Trigger Warning!!!1! :
SOUTH WALES AND THE WAR
Anthony Eden
March 29, 1942.
Freedom and Order, Selected Speeches 1939-1946, 148-155.
To reach you to-day I have driven through your beautiful Welsh valleys. To do this is to understand why it is that his home casts a spell over a Welshman which he is never able to throw off. I can understand why it is that Welshmen, wherever they may be, cling to the language of their fathers and to the tastes and traditions of their homeland. The sons of Wales are scattered far and wide, across oceans and beyond mountain ranges. But wherever they may be, their hearts are never very far from home. And when they get the chance they come back to the valleys that bred them.
Your land is always lovely, and I suppose that it is never more beautiful than now, when the spring is beginning and the snow has left the mountains and the warm sun is filling the valleys. Spring. When we think of spring in these troubled days we not only think of warmth and life. We think of war, and of death. And when I think of spring my mind goes back to a journey I took some little time ago, to another land a long way away from this valley, a land where men and women are fired with the same love and devotion to their country that the men and women of Wales feel for the Principality. It was not spring, when I was in Russia. It was icy winter.
Let us consider for a moment how stupendous has been this Russian achievement. Confronted suddenly with the whole military might of Germany, these Russian soldiers fought back across their land in a stubborn and organized retreat. At every step they took their toll of the German armies. And then just when Hitler was boasting that in a few days he would be in Moscow, the Russian counter-offensive was launched. There have been few more remarkable achievements in the military history of the world. We must measure it not in terms of strategy alone, but in terms of individual, human effort when we pay our tribute to the courage and endurance which could suffer so much in retreat for so long; and then at the very moment when the enemy thought that resistance was finally broken, fight back and fight back triumphantly.
Hitler last summer boasted that the Russians would be pleading for peace in a few weeks. When this did not happen Hitler in the autumn announced that the Soviet leaders would be fleeing for their lives from Moscow within a few hours, and that the Russian capital would be his in a few days. When this did not happen Hitler, who had boasted that his campaign would be over long before the winter, declared that his advance would continue in spite of it. All this has gone awry. Hitler's much-vaunted intuition has led him into gigantic mistakes. Millions of young Germans have paid for these mistakes with their lives and with maimed, frostbitten limbs.
While these great events were shaping the future of the world, we also played our part. Russia told us of her needs in the materials of war. She gave us a list of her imperative requirements. We promised to send these materials and we have fulfilled our promise. Nor have the quantities been small. I am not going to present the enemy with the details of the numbers and types of weapons and materials we have been sending. Hitler would be very glad indeed to know how many ships, tanks, aeroplanes, guns and vehicles, how much ammunition and what other armaments we have been sending in an unceasing stream. Hitler would no doubt be interested to read the tonnage figures of the raw materials which have been pouring into the Soviet Union. He would no doubt very much like to know the quantities of strategic metals, explosives, chemicals, industrial equipment, foodstuffs, army uniforms and equipment, medical and surgical supplies, we have been despatching. I cannot give these details. But when I was in Russia at Christmas time, I was able to see for myself that our tanks and aircraft and other munitions had reached the front, and I was told at first hand what value the Russian armies attached to their performance.
You will readily imagine that the arrangements for seeing that all these materials are packed and shipped in good order and in accordance with a regular plan, have involved the setting up of a special organization. We have to see that the munitions go forward from the factories and depots, to the loading ports. We have to see that the ships are available to take them, and that the cargoes are carefully stowed and secured against the icy blasts and stormy weather which are invariably the lot of those who sail the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans in the winter months. And here I would like to pay my tribute to the workers in the factories and men and women in the depots and stations, to the railway men and the dockers, the seamen and shipping staffs, every one of whom has worked with enthusiasm to carry out this great task. All this has taken a little time to organize, to plan, and to keep going at a healthy and rhythmic speed. Much of the machinery has had to be provided at short notice, and nearly all the work has had to be done under the pressure of great urgency. When the full story comes to be given, I foretell that we shall have no reason to reproach ourselves with what we have achieved.
