Defence Studies

ISSN: 1470-2436 (Print) 1743-9698 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/fdef20

The Political‐Military Interface: Friction in the

Conduct of British Army Operations in North
Africa 1940–1942

Major James De La Billière British Army

To cite this article: Major James De La Billière British Army (2005) The Political‐Military Interface:
Friction in the Conduct of British Army Operations in North Africa 1940–1942, Defence Studies, 5:2,
247-270, DOI: 10.1080/14702430500336368

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/14702430500336368

Published online: 08 Aug 2006.

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 ARTICLE

The Political-Military Interface:

Friction in the Conduct of British Army
Operations in North Africa 1940–1942
M A J O R J A M ES D E LA B I LLI È RE , BRIT ISH ARMY

Friction is an enduring feature of warfare. Clausewitz identified it as the

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‘the force that makes the apparently easy difficult’.1 And modern commen-
tators still recognise its importance because ‘an understanding of friction
remains fundamental to understanding the realities of warfare’.2 Friction
occurs because of the intensely human dimension of war. And one of the
most critical human interactions during war is the one that develops
between politicians and their military commanders. Here, not only do
political careers become tied to military results, but the risk of danger to the
whole fabric of the society at war is managed. It is the magnitude of these
stakes that create a unique atmosphere in which the statesman and the
military commander have to conduct business.
This article focuses on one aspect of friction in wartime: that which can
emerge between politicians and their generals. It will explain that within this
relationship of two ‘elites’ there are some sources of friction which are
enduring. They manifest themselves in issues as diverse as competing
political and military objectives, differences in personalities and plain
misunderstandings. These areas provide the framework for the analysis of
this question which will be answered through the use of a case study.
This study will begin by examining the classical and contemporary
theory of civil-military relations. This will illustrate how academic litera-
ture addresses the issue, and how this ties in with current British Military
Doctrine. Through the analysis of a case study, British operations in North
Africa 1940–42, the lessons from a practical perspective are then identified.
These support, supplement or contradict the theory. Finally, their

Major James de la Billière, British Army, Advanced Command and Staff Course No. 8, JSCSC,
Shrivenham, Sept. 2004 – July 2005.

Defence Studies, Vol. 5, No.2 (June 2005), pp. 247–270

ISSN 1470-2436
DOI: 10.1080/14702430500336368 © 2005 Taylor & Francis
248 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

relevance to the modern battlefield is considered before some conclusions

are then put forward.
The aim therefore is to identify, from a British Army perspective, what
the potential sources of friction are in political-military relationships in
wartime, what their consequences may be and of what relevance these
lessons are for today. Though the conclusions do not pretend to offer a
comprehensive solution to this enduring problem, they do contend that
understanding the findings will assist in mitigating their impact in the
future.
In order to inform the answer to this question, a case study approach has
been adopted, using the campaign in North Africa from June 1940 until the
beginning of Operation ‘Torch’ in November 1942. There are various
reasons for this decision and the first relates to availability of information.
Due to the high classification of political and military discussions at the
strategic level, the facts and detail of more recent operations are not yet
available which would limit a more contemporary study. But in addition,
the time since the end of the case study has allowed a balanced array of
literature to be produced on the subject. This varies from the personal
memoirs of those involved such as Churchill, Brooke and Montgomery to
the more objective research of Correlli Barnett or David Reynolds. Barnett
has been able to scrutinise the actions and memoirs of The Desert Generals in
the light of the release of the intelligence that was available to them at the
time. Reynolds has produced a seminal critique of Churchill’s The Second
World War in light of his recent access to the Churchill College Archives
Centre.
The second reason for choosing North Africa 1940–42 relates to the
campaign itself. As a campaign fought within the context of total war, the
issues that emerge are highly focused, unlike those that emerge in a more
limited war. For example, fighting for national survival removes much of
the clutter that might surround a highly politically driven campaign.
Churchill mentions that in the heat of battle ‘the sense of duty dominates
all else, and personal claims recede’.3 This focus allows the central issues to
be more clearly identified. But at the same time the campaign was also tacti-
cally discrete in its nature. This, in many respects, exemplifies the expedi-
tionary nature of warfare that Britain is now involved in. Finally, Britain
was a lead nation during the case study period and the impact of alliances
and agreements with other Commonwealth countries offers parallels with
coalition operations of recent times.
Both primary and secondary research methodologies have been used in
this investigation. In particular many important personal recollections have
been captured through the use of memoirs, diaries and personal accounts
FR ICTION IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 249

of those involved in the campaign. An array of secondary source academic

and historical literature has been used to provide contextual and factual
detail for the research.
This is an important area of study. An understanding of potential
sources of friction in the relationships of politicians and the military in
wartime gives the greatest opportunity for such friction to be avoided. This
would hopefully mitigate one of the many hurdles that leaders have to
overcome in what is a truly complex and dangerous situation. Furthermore
an understanding of it helps prevent such friction from becoming a vulner-
ability or weakness that the enemy can exploit.4 There is of course, little
substitute for learning from others to assist in this, and as such the next
section sets the context for the analysis by examining the academic and
doctrinal literature on the subject.

Theory and Doctrine

An understanding of political-military relations from an academic perspec-
tive will help provide a benchmark against which the case study can be
examined. Three main issues will be considered here, first the nature of the
political-military relationship. Second it will be seen if the theory offers any
indication of potential sources of friction between politicians and soldiers.
Finally from a doctrinal standpoint it will be investigated at what level the
political-military interface is conducted. This paper answers the first two of
these questions by considering the classical and contemporary theory of
civil-military relations. A study of current British Military Doctrine will
help bring clarity to the third aspect.
It is tempting to consider, on reading Clausewitz, that the nature of the
political-military relationship is one sided. After all, ‘war is not merely an
act of policy but a true political instrument, a continuation of political inter-
course, carried on with other means’.5 But in practical terms, even to
Clausewitz, the notion of political primacy is not so clear. He recognises
that ‘war in general, and the commander in any specific instance is entitled
to require that the trends and designs of policy shall not be inconsistent
with these means’.6 This suggests that the relationship is a two-way one, and
that the military have a part to play in shaping political strategy.
But Samuel Huntington, writing in 1957, considers that the relation-
ship should be, at best, very distant. In the Soldier and the State he sets out a
theory of civil-military relations that has become known as the ‘normal
theory’. Huntington believes that the military, particularly the officer corps,
is a profession whose central skill is the ‘management of violence’.7 When
officers are allowed to develop the professionalism of their service they
250 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

