Hitler Attacks, Australia Reacts
1939–1940
By June 1939, Germany was set to pounce on Poland. The Soviet–German Non-Aggression Pact of 23 August 1938 had secured Hitler, for the time being, against attack from the Western European powers as well as Russia.
Hitler was excited. He addressed his generals, saying: ‘I shall give a propagandist cause for starting the war; never mind if it is plausible or not. The victor will not be asked later on whether he told the truth or not . . . I am only afraid that at the last minute some schweinhund will make a proposal for mediation.’
No such ‘schweinhund’ came forward.
The Munich Agreement, now almost a year old, had been the last, feeble and invalid chance for peace. On 1 September, Hitler launched his blitzkrieg on Poland. Sixteen days later, Stalin’s Russia invaded that beleaguered country from the other side. A month later Russia annexed Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia and invaded Finland.
Instead of carrying through their pact for peace, Germany and Russia were taking pieces of Europe as fast as they could.
***
On 1 September 1939, Britain declared war on Germany. Robert Menzies had become Prime Minister in April after the death of Joseph Lyons, and quickly declared that Australia too was at war with Hitler.
Savige volunteered ‘for active service at any rank, in any capacity, anywhere’ as soon as militia officers were invited to enlist. It was a terrible blow to Lilian, and to a lesser extent Gwen, now 19. Lilian had been through it all before, and she became depressed and had to seek medication. How long would he be away this time? Wasn’t he too old for service at 49? She had prayed for Australia to stay out of any conflict, but now it was too late.
On 4 October, Blamey invited Savige to dine at the Naval and Military Club. Usually both men preferred beer, but this time Blamey insisted on ordering champagne.
‘I want to thank you for your efforts in—’
‘Tom, I was only the messenger.’
‘Well it was a bloody good message!’ Blamey said, leaning forward and dropping his voice so that other diners could not hear. ‘I am going to command 6th Division.’
‘That’s great news, Tom, and you deserve it. There’s no one else who could do it.’
‘Don’t tell that to the staff corps! I hear a couple of them pushed themselves up.’
‘You could say Lavarack and Squires [joint chiefs of the regular army] were not backward in coming forward. But Menzies and Casey always wanted you.’
After a few sips of champagne, Blamey’s face displayed his famous mischievous, if not Mephistophelian, grin.
‘I’ve recommended that you command 17th Brigade,’ he said. He raised his glass and added, ‘Stan, this is going to be our Great War!’1
Blamey had been granted the highest position of all in commanding 6th Division, which was the first in sequence after the five divisions of the Great War.
On 6 October, Savige was formally advised by the Military Board that he would command 17th Brigade, part of Blamey’s 6th Division, and ancillary troops. He did his best to hide his delight from his wife and daughter. But his enthusiasm betrayed him, especially with scores of congratulatory telegrams coming in, and the excitement among his friends in Legacy and 24th Battalion.
A celebratory dinner was held for him, but perhaps the finest honour he received was from British General Birdwood, who had commanded the 1st AIF, and then the Australian Corps before it was taken over by Monash in May 1918. Birdwood’s letter read:
Dear Savige,
. . . how very sincerely I hope that you have all the same good fortune and success as we had with our old AIF in Gallipoli and France. I have heard much of your good service with Dunsterforce and I look forward to meeting you in due course.
Yours sincerely,
Birdwood of Anzac2
Birdwood made it sound as if it were just 1920 rather than two decades later, and demonstrated how much the British hoped to rely on big-scale Anzac participation. He wrote the same letter to other Australian brigadiers who had fought in the Great War, using the inclusive pronouns ‘we’ and ‘our’, and invoking the concept of the British Empire at war with the old enemy once more.
Birdwood was the perfect choice to reignite this collegiate concept. The chirpy, warm ‘Birdy’ had been the most popular British general by far with all the original Anzacs, from commanders at the top such as Monash and Chauvel right through to the front-line privates.
Two other brigadiers chosen to lead Australian forces under Blamey were Leslie Morshead and Arthur ‘Tubby’ Allen, for 15th and 16th Brigades respectively. Both, like Savige, had had outstanding careers in the Great War and had given strong service to the militia.
These choices were a reality check for the regular Duntroon-trained officers who believed they were better equipped for the way this next war would be contested. The festering ‘them and us’ attitude that had existed between the 1st AIF veterans and regular army men now solidified into something more contentious. Blamey, and Savige particularly, were resented.
