All language subtitles for World at War e02 Distant War (September 1939 - May 1940).en

(narrator) September 1, 1939.

Germany attacks Poland.

Adolf Hitler ignores Britain and France
which had promised to fight for Poland.

Sunday September 3. The British prime
minister Neville Chamberlain broadcasts.

(Chamberlain) This morning
the British ambassador in Berlin

handed the German government
a final note

stating that unless
we heard from them by 11 o'clock

that they were prepared at once
to withdraw their troops from Poland,

a state of war would exist between us.

I have to tell you now that
no such undertaking has been received

and that consequently
this country is at war with Germany.

(chanting / cheering)

(narrator) Danzig, taken
from Germany after the First World War,

welcomed its liberators.

To many good Germans the city's capture
symbolised the end

of the humiliating Treaty of Versailles.

Hitler swept forward
to congratulate his victorious troops.

He said they'd rescued his people
from Polish barbarism.

The Germans thrust into Poland
from the west and north.

In two weeks the Polish army
had virtually ceased to exist.

Warsaw was one of the few places
to hold out.

The Russians,
by agreement with Germany,

seized parts of Poland
they claimed as theirs by right.

The two conquerors met at Brest-Litovsk.

It was the scene of the Russian
surrender to Germany in 1918.

The official German greeting in Russian

said German soldiers had always
respected Russian soldiers.

The clash of Nazi and Communist was,
for the moment, conveniently forgotten.

The final bombardment of Warsaw
began on September 23.

(♪ Polish national anthem)

For nearly three weeks Warsaw Radio

had defiantly played
the Polish national anthem.

On September 27 the anthem stopped.

—(announcement in Polish)
—(air-raid siren)

Warsaw was reduced to rubble.

The capital's commander surrendered.

Poland, swallowed by Germany
and Russia,

disappeared into a new dark age.

Arrests, deportations, executions began.

(siren)

Britain's war started
with a false alarm.

September 3.

(man) I remember
when the outbreak of war came.

We were in the cabinet room

at the moment
that the ultimatum expired.

(narrator) Lord Butler
was a junior minister.

(Butler) And we were just beginning
to congratulate the prime minister

on his broadcast
when we heard a terrible wailing,

which of course
was the first air-raid siren.

Chamberlain took it very seriously

and his wife appeared with an enormous
basket full of things for the night

and Thermos flasks
and things to read and so on.

And so we all went and sheltered.

I went and sheltered after some delay
in the Foreign Office.

The whole of the Horse Guards Parade
was empty of people

and there was nobody in sight anywhere.

When I got there, there was no furniture
so I had to sit on the floor.

And an air-raid warden
said that there would be no gas.

But of course there wasn't really
any war for some time,

quite apart from being no gas.

(air-raid siren)

(narrator) So, no war that day,
or for many months.

People settled down
to enjoy the unexpected reprieve.

It was perfect weather
for a late holiday—or invading Poland.

(♪ military band)

People had braced themselves
for a grimmer war.

Hospitals were cleared
to take air-raid casualties.

The experts predicted
over a million injured in two months.

Children and their mothers evacuated
from the cities—1.5 million of them.

For some, a nightmare.
For others, an adventure.

(man) We assembled
in a playground rather like this.

The kids were there and the parents.

Children had the gas mask over
their shoulder and labels tied to them.

(woman) The women had to decide
whether to keep their children with them

or whether to allow them to go out.

Now, one would think
that this was an easy decision.

Why not keep your children with you—
the natural thing to do?

But against this
was the terrible thought

that there was going to be gas,

that there was going to be
terrible bombing and death

and that children would be maimed.

(man) Everyone was crying—
the parents and children—

and as we moved off especially,
people burst into tears.

My mother was more unhappy
about the wrench of us going

rather than the war itself.

My sister was crying.
I personally wasn't.

I was rather excited at the prospect
of leaving this part of London.

We thought we'd travelled
to the other side of the world,

but in fact, we came to Denham, here,
only 20 miles from London.

I promised my mother
I wouldn't be separated from my sister,

so we went to the village hall
with all the other kids,

and because we wouldn't be separated,
we were the last ones to find a billet.

It was like being auctioned off
at the time.

But when we finally got a house
to take us in, it was fantastic.

It was a new world
that opened out to us.

I mean, we had toothbrushes
and sheets on the bed and hot water.

Imagine hot water!
We just couldn't get over it.