become independent of direct political control. This is the theory of ‘objec-

tive control’ and allows soldiers to respect the bounds of democratic poli-
tics, and politicians to leave purely military matters to officers.8 To illustrate
this Huntington quotes a US Command and General Staff College 1936
publication. It reads ‘Politics and strategy are fundamentally things apart.
Strategy begins where politics ends…having found the line [of demarcation
between the two], all sides must abstain from trespassing.’9 To Huntington
therefore the political and the military are discrete elements and should
respect the distance between each other. The relevance of such an approach
in British civil-military relations is questionable not least given the different
cultures and different geo-strategic positions held by the US and Great
Britain.
Professor S. E. Finer, the British scholar, rejects Huntington’s view in
his 1965 book The Man on Horseback: The Role of the Military in Politics. He
claims that the military are not apolitical at all, but will seek, at every level
from blackmail to a coup d’état, to influence policy and policy-making.
This indicates a very close relationship between the two, where the military
are fully integrated into the political machinery.
Hew Strachan, a current British military historian, believes that for the
British Army specifically a combination of these theories may be appropri-
ate. He sees that the military is apolitical in so far as it does not carry out
coups.10 However, as a professional body it has been impelled into politics,
because political awareness is a part of being a professional military.11 Bear-
ing this in mind, it is proposed here that for the British Army in war, polit-
ical primacy is the rule, although political strategic decision-making will not
be made in isolation without a military input. It is the sources of difficulties
in achieving this balance that is the subject of this article. So having estab-
lished the nature of the political-military relationship, it is now appropriate
to examine from a theoretical perspective some causes of friction in it.
Central to the question of managing the relationship between politicians
and the military is whether military personnel are representative of the civil-
ian society that they come from or not. Sir John Keegan believes that in
many respects this is not the case and that the true warrior is different. He
mentions that ‘war…must be fought by men whose values and skills are not
those of politicians or diplomats’.12 Thus, for Keegan, underlying the rela-
tionship between military commander and politician is a fundamental
difference in personality. American Eliot Cohen develops this point further.
He mentions that the warrior spirit is opposed to politics and that warriors
will on occasion take war in directions that make no political sense.13
Conversely, however, other commentators suggest that at senior mili-
tary command there is more of a convergence in attitudes and personalities.
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 251

British military sociologist Christopher Dandeker sees that with the advent
of technology, in particular information technology and the media, there is
pressure on the military to become political managers.14 This indicates a
politicisation of the senior military, bringing them more in line with their
political masters. But in truth, both personality types can exist. There are
senior military commanders who favour an operational focus and there are
those with a more political focus, and this is one of the strengths of the
British Army. So this diversity of human nature inevitably means that there
is scope for personality issues to become a source of friction in the political-
military relationship.
The theory offers a source for a second area of potential conflict, that of
differing objectives between the political and military elites. This difference
can emerge at a fundamental level or at functional (strategic or operational)
level. Gerhard Ritter, in his analysis of the military in Germany, identifies
what he believes to be a fundamental difference in objectives. He mentions
that in total war the military will always try to achieve the maximum achiev-
able with the means at hand, whereas political objectives will relate to
achieving peace and order.15 This is what Cohen sees as the problem of ‘the
military stance and the principle of constructive peace’.16 Cohen believes
these are intrinsically at odds.17 For the British Army it is questionable
whether political primacy would consent to this being the case, particularly
outside of a total war scenario, but nevertheless it indicates of differing
cultural backgrounds at play.
At the functional level, namely strategic or operational, divergence in
objectives may also emerge. This is because of the different influences that
either the politicians or military are susceptible to. Political considerations
may have a diplomatic or financial emphasis to them, while the military
dimension may be aimed purely at achieving operational success. This
divergence is likely to be accentuated when outside of a total war
scenario.18 For the purposes of this argument therefore, less emphasis is
placed on the problems of aligning strategic objectives, and more, assum-
ing relative congruence of objectives, on the impacts of changes and
perceptions of these objectives. From the theory difficulties in harmonis-
ing objectives and personality issues emerge as potential sources of friction
between the politician and military commander. But what the theory also
demonstrates is that there does not appear to be a template that offers a
solution to avoiding them. In a similar vein, neither does there appear to
be a template that prescribes at what levels this relationship should be
conducted.
British Defence Doctrine (BDD), the pinnacle of military writing on
the subject of the political-military interface, attempts to indicate where the
252 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

relationship might exist. BDD sees that there are four levels in which
activity in war takes place. The highest is the Grand Strategic Level. This is
the collective responsibility of the Prime Minister and the Cabinet. It is
about the coordinated use of the three principle instruments of national
power: economic, diplomatic and military. The next level is the Military
Strategic Level. This is directed by a Cabinet minister, the Secretary of State
for Defence, and the minister’s military Chiefs of Staff. The Operational
Level conducts campaign planning; setting objectives, allocating resources
and so on. And finally the Tactical Level is that at which warfighting takes
place.19
These levels suggest that the political-military relationship should
occur in only the Grand Strategic and Military Strategic levels. But they are
by no means rigid, and tactical and strategic overlap is likely to occur. BDD
discourages such overlap, however; ‘political and military leaders at the
strategic level should be discouraged from attempting directly to influence
tactical activity’.20 It can therefore be assumed that even from a doctrinal
perspective, political involvement in military tactical activity is best
avoided.
The reality is, however, that the relationship is complex and exists at
numerous levels. For, although the Levels of War illustrated above appear
simple, they are complicated by the concepts of politics and policy-making
as well as strategy. National policy, the formulation of defence policy and
the mobilisation of national power all add their own linkages. They both
inform and guide each other, requiring political-military interaction at all
levels and both vertically and horizontally. And so it can be deduced that the
political-military relationship exists at many levels at different times,
depending on the requirement of the statesman at the time.
This complexity has been recognised by numerous commentators.
Dandeker argues that the levels of interface, far from being clear, are
blurring. This he attributes to the influence of the media, communications
and therefore public opinion. This encourages ‘close political management
of military operations with an eye to their impact on public opinion’.21 This,
he mentions, increases the risk of micro-management of military opera-
tions. Dandeker, a current commentator, therefore supports the proposition
that there is no specific framework in which the political-military relation-
ship exists. One might therefore deduce that the level at which interaction
takes place also changes depending on the levels of public interest.
This section aimed to set the contextual and theoretical scene for our
case study. It examined the nature of the political-military relationship,
potential sources of friction and at what levels such a relationship may take
place. A consistent theme has emerged that appears to link all three areas.
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 253

This is that the political-military relationship is dynamic and there is no

fixed structure for it. This may be the product of the fact that unlike the
military, politicians take less note of doctrine. Consequently the nature of
the relationship and where it occurs appears to be held in magnetic suspen-
sion. Different factors become more influential at different times. Political
primacy appears to be the ‘pole’, however, and keeps the relationship as
ordered as possible.
Given this dynamic it is possible to conclude that it is unlikely that there
are definitive solutions to eliminating friction at the political-military
interface. The next best alternative is therefore to develop a deeper under-
standing of why such issues arise, for this will help in identifying them early
enough that their effect can be mitigated. But the theoretical viewpoint has
its limitations. Michael Handel states that ‘neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz
dedicate enough attention to civil–military tensions in wartime’.22 As such
a more comprehensive understanding can be gained by considering the
issues raised from a practical perspective, and so it is with this in mind that
our attention is drawn to North Africa 1940–42.