Savige had been swayed in his opinions about the regular army and the Duntroon-trained staff corps by his hero Gellibrand, who distrusted that system. Savige had suffered at its hands when he was displaced from it after the Great War. He had made examples of regular staff officers who crossed or undermined him. He once even ‘paraded’ (reprimanded in front of the troops) a senior staff officer who received and issued orders from the regular army without reference to Savige. He made his disparaging thoughts about Duntroon graduates clear when he addressed a group of them, and bluntly told them that they should be made platoon commanders first. Being stationed in the field at a lower level of command allowed trainee officers to comprehend the needs of ordinary soldiers and their limits before taking up regular staff appointments. Savige, who had literally been through the fire of war, knew how vital this knowledge was to draw the best out of the front-line diggers, and to build understanding, trust and a strong team spirit in any proposed army.
Blamey would have to make a tremendous blunder now to be replaced before Australia was involved in hostilities, but Savige was a more vulnerable target. He would likely be set up for a fall on the first possible occasion.
In the meantime, he had the awesome responsibility of commanding 5000 volunteers in a real war. The days of undirected, sometimes meaningless training in the militia were over.
Staff officers were quick to say that Savige’s close relationship with Blamey had secured him the appointment. But in pragmatic terms, he was the right man for the job. Morshead and Allen were both from 2nd Division in New South Wales, where 15th and 16th Brigades were to be raised, but because 17th Brigade was to be raised in Victoria it made sense to choose Savige as its commander.
Blamey told his brigadiers that he had selected them ‘because I think you’ll look after the troops. That is my main concern.’ Menzies didn’t help matters by making it public that all command appointments within 6th Division would come from the militia. This made the key regular army officers, such as Lieutenant Colonel Horace Robertson, Colonel Sydney Rowell, Lieutenant Colonel George ‘Alan’ Vasey and Lieutenant Colonel Frank H. Berryman, even more furious and likely to form a rebellious group that might target the vociferous Savige.
The staff corps officers between the wars were well qualified. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and were eager to grab their opportunities in the coming new war. Most of them wanted to break away from staff work and make their names as commanders. Yet they expected to take greater roles in this war because of their two decades of regular army training. They believed full-time soldiers should have preference over part-timers.
Berryman, appointed Chief of Staff of 6th Division, was among the most ambitious. He had been educated at one of Victoria’s top schools, Melbourne High, then at Duntroon and the Staff College, Camberley, England. He had been an artilleryman in the Great War. When Menzies decreed that all 6th Division command posts would go to militia officers, Berryman saw it as a ‘damn insult to the professional soldier . . . We would be the hewers of wood and drawers of water. We, the only people who really know the job, were to assist these militia fellows.’3
In February 1940, the Australian War Cabinet formed a fresh AIF division, the 7th. The 6th and 7th were grouped together as I Corps, with Blamey its commander. He was satisfied with his revitalised role. He recommended Major General Iven Mackay to succeed him at 6th Division, and Lieutenant General John Lavarack to command 7th Division.
***
The inter-war years had now come to an end. They had been successful ones for Savige. He had a family. Lilian, despite the travails of her depression and the sense that she often came behind his military mates in his affections, was a loving and loyal companion. Savige had established a profitable career at the Geelong Mills, and had been the single biggest influence in the development of Legacy, which now had tentacles Australia-wide. On top of this, he had risen rapidly through the militia ranks. He had developed his outstanding leadership skills in all these areas and now he was putting them all to the ultimate test once more.
On his last Sunday in Australia, at Lilian’s request he joined her and Gwen at their Baptist church. His mind drifted back a quarter of a century to the time when he went into the hills around Warburton to seek guidance from his God about whether he should go to the Great War.
Poignantly, Lilian asked the minister to read the psalm that had originally influenced him to take the plunge against many of his instincts. Back then he had been more pacifist than pugilist. That war had changed him, yet the words of Psalm 91 remained the same. Now, however, they took on so much more meaning that it caused him pain to hear them read with passion.
Thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night;
nor for the arrow that flieth by day . . .
They reminded him not of his own good fortune in surviving, but of the many mates who had died around him over four dreadful years.
Lilian, on the other hand, was praying that her husband would return to her again. She had continued to express her concern to him that his faith had lapsed somewhat. She asked God to forgive him for this, and to remember his sacrifice for his country and against the forces of evil.
For his part, Savige was far more fatalistic than before. He had gone to his first battle zone in 1915 feeling ‘protected’ by the words of a psalm. Now his confidence was based on his own exceptional make-up, personal bravery, preparation, and a sense that ‘Whatever will be, will be.’
Stan Savige no longer relied on biblical metaphors.