1938–1939
Savige’s militia recruiting campaign had a further surge in March 1938, when Hitler invaded Austria, despite having said he had no more territorial ambitions in Europe.
Savige was ahead of the government’s response. He began correspondence with Gellibrand over the worsening situation in Europe. Blamey’s exile was forever on Savige’s mind, and his communication with Gellibrand centred on bringing his ‘good mate’ back into the military picture. They both agreed that no one in the regular army had the necessary skills and toughness should Australia be forced to fight again. Savige’s influence increased on 1 May 1938 when he was made Brigadier of 10th Brigade, and this entitled him a month later to attend an Australian Command and Staff Course in Sydney, where the topic was the defence of Australia along a line running from Sydney to Newcastle. But behind closed doors, where German and Japanese spies could not pick up the thoughts of Australian defence leaders, the real subject was choosing a commander in chief.
Savige spoke to Geoffrey Street, the Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister for Defence, and pushed hard for Blamey to be offered the post.
Street demurred. He would have to chat with the Defence Minister and perhaps the Prime Minister, but agreed in broad terms that someone with Blamey’s record had to come into consideration. Savige reminded Street that Blamey had been a first-rate chief of staff under Monash. What better qualification could a soldier in Australia have for organising a 2nd AIF?
On 16 August, Savige wrote to Gellibrand, telling him of his chat with Street.
On 30 September, dapper, upper-class British prime minister Neville Chamberlain, his moustache bristling with triumph, signed the Munich Agreement. He flew back to England and alighted from the plane, gripping his brolly in one hand and using the other to wave the piece of paper with Hitler’s signature on it. He spoke of ‘peace for our time’.
Not big on people skills, and particularly inept at dealing with the unscrupulous, street-thug mentality of the German Chancellor, Chamberlain presented the image of one of history’s grand fools when, two days later, on 1 October, Hitler ordered the occupation of Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia. ‘War for our time’ was now a near certainty.
This provoked the Australian Government into a little more action. Retired General Gellibrand was ordered to attend a Cabinet meeting. He was asked by his Tasmanian friend, Prime Minister Joseph Lyons: ‘Who in your opinion is the best person to command Australia’s armed forces?’
‘General Tom Blamey,’ Gellibrand replied without hesitation.
The Cabinet discussed this and no one disagreed with the suggestion. Blamey’s ‘disgrace’ over the prostitute and shooting incident of two years earlier was not even mentioned.
‘I want you to sound him out,’ Lyons said to Gellibrand, ‘but it must be in secret. Can you do that, General?’
‘I shall ask one of his best friends, Stan Savige, to do it,’ Gellibrand replied.
‘The Legacy man?’ Lyons said. ‘Good.’1
***
Savige suggested Blamey meet him for a bit of shooting practice at Melbourne’s Williamstown Rifle Range. They both used Enfields, aimed at wooden targets painted as humans 45 metres away. Blamey shot first; he hit the target in the body region three times and missed it twice. Savige took off his glasses and complained he could not see the target properly.
‘Those Sniper’s Ridge days have deserted you, Stan?’ Blamey asked, in reference to Savige’s uncanny accuracy during those nine days on Gallipoli.
Savige grumbled that they probably had. He put on his glasses again and made the five shots. A marker moved across and indicated that all the hits had been in the head and heart region.
‘I’d put you on Sniper’s Ridge again,’ Blamey said in admiration, as he and Savige walked towards the targets.
‘And I’d put you in command of any army, Tom.’
‘You haven’t lost it.’
‘Just very good spectacles,’ Savige said, wiping them. ‘And you haven’t lost it either, General.’
They went through a round of firing with handguns at 20 paces. Savige again demonstrated his dead-eye accuracy.
‘The government is thinking about a commander in chief,’ Savige said casually.
‘Because of Czechoslovakia?’
‘That, yes, but the Japanese adventures are making Canberra jumpy too.’
‘And so they should be. They’ll probably find someone among the new Duntroon brigade. They’re pushing themselves up, I hear.’
‘Exalting themselves, yes. But the Cabinet is interested in you, Tom.’
‘Who says so?’
‘Gellibrand.’
Blamey went on shooting.
After a few minutes Savige uttered some words of Jesus: ‘And whosoever exalts himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.’2
‘What are you getting at, Stan?’
‘Your record speaks for itself. All you have to do is say you’re interested in taking command and serving your country again.’
Blamey demurred.
‘Are you, Tom?’
‘I haven’t got too many better offers at the moment.’
‘May I take that as a “yes”?’
‘Yes, you may.’3
***
By the time Blamey’s decision reached the Cabinet, the attitude to Hitler’s advance on Czechoslovakia had simmered and the pressure to find a commander in chief had subsided.
A fortnight after their conversation, Savige told Blamey, ‘They [the members of Cabinet] were too timid to bring in reforms [such as restructuring Australia’s defence], for fear of criticism by the [opposition] Labor Party.’
But Blamey’s hat was in the centre of the ring.
Then Attorney General Robert Menzies took advice from Dick Casey, the Federal Treasurer, who had been on Monash’s staff with Blamey, and decided Blamey was the best option for command. Menzies had been Victorian Attorney General when Blamey was Police Commissioner and got along with him. Menzies later said: ‘Both of us [Casey and Menzies] were convinced he was the only man with the necessary ability and experience.’4
Savige suggested to Menzies that Lyons meet Blamey, and a rendezvous was arranged. Lyons was most impressed.
‘My word, Dick,’ Lyons said afterwards to Casey, ‘he is somebody, isn’t he! . . . He is really somebody!’5
Blamey was asked to report to Frederick Shedden, the Defence Secretary, just after the militia was ordered to double its numbers to 70,000. Shedden had influence with the Prime Minister over and above military matters, and he took the opportunity to ease Blamey back into the defence planning system by making him Chairman of the Manpower Committee for a three-month period.
The government was mindful of public opinion, and there was no fanfare surrounding the new appointment.
‘He has not been gazetted,’ Savige noted late in 1938 in a letter to Gellibrand. ‘Nor has the appointment been notified in the press . . . Tom will be aired to see what public reaction there will be.’6