Introduction to the Case Study

The war in North Africa during 1940–42 was one of mixed fortunes.
Throughout it initiative and success ebbed and flowed from Allied to Axis
hands, settling finally with the Allies. The nature of the campaign has
accordingly been described as the ‘Pendulum of War’.23 It was the period of
utmost political and military tension – described on the one hand as the
‘nadir’ of British fortunes,24 in particular when Tobruk fell to General
Erwin Rommel’s Panzer Army Africa in June 1942, and on the other as the
turning point in the war for Allied success.
At the time, the military strategic and operational decision-making took
place in a unique framework. At the very centre was the Prime Minister,
Winston Churchill. He had rationalised the political structure for decision-
making as soon as he assumed the premiership. Before 10 May 1940 there
had been three bodies charged with strategic decision-making: the War
Cabinet, the Standing Ministerial Committee for the Co-ordination of
Defence and the Chief of Staffs Committee. Churchill abolished the
second and stepped in himself, as the Minister of Defence. He also estab-
lished two new committees: the Defence Committee (Operations) and the
Defence Committee (Supply), both of which he chaired personally.25 Of
these the Defence Committee (Operations) was central to directing
military activity and was attended by the Chief of Staffs Committee and the
three Service Ministers.26
254 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

Churchill’s self-appointment as Minister of Defence is the backbone to

the issue being discussed. In real terms it brought the political and military
spheres very close in their deliberations. Where the military were used to
dealing with a standing committee on operational matters, now they faced
the Prime Minister in his capacity as Minister of Defence. This made the
independent judgement of the War Cabinet difficult because they were
acting on advice which the Prime Minister had already approved.27 In
London, the senior army representative who had to manage Churchill’s
energy was the Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS). General Sir
John Dill was CIGS from 27 May 1940 followed by General Sir Alan
Brooke (later Lord Brooke) from 25 December 1941 until 25 January 1946.
In the Middle East the political-military organisation was also rationa-
lised. Middle East defence policy was initially coordinated by the three
theatre service chiefs. In 1939 these were Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham
(Commander-in-Chief (C-in-C) Mediterranean), General Sir Archibald
Wavell (C-in-C Middle East) and Air Marshal Sir William Mitchell (Air
Officer C-in-C). They formed the High Command for all British Forces
in the Middle East.28 Of these, C-in-C Middle East bore some of the
greatest responsibility to be shouldered by a soldier in the war. The vast
theatre was a complex interaction of land, sea and air environments. It
stretched over 4,500,000 square miles and included Egypt, Iraq, Palestine,
Transjordan, Aden and the shores of the Persian Gulf. And it was influ-
enced directly by the fortunes of the Mediterranean countries outside of its
area. From August 1939 until June 1941 General Wavell shouldered this
burden. His successor was General Sir Claude Auchinleck (for just over a
year) and then Lieutenant-General Sir Harold Alexander from August
1942.
At about the same time as Auchinleck’s appointment a political appoint-
ment was also created in Cairo. This was the Secretary of State for the
Middle East – an appointment first held by Mr Oliver Lyttleton. He, in
turn, established the Middle East Defence Committee (MEDC). The
Minister of State and the three C-in-Cs sat on the MEDC. Its role was to
act as a focus for consultation but not to act with executive responsibility for
operational matters.29
On the tactical battlefields of North Africa fought the ‘Desert
Generals’.30 The Western Desert Force (WDF) pioneered Allied desert
warfare, and conducted the victorious 500-mile advance from late 1940 to
February 1941 under the then temporary Lieutenant-General Richard
O’Connor in Operation ‘Compass’. On 1 January 1941 the WDF was
reformed as XIII Corps. Ten months later, on 26 September 1941, the
Eighth Army was established. Perhaps its best known commander, the
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 255

then Lieutenant-General Bernard Montgomery, took command nearly a

year later in August 1942.
This review serves two purposes. First, it identifies the principal organ-
isations in which political and military discourse took place at the time. The
development of the War Cabinet, the Defence Committee (Operations)
and the appointment of the Minister of State for the Middle East also
illustrate that the organisational structures in which the political-military
interaction took place were changeable. The MEDC, and the changing
tactical formations (WDF, XIII Corps and Eighth Army) show that the
military organisations with which the politicians had to interact changed
also.
Second, it introduces the main characters. Winston Churchill
established himself as the political face with which the military had to deal
with. The CIGS, the theatre C-in-Cs and Commander Eighth Army repre-
sent, among many others, those key players on the military side.

Personalities and Relationships

The investigation into the theory showed that personality issues might
contribute to friction between political and military leaders. Initially this
may appear unlikely because senior military appointments are made by
politicians, and one would assume they take such factors into account when
deciding who the incumbent to a military post will be. But often this may
not be achievable. Changes in senior military appointments cannot be made
lightly – there may be military pressure against it or there may be no other
suitable candidate available. Additionally, politicians may ‘inherit’ military
leaders before they take office and therefore find themselves working with
military commanders who they have not chosen. So there is scope for
personality issues to have an impact. This section will attempt to establish
how this may occur, the consequences of it and explore how such situations
have been dealt with. Churchill’s relationships with his senior generals
during 1940–42, particularly with Wavell, Brooke and Montgomery, help
to illustrate all of these points.
At worst, there will be times when issues of personality, not always in
isolation, result in either misunderstanding or a loss of trust between poli-
ticians and their senior military commanders. The consequences of this are
generally one sided, and changes in military appointments are the
outcome. Churchill’s relationship with his first C-in-C Middle East,
General Wavell, helps illustrate how such a situation might develop.
Wavell took up his appointment in July 1939. He was a highly successful
commander achieving astonishing results in Italian East Africa, in the
256 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

