Winston's War_ Churchill, 1940-1945 - Max Hastings [299]
VE Day was proclaimed on May 8, 1945. On the afternoon of the seventh, the Chiefs of Staff gathered at Downing Street for a moment of celebration. Churchill himself set out a tray and glasses, then toasted Brooke, Portal and Cunningham as “the architects of victory.” Ismay wrote in his memoirs: “I hoped that they would raise their glasses1084 to the chief who had been the master-planner; but perhaps they were too moved to trust their voices.” This was disingenuous. Brooke and Cunningham, if not Portal, nursed complex emotions towards the prime minister. Others, including Ismay and the Downing Street staff, forgave rough handling, amid their love and admiration for Churchill. The field marshal and the admiral found this more difficult. Brooke wrote on May 7: “I can’t feel thrilled, my main sensation1085 is one of infinite mental weariness! A sort of brain lethargy which refuses to register highlights, and remains on an even dull flat tone.” The next day he added, with some bitterness: “There is no doubt that the public has never understood1086 what the Chiefs of Staff have been doing in the running of this war … The PM has never enlightened them much, and has never once in all his speeches referred to the Chiefs of Staff.” A few months earlier, Brooke had written of Churchill: “Without him England was lost for a certainty1087, with him England has been on the verge of disaster again and again. And with it all no recognition hardly at all for those who help him except the occasional crumb intended to prevent the dog straying too far from the table.”
Brooke was envious of the greater power and fame enjoyed by Marshall, his American counterpart. A man of considerable vanity, he overrated his own talents, and was ungenerous in his estimate of Churchill’s. But a significant part of his achievement as CIGS—and it was a remarkable achievement—lay in his willingness to fight Churchill day or night when he believed him wrong. While Brooke was a cautious soldier who might not have prospered as a field commander, he had provided a superb foil for the prime minister, preserving him from many misfortunes. His contribution to Britain’s war effort had been substantial. Like the hedgehog, in 1942–43 he understood one big thing: that the Allies must not prematurely engage large elements of the Wehrmacht. He was unable to accept that the price of serving a towering historical figure was to be obscured by his shadow.
Clementine was visiting Russia on behalf of the Red Cross on VE Day, much to the sorrow of both Churchills. At three p.m., the prime minister broadcast to the British people: “Yesterday morning at 2.41am at Headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German High Command, and Grand Admiral Doenitz, the designated head of the German State, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied Expeditionary Force, and simultaneously to the Soviet High Command … The German war is therefore at an end.” He recalled Britain’s lonely struggle, and the gradual accession of great allies: “Finally almost the whole world was combined against the evil-doers, who are now