inspire-indiana Chapter 724 Viscount Wavell's Failure
Chapter 724 Viscount Wavell's Failure
A few days later, intriguing reports appeared in the international or Asia sections of major newspapers around the world.
The BBC continues its sarcastic tone with "Parallel Worlds of the Subcontinent: Calcutta Deep in Bloodshed, Hyderabad Maintains Fragile Calm."
The article describes in detail the devastation in Calcutta and also devotes considerable space to the situation in Hyderabad.
The New York Times headline was even more direct: “An Oasis in Chaos: Can the Hyderabad Model Backed by Southeast Asia Sustain?”
The article analyzes the business cooperation model of security services in Southeast Asia, arguing that this may be a new path for small political entities to seek security guarantees in the post-colonial era, and questions the incompetence of the John colonial authorities.
These reports quickly sparked widespread discussion.
In India, Viscount Wavell's breakfast time was usually a rare moment of peace during the day.
But today, that peace was shattered by a stack of newspapers brought in by the secretary.
"Damn it, an oasis? They call that an oasis?!" Wavell slammed the newspaper onto the white tablecloth-covered dining table, the force so great that it knocked over the milk glass next to it.
The white liquid gushed out, soaking the newspaper.
The servants immediately began to scramble to tidy up.
“They’re slapping me in the face, openly slapping me in the face.” Wavell stood up and paced around the restaurant like a caged beast, his face ashen. “In my colonies, under my rule, those Southeast Asians, those…those yellow-skinned nouveau riche, they’re lecturing my vassals.”
Take a lesson on 'How to maintain order when your imperial master messes everything up'.
And what about my army? What about my police? In Calcutta, they couldn't even handle a mob of thugs armed with machetes and Molotov cocktails. What did the newspapers say? 'The authorities are helpless,' 'Order has completely collapsed.'"
He was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently, and he felt waves of dizziness coming over him, so he had to hold onto the heavy mahogany chair back.
He was old and exhausted.
"Your Excellency...Governor, please calm down, your health is of utmost importance..." the adjutant carefully advised.
"Calm down? Tell me how to calm down?!" Wavell turned his head sharply, his bloodshot eyes glaring at his adjutant. "That ungrateful Nizam of Hyderabad, did he formally reject our mediation team? What was the reason? Say it again."
The adjutant's Adam's apple bobbed, and he repeated in a low voice, "His Majesty Ali Khan... said that the security affairs within the state have been properly handled by its own strength, and there is no need for external... intervention at this stage."
“External intervention? External intervention?!” Wavell’s voice rose, almost screaming. “Are we external? We are the colonial government, the highest legal authority in this land. It is our vassal, and all its power is theoretically derived from the grant and recognition of the Empire.”
“In theory… yes, Your Excellency.” The adjutant lowered his head even further. “But… in reality, Nizam, and the princes of several northeastern states, have not seriously listened to our advice for a long time. The aid from Southeast Asia… has given them the confidence to say no.”
“Confidence…” Wavell chewed on the word, a feeling of anger, humiliation and deep powerlessness overwhelmed him.
Yes, confidence.
The people of Southeast Asia, with their factories, ships, guns, and that damned theory of commercial security services, gave these princely states unprecedented confidence.
What can the empire offer them besides its fading glory and increasingly hollow deterrent? It couldn't even hold onto Calcutta.
He slumped back into his chair, as if all his strength had been drained away in an instant.
After a long silence, only his heavy breathing could be heard in the restaurant.
“Send a message to the cabinet,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and weary. “In my name. Say that… the deep involvement of Southeast Asia is making the power transition situation on the subcontinent ‘complex and increasingly unmanageable.’”
Traditional balancing strategies have become completely ineffective.
To ensure the safety of British citizens and their property, and to preserve Imperial assets as much as possible, I formally recommend… that 'Operation Asylum' be launched ahead of schedule. The evacuation operation must begin planning immediately.”
Operation Asylum, the code name for the humiliating evacuation plan originally prepared for the worst-case scenario.
Now, it's about to become a reality, and possibly sooner and in a more chaotic way than anticipated.
“Furthermore,” Wavell added, “have the Ministry of Foreign Affairs formally send a note to the United States of Southeast Asia, lodge a strong protest, protesting that they are using commerce as a pretext to carry out military and political infiltration, seriously undermining the stability of the subcontinent and damaging the legitimate rights and interests of the Empire and the long-term interests of the people of India.”
After saying that, he himself felt a sense of absurdity.
The adjutant quickly took notes, then asked hesitantly, "Sir, will the Southeast Asian side... heed our protest?"
Wavell gave a bitter smile that was more like a grimace:
“Whether they pay attention or not is their business. But we…the Empire, at least we have to show our attitude. Even if…” He looked out the window at the still gray sky over Calcutta, where plumes of smoke still lingered, “even if this attitude is no longer respected, and only a pitiful, self-deceiving dignity remains.”
He knew that the greatest effect of this protest note was probably not to intimidate Southeast Asia, but to give the parliamentarians an explanation and to provide a somewhat hasty, protest-laden footnote to this soon-to-be-ending imperial history.
The adjutant quietly withdrew to send a telegram.
Wavell sat alone at the messy breakfast table, looking at the newspaper stained with milk on the floor.
In the headline photo, the figures of the patrolling soldiers on the streets of Hyderabad seem to be silently mocking him through the grime, mocking this once-renowned empire on which the sun never sets.
-----
It was early October of 1946.
The atmosphere in the Cabinet meeting room at 10 Downing Street was gloomy.
Prime Minister Clement Attlee waved away the waiter holding the sherry, the heavy wooden door closed, and the meeting officially began.
The long oak table was filled with the faces of the empire's highest decision-makers:
Attlee himself, Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin, Chancellor of the Exchequer Hugh Dalton, Field Marshal, and the former governor, Viscount Archibald Wavell, who had just returned from the powder keg of India.
He looked ten years older than his actual age, with heavy eye bags and a slightly hunched back. His once bright eyes now held only weariness and an indescribable sense of humiliation.
The meeting had only one theme: India, and the Southeast Asian countries that had interfered.
"Gentlemen," Wavell's voice was hoarse, a thick report spread out before him, which he barely glanced at, "my tenure in India began in chaos and ended in... even greater chaos and loss of control. The report details the dire situation in Calcutta and throughout northern India, and I will not repeat it here."