‘An intimate eyewitness’

“Readers will form their own judgement but the author’s thesis that ‘in all his senior appointments Ismay had an influence out of proportion to the authority invested in the appointment’ is argued with great conviction in a fascinating book about a fascinating individual.” – Professor Andrew Stewart, Head of Conflict Research at CHACR, casts a critical eye over General Hastings ‘Pug’ Ismay – Soldier, Statesman, Diplomat: A New Biography.

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‘AN INTIMATE EYEWITNESS’

TITLE: General Hastings ‘Pug’ Ismay – Soldier, Statesman, Diplomat: A New Biography

AUTHOR: John Kiszely

REVIEWER: Prof Andrew Stewart

Who was Hastings ‘Pug’ Ismay? General John Kiszely’s fascinating book aims to put some much needed light on one of the most important military politicians of the 20th century, a key individual long known and admired by this reviewer but who – to use the author’s own words – “is almost always portrayed as a background figure – part of the furniture – and in documentaries and films sometimes gets a walk-on part but almost never a speaking one”. This exceptionally well written and researched biography does much to hopefully expose his remarkable career to a wider audience and correct the lack of visibility Ismay may previously have received, albeit a level of obscurity both during his life and since that was very much of his own making. 

Ismay did produce an autobiography, published five years before his death in December 1965, only ten months after the passing of the figure with whom he is most closely associated, Winston Churchill. Almost without exception, this was dismissed for not making any great contribution to popular knowledge, a criticism not about how it was written but because of the discretion it demonstrated. As one reviewer put it, throughout Ismay remained “predictably and infuriatingly modest”. The Times Literary Supplement went further lamenting an absence “of lurid revelations and salon gossip”. As the anonymous writer concluded: “Least said, soonest mended, must be the motto of one whose life is spent in averting or smoothing out rows. But it is not a quality which makes for informative history.” The result was an account that did not contribute a great deal to what was known about how the war was fought and won.

Readers in 1960 were still interested in the Second World War, a war which still held many secrets, and there was perhaps reasonable ground to hope that Ismay had much to offer. His role, or rather four interlocking roles, from 1940 to its conclusion had been to act as both a bridge between the civilian and military strands of the war effort and an anchor. For those interested in understanding the complexity of civil-military relations, and how this often-complicated connection works, they could do worse than using him as a case study. The author makes this same point about the focus of his study and the approach he adopted to “the effective translation of government policy into action in time of war or crisis”.

Perhaps most important amongst the multiple hats Ismay wore was that of chief staff officer to the Minister of Defence, a ministerial position Churchill had created for himself and to which the military Chiefs of Staff reported directly. It was new and critically important to how this particular war would be conducted but it was an often tempestuous workplace environment and it was not an easy job for Ismay. There are 19 index references to ‘Chiefs of Staff Committee – disputes with Churchill’ and the book offers considerable evidence to confirm just how hard he had to work to keep the machine ticking. One of his obituaries referred to “an almost uncanny skill for smoothing over difficulties and averting friction”. Lieutenant General Sir Ian Jacob – another member of the inner circle which surrounded the wartime prime minister – went further, writing to The Times that “Churchill’s unorthodox and often dangerous impulses were cushioned, and his tremendous energy and fertility of ideas found a channel though which they could usefully flow to vitalise the whole national effort” (unimaginable criticism of the wartime prime minister had he still been alive). Elsewhere, Ismay’s close friend wrote that he “took the knocks from above and below, and worked day and night to ensure that the often exasperating vagaries of the Prime Minister and the sometimes mulish obstinacy of the Chiefs of Staff did not break up the association”.

Nonetheless, as this new examination confirms, Ismay had considerable respect for his principal. He referred to the decision made by the recently appointed prime minister in May 1940 not to commit the Royal Air Force’s final fighter aircraft to the Battle for France but to preserve what was left for the battle still to come. In many respects it could be said that Churchill’s decision to retain Pug as his senior staff officer – his predecessor Neville Chamberlain had also played a part in forming the organisational structure – was his most far-sighted decision. He kept close to him an individual with a uniquely suited temperament demanded by this existential moment in British history and with whom he could work in times of the greatest imaginable stress. Ismay, of course, was far too modest to make such a claim. In a brief but sincere foreword to the autobiography, Churchill pointed to comments made about Ismay in the first volume of what he termed as his memoir of the Second World War. They ‘became hand in glove and much more’ and there is no more accurate statement to describe the relationship. 

