War Diaries, 1939-1945: Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke. Lord Alan Francis Brooke, Alex Danchev, and Daniel Todman. London: Phoenix Press, 2002.
Among the estimated four billion people currently undergoing some sort of isolation in response to the coronavirus pandemic, I’m surely not the only one who is hoping their political leaders and scientific advisers are taking cues from those who have gone before them in confronting existential challenges. On a personal level, I’ve committed myself to use this time to see whether I too can draw a few lessons from the past to better make sense of this new reality.
The bulk of my quarantine reading has thus far centered on the life of Field Marshal Lord Alan Francis Brooke, more commonly known as Alanbrooke. My “quest for Alanbrooke,” as my wife has described it, has focused on two works. I began with 2001’s War Diaries: 1939-1945, Alanbrooke’s unexpurgated wartime reflections. Under the able editorship of Alex Danchev and Daniel Todman, War Diaries has done much to reestablish Alanbrooke’s place among the military giants of that conflict. I also complemented Alanbrooke’s own words with those of David Fraser in his generally excellent 1982 biography, Alanbrooke, a work that added much-needed context and detail to the life of the Field Marshal.
A Soldier of Empire
Alanbrooke was one of the leading lights of the Allied effort in the Second World War. As the British military’s Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS), he was the professional head of the British Army and the principal military adviser to Prime Minister Winston Churchill. In the words of that most famous of British generals, Bernard Montgomery, “Both as a commander and staff officer Brooke was by far the greatest soldier of the war.”[1] Alanbrooke’s most herculean task may have been the daily challenge of trying to channel the best intentions and worst impulses of the larger-than-life Prime Minister, a man he described on November 30, 1942, as “a hard taskmaster, and the most difficult man to serve that I have ever met, but it is worth all these difficulties to have the privilege to work with such a man.”[2]
Born in 1883, Alanbrooke was every bit the product of late-Victorian Britain, the son of a prominent Anglo-Irish family. Commissioned into the British Army in 1902, the young Alanbrooke was already a seasoned soldier—considered a rising star in the Royal Artillery—by the outbreak of the First World War. During that conflict, he distinguished himself as a highly effective staff officer.
Lieutenant-General Sir Alan Brooke sits for a portrait being painted by Reginald Eves, 30 April 1940. (Wikimedia)
Alanbrooke’s inter-war years were spent in a variety of increasingly senior positions and, according to David Fraser, his reputation among fellow officers and subordinates was sterling. With the outbreak of the Second World War, Alanbrooke was made a corps commander in the British Expeditionary Forces (BEF) in France. In this role, he was one of the few senior British officers who distinguished themselves in that ill-fated campaign, being given credit for organizing the successful retreat and rescue of the British Expeditionary Forces from the beaches of Dunkirk. Alanbrooke’s undisputed competence made him one of the few figures Churchill considered for the all-important Chief of the Imperial General Staff role.
A Fumbled First Effort
Alanbrooke’s diaries made their first public appearance in the late 1950s, when they formed the foundation for a two-volume narrative history of the war by Arthur Bryant. Although a commercial success, Bryant’s work is now seen as faltering under the weight of heavy-editing and inadequate context. Danchev and Todman conclude Bryant “should have known better” than to portray Alanbrooke as so contemptuous of the Prime Minister, a man then still living and nearly deified in the public consciousness.[3]
It appears Alanbrooke’s decision to publish his most unguarded thoughts was sadly driven by a need for money in the bleak austerity years after the war. Danchev and Todman also argue Alanbrooke felt compelled to cooperate with Bryant after seeing many of his former colleagues release their own wartime recollections, many of which he disagreed with.
A Glimpse Beyond the Stiff-Upper Lip
There is no doubt that Alanbrooke could be imperious in his relationships with those around him. But he also clearly felt that an approach to command any less hard-edged was likely to fail in the face of, in the words of Danchev and Todman, “obtuse politicians, obstructive Americans, obstreperous Russians, obmutescent Chinese—to say nothing of the enemy—and, in a class of his own, Winston.”[4] Danchev and Todman even refer to Alanbrooke as an “unhappy warrior.”[5] However, they believe this persona “was his merit. It is what separated him from Churchill, ultimately, and from so many of his peers.”[6]
While Alanbrooke relied on a stern countenance and air of patrician authority, his diary entries and Fraser’s biography often show a man given to great introspection, self-awareness, and no stranger to great personal loss. For example, his first wife died in a car accident in 1925, and his adult daughter was killed in a riding accident just prior to his death in 1963. The closing words of his diary entry from May 27, 1944, just over a week before the Allied invasion of Normandy, make it clear that this determined Ulsterman was also self-aware enough to know the stresses of his daily life during a world war were taking an awful emotional toll:
…I never again want to go through a time like the present one. The cross-channel operation (D-Day) is just eating into my heart. I wish to God we could start and have done with it![7]
Alanbrooke also had deep non-soldierly passions, particularly for nature, which in the words of Fraser, gave him that “extra dimension any great professional needs if he is to be a whole man.”[8] For example, he was considered one of the world’s pioneers in wildlife photography and was also an avid bird-watcher. It is apparent the natural world gave Alanbrooke a degree of pleasure completely detached from, but also complementary to, his performance while in uniform.
A Role Made for the Man
Alanbrooke’s unrelenting focus, work ethic, and ability to manage stress, particularly in the days and weeks around the seemingly imminent German invasion of Great Britain in 1940, sets a standard that any contemporary policymaker would do well to emulate.
The diaries as published by Danchev and Todman contain nearly 700 pages of entries. Some are short and indicative of a man unable to muster the intellectual energy to put down on paper any more than the most basic details of his ceaselessly hectic days. More often though, the entries offer fascinating insights into the energy and resolve inherent to being one of the most important actors in the global Allied war effort.
