Back
to Book Reviews
Back to Cercles
|
David
Brown, Foreword by Contre-amiral Jean
Kessler, Introduction by Geoffrey
Till, The Road to Oran: Anglo-French
Naval Relations - September 1939 - July 1940
(London & New York: Frank Cass, 2004, £65.00,
216 pages, ISBN 0-7146-5461-2)—Richard Davis,
Université Charles de Gaulle - Lille III
On July 3, 1940 Royal Navy ships lying off Mers-el-Kébir
in North Africa opened fire on the French fleet
at anchor in the harbour killing 1300 French sailors.
This tragic attack is still remembered in France
as yet another example of British perfidy. In Britain
few beyond the circles of specialist historians
will have any clear idea of its exact meaning. Coming
between the evacuation of the B.E.F. from the beaches
of Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain, this story
has all too often been passed over or forgotten.
Moreover, what Geoffrey Till, in his introduction
calls this “lamentable [...] tragic affair”
[xxv] was hardly a glorious episode to be given
prominence in the annals of British military history.
David Brown’s study, therefore, is a welcome
contribution to the historiography of the Second
World War.
This
book is of course not the first to attempt to explain
these events, either by French or British authors.
Yet as Jean Kessler points out in his foreword “whether
in the case of memoirs or historical works, the
emotion with which French writers have approached
the subject and the understandable concern to justify
the action shown by British writers have hardly
been conducive to objective analysis of the operation”
[xi-xii]. David Brown’s ambition, to provide
a more clear-headed and less emotive account of
events, that seeks to explain how such a tragedy
came about rather than to justify past choices or
apportion blame (usually on the other side of the
Channel), can only be welcomed by historians of
Anglo-French relations.
Brown’s
book considers the events at Mers-el-Kébir
and those that lead up to them in the detail on
several different levels. He is no doubt strongest
on the technical detail of how the events unfolded
and a good deal of attention is given to often complicated
movements of the various ships and the signals between
them and their respective admiralties. This book,
however, is not exclusively one of military history,
as it looks at the broader geopolitical dimension
as well as at the more local operational level.
Indeed, it is one of the merits of this work that
it allows the reader to see the complex interactions
between the political, diplomatic and military spheres,
between those operating at sea, and those in London
and the various locations occupied by the itinerant
French authorities in the days following the evacuation
of Paris. In this way the different levels of decision-making
(from the Prime Minister and the War Cabinet, the
Chiefs of Staff and the First Sea Lord, to the force
commanders and the individual officers at local
level) and how they interrelated are brought together
to give a fuller picture than any purely military,
diplomatic or political account could provide.
As
Brown shows so well, there were bitter disagreements
between these actors over what course of action
to take. At the highest level, Winston Churchill
was clearly determined to prevent the most modern
ships of the French fleet from falling into the
hands of the Axis powers, no matter what the cost
to Anglo-French relations. The War Cabinet and the
Chiefs of Staff followed his lead. As Brown argues,
the War Cabinet was “managed by the Prime
Minister, who appeared to be led by his own intuition,
modified by advisers whose influence varied in proportion
to the degree of agreement with Churchill’s
perception of the problem and its solution”
[166-67]. While Brown accepts that there was a need
for the British to show international opinion, above
all in the United States, that Britain was determined
to pursue the war, he is nonetheless unsympathetic
to the role played by Churchill. He writes of Churchill’s
“extraordinary self-conceit” [10] in
his interference in operational questions and how
he caused “untold damage [...] by meddling
in matters which he did not truly understand”
[10]. On June 29, Churchill was the author of “one
of the stupider signals to be sent”
when he ordered that should the French battle-cruisers
Dunkerque and Strasbourg set sail
they “were to be captured at sea” [153],
which, as Brown points out, was something of a romantic,
almost childish, image of modern naval operations.
Later on, when the Anglo-French naval stand-off
in Alexandria was being defused by the local British
and French commanders, “the impatient Prime
Minister’s attempted long-range micro-management
[...] resulted in what was undoubtedly the most
ridiculous signal of the day” [202] when
he ordered that French crews leave their ships before
dark when in fact it was already long after nightfall
there.
