Triumph and Tragedy (The Second World War) (76 page)

This led the President to speak of the British Constitution.

He said that I was always talking about what the Constitution allowed and what it did not allow, but actually there was no Constitution. However, an unwritten Constitution was better than a written one. It was like the Atlantic Charter; the document did not exist, yet all the world knew about it. Among his papers he had found one copy signed by himself and me, but strange to say both signatures were in his own handwriting. I replied that the Atlantic Charter was not a law, but a star.

As our talk continued Stalin spoke of what he called “the unreasonable sense of discipline in the Kaiser’s Germany,”

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and recounted an incident which occurred when he was in Leipzig as a young man. He had come with two hundred German Communists to attend an International Conference. Their train arrived punctually at the station, but there was no official to collect their tickets. All the German Communists therefore waited docilely for two hours to get off the platform. So none of them were able to attend the meeting for which they had travelled far.

In this easy manner the evening passed away agreeably.

When the Marshal left many of our British party had assembled in the hall of the villa, and I called for “three cheers for Marshal Stalin,” which were warmly given.

There was another occasion during our stay at Yalta when things had not gone so smoothly. Mr. Roosevelt, who was host at a luncheon, said that he and I always referred to Stalin in our secret telegrams as “Uncle Joe.” I had suggested that he should tell him this privately, but instead the President made it into a jocular statement to the company. This led to a difficult moment. Stalin took offence.

“When can I leave this table?” he asked in anger. Mr.

Byrnes saved the situation with an apt remark. “After all,” he said, “you do not mind talking about Uncle Sam, so why should Uncle Joe be so bad?” At this the Marshal subsided, and Molotov later assured me that he understood the joke.

He already knew that he was called Uncle Joe by many people abroad, and he realised that the name had been given in a friendly way and as a term of affection.

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The next day, Sunday, February 11, was the last of our Crimean visit. As usual at these meetings many grave issues were left unsettled. The Polish communiqué laid down in general terms a policy which if carried out with loyalty and good faith might indeed have served its purpose pending the general Peace Treaty. The agreement about the Far East which the President and his advisers had made with the Russians to induce them to enter the war against Japan was, as I have said, not one which concerned us directly. The President was anxious to go home, and on his way to pay a visit to Egypt, where he could discuss the affairs of the Middle East with various potentates. Stalin and I lunched with him in the Czar’s former billiard-room at the Livadia Palace. During the meal we signed the final documents and official communiqués.

All now depended upon the spirit in which they were carried out.

That same afternoon Sarah and I drove to Sevastopol, where the liner
Franconia
was berthed. She had come through the Dardanelles and acted as the headquarters ship, which could also be used in case accommodation on shore at Yalta broke down. We went on board, where I was joined by Sir Alan Brooke and the other Chiefs of Staff.

From the deck we looked out over the port, which the Germans had practically destroyed, though now it was full of activity again and in the night-time its ruins blazed with lights.

I was anxious to see the field of Balaklava, and I asked Brigadier Peake of the War Office Intelligence Staff to look up all the details of the action and prepare himself to show us round. On the afternoon of February 13 I visited the

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scene, accompanied by the Chiefs of Staff and the Russian admiral commanding the Black Sea Fleet, who had had orders from Moscow to be in attendance on me whenever I came ashore. We were a little shy and very tactful with our host. But we need not have worried. As Peake pointed to the line on which the Light Brigade had been drawn up the Russian admiral pointed in almost the same direction and exclaimed. “The German tanks came at us from over there.” A little later Peake explained the Russian dispositions, and pointed to the hills where their infantry had stood, whereupon the Russian admiral intervened with obvious pride: “That is where a Russian battery fought and died to the last man.” I thought it right at this juncture to explain that we were studying a different war, “a war of dynasties, not of peoples.” Our host gave no sign of comprehension, but seemed perfectly satisfied. So all passed off very pleasantly.

Before us lay the valley down which the Light Brigade had charged, and we could see the ridge which had been so gallantly defended by the Highlanders. As the scene lay before us one could grasp the situation which Lord Raglan had faced some ninety years earlier. We had visited his tomb in the morning, and were greatly struck by the care and respect with which it had been treated by the Russians.

I had much looked forward to the sea voyage through the Dardanelles to Malta, but I felt it my duty to make a lightning trip to Athens and survey the Greek scene after the recent troubles. Early on February 14 we accordingly set off by car for Saki, where our aeroplane awaited us. Eden had already left in advance. As we drove over the winding mountain road we passed a chasm into which the Germans Triumph and Tragedy

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had pitched scores of locomotives. At the airfield a splendid guard of honour of N.K.V.D. troops was drawn up. I inspected them in my usual manner, looking each man straight in the eye. This took some time, as there were at least two hundred of them, but it was commented on in a favourable way by the Soviet Press. I made a farewell speech before entering the plane.

We flew without incident to Athens, making a loop over the island of Skyros to pass over the tomb of Rupert Brooke, and were received at the airfield by the British Ambassador, Mr. Leeper, and General Scobie. Only seven weeks before I had left the Greek capital rent by street fighting. We now drove into it in an open car, where only a thin line of kilted Greek soldiers held back a vast mob, screaming with enthusiasm, in the very streets where hundreds of men had died in the Christmas days when I had last seen the city.

That evening a huge crowd of about fifty thousand people gathered in Constitution Square. The evening light was wonderful as it fell on these classic scenes. I had no time to prepare a speech. Our security services had thought it important that we should arrive with hardly any notice. I addressed them with a short harangue:
Your Beatitude, soldiers and citizens of Athens, and
of Greece, these are great days. These are days when
dawn is bright, when darkness rolls away. A great
future lies before your country.

There has been much misunderstanding and
ignorance of our common cause in many parts of the
world, and there have been misrepresentations of
issues fought out here in Athens. But now these
matters are clearing, and there is an understanding of
the part Greece has played and will play in the world.

Speaking as an Englishman, I am very proud of the
part which the British Army played in protecting this
great and immortal city against violence and anarchy.

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Our two countries have for long marched together
along hard, dusty roads in friendship and in loyalty.

Freedom and prosperity and happiness are dear to
all nations of the British Commonwealth and Empire.

We who have been associated with you in the very long
struggle for Greek liberty will march with you till we
reach the end of the dark valley, and we will march with
you till we reach the broad highlands of justice and
peace.

Let no one fail in his duty towards his country. Let no
one swerve off the high road of truth and honour. Let
no one fail to rise to the occasion of this great moment
and of these splendid days. Let the Greek nation stand
first in every heart. Let it stand first in every man and
woman. Let the future of Greece shine brightly in their
eyes.

From the bottom of my heart I wish you prosperity.

From the bottom of my heart I hope that Greece will
take her proper place in the circle of victorious nations

— of nations who have suffered terribly in war. Let right
prevail. Let party hatreds die. Let there be unity, let
there be resolute comradeship.

Greece for ever. Greece for all!

That evening I dined at our shot-scarred Embassy,
and in the early hours of February 15 we took off in my
plane for Egypt.