And it is good to read the reports that are now coming in of the excellent work which our Hurricanes are doing in the hands of the Russian fighter pilots on many sectors of the Eastern Front. They have contributed in no small way to the air defence of Moscow. They have taken part in the defence of Leningrad and have helped to save that heroic city from the added stress and strain of bombardment from the air. Russian pilots, who are most capable and experienced airmen, have destroyed many German aircraft in their British planes, and are loud in their praise of their performance, even in the most exacting conditions of arctic winter. We have received, too, favourable reports of the performance of British tanks on the Russian front. But when we give thanks to those who have helped with this work, pride of place must always go to the Royal Navy and the men of the Merchant Marine. Week after week, through the heavy seas of those northern latitudes, where all the exposed portions of the ships are often coated thick with ice, where the temperature is so low that to touch metal is to have skin torn from one's hands as though one had grasped a red-hot poker, where the Germans are desperately eager to intercept, with all their available sea-power and air-power, the flow of supplies, our sailors and our ships have kept the seas and delivered the goods. That is a truly great achievement.
Let us recall that in another way the Royal Navy has played its part in this winter campaign in Russia. For over two and a half years it has imposed a blockade on Germany. It has reduced the wool, the cotton, the leather and other goods which would otherwise have poured into Germany. The Royal Navy has in fact played its part in taking the warm clothes off the backs of those millions of German soldiers whom Hitler exposes to the bitter cold of Russian winter.
Meanwhile much work has been done in forging another link between Russia and the United Nations. A route has been opened through Persia, which country we now welcome as an Allied Power. This route is being developed ahead of schedule. In January we carried over it double the amount of material carried last November; by May we hope to double the figures of January. A warm tribute is due to those who are carrying through this work at such speed against many difficulties.
The story of our sea-power in this war can never be adequately told. Because our ships are for the most part out of sight over the horizon, they should never be out of mind. After France surrendered and until the United States came into the war, the Royal Navy alone faced the united naval power of the Axis, keeping the seas open for our merchant ships and denying the seas to the enemy. Let me provoke your imagination by half a dozen examples of the Navy's work. From the beginning of the war until the end of last year, one battle cruiser had covered 137,000 miles; one cruiser had steamed no less than 196,000 miles; one little destroyer had during that time logged 172,000 miles; one aircraft carrier 180,000 miles; one submarine had covered 26,000 miles in five months. Always a ceaseless vigil, always searching for the enemy, always on the alert for attack from submarine or aircraft.
In every home in Britain the Royal Navy is not only admired, but beloved. No matter how far from the sea we can travel in this small island, that sentiment is deep and strong. Nothing can shake it, and reason supports that instinct. We cannot maintain this conflict unless we and our allies maintain our sea-power; we cannot win it until we have destroyed the enemy's sea-power. Meanwhile the strength of our Air Force continues to grow and the R.A.F. plays its part by day and by night on every front.
But to say this is not to ignore the growing importance of the part the Army has to play. In pre-war days the Army was our most neglected service. And after Dunkirk, less than two years ago, our equipment cupboard was literally bare. Our Army had no sufficient store of modern weapons with which to train and to fight. Yet it had to meet a challenge in a dozen fields: here at home, where the defence of the citadel was truly vital, in Libya, in the Sudan, in Somaliland, in Abyssinia, in Greece and Crete, in Syria, in Iraq, in Persia. In all these lands the men of the British Commonwealth had to fight and did fight with splendid gallantry with limited resources and often against great odds. All this within the space of little more than a year. Now a new challenge confronts them in the Far East.
We are in the sternest period of the war. In Europe the Allies and the Axis and the Axis powers make ready for what may be the decisive struggle. In such conditions smooth sayings are utterly out of place. It is a time for harsh and unremitting endeavour. We have become accustomed to tell ourselves that victory is certain; victory is only certain for those who deserve it. In many respects the period which we have now to fight through will prove more difficult than even the summer of 1940 when, after the French collapse, we stood alone. Our effort now must at least equal our effort then. The national drive and energy must be keyed up to the same pitch. The effort is admittedly harder to make. After Dun-
kirk every man and woman could feel and see the danger. To-day the battle is not beating so nearly about our heads. There is no air battle of Britain, there is no night bombing. During the long months from the defeat of Poland to the attack on France and the Low Countries, Hitler sought to break the French morale by tedium. In a large measure he succeeded. By the same methods he may be now trying to encourage the British people to relax their efforts. He cannot be allowed to succeed, even for a day.