And we didn't know
what eiderdowns were for.

In the morning
we went blackberry picking.

Then we heard the sirens,
so we rushed back to our billet.

The woman there reassured us and said
not to worry, and we sat down to lunch.

It was the first fully laid-out table
I'd ever seen in my life.

And war was declared,
I think, that same lunchtime.

She said not to worry
and passed us the horseradish sauce.

But I think a number of children
suffered really deeply

being away from their families.

They suffered a sense of rejection.

They exhibited their senses of rejection
and sorrow and suffering

very often by
strange behaviour problems,

by bedwetting, perhaps not eating.

31 arrived, with two junior nurses,
I think.

They were pretty dirty
and two of them got impetigo.

I had young children at the time.

And I put them into a large room.

You've no idea… I had no idea
that such things existed in England.

They relieved themselves
all over the carpet

and the place was a shambles.

(man shouts orders)

(narrator) There was no heroic rush
to volunteer for the forces.

You waited your turn to be called up

for processing
in the military sausage machine.

All rather leisurely.

(church bells)

But a rush to get married.

In August and September, the highest
number of weddings ever recorded.

White the only wear.

White for the blackout too, to make sure
car drivers can see you in the dark.

At first the blackout
was a bit of a joke.

Then road casualties shot up
and the blackout wasn't funny any more.

There were no air raids,

but thousands of people were killed
or injured in accidents in the blackout.

Depressing, too. Without it, you could
almost forget there was a war on.

Every night, every home
had to be blacked out.

The air-raid warden
looking for chinks of light

became more hated than Hitler.

The government closed cinemas
and entertainments

at the beginning of the war.

A fortnight later
they were allowed to open again.

(♪ band plays “We're Going to Hang Out
the Washing on the Siegfried Line”)

In spite of total war, there were nearly
a million and a half unemployed.

Sir John Simon,
the chancellor of the exchequer,

introduced an emergency budget.

In three hours' time

all budget secrets will be revealed.

I am confident
that, whatever may be the burdens

which have to be carried
by the British taxpayer,

my fellow countrymen will bear them

with the same resolution and courage

as our fighting men will show

when they discharge their grimmer task
on the field of battle.

(cheering)

The blackout budget.
Income tax up to 7s 6d.

A 60% tax on excess profit.

In retrospect, mild enough,

but a Conservative MP, Chips Channon,

thought it demolished
the edifice of capitalism.

Another Tory, Leo Amery, wanted
a tougher war. Why not bomb Germany?

The air minister Kingsley Wood said no.

German munition works
were private property

and the Germans would retaliate.

The opening phase of the war

was one of the most extraordinary
periods through which I've lived,

because it was a period of euphoria

on the part of the people
of this country.

For a long time
there were quite a lot of unemployed,

while the Germans
were manufacturing arms at full stretch,

particularly in the Skoda works
in Czechoslovakia,

which they had by that time occupied.

Now, all this time the Germans
were a beehive of activity.

We were doing absolutely nothing.

We'd gone to war
for the defence of Poland.

In the event, we did nothing
to help Poland at all.

We never lifted a finger.

For the first three months of the war,

the greatest number of casualties
were in the blackout.

We confined our war effort to dropping
leaflets on the German people

telling them that it was a bad idea
to go to war

and that it was a pity
that they'd done it

and perhaps we might make peace.

(narrator) The Phoney War.

When a German plane
crashed in Scotland in November,

people came from miles around to see it.

And the Luftwaffe's dead were buried
with full military honours.

Three British divisions went off
to France at the beginning of the war.

More followed. “Nearly 200,000 men,”
said the war minister proudly.

The French had mobilised
six million men.

They grumbled that the British
weren't taking the war seriously.

(Gracie Fields)
♪ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye

(men join in)
♪ Cheerio, here I go on my way

♪ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye

♪ With a cheer, not a tear, make it gay

♪ Give me a smile
I can keep all the while

♪ In my heart while I'm away

♪ Till we meet once again, you and I

♪ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye

(narrator) In France,
training for a war that ended in 1918.

The newsreel reporter tried hard
to make it sound impressive.

(reporter) The force, instead of
being thrown into the line,

is able to perfect its training
in conditions similar to those at home.

This bayonet drill in gas masks is our
reply to transparent Nazi propaganda

which seems to indicate that Germany
is preparing to employ poison gas.