Western Desert and in gripping the difficulties of a very complex opera-

tional theatre. According to some commentators no British soldier of the
day had the strategic grasp that he did.31 But he also suffered military
failure. Greece, Crete, Operations ‘Brevity’ and ‘Battleaxe’ all went against
him. It was days after the failure of ‘Battleaxe’, on 22 June 1941, an opera-
tion that Churchill pushed Wavell into against his military judgement, that
Wavell was informed he was to be relieved of his command.32
It may well have been these latter military failures that forced Churchill
into his decision to remove Wavell. But many authors, including Reynolds,
identified that underlying the disagreement over tactics there was a ‘funda-
mental clash of temperament’.33 Wavell was a scholar and a poet, whose
persona was one of taciturn gravity. Churchill by contrast loved to argue.
This was Churchill’s means of thrashing out ideas, but for Wavell it served
only to drive him into his shell.34 This ultimately led to a lack of communi-
cation – ‘Talk to him, Archie’, General Dill, the CIGS at the time, pleaded.35
But often Wavell would just meet Churchill’s verbal onslaught with ‘one of
his formidable but total silences’.36 This difference in behaviour ultimately
created great tension between the two men37 and consequently ‘resentment
and distrust coalesced in Churchill’s mind’.38
Wavell’s dismissal cannot be attributed solely to personality issues.
However it does illustrate the importance of personal relationships partic-
ularly when things are going wrong. Churchill’s and Wavell’s different
personality traits effectively resulted in a loss of communication between
them. This would have done nothing to ease the situation with regard to
Wavell’s military defeats, where open and forthright discussions are
essential to produce suitable explanation. Furthermore ineffective commu-
nication may have that contributed to weakening Wavell’s position in the
first place. The General appeared unable to resist the huge pressure that
Churchill placed on him to start Operation ‘Battleaxe’ before he was ready,
whereas regular dialogue may have prevented such a situation from arising
in the first place. So personality issues here can be seen as having contributed
to communications difficulties. This in itself caused friction, as well as that
which comes as a result of a new commander coming into post.
But there are occasions when personality issues need not have such an
impact. One such example is when the risk is so great that neither individ-
ual can afford personality issues to cause difficulties. The relationship
between the politician and his nearest military adviser is a critical one, and
in terms of impact on the North Africa campaign, a study of the relation-
ship between Churchill and General Sir Alan Brooke, who took over from
Dill as CIGS in December 1941, offers some interesting findings. Both
men were of tremendous strength and character. Montgomery described
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 257

them as men of decision and action, as well as being somewhat emotional.39

Consequently they were known to have had a volatile relationship. Brooke,
in October 1942, described Churchill as ‘the most difficult man I have ever
served with’.40 And their relationship is perhaps best summed up by
Churchill himself; ‘When I thump the table and push my face towards him
what does he do? Thumps the table harder and glares back at me.’41 Indeed,
by 1944 Brooke exclaimed ‘My God, how tired I am of working for him!’42
And yet even though Churchill could have sacked Brooke at any time, or
the CIGS could have resigned at any time, neither did.
Montgomery, who knew both men well, suggests that their tenacity, in
this respect, was an indicator of their greatness. He mentions that ‘They
provide a superb example of the relationship between the soldier and the
statesman in war – and how the two of us must work together, come what
may.’43 This is interesting because it indicates that the professional relation-
ship between the two overcame any personal differences. Brooke indicates
in his diaries why this may be. He writes, while accompanying Churchill
on his visit to the Middle East in August 1942, ‘After working with the PM
for close on nine months I do feel at last that I can exercise a limited amount
of control on his activities and that he is beginning to accept my advice.’44
As it happened Churchill wished to move Brooke to be C-in-C Middle
East. But Brooke felt it was his duty to remain as CIGS because ‘the Chief
of Staffs’ system was working smoothly and a change…at such a critical
time might be extremely unsettling’.45 This, combined with the time it
would take for a new CIGS to establish the trust that Brooke had estab-
lished over nine months, meant him sacrificing taking up such a desirable
appointment. So for this relationship of strategic importance personality
issues came second to the conduct of the campaign. As Montgomery
concludes; ‘And so these two men, very different in temperament, worked
together during the war, sinking their feelings in order to ensure that the
war effort of the Allies didn’t suffer.’46
But personality issues in areas of less strategic importance, such as the
relationship of politicians with tactical generals, can also be overcome. One
means of doing this is to ensure a suitable distance is kept between the two.
Possibly because of his own military career, Churchill took a great interest
in his tactical generals. He had a very stereotyped opinion of what his
generals should be like; confident, aggressive, flamboyant and brave.47
However Churchill’s relationship with General Montgomery during
his time as Commander Eighth Army in the desert offers an interesting
perspective. Montgomery was not Churchill’s vision of a general. He was
small, difficult to get on with and did not drink or smoke. Indeed if it
had not been for Lieutenant-General William ‘Strafer’ Gott’s death by
258 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

enemy action on 7 August 1942, Montgomery would have never have

been offered the appointment. Churchill had previously rejected him as a
candidate even though recommended by both Brooke and Auchinleck.
However, they managed to maintain an effective working relationship
together. This can be partly explained by the presence of a suitable inter-
locutor. In the second half of 1942 General Alexander, who had replaced
Auchinleck as C-in-C Middle East that August, was well placed to keep
the distance between Montgomery and Churchill. Alexander fitted
Churchill’s mould exactly; he was singularly British, immaculately
dressed, cool under fire and of a fastidious nature.48 Alexander used this
to great effect and found little difficulty in fending off political interfer-
ence. Montgomery therefore had the free reign that his personality
demanded.49
This became particularly apparent over Alexander’s astute handling of
Churchill during the delays to Operation ‘Lightfoot’ (the Second Battle for
Alamein, October 1942). Montgomery needed time to get 1st and 10th
Armoured Divisions ready for the offensive. However Churchill, who had
appointed Alexander on the basis of an immediate offensive, wanted action
before then. Alexander managed to resist. As Barr notes ‘Alexander had won
the political battle with consummate skill and the Eighth Army was able to
reap the benefits in full.’50 Those benefits were the freedom for Montgomery
to plan in relative isolation from direct pressure by Churchill, setting the
conditions for Eighth Army’s successes in the desert. Churchill wanted
generals who could provide success, and as a consequence of the arrange-
ment with Alexander, Montgomery found he had the room to provide it for
him.
Although the theory states that personality issues between the politi-
cian and military commander can cause friction between them, the investi-
gation into Churchill’s relationship between his generals is revealing. The
theory is, in part, supported by Wavell’s story. This showed that personal-
ity issues can be critical and a difficult relationship leads ultimately to
distrust. But it also illustrated that conflicting personalities need not be
problematic. When the risk is great enough personality issues can be put to
one side, as Churchill’s relationship with Brooke demonstrated. Alterna-
tively, as Alexander did between Churchill and Montgomery, the charac-
ters can be separated. But it appears that personality difficulties may also be
less significant if accompanied by success – illustrated by Montgomery and
the inverse illustrated by Wavell. Personality issues are therefore not a
guaranteed source of friction, but under the right circumstances they may
well be. This can be particularly apparent when it comes to harmonising
objectives.
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 259

