–12, 317, 367, 392, 395, 429n6, 1477; [1939]: 445–46, 455, 461–62, 467, 474, 480, 483–86, 488–89, 494, 501, 503–4, 535–36–540, 564, 596, 633, 654, 962n18, 963nn19, 21, 969nn105, 107, 977n210; [1940]: 765, 787, 809–10, 951–52, 985n106; [1941]: 1048, 1095, 1189; [1942]: 1282; [1943+]: 1486 Van Zeeland, Paul Guillaume, 140, 185, 255, 429n7 Vasilevsky, Aleksandr Mikhailovich, 754 Verduynen, Edgar van, 1270–72, 1291 Vereker, John Standish Surtees (Lord Gort), 595–96, 718–19, 849, 930 Vernon, Francis (Lord Barnby), 22, 53 Vian, Sir Philip Louis, 1121 Victor Emmanuel III of Italy, 715 Victoria Mary, 36 Vigeland, Adolf Gustav, 156, 1004, 1139 Vinogradov, Sergei Aleksandrovich, 1008, 1027 Voionmaa, Väinö, 754 Voronov, Nikolai, 1363 Voroshilov, Kliment Efremovich, 43, 51, 110, 231, 288, 294, 464, 487, 518, 522, 562, 597–99, 675, 1116, 1151, 1186, 1350, 1500 (1500), 1502 Voznesensky, Nikolai Alekseevich, 1064


Page 1594

Vyshinsky, Andrei Yanuarevich, 924–25, 929–31, 937–38, 940–41, 945, 997, 1029, 1094, 1150, 1190, 1307, 1447, 1495
Wakefield, Charles Cheers, 23, 28 Walden, Rudolf, 754 Waley, Sigismund David, 456 Walkden, A.G., 125 Wall, Alfred M., 237, 926 Wallace, Henry Agard, 1399, 1405 Wallas, Graham, 248–49 Wallis, Bessie (Mrs Simpson), 881, 892, 983n84 Wang Jingwei, 373, 669 Wardlaw-Milne, Sir John, 883–84, 1280–81, 1283 Wasilewska, Wanda, 1435 Wavell, Archibald Percival, 187, 1006, 1021, 1055, 1063, 1089, 1166, 1229, 1518n173 Webb, Beatrice and Sidney James: [1934]: 9, 410nn43, 443; [1935]: 104–5; [1936]: 168, 419nn1, 6; [1937]: 187, 229, 231, 247–50; [1938]: 252, 293–94, 360, 377; [1939]: 501, 509, 518–19, 527, 558–59, 592, 615, 621, 629, 646–47, 703–6, 964n37, 974n174, 977n205; [1940]: 717, 722, 735, 737, 761, 766, 812, 822–23, 858, 862, 880, 898–99, 939; [1941]: 1021–22, 1082–85, 1108, 1114, 1186–87; [1942]: 1292, 1327, 1346; [1943+]: 1346, 1440–44, 1456–57, 1487, 1505, 1538nn71, 74 Wedgwood, Josiah Clement, 89, 641, 696, 791, 890 Weizmann, Chaim, 999–1001, 1026, 1488 Weizsäcker, Ernst Freiherr von, 520, 568–69, 1072 Welles, Benjamin Sumner, 602, 746, 761–64, 767, 774, 1109, 1210, 1226, 1228, 1242, 1255, 1266, 1400, 1405, 1477 Wells, Herbert George (H.G.), 9, 413n72, 918, 991–94, 1001, 1436, 1442, 1444–45, 1518n173, 1538n74 Werth, Alexander, 944, 1412 Weygand, Maxime, 774, 813, 816, 831, 838, 851, 860–61, 889, 1002, 1062 Whitman, Walter, 1013 Wiedemann, Fritz, 296, 298 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 492, 621–22, 707–8, 807, 951, 1104 Wilhelmina, Helena Pauline Maria, 955, 1270–71, 1291 Wilkinson, Ellen, 609, 644, 675, 791, 915, 919, 988–90 Willert, Sir Arthur, 46 Willkie, Wendell Lewis, 993, 995, 1227, 1332, 1338 Wilson, Geoffrey Masterman, 796, 803 Wilson, Sir Horace John, 137, 250, 251, 261, 266, 268, 291–92, 295, 299, 313–14, 392, 395, 432n40, 531, 549, 580–81, 656–59, 665, 697, 818–19 Wilson, Thomas Woodrow, 1226, 1449 Winant, John Gilbert, 1030–31, 1035–36 (1035), 1086, 1095, 1109–10, 1124–26, 1137, 1150, 1164, 1178–79, 1195, 1218, 1219, 1222, 1223, 1229, 1259–60, 1266, 1303, 1523n74, 1529n178 Windsor, Margaret Rose, 189 Windsor-Clive, Ivor Miles (2nd Earl of Plymouth), 186, 210, 259, 273, 286–87, 318–19, 346, 432n34 Winterton, Lord (Edward Turnour), 359, 363–64, 367–69, 373–75, 390, 441n127, 890, 1073, 1092, 1344 Wohlthat, Helmut, 483, 581, 589, 962n13 Wood, Edward Frederick Lindley. See Halifax, Earl of Wood, Henry, 1391 Woodward, Llewellyn, 721, 738 Woodward, Mrs. (widow of naval officer), 1296


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Wrangel, Petr Nikolaevich, 782
Yartsev, Boris, 513, 515 Yoshida, Shigeru, 187, 193–94, 225 Yrjö-Koskinen, Aarno Armas Sakari, 2–3, 686–89 Zaleski, August, 649, 679, 886, 1133, 1428 Zarinš, Karlis, 97, 1087 Zhdanov, Andrei Aleksandrovich, 252, 422n49, 435n75, 527, 570, 629, 720, 754 Zhukov, Georgii Konstantinovich, 1049, 1151, 1203, 1363 Zinchenko, Konstantin Emelianovich, 1127, 1447, 1502 Ziromsky, Jean, 851 Zog I (Ahmet Muhtar Bey Zog I), 502, 542–43 Zonov, Vasilii Matveevich, 701, 735, 787, 1127, 1275


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Document TitleThe Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 3
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AOC VolumeThe Complete Maisky Diaries: Volume 2
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1941
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1942
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