Infantry battalions exercise
with their weapons,

awaiting the moment
for their use in actual warfare.

The mortar platoon goes into action

with a rapidity acquired
by constant practice.

Steel helmets assume a fashionable
appearance with camouflage.

(narrator)
French and British generals too

prepared for their part
in the battle to come.

The British dug in
on the Belgian frontier.

In December it was decided
that when fighting began

they'd leave their defences
and advance into Belgium.

Anything helped
to keep their minds off the war.

(♪ “Maginot Line” by George Formby)

♪ Now, imagine me in the Maginot line

♪ Sitting on a mine in the Maginot line

♪ Now it's turned out nice again

♪ The army life is fine

♪ French girls make a fuss of me

♪ I'm not French as you can see

♪ But I know what they mean
when they say oui, oui

♪ Down on the Maginot line

♪ Now, imagine me in the Maginot line

♪ Sitting on a mine in the Maginot line

♪ Now it's turned out nice again

♪ The army life is fine

♪ At night myself to sleep I sing

♪ To my old tin hat I cling

♪ I have to use it now for everything

♪ Down on the Maginot line

(cheering)

(narrator) “Winston's back,”
the navy was told on September 3.

Chamberlain was reluctant to recall
his most bitter political opponent

with a reputation
for military adventure.

But Churchill was popular
with the public.

He had warned them war was coming.

Now, with surprising energy
for a 64-year-old,

he proved a willing leader.

The RAF dropped leaflets,
the army dug trenches,

but Churchill's navy
was Britain's strongest arm.

And the first lord of the admiralty
was often in the news.

We are in a very different position

from that we were in ten weeks ago.

We are far stronger
than we were ten weeks ago.

We are far better prepared

to endure the worst malice
of Hitler and his Huns

than we were at the beginning
of September.

(narrator) The news
that a German battleship

was sinking British merchantmen
gave the chance to take the offensive.

Churchill concentrated much of
the navy's strength on finding her.

One hunting group patrolled off
the River Plate in South America.

Three cruisers—
Exeter, Ajax and Achilles.

At dawn on December 13
they sighted a heavier German ship.

It was the pocket battleship
Admiral Graf Spee.

Although outgunned,
the cruisers engaged her.

The Battle of the River Plate began.

(man) Within about five minutes
of the alarm being sounded,

Graf Spee and Exeter
were shooting at each other

and the Ajax and Achilles
were both shooting at the Graf Spee,

concentrating their gunfire.

The Exeter was quite soon hit

and received early damage.

Her foremost guns
only fired a few rounds each

before they were out of action.

She continued as long as she
possibly could with her after turret,

but the ship herself was badly damaged.
Her speed was reduced.

The six-inch-gun cruisers before long
turned directly towards the Graf Spee

so as to close the range still faster

and the captain of the Graf Spee

did not follow up the Exeter entirely,

but indeed before very long
started heading towards Montevideo.

But we could not see
any spectacular damage inflicted on him,

and indeed his speed
seemed to be unimpaired

and his heavy guns were still firing
regularly and with very good accuracy.

(narrator) The Graf Spee took on fuel

and put ashore the crews
of the merchant ships she'd sunk.

Captain Langsdorff asked the Uruguayans
for permission to stay

but was told he must clear the port
in 72 hours.

So he buried his dead.

Believing that heavier British ships
were waiting for him,

he prepared to carry out
his final orders from Berlin.

(Woodhouse) As soon as he started
pulling his anchor up

we got news of it from our people ashore

and we sent off our aircraft.

In due course we got the signal
from the aircraft,

which was a very welcome one:

“Graf Spee has blown herself up.”

(narrator) Two days later,
Langsdorff shot himself.

Churchill made the most of a victory
won by bluff rather than gun power.

Two of the cruisers were brought home.

(♪ “A Life on the Ocean Wave”
by Henry Russell)

Their crews marched
through the City of London to Guildhall

and the first lord of the admiralty
basked in their glory.

(Churchill) The brilliant sea fight

which you executed,

those who are here executed,

takes its place in our naval annals

and I may add
that in a dark, cold winter,

it warmed the cockles
of the British heart.

(cheering)

(air-raid siren)

(narrator) Helsinki, November 30, 1939.

Finland has refused
to hand over bases and territory

demanded by her neighbour Russia.

The Russians attack.

The massive Russian army
crossed the frontier,

apparently set
for the kind of easy victory

the Germans had had in Poland.