Harmonising Objectives

The aim of this section to examine causes of friction that may develop over
harmonising the political and military objectives that are, as a consequence
of the single focus on total war, already generally aligned. In total war
political primacy helps ensure that military and political objectives are
consistent, but there may be occasions when the two are not so. As an
example, this may occur when one set of objectives changes and the other
is unable to adjust quickly enough. Alternatively, difficulties may arise
when there are differences in priority for attaining them. More often than
not, because of political primacy, the onus is on the military to adjust as a
result, but it is also important to note that political objectives may have to
change in response to military events. Either way, mismanagement of the
situation may lead to tensions between both parties, a fact highlighted in
early 1941.
Politicians are entitled to change their Grand Strategic objectives, but
this may have a severe impact on the military strategic objectives and
military tactical action. One reason for this is that the military may not be
able to adapt as quickly. Such a scenario surrounded what has become
known as the Greek Decision which occurred in parallel with Wavell’s
offensive Operation ‘Compass’ in late 1940 / early 1941.
‘Compass’ was a WDF strike against the Italian Tenth Army camps and
formations in North Africa. Under command of General O’Connor it
achieved unexpected and spectacular success, completing the capture of
Benghazi two weeks ahead of schedule and with minimal loss of life.
O’Connor was ‘leaning forward’, and with Tripoli clearly in his sights he
saw the rout of the Italians from all North Africa a real possibility.
Concurrently, after a change of government, the Greeks diverted
Churchill’s attention in that they were reconsidering his offer of assistance
against the Italians invading from Albania. On 8 February 1941 Churchill
decided at a meeting of the Defence Committee (Operations) that
assistance to Greece should be considered. A telegram was sent that day to
Wavell to ask what forces he could spare. His reply was an armoured
brigade group and a New Zealand Division of only two brigades.51 The
Committee sat again and on 11 February and subsequently instructed
Wavell that ‘the major effort runs now with aid to Greece….This rules out
any serious effort against Tripoli.’52 ‘Compass’ had been halted in its tracks,
a decision which Barnett argues lengthened the campaign in North Africa
by a further two years.53
Stopping the WDF’s advance to Tripoli is debated as one of the most
controversial decisions of World War II. O’Connor believed he could have
260 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

continued: ‘in my opinion the operation would not only have been possible
but would have every chance of success’.54 But after the war Wavell
mentioned that on balance he thought the great strain on vehicles and a
shortage of petrol would have made it impossible.55 Either way the issues
raised are relevant. It reflects that although the political and military objec-
tives may be aligned, their response times to change may not be the same.
Often the time taken for the redistribution of military force is more than
the speed of the changes of the political pen. In tandem with the timing
issue comes one of resource allocation – the change in objective requires
resources to be relocated.
The example illustrates that Wavell tried to shape the political decision
by feeding in his resource constraints, but in the event he was overruled. So
a change in objective impacted on timing and action, resources and the
pride of the military commander that was overruled. Combined these all
make for an increasingly difficult relationship between the politician and
commander.
Although political and military objectives are aligned it may be that their
priorities are not. This difference in priorities can also cause friction. Such
a situation surrounded the employment of Commonwealth forces in 1941.
Both Churchill and his military commanders recognised the importance of
building an Allied coalition for the war. Not only did it provide military
capability but also essential political support for the war effort. Churchill’s
interest focused principally on the ties between Britain and its two most
important allies, the Soviet Union and the United States.56 However for
North Africa in 1940–42 the contribution of the Commonwealth was
equally important. But Churchill had to balance this with an overarching
requirement for a lean War Cabinet to enable it to be responsive, flexible
and make quick decisions. Partly on this basis Churchill refused the
proposal of Robert Menzies (the Prime Minister of Australia) that the War
Cabinet be expanded by four to become an Imperial War Cabinet, thus
allowing Commonwealth representation.57
The consequences of this affected Auchinleck (Wavell’s replacement) in
his capacity as C-in-C Middle East. Prior to Operation ‘Crusader’, the main
Allied offensive against Rommel (18 November 1941), Auchinleck, found
himself having to deal directly with Commonwealth political systems.
Difficulties developed with the new (interim) Prime Minister of Australia,
Arthur Fadden, over sending relief for the 9th Australian Division during
the siege of Tobruk. Auchinleck had put forward an argument for not doing
so, based on military logic. However, Fadden, (based on advice from Lieu-
tenant-General Sir Thomas Blamey, the senior Australian officer in the
Middle East), replied, but by questioning Auchinleck’s military judgement
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 1 9 4 0 – 42 261

rather than offering a political argument.58 This was wholly inappropriate

for Auchinleck, who found he was placed in an untenable position and so
offered his resignation as a result.59
Auchinleck was eventually persuaded against this but two things of note
emerge from this episode. First, it illustrates that although the political and
military objectives appeared to be the same, their priorities were not. This
creates tensions between them, as more political effort is given to one, while
the military effort is focused on another. In this case arrangements need to
be made to compensate for this. In passing it also illustrates that political
appointments can change too. The change in Australian prime ministers
would have resulted in the requirement for new relationships to be
established. Managing differing priorities and also new relationships helps
to illustrate that causes of friction do not have to occur in isolation.
Differences in priorities and the relative time differences in which the
military can react to changes in political objectives have been identified as
potential sources of friction. They have the capacity to impact both on the
tactical situation and also on the relationships of those senior individuals
involved. It appears, however, that such situations, although inevitable, will
have a greater chance of being successfully managed if there is an open and
regular dialogue between both parties. This will require a measure of
control on the ‘intuitive’ and spontaneous decision-making of both parties.

Operational Misunderstandings
The two principal areas considered so far, objectives and differences in
personality are to some extent a consequence of the fundamental differ-
ences between the political sphere and the military one. These are deep-
seated, but more routine situations such as misunderstandings can also
cause friction. Indeed, the high pressure situations caused by war may mean
such misunderstandings have an exaggerated effect. There are numerous
causes of misunderstandings – poor communications, the making of incor-
rect assumptions or parties not fully understanding the predicament of the
other. These misunderstandings are two-way, but for the purposes of this
analysis we shall consider some of the political misunderstandings of the
military situation with reference to the use of intelligence and the employ-
ment of resources.
Information and intelligence are critical for both political and military
personnel in order that appropriate decisions may be made. But there are
many difficulties associated with the use of intelligence – raw information
can mean different things to different people, it has differing importance
at different levels, and access to intelligence may not always be at the
262 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

