produced her camera, a German Leica, and took a few shots. He posed gallantly, his eyes never leaving her.
De Witte cleared his throat and pushed his way through the press corps. He held a leather-bound board with blank paper clipped to it. A long stylus chained to it made grooves into the paper as he jotted in shorthand. Discreet wires running across the board allowed him to ensure straight lines as he wrote, using his thumb to tell him where to place the next line.
Mosley observed he, like most of the aristocrats attending, was sympathetic to King Edward’s plight in Spain, that he might in fact be the rightful King of England.
De Witte retorted, ‘So if war was declared, a more sympathetic monarch to the Fascist crusade may be more acceptable to the British population?’ He then followed on, ‘How do you plan to depose the current monarch? A French or Russian style revolution perhaps?‘
Ignoring De Witte, Mosley introduced his Italian and German SS guests beside him who saluted straight armed in the flash of bulbs. He told the press he believed that the United Kingdom, Germany and Italy were potential allies against the rise of Communism. His Fascist brothers from Europe were here tonight attending the dinner in solidarity with the BUF and the people of the United Kingdom. They shared his belief that Germany and England would not go to war against each other again, citing the willingness of Westminster to appease Hitler.
Then in a sudden flare of anger Mosley launched into a diatribe against the Soviet Union, the Communists and repeated the ‘fact’ that he, Hitler and Mussolini were bulwarks in Europe against this menace.
Bounding athletically onto the stage as he spoke and striding to the podium, he gripped it in white-knuckled rage. The microphone carried his voice, giving it a tinny quality. Eva removed the flash from her camera and, clipping on the customised B5b wide angle lens, took discreet photographs of those attending. The room offered sufficient light she judged as she captured the German and Italian delegates speaking to the assembled guests. Lords, ladies, businessmen, some from the munitions industries, and bankers were captured on film. Some openly posed for her, believing their faces would be in periodicals across Europe the following week.
De Witte enquired as to how the BUF was being funded, the rumour being Mussolini was their big backer. Mosley laughed this off as ‘Communist propaganda’, saying it was the British working man in the street funding them, with generous private donations.
Some of the journalists scoffed out loud and Mosley’s smile, though broad, slipped smoothly to a sneer. Eva noted that’s where the similarities with De Witte ended. De Witte again raised a question as to the whereabouts of William Joyce, whether or not he was still a party member returned to America or now living in Nazi Germany? Mosley stared evenly at De Witte who inclined his head to improve his hearing. Joyce hadn’t left the BUF but was actively liaising with the German High Command on behalf of the party, replied Mosley.
There was a growing sense of suspicion creeping into his voice in his replies toward De Witte.
De Witte continued, ‘As in the case of Ernst Rohm, right hand men have a habit of coming to a sticky end in Fascist movements. Is Joyce possibly floating in the Thames somewhere?’
Some of the press laughed again. Mosley insisted that Joyce was alive and well and working with Dr. Josef Goebbels. As he spoke, several Blackshirts moved in toward De Witte, summoned with a nod from Mosley. Eva tapped De Witte’s knee with a warning code and he flashed a smile to Mosley that was both immediately disarming and charming. Naturally it’ll be off the record, he assured him. Mosley grunted into his pewter tankard and waved the men away. They dumbly obliged.
Diana and Unity Mitford stood beside her in breathless admiration of Oswald, his coconut oiled fringe flying free with every head
De Witte cleared his throat and pushed his way through the press corps. He held a leather-bound board with blank paper clipped to it. A long stylus chained to it made grooves into the paper as he jotted in shorthand. Discreet wires running across the board allowed him to ensure straight lines as he wrote, using his thumb to tell him where to place the next line.
Mosley observed he, like most of the aristocrats attending, was sympathetic to King Edward’s plight in Spain, that he might in fact be the rightful King of England.
De Witte retorted, ‘So if war was declared, a more sympathetic monarch to the Fascist crusade may be more acceptable to the British population?’ He then followed on, ‘How do you plan to depose the current monarch? A French or Russian style revolution perhaps?‘
Ignoring De Witte, Mosley introduced his Italian and German SS guests beside him who saluted straight armed in the flash of bulbs. He told the press he believed that the United Kingdom, Germany and Italy were potential allies against the rise of Communism. His Fascist brothers from Europe were here tonight attending the dinner in solidarity with the BUF and the people of the United Kingdom. They shared his belief that Germany and England would not go to war against each other again, citing the willingness of Westminster to appease Hitler.
Then in a sudden flare of anger Mosley launched into a diatribe against the Soviet Union, the Communists and repeated the ‘fact’ that he, Hitler and Mussolini were bulwarks in Europe against this menace.
Bounding athletically onto the stage as he spoke and striding to the podium, he gripped it in white-knuckled rage. The microphone carried his voice, giving it a tinny quality. Eva removed the flash from her camera and, clipping on the customised B5b wide angle lens, took discreet photographs of those attending. The room offered sufficient light she judged as she captured the German and Italian delegates speaking to the assembled guests. Lords, ladies, businessmen, some from the munitions industries, and bankers were captured on film. Some openly posed for her, believing their faces would be in periodicals across Europe the following week.
De Witte enquired as to how the BUF was being funded, the rumour being Mussolini was their big backer. Mosley laughed this off as ‘Communist propaganda’, saying it was the British working man in the street funding them, with generous private donations.
Some of the journalists scoffed out loud and Mosley’s smile, though broad, slipped smoothly to a sneer. Eva noted that’s where the similarities with De Witte ended. De Witte again raised a question as to the whereabouts of William Joyce, whether or not he was still a party member returned to America or now living in Nazi Germany? Mosley stared evenly at De Witte who inclined his head to improve his hearing. Joyce hadn’t left the BUF but was actively liaising with the German High Command on behalf of the party, replied Mosley.
There was a growing sense of suspicion creeping into his voice in his replies toward De Witte.
De Witte continued, ‘As in the case of Ernst Rohm, right hand men have a habit of coming to a sticky end in Fascist movements. Is Joyce possibly floating in the Thames somewhere?’
Some of the press laughed again. Mosley insisted that Joyce was alive and well and working with Dr. Josef Goebbels. As he spoke, several Blackshirts moved in toward De Witte, summoned with a nod from Mosley. Eva tapped De Witte’s knee with a warning code and he flashed a smile to Mosley that was both immediately disarming and charming. Naturally it’ll be off the record, he assured him. Mosley grunted into his pewter tankard and waved the men away. They dumbly obliged.
Diana and Unity Mitford stood beside her in breathless admiration of Oswald, his coconut oiled fringe flying free with every head
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