I know well the sense of frustration which at times we all have to fight against. I cannot discuss with you what our future operational plans may be, for there are others who would overhear us. But we must not let ourselves be frustrated. It is well, no doubt, to be aware of our shortcomings. But it is well sometimes to have regard for what we ourselves have done. We have suffered great reverses, but there are solid achievements too. Complacency is a bad thing. But pride, self-respect, those are not bad things. When the history of our time comes to be written, one event will not be overlooked: that we in this small island, together with our faithful partners in the British Empire, stood alone when all else failed. We hoped, when all mankind despaired. Our example it was which shone like a flame, and will shine for generations of men to come, because we fought on alone before we had powerful allies to help us. There is nothing in this of which we need feel ashamed. We have a tendency towards self-depreciation. That is all right in moderation. But you can have too much of it. And when you have too much of it, it is dangerous. We are told sometimes of slackness among workers, of greed and incompetence among managements. No doubt there are black sheep. Believe me, they are a minority, even a small minority. The people of this country, whatever their class, whatever their calling, are out to win this war. We will give, all of us, all we have to that. If we feel that the national effort is still not enough, then let us, each one of us, search his own heart or conscience and leave his neighbour's conscience to his neighbour's care. If we do that, we shall not fail. Production for war presents many and changing problems. In war-time you cannot be certain of continuity of supplies. In this island we have to work upon materials that are brought here from all over the world. They are subject to the hazards of war, and sometimes they must fall to the hazards of war. But when the material does come to hand, we must get to work not with less but with more zeal because of any delay there may have been. But I have not come to South Wales to exhort you to further efforts. I know what South Wales is doing for the war effort. I know that it is magnificent. I know that you will go on to the end without fear or faltering. We should take as our motto in the coming months of the war, which may well prove the decisive months, the lines from Burns:
Wha does the utmost that he can,
Will whyles do mair.
The stage of war compasses the earth. It is so vast that the human mind can scarcely comprehend it. Yet each one of us must never allow himself for an instant to forget that by his example, by his courage, by his resolution, he personally has a part to play in the decision of this titanic struggle.
This is a total war in every sense of the term. Everything that we have built up in the centuries of our island's history is at stake. We know what would be the price of defeat. We have no illusions as to the fate that would befall us. We know what has happened in Greece, we know how the people of Greece—men, women and children—have been left, to die of hunger in the streets. We know what the people of Poland, of Norway, of Belgium, of all the conquered territories have had to endure. Not very long ago it was my duty to tell the House of Commons about Hong Kong. It was not a pleasant duty. While I could believe that it might be untrue, while I could believe that it might be exaggerated, I did not want to tell the story. But when it was clear that it was the truth— beyond any possibility of doubt—then the nation had a right to know the truth. Hong Kong is far away from here. Poland, Norway, Belgium, Greece, Holland—they all seem far away. But what has happened there, that would happen here—if we were defeated. Yes, the fate of a conquered country is a harsh and ghastly one. We are determined that it shall be a passing one—and that the sun of peace and liberty and happiness shall shine once again on those poor suffering lands. And it shall shine here too. We at home have to do better. There can be no return to what was bad in the old days. Some things were bad.
Here, in these Welsh valleys, the people suffered between the two wars. Here, in Merthyr, you knew poverty, you knew unemployment, you knew the bitter feeling of despair which comes from the knowledge that one is not wanted. We Cannot go back to that. Your sons, who are fighting, must not come back to that. This time, by a truer unity, a wiser foresight and a greater vigour, we must make a more worthy use of the victory over the enemy. This time victory must mean not only the triumph of our arms, but the dawn of better conditions for every section of our people. It will not be easy, I cannot promise you an easy life, when the war is over. No one can promise that—for any of us. It may well be that life for all of us, when the war is over, will be hard. But we need not be afraid of that. We may even welcome that.
But we must see to it that life is good, that, if it be hard, it is still worth living. We must see to it that each one of us has his part to play when the war is over. We must see to it that there are no unwanted men in Wales—or anywhere else in our land. It is in that faith and that hope that we must strive for victory. In that faith we must work—and work together—when the victory is won.