Nor
does the War Cabinet emerge in a favourable light.
For Brown their discussions of June 24 were “very
lengthy and went into considerable detail, much
of it erroneous” [103]. Their view that “It
was not to be expected that the French crews would
put up any very serious resistance” (should
British attack) is for Brown “an extraordinary
idea, [...] a contemptuous, foolish under-estimation
of a potential enemy” [105], which was clearly
contrary to all the reports coming in from naval
commanders. The Cabinet’s instructions of
June 25 that the Richelieu and the Jean
Bart (two French battle-cruisers) should be
captured at sea is ridiculed. “It is difficult
to imagine,” Brown writes, “a wilder
notion than this outdated, romantic conception that
the most modern twentieth-century battleship afloat
could be persuaded to surrender on the high seas”
[120]. The politicians, as shown here, are clearly
incapable of fully comprehending the military realities
and in need of the naval experts’ “professional
realism” [106]. The consequences on the Royal
Navy of action against the French fleet and what
the Germans could do with the French ship should
they get their hands on them given the technical
difficulties involved and the lack of trained crews
were, according to Brown, all fully considered by
the naval experts but insufficiently so by the politicians.
Most
damningly, David Brown suggests that Churchill knew
that the Italians were preparing to accept that
the French fleet should remain in North African
ports in half-crew conditions. He goes on: “If
this hypothesis is correct, then the question must
be asked as to why the Prime Minister did not pause
to await the other Axis member’s decision—would
the German government accept the demilitarisation
of ships in North and West Africa?” [167].
Here Brown gets to the heart of the matter: how
the broader political and strategic considerations
that dominated thinking in London, above in Churchill’s
mind, ran contrary to the anxieties of those commanders
at sea who were being charged with this most disagreeable
task of attacking what had been until only a few
days before close colleagues and allies. As Brown
writes in his conclusion “what emerge(s) from
the examination of the tragic history is the victory
on the British side of perceived political necessity
over military reality [...] the demonstration of
Britain’s determination, which, it was alleged,
had been Churchill’s intention throughout,
had therefore succeeded” [204-205].
It
is Churchill and Admiral Darlan on the French side
who, therefore, come out of this account bearing
the responsibility (if not the guilt) for the tragedy
of Mers-el-Kébir. The events of July 3 are
the final act of what Churchill termed this “Greek
tragedy” [The Second World War: Their
Finest Hour (Cassell, 1949, 205)]. Its outcome
was not, however, pre-determined. For Brown
Once
set in train, the offensive phase [...] could only
be stopped by the rival sets of decision-making
machinery [...] At the ‘controls’ of
each were the single figures, Winston Churchill
and François Darlan, both answerable to high-level
political councils but, in practice, neither consulting
colleagues before making decisions [...] both men
had an opportunity during the day to bring about
a solution which would have avoided the loss of
life and ships and, deliberately, neither took it
[182].
For
Anglo-French relations the attack on the French
fleet was nothing short of a disaster. It was, according
to Jean Kessler, “little short of fratricidal
given the close and active cooperation, and friendly
relations, which had existed between the two navies
during the war up to the collapse of the French
front and France’s request for an armistice”
[xi]. Its long-term impact on relations between
the two countries was equally damaging. It is also
possible to see Mers-el-Kébir as a case study
of wider Anglo-French relations in the twentieth
century showing all their inherent difficulties,
their inclination towards “mutual incomprehension”
[xi] and lack of sympathy for one another’s
problems and predicaments.
As
Brown’s study shows, for the Anglo-French
relationship to work, at whatever level and to whatever
extent, trust was the key, and it was precisely
the breakdown in this trust that constituted the
train of events that led to the action taken against
the French fleet on July 3. That the two countries
are almost by nature enemies is the generally accepted
view. Indeed, Brown begins with this very idea.
