had staked their all on the unequal fight against Nazi Germany. Both were leaders of multi-party coalitions, where dedication to the cause in hand counted more than factional politics.
Among the secondary figures, Churchill’s deputy, Clement Attlee, leader of the Labour Party, also showed understanding for the First Ally’s plight. Indeed, he was less unpredictable than Churchill. An early and outspoken critic of fascism, he also harboured a healthy reluctance to do business with Communists, whom he regarded as a danger to democraticsocialism. (On this point, he had not hesitated in 1939 to expel one of his party’s most prominent politicians, Sir Stafford Cripps, whom Churchill would later recall to office.) Churchill’s Foreign Minister, Anthony Eden, was rather less resolute than either of them. He had risen through the diplomatic ranks as Minister to the League of Nations and as the right-hand man of Halifax and Chamberlain. He was closely associated with those in the Foreign Office who had long worked for a rapprochement with the Soviet Union; and he ended up with the reputation of being ‘the Soviets’ favourite British statesman’. 15 Yet he was more of a vacillator than an appeaser; as portrayed in a famous post-war cartoon, the ultimate ‘sheep in wolf’s clothing’. Relations with the First Ally was an issue on which he vacillated regularly.
Everyday communication between the two Governments was not facilitated by the language barrier. Most members of the exiled Government spoke French, German, or Russian, but not English. No senior Britons spoke Polish; and they had serious problems pronouncing and remembering names, which, lacking a basic knowledge of Polish diacritics and orthography, they could not even read. They could almost cope with Sikorski, and with simple names such as Stroski, Grabski, or Zaleski. But many other examples, likemigły-Rydz, or Bohusz-Szyszko, proved quite impossible. As a result, Britishers usually referred to their counterparts either by shortened forms or by their pseudonyms and nicknames. Hence all the Stanisławs became ‘Stan’; and Mikołajczyk, even when he became Premier, was widely known as ‘Mick’.
The Battle of Britain, which began on 10 July 1940 and came to an end in early October, has gone down in history, in Churchill’s words, as ‘their finest hour’. It took the form of a protracted air battle in which the RAF successfully thwarted the German attempt to win air supremacy over the Channel in preparation for the planned invasion of the British Isles. After some ninety days of combat, the RAF proved more resilient than Göring’s Luftwaffe, forcing their adversaries to withdraw through unsustainable losses. Hitler postponed Operation Sealion indefinitely. But it was a closerun thing. By the time that the Germans disengaged, the RAF’s reserves of planes and pilots were on the brink of exhaustion.
The First Ally’s contribution to the victory was well appreciated at the time, but later forgotten or minimized. Their pilots served both in RAF units and in their own squadrons, operating under British command. Theyrepresented 10 per cent of the total fliers employed, and accounted for 12 per cent of the enemy aircraft destroyed. 16 Most impressively, they incurred only one-third of the average casualty rate, whilst being maintained by a ground crew ratio of only 30:1 as compared to 100:1 in the RAF and 80:1 in the Luftwaffe. Their achievements were particularly valuable in the critical days of mid-September. On the 15th, they accounted for 14 per cent of enemy losses, on the 19th, 25 per cent, and on the 26th, 48 per cent. On one occasion, British officers present were astonished to see a wing commander kissing his fitter’s hands. ‘Were it not for these hands,’ he declared, ‘I’d be dead.’ 17 The last word lay with Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, the RAF’s fighter chief. ‘Had it not been for the magnificent material contributed by [the
Among the secondary figures, Churchill’s deputy, Clement Attlee, leader of the Labour Party, also showed understanding for the First Ally’s plight. Indeed, he was less unpredictable than Churchill. An early and outspoken critic of fascism, he also harboured a healthy reluctance to do business with Communists, whom he regarded as a danger to democraticsocialism. (On this point, he had not hesitated in 1939 to expel one of his party’s most prominent politicians, Sir Stafford Cripps, whom Churchill would later recall to office.) Churchill’s Foreign Minister, Anthony Eden, was rather less resolute than either of them. He had risen through the diplomatic ranks as Minister to the League of Nations and as the right-hand man of Halifax and Chamberlain. He was closely associated with those in the Foreign Office who had long worked for a rapprochement with the Soviet Union; and he ended up with the reputation of being ‘the Soviets’ favourite British statesman’. 15 Yet he was more of a vacillator than an appeaser; as portrayed in a famous post-war cartoon, the ultimate ‘sheep in wolf’s clothing’. Relations with the First Ally was an issue on which he vacillated regularly.
Everyday communication between the two Governments was not facilitated by the language barrier. Most members of the exiled Government spoke French, German, or Russian, but not English. No senior Britons spoke Polish; and they had serious problems pronouncing and remembering names, which, lacking a basic knowledge of Polish diacritics and orthography, they could not even read. They could almost cope with Sikorski, and with simple names such as Stroski, Grabski, or Zaleski. But many other examples, likemigły-Rydz, or Bohusz-Szyszko, proved quite impossible. As a result, Britishers usually referred to their counterparts either by shortened forms or by their pseudonyms and nicknames. Hence all the Stanisławs became ‘Stan’; and Mikołajczyk, even when he became Premier, was widely known as ‘Mick’.
The Battle of Britain, which began on 10 July 1940 and came to an end in early October, has gone down in history, in Churchill’s words, as ‘their finest hour’. It took the form of a protracted air battle in which the RAF successfully thwarted the German attempt to win air supremacy over the Channel in preparation for the planned invasion of the British Isles. After some ninety days of combat, the RAF proved more resilient than Göring’s Luftwaffe, forcing their adversaries to withdraw through unsustainable losses. Hitler postponed Operation Sealion indefinitely. But it was a closerun thing. By the time that the Germans disengaged, the RAF’s reserves of planes and pilots were on the brink of exhaustion.
The First Ally’s contribution to the victory was well appreciated at the time, but later forgotten or minimized. Their pilots served both in RAF units and in their own squadrons, operating under British command. Theyrepresented 10 per cent of the total fliers employed, and accounted for 12 per cent of the enemy aircraft destroyed. 16 Most impressively, they incurred only one-third of the average casualty rate, whilst being maintained by a ground crew ratio of only 30:1 as compared to 100:1 in the RAF and 80:1 in the Luftwaffe. Their achievements were particularly valuable in the critical days of mid-September. On the 15th, they accounted for 14 per cent of enemy losses, on the 19th, 25 per cent, and on the 26th, 48 per cent. On one occasion, British officers present were astonished to see a wing commander kissing his fitter’s hands. ‘Were it not for these hands,’ he declared, ‘I’d be dead.’ 17 The last word lay with Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, the RAF’s fighter chief. ‘Had it not been for the magnificent material contributed by [the
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