But the Finns, few in number,
fought back.

Camouflaged Finnish ski troops
knew how to use their own conditions,

moving round the Russian flanks,
cutting their supply lines.

The Russian advance ground to a halt,

confirming the German belief
that the Russian army,

purged by Stalin of many
of its regular officers, couldn't fight.

Whole Russian divisions were destroyed.

Those who weren't taken prisoner
died in the snow—

for the Russians,
a humiliating, if temporary, failure.

In Britain it was snowing, too.

The censorship tried to hush it up
but people couldn't help noticing it.

To the trials of the blackout were added
the worst winter for 45 years,

a coal shortage, burst pipes
and food rationing.

The RAF was grounded.

Troops were called in
to keep the trains running.

For the navy, another victory.

Taking refuge in a Norwegian fjord,

the Graf Spee's supply ship Altmark
was cornered by British destroyers.

Ignoring Norwegian neutrality,
they boarded her

and after a fight
released 300 British prisoners.

For Hitler the seizure of the Altmark
was a setback.

He hastened his plans to invade Norway.

(cheering)

For Churchill, another popular triumph.

He too had his eyes on Norway.

Churchill's colleagues
had discussed for months

his plan for British action in Norway,

but some, like the foreign secretary
Lord Halifax,

were difficult to persuade.

Churchill now added a plan
to help Finland

as part of the Norwegian operation.

He proposed to stop
Germany's important supply of iron ore,

which came from Sweden
to the Norwegian port of Narvik.

Then it was shipped to Germany
through neutral Norwegian waters.

Churchill wanted to mine the waters

and he added enticingly
that if Narvik were captured

it could be used as a base for helping
Finland against Communist Russia.

Churchill knew that his plan might mean
retaliation by Hitler in Norway,

and helping Finland
could mean war with Russia.

Chamberlain was concerned
about innocent Norwegian lives

and the effect on American opinion.

Eventually, he was persuaded.

(man) I think that deep down
he still hoped

that perhaps the major clash of armies
could be avoided.

He thought that Germany

was on the verge of starvation,

or if not on the verge of starvation,

it anyhow would be brought to the verge
of starvation by economic warfare.

He thought also that deep down

the German people didn't support Hitler,

that this was a clique and that
if we did our propaganda properly

there would perhaps be
a revolt of the generals

or somebody else against Hitler

and that therefore dropping propaganda
leaflets by bomber command of the RAF

rather than bombs
was a good way of conducting the war.

Anything to stop
the real major outbreak.

And that is why I think to some extent
the campaigns in Norway

were something acceptable
to Chamberlain,

because it kept the war distant.

It kept the idea of a real big clash,

a repetition of Passchendaele
or the Somme, far away.

It meant that war would be localised
and perhaps some miracle would happen.

Perhaps Hitler would die
or be assassinated

and the whole thing would end
with the minimum of bloodshed.

Finland today

amidst her snows and her frozen lakes

is fighting against the forces
of unscrupulous violence

just as we are ourselves.

(applause)

And her need calls
for our sympathy and our aid.

(no sound)

(narrator) British aid
did go to Finland, but late.

The Russians
brought all their weight to bear

and overwhelmed the Finnish defences.

The day the British steeled themselves
to force a landing in Norway,

Finland surrendered.

So Britain was saved from war against
Russia and Germany at the same time.

The armistice terms gave Russia
most of what she wanted.

Hundreds of thousands of Finns
had to evacuate their homes.

The French prime minister Daladier

had staked everything
on helping Finland.

He was replaced by Paul Reynaud.

Reynaud went on pressing
for Churchill's operation

to cut off the German iron ore.

An Allied meeting in London
decided to mine Norwegian waters.

Churchill had got his way.

British and French troops
stood ready to invade Norway.

The mines were laid on April 8.

A few days earlier,
no thought of Norway in his mind,

Chamberlain had proclaimed
that Hitler had missed the bus.

And General Ironside
dared the Germans to do their worst.

Hitler's invasion force
sailed on April 6.

The Luftwaffe took over
most of the Norwegian airfields.

(♪ marching band)

The German march into Oslo
was led by a band.

Norway had no standing army,
only half-trained militia.

The Norwegians
were antimilitarist by tradition

and they had seen German newsreels
of the blitzkrieg on Poland.

No one wanted Oslo
to go the way of Warsaw.

There was little resistance.