Yet he also shows that the months of alliance up
to June 1940 saw close cooperation between them,
particularly in the naval sphere. How this “cooperation,
and the enmity which grew from it, faltered under
the intolerable strains of the military collapse
of the alliance in the second week of June 1940
and foundered as the new French Government sought
and obtained [...] an Armistice in the third week”
and then “disappeared as British mistrust
turned to enmity in some quarters” [xv] is
the thread that runs throughout the story recounted
by Brown.
The
breakdown in trust is shown with the utmost clarity.
The British Ambassador to France complained of the
French lack of resolve dismissing Darlan’s
“pathetic assurances” [79] that in no
circumstances would he allow the French fleet to
fall into the hands of the Germans. No matter how
often he and others on the French side gave such
assurances (and as Brown shows they were repeated
time and again), they were never believed in London.
British naval commanders in the Mediterranean who
had built up close working relations with their
French counterparts may have been, as Brown shows,
far more inclined to take such French assurances
in good faith but their opinions were disregarded
by their superiors. By the time the final decision
to attack the French fleet, should it refuse the
British ultimatum to disarm, scuttle or move to
British or American ports, had been taken, it had
become clear that the recent past of Anglo-French
naval collaboration held little weight in London.
Pound, the First Sea Lord, concluded on June 28
that as “we had got to win the war not only
for ourselves but for them [the French)] all trivialities
and sob stuff about friendship and feelings must
be swept aside” [138]. Pound’s lack
of sympathy with the predicament of the French and
the off-hand manner in which he dealt with them
is highlighted by Brown. Again, the political over-rode
the military. As Brown argues, “A deep mistrust
of France [...] sometimes meant that pragmatic analysis
by the Naval Staff was liable to be overruled by
intuitive reaction on the part of politicians (particularly
the Prime Minister)” [87].
Nor
was such mistrust exclusively British. Brown regrettably
deals less with the motivations behind French thinking
and policies, and Darlan is given far less attention
than Churchill. But he has made use of the French
signals between Darlan and his commanders. One such
message dated June 25 to the commander of the Richelieu
warns: “Toutes les nouvelles anglaises
sont fausses et de nature à faire éclater
à leur profit une guerre civile qui ruinerait
définitivement notre Patrie” [122].
By June 28 he was signalling a warning of British
“spite at not being able to intern our Fleet
in England” [145].
David
Brown is also right to emphasise how the breakdown
in Anglo-French relations was exacerbated by poor
communications, confusion, misunderstandings and
misperceptions. The British believed they had made
it clear that they had agreed to the French opening
talks with the Germans on terms for an armistice
only if guarantees were given regarding the French
fleet and that French ships should sail to British
ports. In reply the French argued that this had
not been made clear and that in any case their
promises as to the fleet were quite sufficient and
they should be taken at their word on this. Similarly
the clear instructions sent by Darlan to all French
commanders that in no circumstances should any French
vessel be allowed to fall into German hands was
not sufficiently well known or appreciated in Britain.
Finally, on the critical day of the attack there
were a series of misunderstandings and breakdowns
in communications at Mers-el-Kébir itself.
Brown’s
detailed account is also excellent in portraying
the simple physical problems that made communications
between the various players so difficult. At times,
it was quite simply impossible to keep in touch
with the French authorities following their evacuation
from Paris. There was also a simple lack of means
of communication, whether by telegraph, wireless
or telephone, or even to know where anyone was at
a particular moment (Darlan, for example, was travelling
from Clermont-Ferrand to Vichy during the decisive
moment of July 3 when British and French admirals
in Mers-el-Kébir were attempting to find
a solution). Brown also makes the interesting point
that the Germans had obtained the French naval cyphers
and were using them to transmit messages supposedly
coming from the French authorities.
As
Till writes in his introduction Mers-el-Kébir
“complicated and poisoned relations between
the British and the French for years to come [...]
it reinforced the French perception of the British
as ‘Perfidious Albion’ in a way that
was to affect Franco-British political relations
for the rest of the century” [xxv]. This outcome
was already being predicted on the eve of the British
attack. The naval officers being asked to carry
out the operation made plain their opposition arguing
that “Once we kill one Frenchman by direct
or deliberate action, the game is up [...] The French
Navy will never forgive us” [164]. Their warnings
were transmitted to London “that offensive
action on our part would immediately alienate [the
French] and transform a defeated ally into a defeated
enemy” [165]. Although Brown only briefly
considers the long-term impact on Anglo-French relations,
other sources show how deeply the British action
was felt in France decades later.