Anthony Eden
March 29, 1942.
Freedom and Order, Selected Speeches 1939-1946, 148-155.
To reach you to-day I have driven through your beautiful Welsh valleys. To do this is to understand why it is that his home casts a spell over a Welshman which he is never able to throw off. I can understand why it is that Welshmen, wherever they may be, cling to the language of their fathers and to the tastes and traditions of their homeland. The sons of Wales are scattered far and wide, across oceans and beyond mountain ranges. But wherever they may be, their hearts are never very far from home. And when they get the chance they come back to the valleys that bred them.
Your land is always lovely, and I suppose that it is never more beautiful than now, when the spring is beginning and the snow has left the mountains and the warm sun is filling the valleys. Spring. When we think of spring in these troubled days we not only think of warmth and life. We think of war, and of death. And when I think of spring my mind goes back to a journey I took some little time ago, to another land a long way away from this valley, a land where men and women are fired with the same love and devotion to their country that the men and women of Wales feel for the Principality. It was not spring, when I was in Russia. It was icy winter.
Let us consider for a moment how stupendous has been this Russian achievement. Confronted suddenly with the whole military might of Germany, these Russian soldiers fought back across their land in a stubborn and organized retreat. At every step they took their toll of the German armies. And then just when Hitler was boasting that in a few days he would be in Moscow, the Russian counter-offensive was launched. There have been few more remarkable achievements in the military history of the world. We must measure it not in terms of strategy alone, but in terms of individual, human effort when we pay our tribute to the courage and endurance which could suffer so much in retreat for so long; and then at the very moment when the enemy thought that resistance was finally broken, fight back and fight back triumphantly.
Hitler last summer boasted that the Russians would be pleading for peace in a few weeks. When this did not happen Hitler in the autumn announced that the Soviet leaders would be fleeing for their lives from Moscow within a few hours, and that the Russian capital would be his in a few days. When this did not happen Hitler, who had boasted that his campaign would be over long before the winter, declared that his advance would continue in spite of it. All this has gone awry. Hitler's much-vaunted intuition has led him into gigantic mistakes. Millions of young Germans have paid for these mistakes with their lives and with maimed, frostbitten limbs.
While these great events were shaping the future of the world, we also played our part. Russia told us of her needs in the materials of war. She gave us a list of her imperative requirements. We promised to send these materials and we have fulfilled our promise. Nor have the quantities been small. I am not going to present the enemy with the details of the numbers and types of weapons and materials we have been sending. Hitler would be very glad indeed to know how many ships, tanks, aeroplanes, guns and vehicles, how much ammunition and what other armaments we have been sending in an unceasing stream. Hitler would no doubt be interested to read the tonnage figures of the raw materials which have been pouring into the Soviet Union. He would no doubt very much like to know the quantities of strategic metals, explosives, chemicals, industrial equipment, foodstuffs, army uniforms and equipment, medical and surgical supplies, we have been despatching. I cannot give these details. But when I was in Russia at Christmas time, I was able to see for myself that our tanks and aircraft and other munitions had reached the front, and I was told at first hand what value the Russian armies attached to their performance.
You will readily imagine that the arrangements for seeing that all these materials are packed and shipped in good order and in accordance with a regular plan, have involved the setting up of a special organization. We have to see that the munitions go forward from the factories and depots, to the loading ports. We have to see that the ships are available to take them, and that the cargoes are carefully stowed and secured against the icy blasts and stormy weather which are invariably the lot of those who sail the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans in the winter months. And here I would like to pay my tribute to the workers in the factories and men and women in the depots and stations, to the railway men and the dockers, the seamen and shipping staffs, every one of whom has worked with enthusiasm to carry out this great task. All this has taken a little time to organize, to plan, and to keep going at a healthy and rhythmic speed. Much of the machinery has had to be provided at short notice, and nearly all the work has had to be done under the pressure of great urgency. When the full story comes to be given, I foretell that we shall have no reason to reproach ourselves with what we have achieved.
