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,, A famed war correspondent recalls a visit with Winston Churchill during
England's darkest hour and the words that were a prelude to glory
Any reasonably sane man who
.was in London in October,
1941, had to come to the reluctant
conclusion that England was al
most finished.
The Luftwaffe was chipping away at
London nearly every night Bombs had
put many of the railroad terminals out of
action, a hard blow because trains bearing
war materiel all had to go through London.
A dozen cities had been leveled, and the
Luftwaffe seemed to grow stronger.
The only news that came from the fight
ing fronts was bad news. The Germans
had occupied Greece, Yugoslavia, and
Crete. On the Eastern front, the Germans
were only 50 miles from Moscow, and most
military observers thought that Russia
soon would be knocked out of the war.
This would release thousands of German
planes to concentrate on bringing England
to her knees. Rommel's Afrika Korps was
clobbering British troops in the Libyan
desert. Lend-Lease had brought England
only a trickle of planes, tanks, and guns.
It was difficult for a correspondent like
myself to write anything cheerful about
the situation. We had exhausted the sub
ject of the heroic fighting done by the
R.A.F., and the courage of London's
civilians was now an old story.
Many correspondents already had made
up their minds that the Germans would
soon invade England and that England
had no adequate artillery or armored
forces to stop them. The U.S. was not in
the war yet, but there were a great many
American military observers in England,
and those to whom I talked were unani
mous in saying that she was finished. It
was hard not to share their views.
IT WAS DURING this dark period that I re
ceived an amazing telephone call. It was
from Mrs. Winston Churchill, asking me
to have lunch the next day at Chequers,
the traditional country home of British
prime ministers.
I was delighted but puzzled. I had never
met either the Prime Minister or Mrs.
Churchill. But I was ready when a car
called for me. Less than an hour later, I
was being greeted by a grinning Churchill.
"We have a friend of yours staying with
us," he said. "Harry Hopkins. Hopkins is
going to deliver a radio address on the
B.B.C. next Sunday. He has had a long
flight from Washington, and he thought
you might help him with his speech."
That solved the mystery of why I had
been invited. Only the Churchills, Harry
Hopkins, and Averell Harriman were pres
ent at lunch, which, to my surprise, was
an informal, almost gay, affair. The war
was hardly mentioned.
The Secret of
Victory
By QUENTIN REYNOLDS AjS
Author of "London Diary," "DrM Rohoareal," '
Courtroom," Known But to God," and mo
forthcoming autobiography, "By Quontln Raynoldi"
US
Churchill's proud spirit filled the ronm ' ''
Though the Nazis were winning on all fronts, '
.o ivim cuniuenr. oj final victory.
1 so., max Jloa llmlro, N.Y.
family Wnkly, May II, Ml