This is not to say it was a relationship based on unquestioned adulation. The author skilfully provides evidence of Ismay’s own thinking on the challenge of managing an individual who he once described as “brave as a lion, tender as a woman, simple as a child”. One example notes Ismay’s response in 1940 to the news that Churchill had been appointed as the chair of the largely ineffectual Military Coordination Committee. In his autobiography he recorded that the meetings became “more frequent, more controversial and… more acrimonious”; writing to John Colville, soon to become Churchill’s assistant private secretary, he confided that the chairman’s “verbosity and restlessness made unnecessary work, prevented real planning and caused friction”. 

Three quarters of Ismay’s autobiography was devoted to the Second World War, here it is seven of the 16 chapters and an epilogue, confirmation perhaps that this was the career experience that defined his place in history. There is an often detailed account of the role he played as the war whirled around him, sat as he was in a front-row seat and an eyewitness to all of the key decisions of the war. Although much will be familiar to those who have studied the conflict, and will likely have at least some familiarity with Ismay and his work, the story is told with real expertise. There are also some absorbing insights and perspectives, the appendix discussion of the 1942 Dieppe raid and the degree to which Ismay must share culpability with others was genuinely intriguing.

There is, of course, a much more expansive story to enjoy. With the recent 75th anniversary of its establishment, the other role for which Ismay might be known is his (reluctant) appointment as the first NATO Secretary General. When he stood down after five years, The Times dedicated an editorial column to reflect upon his achievements in which it highlighted “he had perfected the art of keeping wheels turning, getting men off their high horses, and making sure that everything that was really essential passed through the machine”. His wartime experience had left him ideally prepared for anything that followed. There are also the two chapters on India and his post-war role as Mountbatten’s chief of staff, again an intimate eyewitness to the last Viceroy and another key passage in British history. Other highlights are the discussion about his long interwar involvement with the Committee of Imperial Defence, which acted as both a coordinating and also anticipatory body but is even more obscure than Ismay in terms of the important role it played prior to 1939 and the outbreak of war. It was an enticing role for Ismay persuading him to abandon any hopes for senior field command although it did not hamper his professional advancement, including an unusual progression from colonel to major general. In addition to the discussion of his early soldiering in India, the chapter on the six years he spent in Somaliland highlights his military skills and his resolve and personal bravery and offers early evidence of some of the reason he was so well suited for what followed. The eight page epilogue is particularly valuable and insightful with its discussion of Ismay’s characteristics, personality and traits.  

It might also be noted the degree to which this biography provides an excellent example of what might be termed ‘forensic reconstruction’. A real challenge is the autobiography and its limitations and the author has sought to overcome this looking far and wide to fill the gaps. In addition to an expansive review of secondary sources – including the two previously published biographies, the most recent of which dates only from last year – he has spent much time examining a wide range of British and some American sources along with material from the NATO archive in Belgium. This he describes as “much painstaking, detailed research”, a curse or a joy for an historian depending on the individual and their empirical curiosity. Interestingly, Kiszely was further hampered by Lord Ismay’s personal papers, held in the Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives at King’s College London, which appear at first glance extensive but the author is correct in the cautionary note he provides. The result is a detailed and vivid account which appears to provide a genuinely comprehensive reflection on an important life. Readers will form their own judgement but the author’s thesis that “in all his senior appointments Ismay had an influence out of proportion to the authority invested in the appointment” is argued with great conviction in a fascinating book about a fascinating individual.

A fitting conclusion – presented in the book’s introduction – is the anecdote about the advice given by Harold Macmillan to his successor Margaret Thatcher in April 1982. With war now declared against Argentina, the ‘Iron Lady’ was told she would need a Pug Ismay but the subsequent discussion made clear she had never previously heard of him despite being a professed Churchillian. There is no reason to believe this advice will be any different should Britain find itself drawn into another major conflict. It is to be hoped there is someone out there who can fill the role.

Published by Hurst Publishers, Hardback, £35, ISBN: 9781911723202