The Allied operation in Norway
was a muddle from the start.

Troops were embarked, disembarked,
embarked again, without vital equipment.

A contingent of French troops sailed
with the British, plentifully equipped.

Unlike the British,
they were trained for winter conditions,

but they hadn't got straps
for their skis.

Even the expedition's objectives
were confused.

Trondheim in central Norway
was to be captured by a pincer attack

from Andalsnes and Namsos.

So some troops were diverted south.

But Churchill's mind
was still fixed on Narvik,

and it was there
the first battle took place.

The navy bombarded Narvik

and German destroyers already there
took a battering.

But the advantage was lost.

The British army commander didn't make
a direct assault on the town.

British Territorials did land
at Namsos and Andalsnes.

They had no skis,
no proper maps of Norway,

and no heavy guns.

There was little they could do when
they ran into the well-equipped Germans.

Captain Martin Lindsay
was with the British force at Namsos.

(Lindsay) There was no hope at all
for this operation

because it was entirely improvised
at short notice and in a great hurry

and the force had no aircraft
supporting it and no artillery.

But even more important,
all the ground was covered with snow

and the only way to operate
was with ski troops,

and we hadn't got ski troops.

Therefore the troops
were confined to the road.

Whenever the Germans got onto the hills
on the flank they had to retire.

(narrator) The British
couldn't stop the Luftwaffe

from blitzing
the little Norwegian towns.

German control of the Norwegian
airfields was the key to the battle.

The Germans advanced,
capturing hundreds of British prisoners.

Some of these were flown to Berlin
and paraded before Hitler.

Others were put in front
of German newsreel cameras.

You seem to be in a good mood. You don't
find Germans as bad as you expected?

—Oh, no, certainly not.
—Oh, no.

I was captured at Fåberg by the Germans.

From there I came to Lillehammer

and we had a supper.

It consisted of brown bread, Gorgonzola,

wine which the Germans gave to us,
cigarettes.

And a hot meal each day.

And I'm getting on fairly decent.

I hope the war will soon be over
and we'll all go back home.

(narrator)
Most did go home ingloriously,

abandoning Andalsnes and Namsos
still burning.

Chased by the Luftwaffe—the Norwegian
campaign rammed home the lesson

that sea power without air power
could no longer win battles.

Their only honour the part they played
in bringing down a government,

for now the machinery of democracy
began to work.

As the troops disembarked,

an angry parliament was assembling
to debate the disaster.

Feeling cut across party lines.

Captain Lindsay, a Tory, went to
the leader of the Labour opposition.

(Lindsay) Well, I was the first person
from this force to reach London.

I went to see Mr Attlee on the morning
of the first day of the debate

and I gave him a memorandum

about the appalling improvisation
and deficiencies in Norway,

because I was convinced that we should
lose the war if we went on like that,

which he gave to Herbert Morrison

to help him open for the opposition
that afternoon.

The Norway debate was the only
decisive debate I ever attended

during my 34 years as a member
of the House of Commons

because it was the only division

which definitely brought about
the fall of a government.

For nearly a year before that debate

there had been a piling-up
of bitterness and anguish

in the breasts of people

who wanted Britain to go all out
and win the war against Hitler.

And so you can imagine
that the debate was a very fierce one—

not only the Labour opposition
but also Conservatives.

They felt that the whole conduct
of the war could not be carried on

under a man whom they had already
assailed at the time of Munich

and whom they realised
was not really by nature a war leader.

Gradually, the temperature
began to rise,

and when Herbert Morrison
for the Labour Party

announced that they were going to divide
at the end of the debate

against the government…

There was an action group

of which Clement Davies was chairman,
the Liberal leader, and I was secretary.

It was an all-party committee,

committed to pressing for
more decisive action during the war

and a more vigorous posture

and more vigorous prosecution
of the war.

And we decided to hold a meeting
after Morrison's announcement

and we asked Leo Amery
to preside over it.

It was an enormously attended meeting.

Many Conservative
members of parliament were there

and I felt something was happening.

There were a great many
members of parliament

who had never been hitherto
members of our action group

who fetched up at the meeting.

The feeling at the meeting
was passionate.

And I felt, at that time,
that a great many Conservative members

were not only prepared
to abstain in the division

but even to vote against the government.

And I came down from that meeting
with feelings of great tension.

