AND ANOTHER THING
The political vultures gather for their D-Day feast on the dead
PAUL JOHNSON
Athe D-day celebrations move to their climax, and the Draft Dodger, the Grey Man and the Old Repellent gather together to squeeze whatever political kudos they can out of the honourable dead, I have been trying to imagine what the Iron Duke would have said about it all. He was not a man for celebrating occasions like this. Wellington hated war and it was some satisfaction to him, at the end of his long life, that his active career as a warrior had ended in 1815 when he was still only 45. Up to that point, it is true, he had witnessed more scenes of slaughter than any other man of his time, Bonaparte alone excepted. Unlike Boney, however, who did not care tuppence for his conscripts, the Duke regretted every man who died and took immense pains to minimise casualties one reason men preferred to serve under him, as later they did for General Mont- gomery.
Wellington often said that the only thing worse than a battle won was a battle lost. Even he, with all his experience, was pro- foundly shocked by the carnage of Water- loo, where two huge armies, both under determined commanders, were jammed into a tiny space and under fire all of a long June day. The Duke was amazed that he and his wonderful horse Copenhagen sur- vived their 18-hour exposure — 'I really think the finger of providence was on me' — especially as so many of his colleagues, including his cavalry commander, Lord Uxbridge, who was talking to him at the time, were cut down or maimed. The annu- al Waterloo reunions he held thereafter, at Apsley House or Windsor, were not cele- brations at all but meetings of brave men who had gone through hell together and wanted to thank God for their survival and drink to the memory of dead comrades.
The Duke particularly disliked politicians or anyone else horning in on Waterloo for their own purposes. He did not even fancy the idea of David Wilkie's Chelsea Pension- ers Reading the Waterloo Dispatch, until the painter satisfied him about his good faith and accuracy. Wellington detested George IV talking about the battle, especially as the king, under the influence of cherry brandy, would persuade himself that he had taken part in the famous charge of the Royal Scots Greys. He often recounted his personal experiences of the battle to a crowd of embarrassed courtiers, who knew he had been safe in bed in London, ending
his narration: 'And that's how we licked 'em, eh Arthur?' The Duke, who also hated the monarch calling him Arthur, would grit his teeth and wearily reply, 'As Your Majesty has so often observed.' So we can be pretty sure the Duke would not have approved of Bill Clinton trying to hijack D-Day. Indeed, there is something peculiarly mean-spirited about the way in which those who were not present at the battle, or in any way related to those who were, have been jostling each other to get in on the act. There have been disturbing reports that men who were actually on the beaches and distinguished themselves there were left out of the invitation-list, or added to it grudgingly only after protests. Tory ministers used to be especially sensitive about the rights of veterans and their dependants. But that was because they had seen military service themselves and knew what it was all about. Hardly any of the pre- sent lot were in the second world war. Some were not even born. Few are old enough to have done two years' peacetime conscription. For them, the services are just things to be cut so that more money is available to bribe their constituents. When an event like the D-Day anniversary comes along, their instinct is to send for a PR firm and ask, 'What's in it for me?'
One veteran who was nearly overlooked was Brigadier Lord Lovat, who led the first wave of command ashore, accompanied by his piper. I have talked to him about that morning and found him modestly anxious to play down his role, which he thought had been exaggerated. But he undoubtedly was one of the heroes of the occasion, and if ever an age needed a few heroes it is this one. Lovat is old and frail and unable to leave his house, though still keeping an eagle eye on the world. But his family were surprised that his invitation was so long in coming, and hurt when a plan to have him represented at the banquet by his 17-year- old grandson and heir was obstructed by the minister concerned. That is typical of the way the whole thing has been handled.
There are other shadows over the affair. The prominent role being taken by Francois Mitterrand will certainly offend some people, since parts of his wartime career remain an impenetrable mystery. Despite much recent controversy, we still do not know whether his heart lay with the Resistance — as he has claimed for the past half-century — or with those who then ruled France. Perhaps both. Or perhaps he does not have a heart at all, merely a politi- cal calculating-machine. I hope he has the decency to say as little as possible on the day.
No such chance with Clinton of course. The politician who fled abroad to avoid Vietnam, and who once said publicly how much he hated the military', will be beat- ing his own big drum, like the tipsy George IV. The more one examines this dreadful man, the more unsuitable he seems in the White House. The American presidency has often been associated with the highest military honour, quite apart from the fact that the incumbent is also Commander-in- Chief. In addition to Washington himself, five other presidents have been general officers of distinction, and many others have had fine war-records. The idea of a politician who wriggled out of his military obligations to his country being elected to the White House would have been unthink- able only a decade ago. It stains the entire D-Day ceremony and I hope some of the veterans who attend it will give the President a piece of their minds, as did Herbert Shugart last week. At a ceremony to present posthumous Congressional Medals of Honour to the widows of two soldiers who died in the Somalia interven- tion — a typical Clinton mess — Shugart, the father of one of the boys, refused to shake Clinton's hand and told him, You are unfit to be the President of the United States.' That is a sentiment with which all of us can agree.
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