Download - Winston Churchill

SWORD OF STALINGRAD: Stalin kissed it, Voroshilov dropped it, then apologized to WSCand invited himself to dinner. (illustrated london News and www.ushistoricalarchive.com.)Here I should explain that Churchill’s principalinterpreter was Major Arthur Birse, a peacetime banker,also from our Moscow Military Mission, born and educatedin 19th century St. Petersburg, more than twice myage, a good friend and mentor, by far the most outstanding,the most brilliant of all the Allied interpreters. ThePrime Minister didn’t like to be interrupted by his interpreteruntil he had finished his train of thought, whichsometimes went on a bit, with many a stirring phrase,making it the more difficult for us. He was demanding,but at the same time generous and encouraging.My own test came before the second plenary sessionon 29th November. The Prime Minister was topresent a Sword of Honour on behalf of King George VIto mark the heroic defence of Stalingrad. Representingthe Red Army—the only senior soldier Stalin hadbrought along, “hoping he would do,” as Stalin put it—was Marshal Voroshilov, once Stalin’s companion inarms, baby-faced, murderous and cruel. Voroshilov wasin command of several “Army Fronts” when Hitlerinvaded Russia. He proved so hopeless he had to besacked. Survivors of Stalin’s inner circle tell us that oftenhe shouted at him, “Shut up, you imbecile.”The Prime Minister proudly presented the sword.FINEST HOUR 135 / 19Stalin was visibly moved. After quietlyuttering a few words Stalinpassed the sword to Voroshilov,who promptly let it slip from thescabbard onto his toes. Stalin’s facedarkened, his fists clenched.As we dispersed after the ceremony,Churchill led our way out. Iheard, or felt, a tug at my sleeve. Itwas Voroshilov. I had been interpretingfor him that morning at theChiefs of Staff meeting. Sheepishlyhe asked my help. As we caught upwith the PM, Voroshilov, pinkfaced,stammered an apology forhis gaffe, and at the same timewished Churchill a happy birthday,which was in fact the followingday. As we walked away the PMgrowled: “A bit premature—mustbe angling for aninvitation…couldn’t even play astraight bat.”At Churchill’s 69th birthdaydinner, in the British Legation thenext evening, we witnessed anotherlittle drama unfold. Bear with me ifyou’ve already heard or read aboutit—this is how I saw it.A Persian waiter in white cottongloves and red and blue livery,making (I suspected) his first entrance, brings in themagnificent dessert, a splendid ice cream pyramid with akind of night-light under it. Stalin is making a bit of aspeech. The waiter, wanting to serve Stalin first, standsbehind him, then moves towards Molotov’s chair. Mouthagape at sight of the assembled magnificoes, the waiternervously lets the dish tip slightly. It’s hot in the roomand the inevitable happens. As I look on, fascinated, thebeautiful creation accelerates off the salver. It missesStalin, the waiter staggers further sideways, and itdescends onto the shoulder of Vladimir Pavlov, Stalin’sinterpreter, and all down his pristine Russian diplomaticdress uniform.A voice is heard just in front of me, Air ChiefMarshal Sir Charles Portal (Peter Portal to his colleagues),sotto voce: “Missed the target.”I watch the Prime Minister, but either he has notnoticed or has chosen not to. A true professional, Pavlovcontinues calmly interpreting. Pavlov, by the way, wasvirtually always Stalin’s interpreter—in English andGerman. At the Yalta Conference, some fourteenmonths after Teheran, Pavlov was rewarded by Churchillwith the CBE—not, of course, for his heroism under icecream fire. >>