appropriate level. During the campaign in North Africa significant

advances were made in Britain’s intelligence gathering capability, but none
more so than with the development of Ultra. Ultra was developed to deci-
pher the German Enigma machine ciphers and by June 1941 it was send-
ing direct transmissions of Luftwaffe messages to London and the Middle
East. By September 1941 it was regularly deciphering German Army
ciphers also.60 Both politicians and senior military were receiving high
grade intelligence that had strategic and tactical value.
As mentioned, one of the risks of this is that individuals see the same
facts differently. This became evident during February to May 1942 when
both the Panzer Group Africa and Eighth Army stopped at Gazala following
Rommel’s advance back into Cyrenaica. Churchill was anxious to resume
the offensive, but Auchinleck, determined that he was not going to make
the same mistakes of earlier offensives (such as ‘Battleaxe’ and ‘Crusader’),61
was using the time to make considerable training and reorganisation
changes to Eighth Army.62 Churchill wrote to Auchinleck on 26 February
and demanded to know his intentions in the desert. A debate by telegram
then ensued until 10 May when Churchill ordered Auchinleck to attack in
June or resign.63
Behind this scenario rested differing perceptions of what Ultra was
producing. At the time Ultra decrypts were giving detailed tank states of the
German Army. For example on 21 April the German tank strength was given
as 264, and the Italian as 151.64 Barnett explains that to Churchill these
figures indicated a clear Allied majority, and so there was no excuse for delay.
Such a deduction was due to the fact that Churchill was prone to ‘counting
forces on either side rather than judging their fighting capability’.65 Auchin-
leck, on the other hand, saw things differently. To him the states of training,
organisational change and leadership were equally important factors to be
considered when deciding to take military action. He got his delay from
Churchill, but at a cost of soured relationships.
There are various issues that emerge from this. As identified earlier, infor-
mation can be interpreted differently depending on what lens it is viewed
through. Churchill saw tank states as robust indicators of combat effective-
ness – Ultra provided him with these figures, which meant that he felt well
positioned to offer tactical direction. Auchinleck saw such information as
only one factor in his decision-making. He had a tactical focus and would
therefore draw on an array of tactical intelligence sources. As it happened,
British field intelligence at the time was poor, which may have contributed
to his desire to build his forces to be prepared for any eventuality.66
Finally, it is also worth noting that the figures may not have been
accurate anyway. One cannot discount the possibility that Rommel was
FR ICTIO N IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 19 4 0 – 42 263

underestimating his tank strengths in order to persuade the German High

Command to send him more assets. This scenario illustrates how easy it is
for politicians to get involved in tactical decision-making. There is a danger,
however, that they may only be in possession of part of the relevant infor-
mation, and therefore make inappropriate decisions. Mechanisms and
understandings need to be developed to ensure this level of interaction is
therefore closely controlled.
Misunderstanding the employment of resources (rather than the
allocation of resources) can also lead to difficulties in the political-military
relationship. In May and June 1942 Rommel pushed on with his advance
to Alamein. In a series of battles Major-General Neil Ritchie as
Commander Eighth Army, and then Auchinleck himself, were either
outmanoeuvred or defeated. It was during the Battle of Mersa Matruh on
28 June (perhaps Rommel’s most astonishing victory) that resource
misunderstandings became an issue. Churchill had often commented on
the high numbers of personnel in the Middle East compared to the fight-
ing strength of Eighth Army: ‘Pray explain, CIGS, how is it that in the
Middle East 750,000 men always turn up for their pay and rations, but
when it comes to fighting only 100,000 turn up.’67 For Mersa Matruh this
materialised into a direct command to Auchinleck; ‘I hope the crisis will
lead to all uniformed personnel in the Delta and all available man-power
being raised to the highest fighting condition….Every fit male should be
made to fight and die for victory.’68
This approach indicates what types of misunderstandings can arise.
Auchinleck, as mentioned, was trying to do exactly the opposite and
reorganise the Eighth Army in order to turn it into a slim and mobile fight-
ing force that had the agility to match Rommel. Churchill on the other
hand was advocating an attritional approach with high levels of
manpower.69
Churchill also took great interest in military hardware but has been
accused of misunderstanding its employment. As indicated by the earlier
discussion on intelligence, he took a particular interest in tanks which he
considered high value assets. The factors surrounding the route of the
‘Tiger Convoy’ of May 1941 serve as an illustration of how this misunder-
standing may cause friction. In order to meet the disembarkation of a
German Panzer division at Tripoli, Churchill sent, at great risk, a convoy of
tank-transports to Alexandria via the Mediterranean rather than the safer
route of the Cape. They arrived on 10 May 1941 delivering a vital load of
234 tanks and 43 Hurricanes. Churchill demanded instant action; ‘no
Germans should remain in Cyrenaica by the end of the month of June’ he
signalled Wavell.70
264 D E F E NC E S TUD IE S

But Churchill’s understanding of military hardware was not as

complete as he thought. His timings did not take into account the time
required to bring the vehicles up to operating condition and for suitable
training and reorganising to take place. Churchill harried, and Wavell
succumbed, and the result was the fateful Operation ‘Battleaxe’, the conse-
quences of which were highlighted earlier. Lewin considers that this was an
example of ‘how a War Lord, insistent on action, can so misunderstand the
realities of the battlefield’. Although Churchill and his military command-
ers were of the same mind over resource allocation, their differing perspec-
tives on methods of employment were therefore a considerable source of
friction. They ultimately led to tactical failure and a C-in-C being removed
from post.
As identified earlier, changing objectives have resource implications that
can be the source of friction. However from this review it is clear that
misunderstandings of how resources are employed can have equally
damaging effect. Both issues are equally pertinent, and can be linked.
Misunderstandings are a potentially very damaging source of friction, not
least because, apart from indicating a lack of coherence in the chain of
command, they also lead to different expectations of what can be achieved.
This will lead to the guaranteed disappointment of one party.
It is apparent that at the heart of these examples of misunderstandings is
an issue of both communication and experience. Politicians (and Churchill
was in many ways an exception to this) may not have a true or full under-
standing of the military tools that they control. It is therefore dependent on
military advisers to ensure adequate dialogue to ensure this is addressed, the
less the experience, the more time required for dialogue. But the pressures
of war often mean such time is not available. Misunderstandings may
therefore be a perennial cause of friction between the two elites and every
effort at the political-military interface should be made to ensure that the
extent of them is minimised.

