AS IF WAR AND INVASION were not enough to think about, that same day, Sunday, June 30, Churchill’s close friend and counselor and industrial miracle worker, Lord Beaverbrook, submitted his resignation.
The letter began with the happy reminder that in the seven weeks since Beaverbrook had become minister of aircraft production, the output of aircraft had increased at a near-inconceivable rate: The RAF now had at its disposal 1,040 aircraft ready for service, compared with 45 when he took over—though how he derived these numbers would soon become a matter of dispute. He had done what he set out to do; it was time for him to go. His conflict with the Air Ministry had become so profound as to impede his ability to perform.
“It is now imperative that the Ministry of Aircraft Production should pass into the keeping of a man in touch and sympathy with the Air Ministry and the Air Marshals,” he wrote. He blamed himself, declaring he was not suited to working with Air Ministry officials. “I am certain that another man could take up the responsibilities with hope and expectation of that measure of support and sympathy which has been denied to me.”
He asked to be relieved of his duties as soon as his successor had been fully briefed on his ministry’s ongoing operations and projects.
“I am convinced,” he wrote, “that my work is finished and my task is over.”
John Colville guessed that Beaverbrook’s true motive was a wish to quit “at the peak of his success, before new difficulties arise.” Colville considered this an unworthy reason. “It is like trying to stop playing cards immediately after a run of luck,” he wrote in his diary.
Churchill, clearly annoyed, sent Beaverbrook his reply the following day, Monday, July 1. Instead of addressing him as Max, or simply Beaverbrook, he began his letter with a frosty “Dear Minister of Aircraft Production.”
“I have received your letter of June 30, and hasten to say that at a moment like this when an invasion is reported to be imminent there can be no question of any Ministerial resignations being accepted. I require you, therefore, to dismiss this matter from your mind, and to continue the magnificent work you are doing on which to a large extent our safety depends.”
In the meantime, Churchill told him, “I am patiently studying how to meet your needs in respect of control of the over-lapping parts of your Department and that of the Air Ministry, and also to assuage the unfortunate differences which have arisen.”
A partly chastened Beaverbrook replied immediately. “I will certainly not neglect my duties here in the face of invasion. But it is imperative—and all the more so because of this threat of armed attack upon our shores—that the process of turning over this Ministry should take place as soon as possible.”
He again aired his frustrations: “I cannot get information which I require about supplies or equipment. I cannot get permission to carry out operations essential to strengthening our reserves to the uttermost in readiness for the day of invasion.
“It is not possible for me to go on because a breach has taken place in the last five weeks through the pressure I have been compelled to put upon reluctant officers.”
This breach, he wrote, “cannot be healed.”
But he no longer threatened immediate resignation.
Churchill was relieved. Beaverbrook’s departure at this time would have left an unfillable absence in the skein of counsel and succor that surrounded the prime minister. This would become apparent late that night when, with the threat of resignation for now stifled, Churchill felt compelled to summon Beaverbrook to 10 Downing Street to address a matter of greatest urgency.