The composure of Alanbrooke was much commented on by his peers. His imperturbability was surely evidence of a man who survived the Western Front and all its attendant horrors, in addition to averting unmitigated disaster for the British Expeditionary Forces on the beaches of France. In terms of modern parallels in the world of coronavirus, Alanbrooke was the embodiment of the levelheaded domain expert called upon in a time of great national emergency; he offered proficiency and poise under immense strain.
Alanbrooke in an Age of Coronavirus
What do we have to learn from a leader who, in contemporary times, would likely be seen as a disciplinarian lacking in emotional intelligence and charisma? From the perspective of someone currently waiting out the coronavirus tragedy in Barcelona, witnessing the Spanish state brought to its knees in a way unseen since the civil war of the 1930s, the world’s elected leaders and their advisers could certainly draw a few lessons in leadership from this archetypical stiff upper-lipped Briton.
One need look no further than Alanbrooke’s relationship with Churchill to see the trait that is surely of most relevance today: his willingness to speak truth to power. His diary entry from July 6, 1944 captures his readiness—and what he clearly felt was his duty—to stand up against Churchill’s perceived irrationality and bullying toward his senior military leaders.
The diary entry in question focuses on a heated group discussion in which the Prime Minister—“very tired” and “trying to recuperate with drink”—began an angry tirade about the perceived slowness of operations headed by General Montgomery.[9] As this was only the most recent of Churchill’s broadsides against his general officers, Alanbrooke decided he’d had enough. “I flared up and asked him if he could not trust his generals for five minutes instead of continuously abusing them and belittling them...He was furious with me, but I hope it may do some good in the future.”[10]
As Danchev and Todman conclude, Alanbrooke viewed his role less of adviser to Churchill and more as a “nanny.”[11] He was in nearly every way the Prime Minister’s opposite, yet he recognized that Churchill, with his rhetorical flair and strategic vision—no matter how frequently the latter was misguided—was vital to the British war effort and to sustaining the spirit of the average citizen. This task required a guardian who was not a rival and could focus his energies on bringing out the premier’s better angels.
Alanbrooke’s level-headedness even in times of high stress has already been commented on. Yet there was a related feature of his personality that frequently came to the fore during the war. He had no compunction about taking to task even his close friends and colleagues if he felt their performance was lacking. He was a vocal supporter of General Montgomery, yet he knew this advocacy would require him to play the role of chaperone to the egotistical and socially inept Monty, never hesitating to tell him when his behavior was out of bounds. As demonstrated by Montgomery’s lavish praise for Alanbrooke following the war, he never took his superior’s criticism personally.
Winston Churchill with Field Marshal Sir Bernard Montgomery and Field Marshal Sir Alan Brooke during the Prime Minister's tour of troops taking part in the Rhine crossing, 25 March 1945. (Wikimedia)
Alanbrooke’s devotion to the cause of victory also included a readiness to check his own personal ambitions in the interest of the Allied war effort. I was intrigued to learn that he coveted the role of supreme commander of the D-Day invasion force for Operation Overlord and that Churchill initially supported him in this aim until it became clear that the preponderance of force offered by the Americans meant the command was theirs for the taking. Alanbrooke was doubly disappointed as he had turned down command of all Middle East forces just two years prior, feeling his greatest contribution at that moment would be made at the Prime Minister’s side.
An Old Soldier’s Mediation, Relevant Today
While it is unlikely that Bryant’s long out-of-print work or even Danchev’s and Todman’s nearly 20-year old volume will be on the reading list of those elected officials and public health experts tasked with addressing the coronavirus pandemic, they could do far worse than thinking a bit about Alanbrooke’s approach to leadership.
Alanbrooke’s six years at the apex of the British military, at a time when the nation faced its greatest crisis of modern history, tells a story of the inherent value of deep professional competence, a willingness to register dissent, and a commitment to an ideal greater than any single organization or individual. Alanbrooke proved the criticality of remaining unruffled by those things outside of his control, yet demanding the very best from those within his domain.
Perhaps Alanbrooke’s thoughts from the evening of August 15, 1945—the day of Japan’s surrender—best capture what propelled him through the trauma of the preceding years, driven by a selflessness and commitment surely recognizable to those on the front lines battling the coronavirus today:
The end of this war for certain. Six very long years of continuous struggle, nerve wracking anxiety, dashed hopes, hopeless bleak horizons, endless difficulties with Winston, etc, etc finished with! When I look back at the bleakest moments it becomes almost impossible to believe that we stand where we do.[12]
One can hope this coda to the war effort will be shared in the not-too-distant future by the brave health-care workers, first responders, and others fighting a battle Field Marshal Alanbrooke would surely commend.
Todd Johnson is the risk and intelligence leader for a leading multinational manufacturing firm. He has previously held roles in corporate strategy, political and partnership risk management, and in the U.S. Government as a political-military intelligence analyst. The opinions and positions stated are his alone and do not represent the views or policies of any company or organization.
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Header Image: General Bernard Montgomery in his staff car with General Harold Alexander and General Sir Alan Brooke in Italy, 15 December 1943. (Wikimedia)
Notes:
[1] Brian Montgomery, A Field Marshal in the Family, (1973, repr., Barnsley: Pen & Sword Books, 2010), 272.
[2] Alex Danchev and Daniel Todman, eds., War Diaries: 1939-1945, Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke, (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2001)., 345.
[3] Danchev & Todman, xxiii.
[4] Ibid., xviii.
[5] Ibid., xxvi.
[6] Ibid., xxvi.
[7] Ibid., 551.
[8] Fraser, xxi.
[9] Danchev & Todman, 566.
[10] Ibid., 566.
[11] Ibid., xviii.
[12] Danchev & Todman, 718.