Winston's War_ Churchill, 1940-1945 - Max Hastings [119]
When Roosevelt introduced the prime minister to a throng of American pressmen, Churchill roused cheers and applause by climbing onto a chair so they could see him better. Asked whether it was true that Singapore was the key to the Far East war, he parried skilfully: “The key to the whole situation is the resolute manner in which the British and American democracies are going to throw themselves into the conflict.” How long would it last? “If we manage it well, it will only take half as long as if we manage it badly.” His exuberance was increased by further optimistic signals from Auchinleck in North Africa about the progress of Crusader.
On Christmas Eve, standing beside Roosevelt on the balcony as the White House tree lights were illuminated before a huge crowd, he said: “I cannot feel myself a stranger here in the centre and at the summit of the United States. I feel a sense of unity and fraternal association which, added to the kindliness of your welcome, convinces me that I have a right to share your Christmas joys … Let the children have their night of fun and laughter. Let the gifts of Father Christmas delight their play. Let us grown-ups share to the full in their unstinted pleasures before we turn again to the stern task and the formidable years that lie before us, resolved that, by our sacrifice and daring, these same children shall not be robbed of their inheritance or denied their right to live in a free and decent world.” He found his pulse racing after the balcony appearance, from which his words were broadcast: “It has all been very moving.” That evening, it was also a struggle to overcome private dismay: he learned of the fall of Hong Kong.
Roosevelt, matching the prime minister courtesy for courtesy and jest for jest, taunted him at dinner about having fought on the wrong side in the Boer War. When Churchill was asked about the quality of U.S. food supplies to Britain, he complained: “too many powdered eggs.” He cabled Auchinleck, urging that, now that the desert campaign seemed to be progressing so well, he should release an armoured brigade and four RAF squadrons for the Far East. On Christmas evening, he left the rest of the presidential party watching a movie, and stumped off upstairs murmuring about “homework.” He was writing next day’s speech to the U.S. Congress.
Washington Post reporter Hope Ridings Miller wrote: “Senators’ … office telephones carried call422 after call from friends—wondering if there was some way, somehow, something could be done to obtain tickets for the biggest show on the season’s calendar.” It was late in the morning when Churchill, wearing a blue polka-dot bow tie, clambered to his feet in the chamber on Capitol Hill. He grinned, donned spectacles, blinked back the tears that so often filled his eyes at dramatic moments. Congressman Frank McNaughton saw “a stubby, granite little man … dumpy, heavy-shouldered, massive-jawed, with a solid bald crown flecked with straggles of grey hair.” Hands on hips, Churchill began to address the audience beyond the dense bank of microphones. “Smiling, bowing, and looking very much at home,” wrote Miller, “the Prime Minister flushed slightly as the ovation ushering