Relevance for Today

A lapse of over 60 years has occurred since these operations in North
Africa but the political-military relationship lessons are enduring. Their
relevance comes from more than the fact that North Africa remains a
core area of interest as outlined in the Defence White Paper of 2003.71
As mentioned in the introduction, the political-military interface is one
that is first and foremost human and so no matter what the extent of
military or political change the human dimension will remain. This
section will test the relevance of the lessons identified by considering
FR ICTION IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 1 9 4 0 – 42 265

them against four of the most significant changes over the period: the
decline in the numbers of politicians with military experience, the
‘joined-up’ government approach to warfare, the exponential technologi-
cal advances made in recent years and the advent of more expedition-
ary, limited wars.
Hew Strachan, a well-known historian and commentator on civil-
military relations, identified that the period 1940–63 represented the very
pinnacle of military representation in parliament.72 Attlee, Eden,
Macmillan and Churchill could all boast a military career with combat
experience. Since then military representation has declined. Indeed the
last Secretary of State for Defence with military experience was Tom
King, after which lawyers have been the norm. But the importance of
personal relationships has remained. Commenting on his experience as
Commander Kosovo Force in the Balkans, General Sir Mike Jackson
mentions that personal relationships are still fundamental to achieving
unity of effort.73
Therefore the business of personal relationships is even more important
than before, as the common ground of shared military experience, which
was evident in 1940–42, is lacking today. This requires both the political
and military leaders to make extra effort to understand each other’s
backgrounds and motives, something that was naturally understood in the
1940s. Time and effort for communication are a necessity even more so
today than in the past.
The modern battlefield is no longer the exclusive territory of the
military. Non-military organisations such as the media, non-governmental
organisations and Other Government Departments (OGDs) all contribute
to the make-up of the battlefield environment. Politically this is reflected in
the ‘joined-up’ government approach, and is a scenario that the military is
having to adjust to. As the previous Secretary of State for Defence
mentions; ‘it is now evident that the successful handling of security
situations will require ever more integration of military, diplomatic and
economic tools’.74 The impact of this is that governmental and military inte-
gration is expanding. Whereas the lessons identified from the case study
came from relationships at the highest levels, the governmental-military
interface now spreads across all levels of the battlefield.
One area where this will have increasing significance is in trying to align
both the military and political objectives at the tactical level. Here there may
be competing tactical objectives as OGDs and other agencies pursue their
own strategies in support of what they believe to be the common political
end-state. Ensuring that all of these objectives are harmonised and compat-
ible presents a growing challenge in which the military must participate,
266 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

and it is likely that doing so will require a contribution from all levels of
command in the military, not just the senior level.
Developments in technology, characterised by a Network Enabled
Capability and advances in intelligence gathering systems are a further
feature of the modern battlefield. Although these are hugely significant, and
to many indicate a ‘Revolution in Military Affairs’, it could be argued that
the development of Ultra in the 1940s had an impact of relatively similar
size. Ultra enabled political access to tactical information, in much the same
way, albeit in a different format, as the product of today’s information-
gathering systems. So the issues of political interference and misunder-
standing remain. Ensuring a coordinated understanding and interpretation
of the data and discouraging politicians from engaging in tactical issues,
unless by exception, remains an important focus for both sides.
Where there are added complexities, however, come from a change in
the context in which the campaign is fought. The case study was set in a
period of total war, whereas modern day conflicts are characterised by being
‘wars of choice’, expeditionary and of a limited nature. As we have seen, in
total war political leaders tend to dominate the government.75 They accept
the responsibility for Grand Strategy and have the incentive to keep govern-
ment focused on it. Conversely limited wars result in political direction
suffering from many more distractions, including a domestic political
agenda that is not orientated to national survival.
The consequence of this is that there will be even more ‘clutter’
surrounding the harmonisation of political and military objectives. Exam-
ples of this include the differing perceptions of how much risk to take.
General Sir Peter de la Billière, commander of the British Forces in the
Gulf War of 1991 identifies this. ‘Politicians and military inevitably have
different views on the risks involved: the military want greater freedom of
action than the politicians are prepared to give them.’76 So this more
complex battlefield will require an increase in both military and political
effort to ensure harmony. The potential causes of friction found in the
context of total war remain, but it is likely that a wider range of difficulties
will accompany them.

Conclusions
The aim was to identify, from a British Army perspective, potential sources
of friction in the political-military relationship in wartime, their conse-
quences and of what relevance they are for today. The article found that
issues of personal relationships, harmonising political and military objec-
tives and general misunderstandings on issues such as intelligence and the
FR ICTION IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 1 9 4 0 – 42 267

employment of resources all contributed to causing tension. It also showed

that, even given tremendous technological change, these issues are as rele-
vant now as they ever were. From this it is therefore possible to draw
together some conclusions.
The theory investigated the nature of the political-military relationship
and particularly that of political primacy. It has been established through
our study of practice that this is broadly supported but the relationship is
not one way. The military contribution to the political objectives is an
important part of their development. This may be on purpose, as attempted
by Wavell in ‘Battleaxe’, or they may be consequential, as political objectives
adjust as a result of military activity. The relationship is multi-directional
but it is also multi-levelled. Politicians are not held by doctrinal norms and
can ‘dip’ into military activity at any level they choose. And in the modern
battlespace this conduct is not only restricted to senior politicians, but any
representative of the government at any of the levels of war. So the nature
of the relationship is complex, and consequently the opportunities for fric-
tion to occur are numerous. To tackle this, awareness is required at all
levels, and both politically and militarily. Close liaison and understanding
remain central tenets.
The case study illustrated some potential causes of friction in this dynamic
relationship. But it would be inappropriate to assume that issues such as
personality clashes or differing opinions over objectives occurred in isolation.
These causes are often interlinked, and have differing scales of impact at
different times. For example, changes in objectives may be the source of
significant discord between political and military masters, but combine this
with difficulties in relationships and the impact is accentuated. This remains
as applicable to today as it was in the relative simplicity of conducting a total
war, except that there are, perhaps, more opportunities for it.
The consequences of friction in the political-military interface can
generate a range of difficulties that will add to the friction of war. At best
they may contribute to a loss of efficiency in the political-military working
relationship. Staff effort on both sides will be required to help overcome
this. A further consequence, related both to personality but other factors as
well, is that a loss of trust and confidence between both parties may emerge.
This could cause a rift between the two institutions or a change of appoin-
tee on the military side. But perhaps the greatest consequence of political-
military friction comes from distorted expectations to do with military
action. The case study showed that this often manifested itself as a timing
issue, where pressure is then placed on the military commander for prema-
ture action, resulting in tactical failure. This is an extreme consequence, but
it illustrates the importance of being able to highlight the consequences of
268 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

friction in the political-military relationship as an incentive to ensure that

such situations are avoided.
Communication is the link between all of these issues. Different
political and military vocabularies, the lack of time in war, different
communication systems and different interpretations all contribute to diffi-
culties in communications. But political-military discourse is the essence of
enabling a smooth running and efficient interface. This requires invest-
ment in training, time, resources and the establishment of appropriate
structures. The requirement for this is even greater when there is little mili-
tary experience at the political level. Without communication, friction will
develop and the smooth running machinery required to conduct war will
begin to seize up.
Operations in North Africa 1940–42 were a turning point in World War
II, and at no time during the war was so much pressure borne by the British
political-military system on its own. It provides many examples of how
friction can develop at the political-military interface, and of what the
consequences of such friction may be. Nevertheless, for all the difficulties,
Churchill, in particular, will be remembered for never letting the schism
develop between politicians and the military that accounted for so much in
the Great War. Political-military relations are dynamic, multi-level and
multi-directional. But above all they are human and enduring. So it
remains the responsibility of politicians and military alike to understand,
anticipate and know how to manage them.