And it is good to read the reports that are now coming in of the excellent work which our Hurricanes are doing in the hands of the Russian fighter pilots on many sectors of the Eastern Front. They have contributed in no small way to the air defence of Moscow. They have taken part in the defence of Leningrad and have helped to save that heroic city from the added stress and strain of bombardment from the air. Russian pilots, who are most capable and experienced airmen, have destroyed many German aircraft in their British planes, and are loud in their praise of their performance, even in the most exacting conditions of arctic winter. We have received, too, favourable reports of the performance of British tanks on the Russian front. But when we give thanks to those who have helped with this work, pride of place must always go to the Royal Navy and the men of the Merchant Marine. Week after week, through the heavy seas of those northern latitudes, where all the exposed portions of the ships are often coated thick with ice, where the temperature is so low that to touch metal is to have skin torn from one's hands as though one had grasped a red-hot poker, where the Germans are desperately eager to intercept, with all their available sea-power and air-power, the flow of supplies, our sailors and our ships have kept the seas and delivered the goods. That is a truly great achievement.
Let us recall that in another way the Royal Navy has played its part in this winter campaign in Russia. For over two and a half years it has imposed a blockade on Germany. It has reduced the wool, the cotton, the leather and other goods which would otherwise have poured into Germany. The Royal Navy has in fact played its part in taking the warm clothes off the backs of those millions of German soldiers whom Hitler exposes to the bitter cold of Russian winter.
Meanwhile much work has been done in forging another link between Russia and the United Nations. A route has been opened through Persia, which country we now welcome as an Allied Power. This route is being developed ahead of schedule. In January we carried over it double the amount of material carried last November; by May we hope to double the figures of January. A warm tribute is due to those who are carrying through this work at such speed against many difficulties.
The story of our sea-power in this war can never be adequately told. Because our ships are for the most part out of sight over the horizon, they should never be out of mind. After France surrendered and until the United States came into the war, the Royal Navy alone faced the united naval power of the Axis, keeping the seas open for our merchant ships and denying the seas to the enemy. Let me provoke your imagination by half a dozen examples of the Navy's work. From the beginning of the war until the end of last year, one battle cruiser had covered 137,000 miles; one cruiser had steamed no less than 196,000 miles; one little destroyer had during that time logged 172,000 miles; one aircraft carrier 180,000 miles; one submarine had covered 26,000 miles in five months. Always a ceaseless vigil, always searching for the enemy, always on the alert for attack from submarine or aircraft.
In every home in Britain the Royal Navy is not only admired, but beloved. No matter how far from the sea we can travel in this small island, that sentiment is deep and strong. Nothing can shake it, and reason supports that instinct. We cannot maintain this conflict unless we and our allies maintain our sea-power; we cannot win it until we have destroyed the enemy's sea-power. Meanwhile the strength of our Air Force continues to grow and the R.A.F. plays its part by day and by night on every front.
But to say this is not to ignore the growing importance of the part the Army has to play. In pre-war days the Army was our most neglected service. And after Dunkirk, less than two years ago, our equipment cupboard was literally bare. Our Army had no sufficient store of modern weapons with which to train and to fight. Yet it had to meet a challenge in a dozen fields: here at home, where the defence of the citadel was truly vital, in Libya, in the Sudan, in Somaliland, in Abyssinia, in Greece and Crete, in Syria, in Iraq, in Persia. In all these lands the men of the British Commonwealth had to fight and did fight with splendid gallantry with limited resources and often against great odds. All this within the space of little more than a year. Now a new challenge confronts them in the Far East.
We are in the sternest period of the war. In Europe the Allies and the Axis and the Axis powers make ready for what may be the decisive struggle. In such conditions smooth sayings are utterly out of place. It is a time for harsh and unremitting endeavour. We have become accustomed to tell ourselves that victory is certain; victory is only certain for those who deserve it. In many respects the period which we have now to fight through will prove more difficult than even the summer of 1940 when, after the French collapse, we stood alone. Our effort now must at least equal our effort then. The national drive and energy must be keyed up to the same pitch. The effort is admittedly harder to make. After Dun-
kirk every man and woman could feel and see the danger. To-day the battle is not beating so nearly about our heads. There is no air battle of Britain, there is no night bombing. During the long months from the defeat of Poland to the attack on France and the Low Countries, Hitler sought to break the French morale by tedium. In a large measure he succeeded. By the same methods he may be now trying to encourage the British people to relax their efforts. He cannot be allowed to succeed, even for a day.