The
military and strategic consequences of the British
action are quite rightly emphasised here, as are
the political considerations behind Churchill’s
thinking. But David Brown’s account is equally
pertinent in its focus on the questions of national
pride and honour that were so much at stake, particularly
on the French side, and which have continued to
bedevil the attempts by historians since 1940 to
take a calmer, more reasoned, analysis. Brown’s
book is, therefore, understandably full of accusations
and counter-accusations: the French decision to
seek armistice was regarded by the British as “an
act of betrayal” [43]; Churchill wrote to
the French government that should the French “deliver
over to the enemy the fine French fleet. Such an
act would scarify their names for a thousand years
of history”; if the opportunity to sail these
ships to British ports was not taken “the
honour of France” would be lost [51]. Darlan
also told the British that “the matter was
one of honour rather than one of politics”
[53]. In private he complained that the British
were acting like “heirs who had come to reassure
themselves that the dying man has really left them
a bequest” [54] while he was adamant that
the “Armistice Clauses will not contain any
clause contrary to honour” [116]. Brown himself
recognises that the British “made a poor impression
on Darlan by their cold demands, made without offering
any recognition of the French Navy’s achievements
or of any sympathy for the nation’s predicament”
[54]. On the final day of the crisis the French
admiral in Mers-el-Kébir was upset that the
emissary sent to talk was only a captain and that
the note from the British admiral was unsigned.
When he did accept the British request to open talks,
his reply was couched in the same terms as his political
superiors. He was, he said, ready for a “discussion
honorable” [191]. As we now know, no
“honourable” escape-route from this
tragedy was found.
As
is so often the case in such crises, the observer
is left asking the question “what might have
been?” For David Brown it is clear that “The
events of 3 July 1940 at Mers-el-Kébir, the
negotiations and the brief bombardment which brought
the day to a tragic close, are a rich field for
hindsight and hunters of missed opportunities”
[182]. The mixture of “unfortunate elements
[...] slow communications, poor intelligence, political
interference in professional matters and, above
all, misunderstood intentions” [119] produced
a recipe for disaster. But this was a disaster that
could have been avoided. Brown’s conclusion
is, therefore, clearly at odds with Churchill’s
argument that “no act was ever more necessary
for the life of Britain and for all that depended
upon it” [Op.cit., 205].
Was
it all necessary? Did the British need to turn on
their recent allies, “her dearest friends
of yesterday” according to Churchill [Op.cit.,
211], in such a violent and definitive fashion?
Brown certainly raises more than a few doubts. Why
was it not possible to reach a peaceful agreement
at Mers-el-Kébir similar to that reached
between the British and French commanders at Alexandria?
Above all, why did the British choose to place such
little store by the clear-cut instructions of Darlan
that French ships would be scuttled, disarmed or
sailed to the United States if the Germans attempted
to seize them. Could things have turned out differently?
The two senior British admirals in the Mediterranean
certainly thought that “patient negotiation
would achieve better results” but, unfortunately,
they “were pitchforked into action by urgent
representations from London” [xxx].
P.M.H.
Bell in his book Britain and France 1940-1994:
The Long Separation [Longman, 1997, 18, 21] has
it that for the British the confrontation at Mers-el-Kébir
soon “became merely one half-forgotten episode
in a crowded summer,” that while it “left
the French deeply scarred [it left] the British
almost untouched.” David Brown’s book
goes some way towards rectifying this imbalance
and to provide an English-speaking readership with
an excellent account of this tragic event. His study
will be of interest to all students of the Second
World War, of Anglo-French relations in particular
and to naval historians.
|
Cercles©2006
All rights are reserved and no reproduction from this site for
whatever purpose is permitted without the permission of the
copyright owner. Please contact us before using
any material on this website.
|
|