NOTES
1 Carl von Clausewitz (trans. and ed. by Michael Howard and Peter Paret), On War.
(Princeton UP 1976) p.111.
2 Mungo Melvin and Stuart Peach, ‘Reaching for the End of the Rainbow: Command and the
RMA’, in G. Sheffield and G. Till (eds.), The Challenges of High Command: The British
Experience (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan 2003) p.189.
3 Winston Churchill, The Second World War Volume II :The Grand Alliance (London: Cassell
1950) p.8.
4 Melvin and Peach, ‘Reaching for the End of the Rainbow’ in Sheffield and Till (note 2)
p.189.
5 Clausewitz, On War (note 1) p.87.
6 Ibid.
7 Eliot Cohen, Supreme Command: Soldiers, Statesmen and Leadership in Wartime (New York:
The Free Press 2002) p.226.
8 Ibid. p.227
9 Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP 1957) p.308.
10 Hew Strachan, The Politics of the British Army (Oxford: Clarendon Press 1997) p.9.
11 Ibid. p.18.
12 John Keegan (ed.), Churchill’s Generals (London: Weidenfeld 1991) p.xvi.
13 Cohen, Supreme Command (note 7) p.239.
FR ICTION IN BRI T I S H OP ER A T I ON S , N . A F R IC A 1 9 4 0 – 42 269

14 Christopher Dandeker, ‘The Military in Democratic Societies: New Times and New
Patterns of Civil Military Relations’ in J. Kuhlmann and J. Callaghan (eds.), Military and
Society in 21st Century Europe (Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers 2000) p.37.
15 Cohen (note 7) p.236.
16 Ibid.
17 Ibid.
18 Christopher Tuck, Lecture to Advanced Command and Staff Course 8, UK Defence
Academy, Shrivenham, 21 March 2005.
19 Joint Doctrine and Concepts Centre, British Defence Doctrine, JWP 01, 2nd Edition (London:
MoD 2001) p.1-2
20 Ibid. pp.1-4.
21 Dandeker, ‘The Military in Democratic Societies’ (note 14) p.39.
22 Michael Handel, Masters of War: Classical Strategic Thought (London: Frank Cass 2001)
p.74.
23 See Niall Barr, Pendulum of War: The Three Battles of El Alamein (London: Jonathan Cape
2004).
24 David French, Raising Churchill’s Army: The British Army and the War Against Germany 1919–
1945 (Oxford: OUP 2000) p.212.
25 J.R.M. Butler, History of the Second World War. Grand Strategy, Volume II September 1939–June
1941 (London: HMSO 1957) p.582.
26 Keegan, Churchill’s Generals (note 12) p.6.
27 Butler, Grand Strategy, Volume II (note 25).
28 Barr, Pendulum of War (note 23) p.3.
29 Butler (note 25) p.448.
30 As named by Correlli Barnett, The Desert Generals, 2nd edn. (London: Allen & Unwin 1983).
31 Ibid. p.77
32 Barrie Pitt, The Crucible of War 2: Auchinleck’s Command (London: Papermac 1986) p.310.
33 David Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill Fighting and Writing the Second World War
(London: Penguin Books 2004) p.190.
34 Ibid.
35 Ibid.
36 Pitt, Crucible of War 2 (note 32) p.62.
37 Ibid.
38 Ronald Lewin, Churchill as Warlord (London: Batsford 1973) p.76.
39 Bernard Montgomery, The Path to Leadership (London: Collins 1961) p.129.
40 Alex Danchev and Daniel Todman (eds.), War Diaries 1939–1945: Field Marshal Lord
Alanbrooke (London: Weidenfeld 2001) p.335.
41 Ibid. p.xvi.
42 Ibid. p.515.
43 Montgomery, Path to Leadership (note 39) p.129.
44 Danchev and Todman, War Diaries (note 40) p.293.
45 Maj.-Gen. I.S.O. Playfair et al., History of the Second World War: The Mediterranean and the
Middle East Volume III (London: HMSO 1960) p.367.
46 Montgomery (note 39) p.132.
47 Reynolds, In Command of History (note 33) p.191.
48 Brian Holden Reid, ‘Gort’ in Keegan (note 12) p.104.
49 W.G.F. Jackson, Alexander of Tunis as Military Commander (London: Batsford 1971) p.164.
50 Barr (note 23) p.256.
51 Quoted in Harold Raugh, Wavell in the Middle East 1939–1941: A Study in Generalship
(London: Brassey’s 1993) p.120.
52 Ibid.
53 Barnett, Desert Generals (note 30) p.64.
54 Gen. Richard O’Connor, quoted in Barnett (note 30) p.63.
55 Raugh, Wavell (note 51) p.122.
56 Cohen (note 7) p.115.
270 D E F E NC E S TUD I E S

57 J.M.A. Gwyer, History of the Second World War: Grand Strategy Volume III June 1941–August
1942 (Part I) (London:HMSO 1964) p.224.
58 Ibid. p.226.
59 Ibid.
60 Keegan (note 12) p.76.
61 Playfair, Mediterranean and the Middle East (note 45) p.5.
62 Gwyer, Grand Strategy (note 57) p.219.
63 Ibid.
64 Barnett (note 30) p.172.
65 Ibid.
66 Reynolds (note 33) p.243.
67 Churchill quoted by Brooke in Danchev and Todman (note 40) p.279.
68 Churchill to Auchinleck, 24 June 1942, PREM 3/290/6,TNA, quoted from Barr.
69 Barr (note 23) p.33.
70 Quoted from Lewin (note 38) p.73.
71 Available at <www.mod.uk/linked_files/publications/whitepaper2003/volume1.pdf>.
Accessed 3 March 2005.
72 Strachan, Politics (note 10) p.34.
73 Gen. Sir Mike Jackson in Sheffield and Till, Challenges of High Command (note 2) p.142.
74 Available at <www.mod.uk/linked_files/publications/whitepaper2003/volume1.pdf> p.5
accessed 3 March 2005.
75 David Jablonsky, Churchill and Hitler: Essays on the Political-Military Direction of Total War
(Ilford: Frank Cass 1994) p.31.
76 Gen. Sir Peter de la Billière, Looking for Trouble (London: HarperCollins 1994) p.371.