Read Online Freedom at Midnight by Larry Collins, Dominique Lapierre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Larry Collins, Dominique Lapierre
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life raft, leading them in singing "Roll Out the Barrel" while German planes strafed them.
Mountbatten won the D.S.O. for his exploits on the Kelly, and the ship won a bit of immortality in the film In Which We Serve, made by Mountbatten's friend Noel Coward. Five months later, Churchill, searching for a bold young officer to head Combined Operations, the commando force created to develop the tactics and technology that would eventually bring the Allies back to the Continent, called on Mountbatten.
The assignment proved ideal for Mountbatten's blend of dash and scientific curiosity. Promising that he was a man who would never say no to an idea, he opened his command to a parade of inventors, scientists, technicians, geniuses and mountebanks. Some of their schemes—like that involving an iceberg composed of frozen sea water mixed with 5 percent wood pulp to serve as a floating, un-sinkable airfield—were wild fantasies. But they also produced Pluto, the underwater transchannel pipeline, the Mulberry artificial harbors and landing- and rocket-craft designs that made the Normandy invasion possible. For their leader, they ultimately produced his extraordinary elevation to Supreme Command of Southeast Asia at the age of forty-three.
Now, preparing to take on the most challenging task of his career, Mountbatten was at the very peak of his physical and intellectual powers. The war at sea and high command had given him a capacity for quick decision and had brought out his natural talent for leadership. He was not a philosopher or an abstract thinker, but he possessed an incisive, analytical mind honed by a lifetime of hard work. He had none of the Anglo-Saxon affection for the role of the good loser. He believed in winning. When he was a young officer, his crew had once swept the field in a navy regatta, because he had taught them an improved rowing technique. Criticized later for the style he had introduced, he acidly observed that he thought the important thing was "crossing the finish line first."
His youthful gaiety had matured into an extraordinary charm and a remarkable facility to bring people together. "Mountbatten," remarked a man who was not one of his
admirers, "could charm a vulture off a corpse if he set his mind to it"
Above all, Mountbatten was endowed with an endless reservoir of self-confidence, a quality that his detractors preferred to label conceit. When Churchill had offered him his Asian command, he had asked for twenty-four hours to ponder the offer.
"Why?" snarled Churchill. "Don't you think you can do it?"
"Sir," replied Mountbatten, "I suffer from the congenital weakness of believing I can do anything."
Victoria's great-grandson would need every bit of that self-confidence in the weeks ahead.
Noakhali: Penitent's Progress 1
At every village, his routine was the same. As soon as he arrived, the most famous Asian alive would go up to a hut, preferably a Moslem's hut, and beg for shelter. If he was turned away, and sometimes he was, Gandhi would go to another door. "If there is no one to receive me," he had said, "I shall be happy to rest under the hospitable shade of a tree."
Once installed, he lived on whatever food his hosts could offer: mangoes, vegetables, goat's curds, green coconut milk. Every hour of his day in each village was rigorously programed. Time was one of Gandhi's obsessions. Each minute, he held, was a gift of God to be used in the service of man. His own days were ordered by one of his few possessions, a sixteen-year-old, eight-shilling Ingersoll watch that was always tied to his waist with a piece of string. He got up at two o'clock in the morning to read his Gita and say his morning prayers. From then until dawn he squatted in his hut, patiently answering his correspondence himself with a pencil, in longhand. He used each pencil right down to an ungrippable stub, because he held that it represented the work of a fellow human being and to waste it would indicate indifference to
Mountbatten won the D.S.O. for his exploits on the Kelly, and the ship won a bit of immortality in the film In Which We Serve, made by Mountbatten's friend Noel Coward. Five months later, Churchill, searching for a bold young officer to head Combined Operations, the commando force created to develop the tactics and technology that would eventually bring the Allies back to the Continent, called on Mountbatten.
The assignment proved ideal for Mountbatten's blend of dash and scientific curiosity. Promising that he was a man who would never say no to an idea, he opened his command to a parade of inventors, scientists, technicians, geniuses and mountebanks. Some of their schemes—like that involving an iceberg composed of frozen sea water mixed with 5 percent wood pulp to serve as a floating, un-sinkable airfield—were wild fantasies. But they also produced Pluto, the underwater transchannel pipeline, the Mulberry artificial harbors and landing- and rocket-craft designs that made the Normandy invasion possible. For their leader, they ultimately produced his extraordinary elevation to Supreme Command of Southeast Asia at the age of forty-three.
Now, preparing to take on the most challenging task of his career, Mountbatten was at the very peak of his physical and intellectual powers. The war at sea and high command had given him a capacity for quick decision and had brought out his natural talent for leadership. He was not a philosopher or an abstract thinker, but he possessed an incisive, analytical mind honed by a lifetime of hard work. He had none of the Anglo-Saxon affection for the role of the good loser. He believed in winning. When he was a young officer, his crew had once swept the field in a navy regatta, because he had taught them an improved rowing technique. Criticized later for the style he had introduced, he acidly observed that he thought the important thing was "crossing the finish line first."
His youthful gaiety had matured into an extraordinary charm and a remarkable facility to bring people together. "Mountbatten," remarked a man who was not one of his
admirers, "could charm a vulture off a corpse if he set his mind to it"
Above all, Mountbatten was endowed with an endless reservoir of self-confidence, a quality that his detractors preferred to label conceit. When Churchill had offered him his Asian command, he had asked for twenty-four hours to ponder the offer.
"Why?" snarled Churchill. "Don't you think you can do it?"
"Sir," replied Mountbatten, "I suffer from the congenital weakness of believing I can do anything."
Victoria's great-grandson would need every bit of that self-confidence in the weeks ahead.
Noakhali: Penitent's Progress 1
At every village, his routine was the same. As soon as he arrived, the most famous Asian alive would go up to a hut, preferably a Moslem's hut, and beg for shelter. If he was turned away, and sometimes he was, Gandhi would go to another door. "If there is no one to receive me," he had said, "I shall be happy to rest under the hospitable shade of a tree."
Once installed, he lived on whatever food his hosts could offer: mangoes, vegetables, goat's curds, green coconut milk. Every hour of his day in each village was rigorously programed. Time was one of Gandhi's obsessions. Each minute, he held, was a gift of God to be used in the service of man. His own days were ordered by one of his few possessions, a sixteen-year-old, eight-shilling Ingersoll watch that was always tied to his waist with a piece of string. He got up at two o'clock in the morning to read his Gita and say his morning prayers. From then until dawn he squatted in his hut, patiently answering his correspondence himself with a pencil, in longhand. He used each pencil right down to an ungrippable stub, because he held that it represented the work of a fellow human being and to waste it would indicate indifference to
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