Meanwhile, Churchill had been putting up
a great defence of the government,

and it was ironical again there
because the debate was about Norway

and Norway had been
a series of disasters for which,

although he might not be blamed
because they may have been unavoidable,

he was directly responsible
as first lord of the admiralty.

And Amery made
a most formidable speech

in which he quoted Cromwell's words:

“You have been here long enough
for any good you have done.”

“In the name of God, go.”

And then Lloyd George came down

and made the most devastating speech
I've ever heard even him make

in which he concluded
by saying to Chamberlain:

“You have asked the nation
for sacrifices

but there is one sacrifice
that is more necessary than any other,

and that is
the sacrifice of your own office.”

When the result was announced

and the Conservative majority
fell to about 80,

and that meant the fall
of the government in the circumstances,

I could see Chamberlain,
I can see him now, blanch.

He had asked for friendship

from those who were his friends

and he hadn't got it, and he walked
out of the chamber a solitary figure.

And I felt very sorry for him
at that moment

because I knew that he knew
that he was done.

And I remember Chamberlain
going to his room afterwards

and saying he wondered
whether this could go on.

But it wasn't till the next day that he
really realised that his number was up.

On that particular day the whips,
I think, tried to explain to him

that it might have been worse
and that sort of thing,

but those of us who were with him

could see the writing on the wall
by that time.

During those two days, 9 and 10 May,

there was great doubt
as to who would succeed Chamberlain.

The Labour Party made it clear that if
there was to be a coalition government,

which by now
everybody thought necessary,

they would not serve under Chamberlain.

The choice, therefore,
was between Churchill and Halifax.

(narrator) Lord Halifax
was the obvious successor,

Chamberlain's trusted colleague.

But no peer had been prime minister
for nearly 40 years. As for his rival…

(Colville) Churchill was viewed
with grave misgiving

by the establishment,
as it would now be called.

Everybody at 10 Downing Street
and Whitehall generally,

the cabinet offices, and in very large
sectors of the Conservative Party,

were frightened of Churchill.

They thought he was an adventurer.
They remembered Gallipoli.

They thought that they did not want
to see the fortunes of this country

at a most critical moment
in its whole history

handed over to somebody who might do
the most extraordinary things

and undertake
the most astonishing adventures.

And they all, after all,
realised that Norway,

this fiasco from which
we were just hoping to recover

or had just been saved
in the nick of time,

was largely the inspiration
of Churchill.

It was a very fine idea
but it didn't work, just like Gallipoli.

And therefore it was with
a certain amount of fear of Churchill

that I think the minds of most people

in the centre of government
and in the centre of Whitehall

turned towards Halifax.

Halifax was safe. He was clever.
He was a fellow of All Souls.

He was a man of indisputable charm
and absolute integrity.

And it was hoped that he would perhaps
be sent for by the king.

The Labour Party approached me—

Hugh Dalton and Herbert Morrison—

and they both talked
in favour of Halifax

and they thought
that Halifax ought to take over.

I think their idea always was

that Churchill would run the war
under Halifax,

an idea which didn't appeal to Halifax.

I remember Churchill telling me

that the critical moment came

when Chamberlain asked Halifax and him
to join him in the cabinet room.

And the three of them were there.

Halifax was sitting beside Chamberlain,

who suddenly turned to Churchill
and said:

“Tell me, Winston, do you see any reason
why in the 20th century

a prime minister should not be
in the House of Lords?”

And Churchill thought
that this was a trap.

If he said,
“No, I see no reason at all,”

he thought Chamberlain
would turn to Halifax

and say, “In that case,
if the king were to ask my advice

I could perhaps suggest you.”

On the other hand, it would be difficult
for him to say, “Yes, I do,”

because then there could be
no alternative but himself.

So he turned round and stood staring
over the Horse Guards Parade

and did not reply to the question.

The decision, I think,
was largely taken by Halifax

who told me he had a pain in his stomach
an hour or two before the meeting

and did not really want
to be prime minister,

whereas the man who did want
to be prime minister—

he was quite determined—was Churchill.

(narrator) At dawn the Germans swept
into Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg.

The war was at last
coming very close home to Britain.

As the Allied armies braced themselves
for battle, Chamberlain resigned

and advised the king
to send for Churchill.

(Colville) Churchill would be a gamble,

and perhaps when you're
at a very serious moment of your lives,

a gamble is not the thing to undertake,

and so it was with great despair

that we all heard
on the evening of 10 May

that the king had sent for Churchill.