I know well the sense of frustration which at times we all have to fight against. I cannot discuss with you what our future operational plans may be, for there are others who would overhear us. But we must not let ourselves be frustrated. It is well, no doubt, to be aware of our shortcomings. But it is well sometimes to have regard for what we ourselves have done. We have suffered great reverses, but there are solid achievements too. Complacency is a bad thing. But pride, self-respect, those are not bad things. When the history of our time comes to be written, one event will not be overlooked: that we in this small island, together with our faithful partners in the British Empire, stood alone when all else failed. We hoped, when all mankind despaired. Our example it was which shone like a flame, and will shine for generations of men to come, because we fought on alone before we had powerful allies to help us. There is nothing in this of which we need feel ashamed. We have a tendency towards self-depreciation. That is all right in moderation. But you can have too much of it. And when you have too much of it, it is dangerous. We are told sometimes of slackness among workers, of greed and incompetence among managements. No doubt there are black sheep. Believe me, they are a minority, even a small minority. The people of this country, whatever their class, whatever their calling, are out to win this war. We will give, all of us, all we have to that. If we feel that the national effort is still not enough, then let us, each one of us, search his own heart or conscience and leave his neighbour's conscience to his neighbour's care. If we do that, we shall not fail. Production for war presents many and changing problems. In war-time you cannot be certain of continuity of supplies. In this island we have to work upon materials that are brought here from all over the world. They are subject to the hazards of war, and sometimes they must fall to the hazards of war. But when the material does come to hand, we must get to work not with less but with more zeal because of any delay there may have been. But I have not come to South Wales to exhort you to further efforts. I know what South Wales is doing for the war effort. I know that it is magnificent. I know that you will go on to the end without fear or faltering. We should take as our motto in the coming months of the war, which may well prove the decisive months, the lines from Burns:
Wha does the utmost that he can,
Will whyles do mair.
The stage of war compasses the earth. It is so vast that the human mind can scarcely comprehend it. Yet each one of us must never allow himself for an instant to forget that by his example, by his courage, by his resolution, he personally has a part to play in the decision of this titanic struggle.
This is a total war in every sense of the term. Everything that we have built up in the centuries of our island's history is at stake. We know what would be the price of defeat. We have no illusions as to the fate that would befall us. We know what has happened in Greece, we know how the people of Greece—men, women and children—have been left, to die of hunger in the streets. We know what the people of Poland, of Norway, of Belgium, of all the conquered territories have had to endure. Not very long ago it was my duty to tell the House of Commons about Hong Kong. It was not a pleasant duty. While I could believe that it might be untrue, while I could believe that it might be exaggerated, I did not want to tell the story. But when it was clear that it was the truth— beyond any possibility of doubt—then the nation had a right to know the truth. Hong Kong is far away from here. Poland, Norway, Belgium, Greece, Holland—they all seem far away. But what has happened there, that would happen here—if we were defeated. Yes, the fate of a conquered country is a harsh and ghastly one. We are determined that it shall be a passing one—and that the sun of peace and liberty and happiness shall shine once again on those poor suffering lands. And it shall shine here too. We at home have to do better. There can be no return to what was bad in the old days. Some things were bad.
Here, in these Welsh valleys, the people suffered between the two wars. Here, in Merthyr, you knew poverty, you knew unemployment, you knew the bitter feeling of despair which comes from the knowledge that one is not wanted. We Cannot go back to that. Your sons, who are fighting, must not come back to that. This time, by a truer unity, a wiser foresight and a greater vigour, we must make a more worthy use of the victory over the enemy. This time victory must mean not only the triumph of our arms, but the dawn of better conditions for every section of our people. It will not be easy, I cannot promise you an easy life, when the war is over. No one can promise that—for any of us. It may well be that life for all of us, when the war is over, will be hard. But we need not be afraid of that. We may even welcome that.
But we must see to it that life is good, that, if it be hard, it is still worth living. We must see to it that each one of us has his part to play when the war is over. We must see to it that there are no unwanted men in Wales—or anywhere else in our land. It is in that faith and that hope that we must strive for victory. In that faith we must work—and work together—when the victory is won.
